Chapter IX: Part VII: Conclusions (1)

Let us assume that in the preceding pages we have proved the following propositions:

1. That the Trust cannot and must not be destroyed.

2. That the government could not and should not own and operate the Trusts.

3. That the Trust, if not interfered with, will work great injury to society and that therefore some stringent action must be taken.

4. That such action must be such as will not destroy the many virtues of the Trust.

INTERDEPENDENCE.

Let us assume that we have also proven the following propositions:

1. That every man is dependent upon his fellows for all the necessaries and comforts of life.

2. That every industry is dependent upon other industries.

3. That the natural, proper and inevitable tendency is toward specialization and localization.

4. That, as men specialize, and industries localize, a natural monopoly results.

5. That each man and each industry becomes an integral part of an immense industrial machine.

6. That harmonious action of this machine must exist, for the reason that if a single wheel is misplaced here, or an engineer refuses to respond there, the action of the entire machine is impaired.

In the face of these two groups of premises but one conclusion can be drawn, and that conclusion may be expressed in a single word--ORGANIZATION! Men, localities and industries being interdependent, society must organize for the general welfare. A league or association must be formed, in which every man, every locality and every industry is represented. Like all other societies, this association must have a common head or center. It need not be altruistic (as against egoistic), because the welfare of one must be the concern of all, if for no other than purely selfish motives. The whole must see that every part properly performs its work. A man can no longer be an isolated unit, for he is now an integral and necessary part of society. He not only owes duties to himself, he owes duties to society. He must recognize the mutuality of all true human interests.

GOVERNMENT.

Can such an association or society be organized? Can so immense a collection of bodies meet and combine with unanimity? Fortunately, we need not speculate on the correct answer to these questions. We have an illustrious example at hand. Society has already organized. The organization is improperly called government. Government is simply organized society. We elect a President as a public servant, not as a governor. He does not, or should not, reign over us, but serve us, and do our bidding. This is not a monarchy, but a democracy.

And so the great machine is already organized. Unfortunately we are not in the habit of looking at _government as a huge industrial machine_, and our law makers are too prone to assume arbitrary and tyrannical power, regardless of the theory of democracy upon which all our institutions rest. Furthermore, our lawmakers are mostly lawyers, rather than industrialites.

NATIONAL DIRECTION.

Either organized society (government) is supposed to protect its members (citizens), or it is not. If it is, then it is its duty to see that the necessaries of life are not monopolized and placed beyond the reach of its people. If it is not, then the organization is a failure, for without the means of sustenance a nation cannot exist. If, then, we may be permitted to view government as an organization of society having for its aim the welfare and protection of its members, why shall not that society have power to DIRECT the industrial machine? If all men and industries in the nation are interdependent, why shall there not be a NATIONAL DIRECTION, so that every industry shall be made to do its duty toward society? If people must have coal, or oil, or meat, or transportation, or gloves, and one set of men or one locality has a monopoly thereof, why shall not the nation DIRECT that those men or those localities shall do right by all other men and by all other localities? That they will not always do so in the absence of national direction is evidenced by the recent strike. The labor unions of the country are probably able and willing to support the strikers for years when a vital principle is involved, and so thoroughly is labor organizing that serious conditions are likely to obtain in that most important of all industries, transportation, to which industry all others are so closely related and on which they are so helplessly dependent.

FIXING PRICES.

If government is to "promote the general welfare" by assuming the obligation of keeping the necessaries of life within the reach of its people, it must of necessity prohibit the fixing of prices of those necessaries beyond the purchasing power of the people. Thus, if the coal operators having a monopoly of coal choose to make the price of that necessary $50 a ton, the national board of arbitrators (be it Congress or some other body), must fix a reasonable price and if the employees of any industry have a grievance, they cannot be allowed to strike and stop work--their grievances must be arbitrated by the National Board. Probably such a course would never become necessary, when the industrial organization is perfected and the readjustment accomplished, but the power of national direction must be ever present, _if for no other purpose than to act as a warning_.

FIXING HOURS OF WORK.

What is true of prices is equally true of the hours of work. Government will not owe every man a living, but it will owe every man an opportunity to earn a living. As the principle of co-operation develops and is utilized, so great would be the economy that many would naturally be thrown out of employment. Thus, rather than create a public poorhouse, or "idle house," the hours of daily work must be reduced to include all who are able and willing to labor.

If the tobacco manufacturers by combining and organizing the Shoe Trust have thrust say 50,000 travelling salesmen and jobbers out of employment, it should not complain if they are _nationally directed_ to contribute toward their support in the same or in some other more useful and productive industry by being directed to reduce the hours of work of all men who are employed by it, thus making room for all who desire to labor. Co-operation and combination carry their responsibilities, and the co-operators must be presumed to intend the natural consequences of their acts. Hence, the nation is justified in directing a reduction in the hours of work whenever occasion requires.

And this is not so radical as at first appears. Many of our State Legislatures have heretofore passed laws fixing the price of gas, telephone service and railroad rates, and they have even fixed the hours of daily work in certain industries. Again, witness the volumes of law in regard to buildings, sweat shops, hotels, mines and railroads, designed and passed for "public safety" and protection, and for "the general welfare."

Again, witness what was done by all governments during the Great War!

LABOR'S SHARE.

