Wednesday, August 21, 2019

WE, by Yevgeny Zamyatin


This day in history: Yevgeny Zamyatin died on this day in 1937. He wrote a book which foreshadowed Ayn Rand's Anthem and George Orwell's 1984, about a world in which the State, animated by a collectivist ideology attempts to eradicate individuality. Yevgeny Zamyatin’s "We" was first published in English in 1924 (he wrote it in Russian, but it was suppressed in the USSR). In "We", the mathematician D-503 records his thoughts in a world in which individuals are reduced to mere numbers. The slogan of the OneState is “Long live OneState! Long live the numbers! Long live the Benefactor!”




Anthem: The Graphic Novel (Episode 1)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OlH1T3djMCM

Anthem: The Graphic Novel (Episode 2)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l06-VCahjLw

Anthem: The Graphic Novel (Episode 3)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VXNMCjqBamk

Anthem: The Graphic Novel (Episode 4)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=keovkt7KQkI

Anthem Audiobook by Ayn Rand
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bTnUFwheYGk

1984 by George Orwell | Full Audiobook
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YzX-ebD9Axw

Sunday, August 4, 2019

Ayn Rand: Sovietologist


Whatever one thinks of Ayn Rand as a novelist, it is fair to say that her books, especially Atlas Shrugged, contain a great deal of sophisticated political and economic thinking. Atlas Shrugged may well be the most economically literate novel ever written. Although Rand does not couch her points in the language of economic theory, there is much in Atlas Shrugged that is consistent with sound economics.  This should not be surprising given that her favorite economist was Ludwig von Mises. Moreover, her chapter “Aristocracy of Pull” is chock full of excellent political economy that fits well with Public Choice economics as well as the long history of classical liberalism dating back at least to Adam Smith. The famous “Love of Money” speech by Francisco D’Anconia contains many astute observations about the nature of money and its role in a market economy.

Less noted in this regard is Rand’s first novel, We the Living. This is a semiautobiographical story set in Russia just after the revolution of 1917. The particulars of the plot are not as interesting in this context as the level of detail Rand provides about life in the Soviet Union in the early years of communist rule. I recently reread it for the first time in 20 or 25 years and was struck by the sophistication of Rand’s analysis of the Soviet economy in practice. Unlike most contemporary western observers, she had first-hand knowledge of the terrible conditions and the reality of Soviet power.

Three Insights
Three insights in We the Living illustrate Rand’s superior understanding of Soviet socialism. First she recognized what has since been called “the myth of the plan.” If Mises, F. A. Hayek, and the other Austrians are right, it’s impossible to plan a complex economy, yet many referred to the Soviet Union as having a “planned economy” right up to its demise in 1991. A variety of plot details and sidelights in Rand’s novel illustrates that the economy was anything but planned, with the two most obvious being how Party insiders had differential access to goods and the thriving black market. Those “in charge” of the economy are accurately portrayed as clueless about how to get things done, while the black marketeers at least get goods moving. Although she never says so explicitly, it’s clear that the “planners” suffer from the exact knowledge problem the Austrians raised.

Second, the novel makes clear that in the absence of any rationality to the plan, those with the power to implement it will use that power to divert resources to themselves. More specifically, Rand understood how a system in which discretionary power is up for grabs will attract those with a comparative advantage in acquiring and using that power. Much of her portrayal of party members revolves around their competition with one another in climbing the ladder — no one hesitating to stab his comrades in the back. Those who are good at such maneuverings are able to gain power and control resources. In the end, much like in Animal Farm, things didn’t change that much: The revolution ended the exploitation of man by man and replaced it with . . . the exploitation of man by man.

