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The past year has been an eventful and a fruitful one for the Working Class of Europe. Great progress has been made in almost all countries with regard to the organization and extension of a Workingmen s Party; unity, threatened at one time by a small but active sect, has been virtually restored; the working-class movement has forced itself more and more into the foreground of every-day politics, and, a sure sign of approaching triumph, political events, no matter what turn they took, always turned out, in some way or other, favorable to the progress of that movement. At its very outset, the year 1877 was inaugurated by one of the greatest victories ever gained by workingmen. On the 10th of January, the triennial elections, by universal suffrage, for the German Parliament (Reichstag) took place; elections which, ever since 1867, have given the German Workingmen s Party an opportunity of counting their strength and parading before the world their well organized and ever increasing battalions. In 1874, four hundred thousand votes fell to the candidates of labor; in 1877, more than six hundred thousand. Ten workingmen candidates were elected on the 10th, while twenty-four more had to be ballotted for in the supplementary elections which took place a fortnight after. Of these twenty-four, only a few were actually returned, all other parties uniting against them. But the important fact remained, that in all the large towns and industrial centres of the Empire the working-class movement had advanced with giant strides, and that all these electoral districts were certain to fall into their hands at the next ballotting in 1880. Berlin, Dresden, the whole of the Saxon manufacturing districts, and Solingen had been conquered; in Hamburg, Breslau, Nuremberg, Leipzig, Brunswick, in Schleswig-Holstein and the manufacturing districts of Westfalia and the Lower Rhine, a coalition of all the parties had scarcely sufficed to defeat the working-class candidates by bare majorities. German democratic socialism was a power, and a rapidly growing one, with which henceforth all other powers in the country, governing or otherwise, would have to reckon. The effect of these elections was enormous. The middle class were seized with a perfect panic, all the more so as their press had constantly represented social democracy as dwindling down into insignificance. The working class, elated at their own victory, continued the struggle with renewed vigor and upon every available battlefield; while the workingmen of other countries, as we shall see, not only celebrated the victory of the Germans as a triumph of their own, but were stimulated by it to fresh exertions in order not to be left behind in the race for the emancipation of labor. The rapid progress of the Workingmen s Party in Germany is not bought without considerable sacrifices on the part of those who take a more active part in it. Government prosecutions and sentences of fine, and oftener of imprisonment, hail down upon them, and they have long since had to make up their minds to passing the greater part of their lives in prison. Although most of these sentences are for short terms, a couple of weeks to three months, long terms are by no means of rare infliction. Thus, in order to protect the important mining and manufacturing district of Saarbrucken from the infection by social democratic poison, two agitators have recently been sentenced to two years and a half each, for having ventured upon this forbidden ground. The elastic laws of the Empire offer plenty of pretexts for such measures, and where they are not sufficient, the judges are mostly quite willing to stretch them to the point required for a conviction. A great advantage to the German movement is that the Trades organization works hand in hand with the political organization. The immediate advantages offered by the Trades organization draw many an otherwise indifferent man into the political movement, while the community of political action holds together, and assures mutual support to, the otherwise isolated Trades Unions. The success obtained in the elections to the German Parliament has encouraged our German friends to try their chance on other electoral fields. Thus, in two of the State Parliaments, in the smaller States of the Empire, they have succeeded in electing workingmen, and have also penetrated into a good many Town Councils; in the Saxon manufacturing districts, many a town is governed by a social democratic Council. The suffrage being restricted in these elections, no great result can be hoped for; still, every seat carried, helps to prove to the governments and the middle class that henceforth they will have to reckon with the workingmen. But the best proof of the rapid advance of conscious workingclass organization is in the growing number of its periodical organs in the press. And here we have to overstep the boundaries of Bismarck s Empire, for the influence and action of German social democracy is in no ways limited by these. There were publishing in the German language on the 31st of December 1877, in all, not less than seventy-five periodicals in the service of the Workingmen s Party. Of these in the German Empire 62 (amongst which 15 organs of as many Trades Unions), in Switzerland 3, in Austria 3, Hungary 1, America 6; 75 in