Those who claim that "labor creates all wealth" must concede that the foreman, the superintendent, the president and the manager is just as much a laborer as the man who wields a hammer or drives a truck. That the latter do not often get a fair share of the product or of "what he produces" is, of course, true, for "rent, interest and profit" eat up much of the proceeds of his toil. Without delving needlessly into the profound question of the relations between capital and labor, be it said that labor can, by a system of _national direction_ such as is here suggested, obtain a fair and just reward for its toil through _a system of compulsory profit-sharing_. There are already many cases in America of voluntary profit-sharing with employes, and employers have found that their men work better, quicker and more faithfully when given an interest in the business. This is not urged as a necessary part of the national direction idea, but as a most desirable part, and I am of opinion that in compulsory profit-sharing with employes lies the real solution and adjustment of the differences between capital and labor.

COMPULSION.

The word "compel" is a harsh word. It strikes at personal liberty and individual freedom and attacks that spirit of independence which makes men brave, honest and noble.

The theory of democracy assumes that every man has an inherent and absolute right to freedom and liberty in so far as in exercising that right he does not impair the rights of his fellows. He is the sole judge of what he wants and of what is best for him, but in satisfying those wants he must not interfere with the rights of others.

Law and government are designed to protect those rights, and in so doing the right of compulsion is implied. All our institutions, courts, laws and legislative departments rest upon the power of compulsion, and without that power our form of government becomes ineffective. We compel a man to keep his contract by applying to the court for an injunction; we compel the vicious to obey certain laws or we imprison him; we compel railroads to charge not more than a certain fare; we compel house owners to clear their sidewalks of snow; we compel men to pay other men what they owe, and if they do not, we compel the sheriff to take away his property; we compel importers to pay a tariff; we compel husbands to support their families, and we compel all to help support the government by taxation.

The more civilization advances, the more society finds it necessary to organize; and the more organized society is, the more compulsion is necessary, until men become more perfect. Every individual now owes duties to the collectivity as well as to himself, and the power of compulsion must be vested in the collectivity so that those duties may be enforced.

If we have arrived at that stage of progress when every man can be depended upon to perform his whole duty by respecting the rights of others, keeping his contracts and doing only those things which will benefit society, and if the Trust can be depended upon to charge reasonable prices, pay just wages and in all things respect the rights of others, then the word compulsion may be stricken from the political dictionary. If we have not, if men are still selfish, dishonest and inconsiderate of the rights of other men, then the right to compel must be a part of the political machinery.

TAXATION.

The question may be asked, What power can compel the Trusts to do that which they have been directed to do by the nation? For example, suppose the coal mines remained idle,--what if the operators refused to obey the national directory? It is not the purpose of this brief writing to draw up a complete code, showing in detail how each and every man, industry and question shall be handled, but simply to show that such a code can be drawn and its regulations enforced. How do we now compel the electric lighting companies to charge not more than a certain rate, the importers to pay a tariff, the gas companies to supply us with gas at certain prices, the law-breaker to pay his fine, and the corporations to pay their taxes and penalties? These methods are well known, and they would perhaps be adequate if adopted by the nation to compel its members to keep its rules and regulations. If not, a certainly effective means of inducement would be found in a tax on land values; for then, if a Trust refused to obey, the land upon which it rests could be so taxed as to render it unprofitable to hold it idle, and the Trust managers would soon be compelled either to operate or sell the plant. The land monopoly evil is serious and threatening, since all our land is owned by about ten per cent. of our people, and, unfortunately, we are in the habit of inviting men to buy vacant land and hold it idle while waiting for a rise in values. The earth being the source of all wealth, those who monopolize the land have a first lien upon all production. There appears to be no immediately practicable remedy for this deplorable and unnatural state of affairs, yet it is quite certain that whether or not the contention of the Single Taxers is sound, national direction will be a step in the right direction; for it will mean a more compact and more perfect organization of society, and then we shall be able to see more clearly just where the evils exist, just what is at fault, and just what would remedy the defects in our present system. Besides, it would permanently fix the taxing power in the national collectivity, and when the various methods of taxation were being considered in the national councils, the law of cause and effect could more easily be traced and distinguished owing to the solidarity of society and the specific information and complaint that would be forthcoming from the most competent and well informed sources.

CONSTITUTIONS.

Must the constitution be amended in order that NATIONAL DIRECTION shall be put into effect? And, if so, would it take eight or ten years before this could be done? And is that constitution of ours, which has carried us so successfully through a century and a quarter, so sacred that it should be kept, with religious fidelity, unchanged and unaltered? Recent events seem to cry out No!

As times and conditions change, so do men, opinions and laws, and so should constitutions. It is superstitious bigotry to hold that our revolutionary forefathers were infallible and that they could and did foresee the conditions that are present in the opening years of the second century after theirs.

On November 15th, 1777, the thirteen original colonies were banded together under what was called the "Articles of Confederation." Article II thereof said in part: "Each State retains its sovereignty, freedom and independence." Article III said: "The said States hereby severally enter into a firm league of friendship with each other, for their mutual and general welfare, binding themselves to assist each other." In the following articles they vested in the Congress full power to make such rules and regulations as it deemed best for the general welfare of all the people.