Declining Living Standards
Finally, Rand vividly documents the decline in living standards for the average Russian. There are countless descriptions of the impoverishment of the citizenry, from their shrinking living space, to their dwindling food supplies, to their increasingly shabby clothing, to their growing inability to heat their homes. The party elite, of course, lives well, but the average person suffers. Rand’s depiction is important here because so many observers from the 1930s right up through the 1980s argued that the Soviet economy was an economic powerhouse that would overtake America’s. Paul Samuelson’s widely used introductory economics textbook for years had a graph showing just that. Pundits and experts both left and right believed the “official” Soviet statistics, with the left wanting to believe that socialism worked and the right wanting to justify larger military budgets. But just as in the United States during World War II, aggregates such as GDP, which in the Soviet case were not accurate anyway, mostly reflected “conspicuous production” that had little relationship to the well-being of the typical person.

We the Living makes this abundantly clear.
Rand’s novels may or may not be excellent literature, but they are excellent both at deploying good political economy and, in the case of We the Living, getting economic history right in a way most everyone else did not.
Steven Horwitz
Steven Horwitz
Steven Horwitz is the Distinguished Professor of Free Enterprise in the Department of Economics at Ball State University, where he also is a Fellow at the Institute for Entrepreneurship and Free Enterprise. He is the author of Hayek’s Modern Family: Classical Liberalism and the Evolution of Social Institutions.
This article was originally published on FEE.org. Read the original article.

Sunday, July 28, 2019

To Be Governed Is To Be Watched


To be governed, is to be watched, inspected, spied, directed, law-ridden, regulated, penned up, indoctrinated, preached at, checked, appraised, seized, censured, commanded, by beings who have neither title nor knowledge nor virtue. To be governed is to have every operation, every transaction, every movement noted, registered, counted, rated, stamped, measured, numbered, assessed, licensed, refused, authorized, indorsed, admonished, prevented, reformed, redressed, corrected. To be governed is, under pretext of public utility and in the name of the general interest, to be laid under contribution, drilled, fleeced, exploited, monopolized, extorted from, exhausted, hoaxed and robbed; then, upon the slightest resistance, at the first word of complaint, to be repressed, fined, vilified, annoyed, hunted down, pulled about, beaten, disarmed, bound, imprisoned, shot, mitrailleused, judged, condemned, banished, sacrificed, sold, betrayed, and, to crown all, ridiculed, derided, outraged, dishonored.—Proudhon

Sunday, July 21, 2019

Socialism and Competition, 1910 Article


Socialism and Competition, article in Watson's Jeffersonian Magazine 1910

As to eliminating competition, we might as well speak of stopping the movement of the waves upon the ocean, of the clouds in the sky. How would strength be developed, were there no rivalry, no competition? If you are strong, it is because you have had to do battle with circumstance and competitors. If I am strong, it is because I have been a fighter, from my youth up. As long as the contest is a fair one, nobody is wronged. The loser pays— that's all. Over the whole universe is written by the hand of Jehovah the stern old Roman adage vae victis—woe to vanquished. Good heavens! How bat-like these Socialists are! They ignore the simplest facts that lie right before their eyes. On the earth, in the sea, in the air, is the fiercest competition, going on by night and by day. The race is to the swift, the battle to the strong. Nature has no pity, no hate, no love. She smites all who violate her laws, whether we know what those laws are, or not. You violate some unwritten rule as to health, and down you go, no matter how good and useful your life may be. The Pestilence does not spare the righteous: Famine takes no account of your faith: Misfortune never separates sheep from goats. "Obey my laws, or perish", is the inexorable command of Nature. The man who fails to see this is either hopelessly stupid, or the victim of hereditary superstition. Be honest with yourself, Reader. See things as they are. Be as hopeful as you can; work, like fighting fire, to make the world better; but don't enwrap yourself in delusions.

Competition is the law of life, and the survival is to the fittest. Ever and ever, Nature works to get rid of the feeble. Ever and ever, she labors to evolve the perfect. The wisdom of the sages has been devoted to the fixing of the rules which govern competition; and so long as those rules are followed, competition is as natural and as harmless as the flow of the sap and the birth of the flowers.

Work! Without haste and without rest. WORK! All nature cries it. The constellations on high proclaim it. The restless tides of the seas, bear witness to it. The bounding blood in our veins, the crowding thoughts in our minds, the eager longing in our souls are ever present, never failing reminders that the Hymn of Life sounds the order for the battle and the march. The muffled drums within us beat the everlasting Reveille; and with the sun of each day, begins the fight anew.