all, more than the number of workingmen s organs in all other languages put together. After the battle of Sedan, in September 1870, the Executive Committee of the German Workingmen s Party told their constituents that by the results of the war the centre of gravity of the European working-class movement had been shifted from France to Germany, and that the German workmen had thus become invested with a higher trust and with new responsibilities which required on their part renewed exertions. The year 1877 has proved the truth of this, and has proved, at the same time, the proletariat of Germany to have been in no wise inferior to the task of temporary leadership imposed upon it. Whatever mistakes some of the leaders may have made and they are both numerous and manifold the masses themselves have marched onwards resolutely, unhesitatingly and in the right direction. Their conduct, organization and discipline, form a marked contrast to the weakness. irresolution, servility and cowardice so characteristic of all middle-class movements in Germany. But while the German middle class has closed its career by sinking down into a more than Byzantine adulation of William the Victorious and by surrendering itself, bound hand and foot to the wayward will of the one Bismarck, the working class is marching from victory to victory, helped onwards and strengthened even by the very measures which government and middle class contrive in order to suppress it. Great as was the effect of the German elections in the country itself, it was far greater abroad. And in the first instance, it restored that harmony to the European working-class movement which had been disturbed, for the last six years, by the pretensions of a small but extremely busy sect. Those of our readers who have followed the history of the International Workingmen s Association, will recollect that, immediately after the fall of the Paris Commune, there arose dissensions in the midst of the great labor organization, which led to an open split, at the Hague Congress 1872, and to consequent disintegration. These dissensions were caused by a Russian, Bakounine, and his followers, pretending to supremacy, by fair means or by foul, over a body of which they formed but a small minority. Their chief nostrum was an objection, on principle, to all political action on the part of the working class; so much so, that in their eyes, to vote at an election, was to commit an act of treason against the interests of the proletariat. Nothing, but downright, violent revolution would they admit as means of action. From Switzerland, where these anarchists, as they called themselves, had first taken root, they spread to Italy and Spain, where, for a time, they actually dominated the working-class movement. They were more or less supported, within the International, by the Belgians, who, though from different motives, also declared in favor of political abstention. After the split they kept up a show of organization and held congresses, in which a couple of dozen men, always the same, pretending to represent the working class of all Europe, proclaimed their dogmas in its name. But already the German elections of 1874, and the great advantage which the German movement experienced from the presence of nine of its most active members in Parliament, had thrown elements of doubt in the midst of the anarchists. Political events had repressed the movement in Spain, b which disappeared without leaving scarcely a trace; in Switzerland the party in favor of political action, which worked hand in hand with the Germans, became stronger every day and soon outnumbered the few anarchists at the rate of 300 to I; in Italy, )2 after a childish attempt at social revolution (Bologna, 1874) at which neither the sense nor the pluck of the anarchists showed to advantage, the real working-class element began to look out for more rational means of action. In Belgium, the movement, thanks to the abstentionist policy of the leaders, which left the working class without any field for real action, had come to a dead stand. In fact, while the political action of the Germans led them from success to success, the working class of those countries, where abstention was the order of the day, suffered defeat after defeat, and got tired of a movement barren of results; their organizations dropped into oblivion, their press organs disappeared one after the other. The more sensible portion of these workmen could not but be struck by this contrast; rebellion against the anarchist and abstentionist doctrine broke out in Italy as well as in Belgium, and people began to ask themselves and each other, why for the sake of a stupid dogmatism they should be deprived of applying the very means of action which had proved itself the most efficacious of all. This was the state of things when the grand electoral victory of the Germans settled all doubts, overcame all hesitation. No resistance was possible against such a stubborn fact. Italy and Belgium declared for political action; the remnants of the Italian abstentionists, driven to despair, attempted another insurrection near Naples; some thirty anarchists proclaimed the social revolution, but were speedily taken care of by the police. All they attained was the complete breakdown of their own sectarian movement in Italy. Thus the anarchist organization, which had