Now, if all of the industries and labor organizations of the nation were to meet and agree to do as did the thirteen States, each reserving the right to send delegates to an empowered convention, then that convention would have power to pass such laws as were necessary to carry out the remedies hereinbefore suggested.

If a constitution nearly a century and a half old, which has already been amended seventeen times, stands in the way of advancement and the general welfare, would any man say that the obstacle should not speedily be removed from that constitution?

The solution herein suggested does not necessarily require action by Congress, and therefore an amendment to the constitution may not be required. Nevertheless, a Congress could be empowered to act, and if it were properly constituted and contained business men and representatives from all industries and labor organizations, instead of lawyers and politicians, it would answer the very purpose. Perhaps in time the people will learn what kind of men to send to Congress. NATIONAL DIRECTION would not necessarily require an immense industrial department of government. NATIONAL DIRECTION is not national ownership. It does not embrace the idea of absolute control. It does not place the management of the Trusts in the hands of a department of government, or of a Congress, for each industry should continue to manage its own affairs, since it alone can be thoroughly conversant with the details of its own plant.

I have aimed to show:

1. That the Trust has as many virtues as faults.

2. That it can be so treated as to retain its virtues and to
eliminate its faults.

3. That the Trust must not be destroyed.

4. That the government must not own and operate the Trust and
Industrial Combinations.

5. That NATIONAL DIRECTION is the only scientific and practical
solution.

The arguments herein are intended to show the advantages and practicability of NATIONAL DIRECTION of our industries, and the harmonious operation of those natural laws and forces which are incessantly working out their destiny. The inherent instincts of man, his nature, his desires, his ambitions, his weaknesses must all be considered in forming conclusions. That which is right will finally prevail. We may retard the onward march of civilization, but we cannot permanently check it. Not only does reason and logic urge the acceptance of the conclusions herein presented, as it appears to the writer, but unmistakable evidences of a natural movement in the direction indicated are now apparent.

If the premises given are sound, NATIONAL DIRECTION is desirable. If the conclusions are logical, NATIONAL DIRECTION is inevitable.

FOOTNOTE:

[1] This chapter, in fact all of part I, was written in 1903, and published and copyrighted in 1906. Note what has taken place since then.

_The Public_

Who or what are the public? You say, the people! What people? Dr. Johnson defined the public as "A majority of society," but this is rather indefinite. "The public! the public!" exclaims Chamfort, "how many fools does it take to make the public?" Bancroft did not think the public fools, for he says, "The public is wiser than the wisest critic." If the public is the majority, who is to say that they are wise or unwise, right or wrong, fools or philosophers? Who or what is to be the court of last resort? Somebody has said that the majority is usually wrong, but who is to decide whether the majority or that "somebody" is wrong? Schiller had but little faith in the majority, for he wrote, "Votes should be weighed, not counted; the voice of the majority is no proof of justice:" and Bovee suggests that a better principle than this, that "the majority shall rule," is this other, that justice shall rule. And according to the code of Justinian, "Justice is the constant and perpetual desire to render every man his due." But, as a matter of fact, the majority seldom do rule, for while our public men and political bosses may say "The public be damned," as was publicly said by at least one man and echoed by at least a thousand, the public is pretty sure to get anything but justice, so long as such men are in control of the election machinery. The public have opinions, doubtless, but they have not yet found a way of expressing them when they want to, and not often do they get what they want. The public is a heterogeneous mass, without organization and without any settled community of interest. Sometimes, we call the public by the uncomplimentary name, the mob. Goethe thought the public particularly sensitive, for he said that "The public wishes itself to be managed like a woman; one must say nothing to it except what it likes to hear." He also thought them ungrateful, for he said, "He who serves the public is a poor animal; he worries himself to death, and no one thanks him for it." Hazlitt was of like mind, and he maintained that the public have neither shame nor gratitude.

When we say of a man that he is popular with the masses, we mean with the people; and it is interesting to speculate on how we form such an opinion. How do we know that a man is popular with the people? Certainly we have not asked all the people about it, and the few we have asked may not be representative. Perhaps we form our opinion of the public's opinion from one or more of these things: what the newspapers say, what those persons say with whom we have talked, and from our knowledge of the human heart generally. As for the last, we know that such virtues as honesty, self-sacrifice, ability and courage are universally admired, and that such vices as dishonesty, selfishness and cowardice are universally condemned; so that if we know what impression certain acts of a public official have made, we may come pretty near knowing whether that man is or is not popular. As to the newspapers, they are usually very close to the people, but they are sometimes closer to some other influence.

Certainly the public must not be put down as fools. They may be ignorant, when it comes to determining some great question over which the best minds of the world are in dispute; they may be illogical; they may be unreasoning; they may be sentimental; they may be unstable in judgment; but certainly they are not fools. Like children and animals, the most ignorant of the public have their instincts and intuitions, and while the sun of public opinion may fluctuate from cloud to cloud, it generally sets true at last. Like the Athenians, and sheep, the public are more easily driven in a flock than individually. Just as the crowd will make way for the man who pushes boldly forward, so will the public follow any good leader who knows enough about his business to appreciate the value of such sentiments as patriotism, humanity, unselfish devotion and human sympathy. While such a leader is in favor, the public are more than willing to be led, like so many sheep, but the most trivial incident will sometimes win their disfavor, and history shows that the public are perfectly willing to crown a man one day and to hang him the next. To gain the favor of the mob is not so difficult; but to serve the public so that they and their posterity will in after years honor his name, that is indeed difficult, and decidedly worth while.