Abolish all this? How could we? The stream cannot rise higher than its source, and humanity cannot escape its own limitations.

Co-operation on a small scale is a perfect success. Why? Because it competes. It brings the power of unionized effort to bear against individual enterprise. But no Socialist experiment ever succeeded. It has been tried, over and over again, both in America and in Europe, in ancient as well as modern times. Wayland himself chose a nice lot of human angels, and tried his fad at Ruskin, Tennessee. He discovered that his cherubs were just human bipeds, and Ruskin failed to become a Paradise. Instead, there was a lovely row among the Elect, and the colony was torn to pieces by factions. Scores of times, carefully selected men and women, who imagined themselves congenially altruistic, have turned their self-complacent backs upon us common clod-hoppers, and gone off to themselves to make a Garden of Eden. But never have they succeeded in making one. The serpent invariably enters; and it is the old story of Paradise Lost.

If the selected colonies fail to make a success of Socialism, how could the miscellaneous mass do it? If elemental human traits bring dismal failure to the chosen, congenial, altruistic groups, how can a person gifted with ordinary common-sense bring himself to believe that a similar experiment would succeed, when made with all the wicked people taken into the venture? If Socialism meets with invariable failure, when tried by the best people, could you reasonably expect better results from it, when the worst people are included in the venture?

Thursday, July 4, 2019

The First Fourth of July


Mr. Woods is a free-lance editor and author of numerous books and magazine articles.

It seems safe but it is hardly pleasing to say that few of the millions who jam the highways, beaches, lakes, amusement parks, picnic grounds, baseball diamonds, golf links, restaurants, and theaters this Fourth of July will give a thought to that which we celebrate and those whom we honor: that is, the Declaration of Independence, the courageous men who signed it, and the brave men and women of the first thirteen states who accepted, supported, and fought for its principles.

"The Day of Deliverance," John Adams called it in a letter to his wife, Abigail. "I am apt to be­lieve," he wrote, "that it will be celebrated by succeeding genera­tions as the great anniversary festival. It ought to be commemor­ated . . . by solemn acts of devo­tion to God Almighty. It ought to be solemnized with pomp and pa­rade, with shows, games, sports, guns, bells, bonfires, and illumina­tions, from one end of this contin­ent to the other, from this time forward forevermore."

Although it is easy to understand and share Adams‘ enthusi­asm, it should not be supposed that the drafting, endorsement, and signing of the Declaration was a gay and reckless proceeding.

Jefferson‘s great document owes its genesis to the revolu­tionary assembly of Virginia when, thirteen months after Con­cord and Lexington, it instructed its delegates to the Continental Congress to propose independence. Richard Henry Lee of Virginia presented the resolution on June 7, but Congress postponed deci­sion to July 1.

As General Howe’s fleet was being sighted off New York Har­bor, the Second Continental Con­gress, meeting in the State House (later Independence Hall) in Philadelphia, began its momen­tous debate on Lee’s resolution and the supporting Declaration Thom­as Jefferson had been requested to write. Jefferson’s great document was cut and amended in the course of a four-day debate by some forty-odd men of position and property from the thirteen colonies, while Washington’s rag, tag, and bob­tail and outnumbered army in New York was being further en­dangered by additional redcoats from the newly anchored British fleet. Consequently, the natural tenseness of the drama being en­acted in Philadelphia was heightened repeatedly by the ar­rival of couriers with messages from distressed colonial assem­blies, and by unfailingly calm but desperate pleas from General Washington for more men and supplies.

When the delegates assembled on the morning of July 3, an anonymous note was found on the Speaker’s table: "Take care. A plot is framed for your destruc­tion and all of you shall be des­troyed." Several nervous delegates thought the cellars of the State House should be searched, espe­cially since there were many loyal­ist sympathizers in Philadelphia. But most of the delegates agreed with Joseph Hewes of North Caro­lina when he urged the note be ignored, adding, "I’d as soon be blown to bits as proclaim to the world I was scared by a silly note."