pretended to rule the working-class movement from one end of Europe to the other, was again reduced to its original nucleus, some two hundred men in the Jura district of Switzerland, where from the isolation of their mountain recesses, they continue to protest against the victorious heresy of the rest of the world, and to uphold the true orthodoxy as laid down by the Emperor Bakounine, now defunct. And when in September last the Universal Socialist Congress met at Ghent, in Belgium a congress which they themselves had convoked they found themselves an insignificant minority, face to face with the delegates of the united and unanimous great working-class organizations of Europe. The Congress, while energetically repudiating their ridiculous doctrines and their arrogant pretensions, and establishing the fact that they repudiated merely a small sect, extended to them, in the end, a generous toleration. Thus, after a four years intestine struggle, complete harmony was restored to the action of the working class of Europe, and the policy proclaimed by the majority of the last Congress of the International was thoroughly vindicated by events. A basis was now recovered upon which the workingmen of the different European countries could again act firmly together, and give each other that mutual support which constitutes the principal strength of the movement. The International Workingmen s Association had been rendered an impossi-[...] many, which forbade the workmen of these countries to enter into any such international bond. The Governments might have spared themselves all this trouble. The working-class movement had outgrown not only the necessity but even the possibility of any such formal bond; but not only has the work of the great Proletarian organization been fully accomplished, it continues to live itself, more powerful than ever, in the far stronger bond of union and solidarity, in the community of action and policy which now animates the working class of all Europe, and which is emphatically its own and its grandest work. There is plenty of variety of views amongst the workmen of the different countries, and even of those of each country taken by itself; but there are no longer any sects, no more pretensions to dogmatic orthodoxy and supremacy of doctrine, and there is a common plan of action originally traced by the International but now universally adopted because everywhere it has grown consciously or unconsciously out of the struggle of the necessities of the movement; a plan which, while adapting itself freely to the varying conditions of each nation and each locality, is nevertheless the same everywhere in its fundamental traits, and thus secures unity of purpose and general congruence of the means applied to obtain the common end, the emancipation of the working class through the working class itself. In the preceding article, we have already foreshadowed the principal facts of interest connected with the history of the working-class movement in Italy, Spain, Switzerland and Belgium. Still, something remains to be told. In Spain, the movement had rapidly extended between 1868 and 1872, when the International boasted of more than 30,000 paying members. But all this was more apparent than real, the result more of momentary excitement, brought on by the unsettled political state of the country than by real intellectual progress. Involved in the Cantonalist (federalist-republican) rising of 1873, the Spanish International was crushed along with it. For a time it continued in the shape of a secret society, of which, no doubt, a nucleus is still in existence. But as it has never given any sign of life save sending three delegates to the Ghent Congress, we are driven to the conclusion that these three delegates represent the Spanish working class much in the same way as whilom the three tailors of Tooley-street represented the People of England .149 And whenever a political revulsion will give the workingmen of Spain the possibility of again playing an active part, we may safely predict that the new departure will not come from these anarchist spouters, but from the small body of intelligent and energetic workmen who, in 1872, remained true to the International and who now bide their time instead of playing at secret conspiracy. In Portugal the movement remained always free from the anarchist taint, and proceeded upon the same rational basis as in most other countries. The Portuguese workmen had numerous International sections and Trades Unions; they held a very successful Congress in January 1877, and had an excellent weekly: O Protesto (The Protest). Still, they too were hampered by adverse laws, restrictive of the press and of the right of association and public meeting. They keep struggling on for all that, and are now holding another Congress at Oporto, which will afford them an opportunity of showing to the world that the working class of Portugal takes its proper share in the great and universal struggle for the emancipation of labor. The workmen of Italy, too, are much obstructed in their action by middle-class legislation. A number of special laws enacted under the pretext of suppressing brigandage and wide-spread secret brigand organizations, laws which give the government immense arbitrary powers, are unscrupulously applied to workmen s associations; their more prominent members