_Popularity_

"I court not the votes of the fickle mob." Horace.

Public favor is fickle fancy. It is as capricious, uncertain and unreliable as the weather; and, while we may at times predict where it will bestow its alleged blessings, we can never with certainty tell how long it will remain there. Those who crave popularity should remember that it begins by making a man its tool, and usually ends in making him an object of contempt. A very trifling circumstance often creates popularity, and a single circumstance just as trifling usually destroys it. Was there ever a more popular man than Dewey after the Manila victory? Yet the trifling circumstance of transferring his gift-house to his new wife almost destroyed it. Hobson was equally popular after the Merrimac episode, but he forfeited it by numerous kissing exhibitions. Bird S. Coler was extremely popular while comptroller of New York and lost the governorship by an inch, but his popularity was as quickly forfeited as it was acquired. Louis XVI was extremely popular, but he died at the guillotine a despised and hated monarch. Marie Antoinette was equally popular, until she told the mob, who were crying for bread, to eat cake. Napoleon was universally popular until he divorced Josephine, and again popular at the cradle of the King of Rome. The memory of Cromwell was infamous for more than a century, but now he is a world hero. Robespierre was popular until he attempted to check the effusion of bloodshed.

Popularity knows no law and no precedent. It sometimes attaches to tyrants, for were not Caligula and Nero more popular than Germanicus? It sometimes attaches to ignorance, for who is today more popular than our champion batter or prize fighter? It sometimes attaches to immorality, for did it not adopt the infamous Pompadour and du Barry? It sometimes attaches to trifles, for was there ever such a fuss made over anything as the Teddybear? It sometimes delights in the downfall of royal favorites, and then exults in their reinstatements. It attaches to the great, at times, and then hails with shouts of exultation those who overthrow the great.

He who delights in popularity must be prepared to submit to the veriest subjugation, for he must _obey_ the very ones whom he desires to _command_.

True merit heeds not the fulsome acclamations of capricious popularity, but goes on its way regardless. It asks itself "What is right?" not "What will the public applaud?" Merit as well as folly, loves appreciation, but the one hopes for it as a just reward, while the other seeks it as a theft.

There are two kinds of popularity: the popularity of men and the popularity of their productions, the latter being the more reliable and constant. The popularity of Roosevelt was mainly of the former kind, for it was his pleasing and picturesque personality that made him one of the most popular men of the last hundred years. As he recedes into history, we can tell better whether his name will remain a household word like Napoleon, Jackson, Lincoln, Webster, Grant, Bismarck and Gladstone's. It may be that certain popularity is ephemeral, for public opinion resembles a mind obeying by turns two directly opposite impulses, lauding a man to the skies one day, and, on the next, as it discovers him deficient in the merit it gratuitously ascribed to him, avenging itself by deprecating that which it had capriciously over-rated.

Popularity is the keystone of modern politics. Alas, too few men have we, who think, say, or act, without weighing the probabilities of its popularity. Our statesmen care more for what is popular than for what is right, and popularity is generally the sole consideration. To attain the honors of posterity and of history, a more solid merit is required than the ephemeral smile of popularity.

Popularity is a delusion.

It is an easy matter to become popular if one wants to, for all it requires is passive tolerance, and active commendation. Taking the individual, listen to his stories attentively, applaud his hobbies, rave over his phonograph, his pianola, or his pictures, or books, or his dog. A good listener is always popular. Taking the individual collectively, the public, the same rule holds good. Place your ear to the ground, study the whims of the people, learn how they worship, how they play and how they work, then preach their doctrines, pat them on the back, applaud their errors, and you can be popular. Rub the fur the right way and the cat won't scratch. Pioneers of thought seldom attain popularity. The man with a new idea, or who dares to preach something different, is usually put in jail while he is alive, and put in marble after he is dead. As Goethe says, "The public must be treated like women: they must be told absolutely nothing but what they like to hear."

_Greatness_

The first step to greatness is to be honest.--Johnson.

All great men are partially inspired.--Cicero.

All great men come out of the middle classes.--Emerson.

No really great man ever thought himself so.--Hazlitt.

The world knows nothing of its greatest men.--H. Taylor.

What millions died that Caesar might be great!--Campbell.

The great are only great because we carry them on our shoulders:
when we throw them off they sprawl on the ground.--Montandre.

It is not in the nature of great men to be exclusive and
arrogant.--Beecher.

None think the great unhappy but the great.--Young.

There is but one method, and that is hard labor.--Sydney Smith.

No man has come to true greatness who has not felt in some degree
that his life belongs to his race, and that God gives him for
mankind.--Phillips Brooks.