The sense of urgency in the Congress became so great by the afternoon of July 4 that a final vote was taken—resulting in unanimous agreement that "we hold these truths to be self-evi­dent" and that "with a firm re­liance on the protection of divine Providence, we mutually pledge to each other our Lives, our For­tunes, and our sacred Honor." Delegate after delegate stood up and declared himself. (Four dele­gates, obliged to abstain from vot­ing because they lacked instruc­tions from their home assemblies, later in the month signed the document; four others refused to sign and resigned from Con­gress.)

When everyone had openly de­clared himself, each man signed the Declaration with full aware­ness that this step into a new dawn also placed him in the shadow of the gallows for treason to the British Crown. They knew, too, that their signatures could be brands that burned their homes, warrants that confiscated their farms, whips that lashed their wives and children into exile. But sign they did; some quietly, others boldly, a few with a jest, none with a whine or whimper.

White-haired Stephen Hopkins from Rhode Island, whose hands trem­bled from a sickness, said as he scrawled his signature, "My hand may tremble but my heart does not!" Fifty-five members of the Con­tinental Congress ultimately signed the Declaration as en­grossed on parchment on August 2, 1776; later, seven who were absent signed, followed by the signature of six who became mem­bers of the Congress shortly after July 4.

Congress had resolved "to prevent traitors and spies from worming themselves amongst us, no person shall have a seat in Con­gress until he shall have signed the Declaration." The Declaration appeared for the first time in a newspaper, the Pennsylvania, Evening Post of Philadelphia, on Saturday, July 6, but created little or no excitement.

John Dunlap, printer to Congress, had been ordered to print as quickly as possible carefully-proofed copies of the Declaration. Couriers were held in readiness to gallop over the roads with cop­ies for the new independent states. Congress had resolved that the Declaration should be read to pub­lic assemblies, citizens commit­tees, councils, militia, and that copies be delivered "to the minis­ters of each parish, of every de­nomination, to be read as soon as divine service is ended, on the first Lord’s Day after they shall have received it," and that the clergymen should then give their copies to the clerk of the town council who was "required to re­cord the same."

The first public celebration of the Declaration began in Philadel­phia early on Monday, July 8, when a man was instructed to climb the State House tower to ring the bell—the Liberty Bell. The bells of other churches in the town quickly joined in, and all continued to ring the rest of that day and night. By noon, the yard back of the State House was packed with people come to hear the news.

Jefferson, Franklin, and Hancock were among those on the platform when the Sheriff of Philadelphia became the first one publicly to proclaim the Declara­tion. The King’s banners and arms were torn from all public places and dumped on the Com­mons for a bonfire. Later in the day, the Declaration was again read at the same spot, followed by volleys from the militia, cheers, speeches, toasts, fireworks, and il­lumination.

Samuel Adams, in his room at Philadelphia that day, picked up hundreds of letters written to him by patriots over the years—letters that would in­criminate many of his friends if they fell into enemy hands—and he tore the letters into shreds and tossed the confetti into the street to add to the festivities.

Meanwhile, couriers on horse­back were speeding copies of the Declaration to all the new states, some communities of which did not get the news until a month later. An express rider on his way to General Washington’s headquarters in New York, stopped at New Brunswick, New Jersey, early Tuesday morning. He was sent on his way with a fresh horse when he showed a copy of the Dec­laration.

The town council decided to read the document in front of the White Hall Tavern that same day "to overawe any disaffected Tories," and in the evening the document was proclaimed to the College of New Jersey, which was followed by volleys of musket fire and general celebration.

Bridge­ton, Perth Amboy, and Dover, New Jersey, soon followed with their own celebrations—volleys, feasting, parades, and bonfires. At 6 p.m. on Tuesday, July 9, a hollow square was formed by a brigade of Washington‘s soldiers in New York. Washington sat on his horse within the square as an aide read the Declaration to the troops, within sight of the great British fleet in the harbor. At its conclusion soldiers and citizens proceeded to the Bowling Green and demolished a gilt equestrian statue of George III. The four thousand pounds of lead in it would make musket balls.