equally with brigands are subjected to police supervision and banishment without judge or jury. Still the movement proceeds, and, best sign of life, its centre of gravity has been shifted from the venerable, but half-dead cities of Romagna to the busy industrial and manufacturing towns of the North, a change which secured the predominance of the real working-class element over the host of anarchist interlopers of middle-class origin who previously had taken the lead. The workmen s clubs and Trades Unions, ever broken up and dissolved by the government, are ever reformed under new names. The Proletarian Press, though many of its organs are but short-lived in consequence of the prosecutions, fines and sentences of imprisonment against the editors, springs up afresh after every defeat, and, in spite of all obstacles, counts several papers of comparatively old standing. Some of these organs, mostly ephemeral ones, still profess anarchist doctrines, but that fraction has given up all pretensions to rule the movement and is gradually dying out, along with the Mazzinian or middle-class Republican party, and every inch of ground lost by these two factions is so much ground won by the real and intelligent working-class movement. In Belgium, too, the centre of gravity of working-class action has been shifted, and this action itself has undergone an important change in consequence. Up to 1875, this centre lay in the French-speaking part of the country, including Brussels, which is half French and half Flemish; the movement was, during this period, strongly influenced by Proudhonist doctrines, which also enjoin abstention from political interference, especially from elections. There remained, then, nothing but strikes, generally repressed by bloody intervention of the military, and meetings in which the old stock phrases were constantly repeated. The work-people got sick of this and the whole movement gradually fell asleep. But since 1875 the manufacturing towns of the Flemish-speaking portion entered into the struggle with a greater and, as was soon to be proved, a new spirit. In Belgium there are no factory laws whatever to limit the hours of labor of women or children; and the first cry of the factory voters of Ghent and neighborhood was for protection for their wives and children, who were made to slave fifteen and more hours a day in the Cotton Mills. The opposition of the Proudhonist doctrinaires who considered such trifles as far beneath the attention of men occupied with transcendent revolutionism, was of no avail, and was gradually overcome. The demand of legal protection for factory-children became one of the points of the Belgian working-class platform, and with it was broken the spell which hitherto had tabooed political action. The example of the Germans did the rest, and now the Belgian workmen, like those of Germany, Switzerland, Denmark, Portugal, Hungary, Austria and part of Italy, are forming themselves into a political party, distinct from, and opposed to, all other political parties, and aiming at the conquest of their emancipation by whatever political action the situation may require. The great mass of the Swiss workmen the German-speaking portion of them had for some years been formed into a Workmen s Confederation which at the end of 1876 counted above 5,000 paying members. There was, alongside of them another organization, the Gr tli Society, originally formed by the middle-class radicals for the spread of Radicalism amongst workmen and peasants; but gradually social democratic ideas penetrated into this widely-spread association and finally conquered it. In 1877, both these societies entered into an alliance, almost a fusion, for the purpose of organizing a Swiss political labor party; and with such vigor did they act that they carried, at the national vote, the new Swiss Factory Law, of all existing factory acts the one which is most favorable to the work-people. They are now organizing a vigilant supervision to secure its due execution against the loudly proclaimed ill-will of the mill owners. The anarchists, from their superior revolutionary standpoint, as a matter of course violently opposed all this action, denouncing it as a piece of arrant treason against what they call the Revolution ; but as they number 200 at the outside and here as elsewhere are but a general staff of officers without an army, this made no difference. The programme of the Swiss workingmen s Party is almost identical with that of the Germans, only too identical, having adopted even some of its more imperfect and confused passages. But the mere wording of the programme matters little, so long as the spirit which dominates the movement, is of the right sort. The Danish workingmen entered the lists about 1870 and at first made very rapid progress. By an alliance with the small peasant proprietors party, amongst which they succeeded in spreading their views, they attained considerable political influence, so much so that the United Left, of which the peasant party formed the nucleus, for a number of years had the majority in parliament. But there was more show than solidity in this rapid growth of the movement. One day it was found out that two of the leaders had disappeared after squandering the money collected for party purposes from the workingmen. The scandal caused by this was extreme, and the Danish