What is genius? Is it merely the ability to master details, as somebody has said, or is it the result of some natural endowments, faculties, or aptitudes for a particular thing? That it is some uncommon power of intellect, all admit; but whether it is a general or a specific power, is much disputed. Doctor Johnson's notion was that genius is nothing more or less than great general powers of mind, capable of being turned any way, or in any direction, and that "a man who has vigor may walk to the East just as well as to the West." Emerson held quite the contrary view, for he says that a man is born to some one thing, and that he is "like a ship in a river; he runs against obstructions on every side but one; on that side all obstruction is taken away, and sweeps serenely over a deepening channel into an infinite sea." And again, in _Representative Men_, "Each man is, by secret liking, connected with some district of nature, whose agent and interpreter he is, as Linnaeus, of plants; Huber, of bees; Fries, of lichens; Van Mons, of pears; Dalton, of atomic forms; Euclid, of lines; Newton, of fluxions." On the other hand, versatility of genius is not uncommon, for was not Leonardo da Vinci master of all the arts? did not Lord Brougham excel in everything, until they said of him "Science is his forte, omniscience his foible"? and was not our own Franklin equally famous for his several accomplishments? Nevertheless, it is quite certain that most of the great men of history, in art, arms or letters, displayed genius in only one line; yet this does not signify that they could not have displayed equal genius in one or more other lines. Perhaps the case could be stated thus: (1) A genius is a man of uncommon power of intellect; (2) Every man has a natural bent for some one line of effort; (3) A genius is apt to follow his natural bent, and thus excel in only one line; (4) A genius may also excel in one or more other lines, circumstances and environment leading him away from his natural inclinations.

What is greatness? Who were the greatest men of history? Who are the great and the greatest men of the time? These are questions on every tongue, yet who may say the answer? Seneca, Bacon, Carlyle, Goethe, Emerson, Colton and other philosophers have written volumes without answering any of these questions, and nobody yet has been able to give answers satisfactory to all. There are four kinds of greatness: village greatness, provincial greatness, world greatness and era greatness, for we know that a man may be great in his village, mediocre in his province, county, state or country, a nonentity in the world, and a nobody in the era following that in which he lived. A few men are accepted as great during their lifetimes, a few of these are accepted as great outside their own colonies, and only a very few of these survive their own eras. While it is true that a man is seldom a hero in his own home, and that greatness is seen to better advantage from a distance, yet some greatness is so weak that it dies before it is fullgrown. Greatness is often divided into two kinds,--greatness of men of action, and greatness of men of thought; yet this is an improper division, since all great men are men of action, and are always endowed with a force which may be called pneumatic energy.

Bismarck once said that a really great man is known by three signs--generosity in the design, humanity in the execution, moderation in success; but Brougham insists that "the true test of a great man is his having been in advance of his age." Schopenhauer, in estimating the greatness of great men, applies the inverted law of the physical, which stands for the intellectual and spiritual nature, the former being lessened by distance, the latter increased. But these views do not help us much in our effort to find what is greatness. When Sir William Jones was asked who was the greatest man, he answered, "The best: and if I am required to say who is the best, I reply he that deserved most of his fellow-creatures." Is this a correct test?--what fellow-creatures?--creatures of his own time, or of all time?--who is to judge what is best for them,--they or I?--and who is to say whether he is deserving or not, and deserving of what? Dempsey is a great fighter; Raphael was a great painter; Socrates a great philosopher; Hannibal a great general; Beecher a great preacher; Columbus a great discoverer; Browning a great poet; Gibbon a great historian; Lincoln a great agitator; Dana a great editor; Steinitz a great chess-player; and so on,--perhaps the greatest of their time, but would they be numbered among the greatest men? Is a great shoemaker a great man? Yet he is very deserving of his fellow-creatures, and he may be the greatest of his kind. Is a great hangman as great as a great divine, and is the greatest clown to be numbered among the greatest men of history?