Wherever and whenever the news arrived, there were formal proclamations of the Declaration, usually followed by volleys of mus­ket or cannon—thirteen was the magic number—then by parades, and often by thirteen toasts in rum or wine. Town and village of­ficials were expected to swear to uphold the rights of the new na­tion, and all signs and symbols of the British crown were removed and destroyed. A Connecticut inn­keeper was jailed for opposing the Declaration, and some of the new­ly born were named Independence, Washington, Adams, or Hancock. Yale University‘s future presi­dent, Ezra Stiles, noted in his diary that "the whole continent is all alive."

Militant Boston re­ceived the stirring news July 18 and had elaborate ceremonies and celebrations. Worcester had joy­ously erupted four days earlier. One week after Boston‘s festivi­ties, Williamsburg, Virginia, pro­claimed the Declaration with read­ings in front of the Capitol, the Court House, and the Palace in the presence of such notables as George Mason, Patrick Henry, and Richard Henry Lee. Many toasts were drunk that evening in the famous Raleigh Tavern. The document was read to excited crowds at Halifax, North Caro­lina. Charleston, South Carolina, made the occasion both solemn and gay, helped by people from all parts of the state who had come to town for the event. Savannah had a solemn funeral procession which was ended with the burial of George III in effigy, a minister "committing his existence to the ground."

Many towns had Liberty Trees or Liberty Poles at which ceremonies were conducted. In Huntington, Long Island, they made an effigy of George III, lined it with gunpowder, wrapped it in the now repudiated flag, hung it on the Liberty Pole, ig­nited it, and howled with glee when George exploded with a bang.

One year later, Private Elijah Fisher, a member of George Wash­ington’s guard when the Comman­der-in-Chief was with his army at New Brunswick, New Jersey, re­corded in his diary: "We Sele­brated the Independence of Amer­ica, the howl army parraded….the artillery Discharged thirteen Can­non. we gave three Chears. At Night his excelency and the gen­tlemen and Ladys had a Bawl at Head Quarters with grate Pompe." Fifty years later, on July 4, 1826, only three signers of the Declaration of Independence sur­vived: Thomas Jefferson, John Adams, and Charles Carroll of Carrollton. And at the close of that day only Carroll survived.

Jefferson died shortly after noon at his home at Monticello, Vir­ginia, at the age of eighty-three. Adams died later that day at his farmhouse outside Braintree, Massachusetts, at the age of ninety-one, saying at the end, "Jefferson still survives." That morning when Adams was told it was the Fourth of July, he said, "It’s a great day—a good day."

EDITOR’S NOTE: For further reference to the men, the events, and the spirit of 1776, see the review by Edmund Opitz on page 63.
***Liberty 1776 We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain un­alienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness. That to secure these rights, Governments are instituted among Men, deriving their just powers from the consent of the governed. That whenever any Form of Govern­ment becomes destructive of these ends, it is the Right of the People to alter or to abolish it, and to institute new Government, laying its foundation on such principles and organizing its powers in such form, as to them shall seem most likely to effect their Safety and Happiness.
Ralph L. Woods
This article was originally published on FEE.org. Read the original article.

Monday, July 1, 2019

Thomas Sowell on Slavery as a Worldwide Evil


Thomas Sowell has been one of the my favorite writers and thinkers for quite some time now. I love his intellect and he is one of the most quotable people when it comes to race, politics and economics. Here is an excert on slavery from Black Rednecks and White Liberals by Thomas Sowell:

SLAVERY WAS AN EVIL OF GREATER SCOPE and magnitude than most people imagine and, as a result, its place in history is radically different from the way it is usually portrayed. Mention slavery
and immediately the image that arises is that of Africans and their descendants enslaved by Europeans and their descendants in the Southern United States—or, at most, Africans enslaved by Europeans in the Western Hemisphere. No other historic horror is so narrowly construed. No one thinks of war, famine, or decimating epidemics in such localized terms. These are afflictions that have been suffered by the entire human race, all over the planet—and so was slavery. Had slavery been limited to one race in one country during three centuries, its tragedies would not have been
one-tenth the magnitude that they were in fact.

Why this provincial view of a worldwide evil? Often it is those who are most critical of a “Eurocentric” view of the world who are most Eurocentric when it comes to the evils and failings of the human race. Why would anyone wish to arbitrarily understate an evil that plagued mankind for thousands of years, unless it was not this evil itself that was the real concern, but rather the
present-day uses of that historic evil? Clearly, the ability to score ideological points against American society or Western civilization, or to induce guilt and thereby extract benefits from the white population today, are greatly enhanced by making enslavement appear to be a peculiarly American, or a peculiarly white, crime.

Listen to an audio rendition of this here:


Monday, June 24, 2019

The Irrational Religion of Socialism By John Eustace Giles 1838


The Religion of the Socialist is Irrational in its Foundation

In “the Book of the New Moral World, by Robert Owen,” and bearing for its motto, “Sacred to truth, without mystery, mixture of error, or fear of man,” the foundation of the system is stated as follows,

“The Five Fundamental Facts, and Twenty Facts and Laws of Human Nature, on which the Rational System is founded.”

In another production entitled, “Outline of the Rational System,” &c. the Five facts are announced without the Twenty, as “the fundamental facts on which the Rational System of Society is founded;” while the Twenty are in no way spoken of as fundamental to the system, but denominated “The Constitution and Laws of Human Nature, or Moral Science of Man.”

In these two announcements, made in the same year, 1837, the Founder of Socialism, though he proclaims himself to the world as the wisest of men, and an infallible guide to happiness, has fallen, you perceive, into flat contradiction, on a point of no less importance than the foundation of his system. For while in the former statement he mentions at least “Twenty Facts and Laws of Human Nature,” as fundamental to his theory, in the latter he describes them as constituting, not the basis of his system, but the system itself, which he manages to found upon the five facts only. And whether he would have us adopt the first or the second of these statements, or, putting up with a little inconsistency, blend them both together; whether we are to regard his five facts as the foundation of the system, to the exclusion of the twenty, or the twenty to the exclusion of the five; and why in the former case the twenty are described as fundamental, or the five in the latter; whether we are to regard them all as equally fundamental, and why, if such be his meaning, the whole might not have been announced as the Five-and-twenty facts on which the Rational System is founded; or whether, finally, we are to consider the five fundamental to the twenty, as the twenty, in turn, are fundamental to the system; and, upon this supposition, by what process, excepting that of multiplying by four, he has contrived from his five facts to produce twenty, it is impossible, either from the announcements themselves, or the explanation given of them, to determine. Nor is there any way of accounting for statements so perplexing, at the very beginning of a work “sacred to truth, without mystery, or mixture of error,” (how evidently so ever written without “fear of man,”) unless we conclude either that the author, in imitation of ancient philosophers, designed to be unintelligible, or, in laying the foundation of his system, had dug so deep beneath the level of common sense, as to get lost in darkness. One thing, however, you perceive is certain, that the sole basis on which he pretends to found his opinions, is his knowledge of “human nature:” which may be shewn to be not only imperfect, but, though ever so perfect, insufficient for his purpose.