Again, in selecting the great men, should there not be some limit in number and some method of declaring different degrees of greatness, because otherwise the man who wrote "Home, Sweet Home" might find a place alongside Shakespeare. Again, should a conqueror be classed among the great? Still again, are philosophers like Schopenhauer, Ibsen, Bernard Shaw and Nietzsche to be numbered among the great, when most people say that their philosophy is wrong, destructive and immoral? No wonder, then, that nobody has yet been able to give a satisfactory definition of Greatness. Alexander accomplished wonders: he conquered the then known world and wept for other worlds to conquer; but perhaps he was not so deserving of his fellows as some poor shoemaker. And take Napoleon: he made all Europe run blood; yet he certainly did much good; are we to balance his account and determine if the good outweighed the bad? Dante and Milton are always numbered among the greatest men, yet some do say that these great poets did more harm than good by perpetuating the false doctrines of Hell and Paradise. Was Robespierre a great man?--no one questions that great good came from the French Revolution, yet who will urge a monument to Robespierre, the personification of that Revolution? His intentions were good, however bad may have been the method, but so were Cromwell's regardless of his fanaticism; yet public opinion curses the one and crowns the other. Some men seem to accomplish world-wonders without effort, while others struggle against tremendous odds: of the two, the latter, of course, are the greater, because, as Bryant says, "Difficulty is a nurse of greatness--a harsh nurse, who rocks her foster children roughly, but rocks them into strength. The mind, grappling with great aims and wrestling with mighty impediments, grows by a certain necessity to the stature of greatness." Some say that greatness is founded in human sympathy, and that the man who shows the biggest heart plus the greatest ability to do, is the greatest man. Others say that greatness consists in reforming the world along religious lines, and still others maintain that greatness is merely righteousness--"He is not great, who is no greatly good" (Shakespeare). Was Caesar great? Remember Campbell's line,--"What millions died that Caesar might be great." Beecher was doubtless right when he said, "Greatness lies not in being strong, but in the right use of strength," but men may differ as to what is the right use, for, suppose he uses it to defend his people against some other people, and for a cause which he believes in, as did Robert E. Lee? He thought he was right, many others thought he was right, and he displayed qualities truly great, yet Beecher would say that Lee was not a great man. No great man ever yet lived who was conceded so to be by everybody. We see many who are great, in a sense, and many that are good; but we seldom see a man who is both great and good; and, according to Franklin, a great man must be both. Leonardo da Vinci was great at many things,--"master of all the arts," and as virtuous as most men, yet many people place Caesar and Alexander in the list of great men and leave da Vinci out. Perhaps Colton was right when he said, "Subtract from the great men all that he owes to opportunity, all that he owes to chance, and all that he has gained by the wisdom of his friends and the folly of his enemies, and the giant will often be seen to be a pigmy." Shall we class Joan of Arc among the great? She was the victim of an illusion and she accomplished that which was bound to come. Shall we nominate Diogenes? He was what would now be called a tramp and lived in a tub. Shall we give Socrates a niche? He was also something of a tramp, and we may never know how much he really said of the many wise things which Plato attributed to him. Shall we declare Washington and Jefferson great, and not Tom Paine, when the latter knew more than the other two together, and gave them most of their ideas? No, we don't do that, because they say that Paine's religious views were bad. Shall Theodore Roosevelt go on the list? Shall we put Martin Luther on, and not Voltaire? And how about poor John Brown?--he did not accomplish much but he tried mighty hard and died in the attempt. Shall Booker T. Washington's name not go on the immortal list just because he is black? If not, how about Confucius who was yellow? Shall Jesus' name be written on the scroll and not Buddha's or Mohammed's? The fact is that it is next to impossible to name a complete list of the _great_ men of history,--to say nothing of the _greatest_ men. One of the toughest problems I ever attempted to solve was once given me by a young student, who asked me to write down the names of the twenty-five greatest men. I spent many evenings on it, and the answer was published in many newspapers. The chief difficulty came in the attempt to limit the list to just twenty-five--it is easy to make a list of _about_ twenty-five, or about fifty, or about ten.

As I remember it, the list was as follows:

1. Moses 2. Homer 3. Pericles 4. Alexander 5. Plato 6. Aristotle 7. Archimedes 8. Julius Caesar 9. Augustus Caesar 10. Charlemagne 11. Alfred the Great 12. Leonardo da Vinci 13. Dante 14. Copernicus 15. Galileo 16. Shakespeare 17. Bacon 18. Milton 19. Cromwell 20. Newton 21. Napoleon 22. Beethoven 23. Goethe 24. Franklin 25. Lincoln

This list is not yet satisfactory. It should contain John Fiske, who knew everything, Herbert Spencer, Darwin, Kant, Descartes, Emerson, Washington,--but hold! there is no end. Ten years from now I shall make another list and it will probably contain a new name, perhaps Roosevelt, Wilson, Bryan, Foch.

As Rochefoucauld says, "However brilliant an action may be, it ought not to pass for great when it is not the result of great design." Some men became famous--apparently great--by accident, or because of circumstances, but that is not greatness. I once became the manager of a dinner in honor of Mr. Bryan, and, like Byron, woke up one morning to find myself famous--think of it!--famous for getting up a dinner. But such fame is meteoric and has but a mushroom existence. Fielding says somewhere that Greatness is like a laced coat from Monmouth Street, which fortune lends us for a day to wear and tomorrow puts it on another's back; but he did not mean Greatness, but Fame, or Popularity, Greatness is not greatness if it is not lasting. If we cannot tell what greatness is, we can tell what it is not. The greatness of a man must be judged from the viewpoint of his own time, and we must make due allowance for his weaknesses and blunders; for was not Napoleon a believer in astrology, and could not any school-child today correct Aristotle in natural history and physiology? With this thought in mind we shall not have so much difficulty in singling out the great men of history. "Nature never sends a great man into the planet, without confiding the secret to another soul" (Emerson), and we soon discover them, but not often in their own time--it requires the perspective of history to get them in focus. Great men are the models of nations. As Longfellow says, "they stand like solitary towers in the City of God, and secret passages running deep beneath external nature give their thoughts intercourse with higher intelligence, which strengthens and consoles them, and of which the laborers on the surface do not even dream."

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"Corporations are great engines for the promotion of the public convenience, and for the development of public wealth, and, so long as they are conducted for the purposes for which organized, they are a public benefit; but if allowed to engage, without supervision, in subjects of enterprise foreign to their charters, or if permitted unrestrainedly to control and monopolize the avenues to that industry in which they are engaged, they become a public menace; against which public policy and statutes design protection."

_Leslie V. Lorillard, et al._--110 N. Y. 533.