1. The Socialist's religion, then, is irrational in its basis, because founded upon an imperfect knowledge of human nature. Though it will be easy to evince, when necessary, that his boasted “facts and laws” are, many of them, nothing but unproved and worthless assertions, it will be sufficient for the general argument which we are now maintaining, to shew that his knowledge of man falls short of perfection. Professing to give a perfect standard of belief and practice, both with regard to our Maker and our fellow-men, he demands from us nothing less than the consignment of our entire happiness to his care; and consequently is bound, though there were no absurdity in making a knowledge of our nature only the ground of such lofty pretensions, to convince us that his acquaintance with that subject is complete. Because, if otherwise, he founds his system in partial ignorance of the nature for which he undertakes the work of universal legislation; and, for any thing he can affirm to the contrary, ignorance of what may be closely connected with its highest obligations, and most stupendous destinies. Our present argument, therefore, turns upon the simple inquiry, does the Founder of “the Rational System” possess an acquaintance with human nature thus perfect? Unabashed by the examples of great men in all ages, who by common consent have bewailed the deficiency of their knowledge, he answers this question, if we are to judge from his writings, in the affirmative. His book, as we have already seen, is “sacred to truth, without mystery, or mixture of error;” he pronounces his dogmas to be “divine,” “eternal and universal truths;” declares that they “demonstrate what human nature is,” and are in unity with “all” and “every part” of nature; and modestly triumphing in his immeasurable superiority to the wisdom of all nations and all ages, the wisdom not only of earth but of Heaven, “how opposed,” he exclaims, “are the harmony and unity of this science, to all the religions and codes of laws invented by the past generations of men, while ignorant of their own organization, and of the laws of nature!” But such pretensions, without covering the ignorance, only serve to shew the vanity and presumption in which his system is rooted; and it would be well for him to remember, that the boast of infallibility, whatever its success under the darkness of the middle ages, is sure, in the present day, to meet with pity or derision instead of reverence, being invariably regarded by wise men as the most hopeless symptom of dullness or insanity.

On the supposition, however, of its being necessary to put the perfection of his knowledge of human nature to the test, we have no occasion to torture him either with long or abstruse interrogation, since a few questions on one of the most simple occurrences of life will be sufficient for our purpose. If, for instance, we ask him to explain the process by which he lifts his arm? he replies with promptitude, “volition moves the brain, the brain the nerves, the nerves the muscles, and the muscles the bones, integuments, and skin, and thus the whole arm is put in motion.” But when we ask further, how volition moves the brain, or how the brain stimulates the nerves? the question strikes him dumb, and he stands in speechless ignorance before the most lenient tribunal of inquiry. Yet this blind and helpless creature, who cannot explain the twinkling of an eyelid, or the movement of a limb, but, as he creeps through life, picks up mystery at every step, places himself as a candidate for our faith, in opposition to the Lord and Saviour of the world; and offering to illuminate the path of happiness with his discoveries, calls upon us to toss away, and extinguish, if possible, the Lamp of life.

But, irrational as his pretensions to knowledge have been already found, let us view them in connection with some of the leading principles of his own system, and their absurdity will appear yet more glaring and contemptible. “Man,” he tells us, “is the creature of circumstances;” and, though he scoffs at the christian doctrines of the fall and depravity of our nature, he holds a theory of original sin and corruption peculiar to himselft Instead of the agency of Satan, whose existence he denies, he attributes the fall of man to the intervention of magistrates and priests; the latter, by the inculcation of religion, and the former, by the enforcement of laws, especially the law of marriage. Consequently, the whole human race have sunk into a state of ignorance, vice, wretchedness, and irrationality, entirely artificial. Their very organization, he affirms, has lamentably degenerated, and that to raise one of them from this condition, is utterly impossible, without an entire revolution in their circumstances.”

Now admitting, for the sake of argument, these statements to be true, whence, we naturally inquire, has the Founder of Socialism derived that perfection of knowledge and virtue, which renders him so infallible a guide to happiness? Generated from the common mass of corruption, and bred amidst circumstances which “compel men without their will” to be unnaturally vicious, ignorant, wretched, and irrational, he could never, according to his own theory, possess either the capacity or materials of wisdom; and, if desirous of being consistent, is reduced to the alternative either of renouncing his principles or his pretensions. But, in the reasoning of the Socialist, consistency is ef little importance; and, therefore, in defiance both of his five “fundamental facts and his twenty facts and laws of human nature,” he professes to have become mise, though born as the mild ass's colt. “The character of man is formed for him and not by him;” yet this mysterious being has formed a character of perfect excellence for himself. “Though man is the creature of circumstances,” he has not only successfully resisted their power, but, resolving to change the condition of the world, intends to shew that while man is the creature of circumstances, circumstances are the creatures of man. Artificial by education, and even by birth, with nothing too but what is artificial around him, he has become a perfect child of nature, in habit, feeling, and thought. From a book of unmingled falsehood, he has acquired the knowledge of unadulterated truth; in a land of Egyptian darkness, a darkness that may be felt, he has contrived, though hermetically sealed against a gleam from Heaven, to fill himself with unclouded light: and, throwing open the treasury of his knowledge to the world, offers to enrich mankind with sterling maxims of virtue, wisdom, and happiness, which have avowedly been drawn from a bank of wretchedness, insanity, and crime. When, therefore, the author of “the moral science of man” proclaims himself a teacher of “truth, without mystery or mixture of error,” offers himself as an infallible guide to all governments, all classes and nations, and professes to have found the means which, without the intervention of a miracle, shall transform “a Pandemonium into a terrestrial Paradise,” what, let me ask, can equal the absurdity of such pretensions except the folly of believing them! And since the root of his system is rottenness, what can be expected but that the blossom therof should go up as dust!

2. But were the views of human nature, upon which Socialism is based, not thus necessarily defective, it would still be irrational in its foundation, because the mere knowledge of man is too narrow, a ground upon which to dogmatize on morals and religion. As there are five fingers to the hand, and five senses to the body, let us admit that the “Fundamental facts of human nature” are neither more nor less than the “five” which the Socialist has given us; so that to extend them into six, or reduce them down to four, would be treason to common sense. Instead of multiplying them by four, and thus, as we have already hinted, converting them into twenty secondary facts, let us also suppose that to multiply by five, which makes them five-and-twenty, or by three, which reduces them to fifteen, would be a daring outrage against truth. Let us accept, I say, these arithmetical whims of the system, as the soundest logic and purest philosophy; compared with which, the discoveries of Newton are only as the transient gleam of a dew-drop to the immortal glitter of a star; yet how, from the contemplation of five, or twenty, or five-and-twenty, or any number of facts concerning human nature only, can he acquire the right of perpetual dictatorship in religion? or pronounce, with the infallible certainty which he professes, what it is safe to believe or disbelieve, to do or leave undone, in relation to the eternal God?

That some of the truths, both of religion and morality, may be drawn from the study of man, we readily allow; and, had the Socialist offered his opinions to the world as nothing more than the partial conclusions of a mind conscious of imperfection and liability to err, he never could have been assailed from our present position. But he professes to give the entire sum of religious truth and duty. He presumes to tell mankind that they are irrational in extending the circumference of their faith or practice a single inch beyond the puny circle of his discoveries; and, as he professes that his claims to implicit reverence are founded upon the observation of human nature only, his system is manifestly absurd in the main principle upon which it rests. Every relation supposes the existence of at least two parties; and, in order that we may understand the duties which lie between them, it is necessary that both should be considered. But the Socialist, admitting the existence of a First Cause, who sustains towards man the relation of a supreme, creative, and disposing power, absurdly and impiously presumes, with, avowedly, nothing but his observations on the inferior party before him, to scoff at the idea of revelation, and fix the obligations of creatures to their God.

In order that a servant might understand the duties owing to his master, would it be sufficient that he should consult simply his own inclinations; and, finding himself an idle, selfish, and sensual being, conclude that he had nothing more to do than, taking wages without work, to expend them on his lusts? Yet such is an exact illustration of the principle upon which “the children of the New Moral World” have founded their religion. To know what they owe to God, they look exclusively at man. To know the sun, they look at the moon. Consulting neither the nature nor the will of the Being who made them, they consider only themselves; and, finding in their hearts principles of selfishness, sensuality, and hatred to the Divine service, call upon mankind to quit the worship of God; and, regarding nothing but their worldly happiness, to live and die like the brutes which perish. Thus these modern Babel-builders, like those in the plains of Shinar, take for their basis a narrow space of earth; and, forgetting that a fabric so founded must end in a point infinitely short of their object, say to their fellows, “Go to, let us build a city and a tower, whose top shall reach to heaven.” So proceeding to their work, they have brick for stone, and slime have they for mortar, assertions for facts, and dogmatism for argument; and thus they rear a structure, which begins in error, rises in discord, and terminates in vain babblings and confusion.