_The Martyrdom of Genius_

It seems that those who have done the most good in this world have usually been the most unfortunate. The history-makers are our martyr heroes, abhored for their virtues, tortured for their courage, and persecuted for their good deeds. Verily, all the world's a stage, and the great actors appear upon it, say their lines, perform their parts, and then disappear behind the curtain amid a storm of hisses. Genius is seldom appreciated at short range. We praise dead saints, and persecute living ones: we _roast_ our great men in one age, and boast of them in the next. Let us see if history does not bear out these assertions.--Alexander the Great died in his youth; Socrates was made to drink the fatal hemlock; Leonidas, the immortal Greek patriot, was hanged; Xerxes was assassinated in his sleep; Scipio was strangled in his bed; Seneca, the Roman moralist, was banished to Corsica; Hannibal took poison to prevent falling into the enemy's hands; Caesar was assassinated by his friends; Philip of Macedon was assassinated by his body guard; Archimedes was stabbed for not going to Marcellus till he had finished his problem; Belisarius was sentenced to death and blinded; Mohammed was despised and persecuted; Bruno was burned alive and his ashes thrown to the four winds of heaven; Dante was banished from Florence; Sir Walter Raleigh was beheaded; Admiral Coligny was murdered at the Massacre of St. Bartholomew; Joan of Arc was burned at the stake; Savonarola was burned on a heap of faggots for his religious preaching; Madam Roland was beheaded; Cardinal Wolsey died on his way to the scaffold; Milton was stricken blind; Martin Luther was excommunicated and persecuted; Anne Boleyn, the good and true wife of Henry VIII, was beheaded; Palissy the Potter had to burn his house to feed his furnace, and was imprisoned in the Bastile for his religious faith; Mary, Queen of Scots, was beheaded after a long imprisonment; Cervantes, creator of Don Quixote, was imprisoned for debt and suffered want; Edmund Spenser, author of "Faerie Queen," also died of want; Henry of Navarre was assassinated; Galileo was made to recant under penalty of death; Napoleon was sent to St. Helena; Oliver Cromwell was an exile, a price upon his head; Charles I. was beheaded, Marshal Ney, "Bravest of the Brave," was cruelly shot to death for alleged treason; Madame Racamier, the most beautiful and charming woman in history, died poor, blind and an exile; Voltaire was arrested, imprisoned and exiled; Beethoven, "The Shakespeare of Music," was stricken deaf; Mozart was buried in Potter's Field; the gallant Decatur and the illustrious Hamilton were cruelly shot by duelists; John Brown was shot for trying to free the slaves; Lincoln, Garfield and McKinley were assassinated; Madame De Stael was banished from Paris because Napoleon did not like her; Florence Nightingale became a chronic invalid; Marie Antoinette was beheaded; Garibaldi was condemned to death and compelled to flee his native land; Gen. Custer fought the Indians till none of his soldiers lived and then died upon the battle-field; Victor Hugo was made to flee Brussels; Lafayette in France was imprisoned and nearly starved to death; David Livingstone, explorer, died in the wilds of Africa; Tasso was exiled and imprisoned and died in poverty; Lovejoy was murdered; Wm. Lloyd Garrison and Wendell Phillips were mobbed on the streets of Boston; Sir Henry Vane was beheaded because he asserted liberty; William Penn was persecuted and imprisoned; Aristides was exiled; Aristotle had to flee for his life and swallowed poison; Pythagoras was persecuted and probably burned to death; Paul was beheaded; Spinoza was tracked, hunted, cursed and forbidden aid or food; Huss, Wyclif, Latimer and Lyndale were burned at the stake; Schiller was buried in a three-thaler coffin at midnight without funeral rites; Pompey was assassinated in Egypt by one of his own officers; Shelley, the poet, was drowned; William, Prince of Orange, was assassinated; Anaxagoras was dragged to prison for asserting his idea of God; Gerbert, Roger Bacon and Cornelius Agrippa, the great chemists and geometricians, were abhored as magicians; Petrarch lived in deadly fear of the wrath of the priests; Descartes was horribly persecuted in Holland when he first published his opinions; Racine and Corneille nearly died of starvation; Lee Sage, in his old age was saved from starvation by his son who was an actor; Boethius, Selden, Grotius and Sir John Pettus wrote many of their best works in jail; John Bunyan wrote Pilgrim's Progress while in prison; De Foe, author of the immortal Cruso, was imprisoned for writing a pamphlet, and so was Leigh Hunt for a similar offense; Homer was a beggar; Plautus turned a mill; Terence was a slave; Paul Borghese had fourteen trades, yet starved with them all; Bentivoglio was refused admission into the hospital he had himself erected; Camoens, author of the Lusiad, died in an alms house; Dryden lived in poverty and distress; Otway died prematurely through hunger; Steele was constantly pursued by bailiffs; Fielding was buried in a factory graveyard without a stone; Savage died in jail at Lisbon; Butler lived in penury and died in distress; Chatterton, pursued by misfortune, killed himself in his youth; Samuel Abbott, inventor of the process of turning potatoes into starch, was burned to death in his own factory; Chaucer exchanged a palace for a prison; Bacon died in disgrace; Ben Johnson lived and died in poverty; Bishop Taylor was imprisoned; Clarendon died in exile; Swift and Addison lived and died unhappy and unfortunate; Dr. Johnson died of scrofula, in poverty and pain; Goldsmith was always poor and died in squalor and misery; Smollett, several times fined and imprisoned, died at 33; Cowper was poor and tinged with madness. Of the American discoverers, Columbus was put in chains and died of poverty and neglect; Roldin and Bobadilla were drowned; Ovando was harshly superceded; Las Casas sought refuge in a cowl; Ojeda died in extreme poverty; Encisco was deposed by his own men; Nicuessa perished miserably by the cruelty of his party; Basco Nunez de Balboa was disgracefully beheaded; Narvaez was imprisoned in a tropical dungeon and afterwards died of hardship; Cortez was dishonored; Alvarado was destroyed in ambush; Almagro was garroted; Pizarro was murdered and his four brothers were cut off.

Doubtless, many other martyrs could be mentioned, but perhaps the foregoing will suffice to prove our case. As Napoleon once said, it is the cause and not the death that makes the martyr, and many of the foregoing martyrs perhaps deserved to die as they did. But, who may say? An additional list will be found in "Fox's Martyrs," but they are mostly religious martyrs, whereas the foregoing is general and fairly representative of every age and of every calling.

_Gentlemen, Be Seated_

When the interlocutor says these words, all the men sit down. They all assume that they are gentlemen; anyway, they know that they have been called such, and they accept the appellation. Any man will be offended if you say he is no gentleman. Every man wants to be known as a gentleman. The sign that reads "Gentlemen will not expectorate upon the floor--others _must_ not," is very effective, because every man who reads it will obey, fearing that if he does not he will not be rated as a gentleman. You cannot appeal to him on any stronger ground; the dangers of tuberculosis, cleanliness, the ladies' skirts, and such, do not weigh so heavy as the argument that real gentlemen do not expectorate. Take the lowliest laborer, and you cannot pay him a higher compliment than to make him understand that you rate him as a gentleman. Even pickpockets, burglars and thugs pride themselves on being gentlemen, when off duty, and it is their highest ambition to get dressed up and to frequent the same hotels, restaurants and resorts that gentlemen frequent. And yet, if you ask any of these what a gentleman is, he cannot tell you. For that matter, who can? What is a gentleman? What are the qualifications and requirements? Can a person be a gentleman part of the time and not all the time, or is he born one way or the other? Can a person who was not born a gentleman acquire the title? Is it a matter of birth, a matter of character, a matter of conscience, a matter of dress, a matter of conduct, or a matter of education? Can a man who has been brought up in ignorance, crime, filth, squalor, and degradation be educated to be a gentleman, or will his real self pop out sometime and show that he is not? The dictionary definition of a gentleman is: "A man of good birth; every man above the rank of yeoman, comprehending noblemen; a man who, without a title, bears a coat of arms, or whose ancestors were freemen; a man of good breeding and politeness, as distinguished from the vulgar and clownish; a man in a position of life above a tradesman or mechanic; a term of complaisance." But none of these definitions covers the modern "gentleman"; not one is adequate. Chaucer's idea was that "He is gentle who doth gentle deeds." Calvert's was that a gentleman is a Christian product. Goldsmith's, that the barber made the gentleman. Locke's, that education begins the gentleman and that good company and reflection finishes him. Hugo's, that he is the best gentleman who is the son of his own deserts. Emerson's, that cheerfulness and repose are the badge of a gentleman. Steele's, that to be a fine gentleman is to be generous and brave. Spenser's, that it is a matter of deeds and manners. Shaftesbury's, that it is the taste of beauty and the relish of what is decent, just and amiable that perfects the gentleman. Byron's, that the grace of being, without alloy of fop or beau, a finished gentleman, is something that Nature writes on the brow of certain men. Beaconsfield's, that propriety of manners and consideration for others are the two main characteristics of a gentleman. Hazlitt's, that a gentleman is one who understands and shows every mark of deference to the claims of self-love in others, and exacts it in turn from them, and that _propriety_ is as near a word as any to denote the manners of the gentlemen--plus elegance, for fine gentlemen, dignity for noblemen and majesty for kings.

Chesterfield's opinion ought to be worth considering--"A gentleman has ease without familiarity, is respectful without meanness, genteel without affectation, insinuating without seeming art." Likewise Ruskin's--"A gentleman's first characteristic is that fineness of structure in the body which renders it capable of the most delicate sensation; and of structure in the mind which renders it capable of the most delicate sympathies; one may say simply 'fineness of structure.'" The Psalmist describes a gentleman as one "that walketh uprightly, and worketh righteousness, and speaketh the truth in his heart," and Samuel Smiles adds that a gentleman's qualities depend, not on fashion or manners, but or moral worth; not on personal possessions, but on personal qualities. Thackeray intimates that a gentleman must be honest, gentle, generous, brave, wise; and, possessing all these qualities, he must exercise them in the most graceful outward manner. That he must be a loyal son, a true husband, and an honest father. That his life ought to be decent, his bills paid, his taste high and elegant, and his aim in life lofty and noble. A more modern view is that of the great English philosopher, Herbert Spencer, who says that "Thoughtfulness for others, generosity, modesty and self-respect are the qualities that make the real gentleman or lady, as distinguished from the veneered article that commonly goes by that name." And here's another view:

_Gentleman_--A man that's clean outside and in; who neither looks up to the rich nor down on the poor; who can lose without squealing and who can win without bragging; who is considerate of women, and children and old people; who is too brave to lie, too generous to cheat, and who takes his share of the world and lets other people have theirs.