movement has not yet recovered from the discouragement consequent upon it. Anyhow, if the Danish workingmen s party is now proceeding in a more unobtrusive way than before, there is every reason to believe that it is gradually replacing the ephemeral and apparent domination over the masses, which it has now lost, by a more real and more lasting influence. In Austria and Hungary the working class has the greatest difficulties to contend with. Political liberty, as far as the press, meetings and associations are concerned, is there reduced to the lowest level consistent with a sham constitutional monarchy. A code of laws of unheard-of elasticity enables the Government to obtain convictions against even the mildest expression of the demands and interests of the working class. And yet the movement there, as well as elsewhere, goes on irrepressibly. The principal centres are the manufacturing districts of Bohemia, Vienna, and Pesth. Workingmen s periodicals are published in the German, the Bohemian and the Hungarian languages. From Hungary the movement has spread to Servia, where, before the war, a weekly newspaper was published in the Servian language, but when the war broke out the paper was simply suppressed. Thus, wherever we look in Europe, the working-class movement is progressing, not only favorably but rapidly, and what is more, everywhere in the same spirit. Complete harmony is restored, and with it constant and regular intercourse, in one way or another, between the workmen of the different countries. The men who founded, in 1864, the International Working Men s Association, who held high its banner during years of strife, first against external, then against internal foes, until political necessities even more than intestine feuds brought on disruption and seeming retirement these men can now proudly exclaim: The International has done its work; it has fully attained its grand aim the union of the Proletariat of the whole world in the struggle against their oppressors. Our readers will have noticed that in the three preceding articles there has been scarcely any mention made of one of the most important countries of Europe France, and for this reason: In the countries hitherto treated of, the action of the working class, though essentially a political action, is not intimately mixed up with general, or so to say official politics. The working class of Germany, Italy, Belgium etc., is not yet a political power in the State; it is a political power only prospectively, and if the official parties in some of these countries, Conservatives, Liberals, or Radicals, have to reckon with it, it is merely because its rapid onward progress makes it evident, that in a very short time the Proletarian party will be strong enough to make its influence felt. But in France it is different. The workmen of Paris, seconded by those of the large provincial towns, have ever since the great Revolution been a power in the State. They have been for nearly ninety years the fighting army of progress; at every great crisis of French history, they descended into the streets, armed themselves as best as they could, threw up barricades and provoked the battle, and it was their victory or defeat which decided the future of France for years to come. From 1789 to 1830, the revolutions of the middle class were fought out by the workmen of Paris; it was they who conquered the Republic in 1848, having mistaken that Republic to mean emancipation of labor, they were cruelly undeceived by the defeat inflicted on them, in June of the same year; they resisted on the barricades Louis Napoleon s Coup d' tat 1851 and were again defeated; they swept away in September 1870 the defunct Empire which the middle-class Radicals were too cowardly to touch. In March 1871 Thiers attempt to take away from them the arms with which they had defended Paris against foreign invasion, forced them into the revolution of the Commune and the protracted struggle which ended with its bloody extinction. A national working class which thus, for nearly a century, not only has taken a decisive part in every crisis of the history of its own country, but at the same time has always been the advanced guard of European Revolution, such a working class cannot live the comparatively secluded life which is still the proper sphere of action of the rest of the continental workmen. Such a working class as that of France is bound to its past history and by its past history. Its history, no less than its acknowledged decisive fighting power, has mixed it up indissolubly with the general political development of the country. And thus, we cannot give a retrospect of the action of the French working class without entering into French politics generally. Whether the French working class had been fighting its own battle or the battle of the Liberal, Radical, or Republican middle class, every defeat it suffered has hitherto been followed by an oppressive political reaction, as violent as it was enduring. Thus, the defeats of June 1848 and December 1851 were succeeded by the eighteen years of the Bonapartist Empire, during which the press was fettered, the right of meeting and of association suppressed and the working class consequently deprived of every means of inter-communication and organization. The necessary result was that when the revolution of September 1870 came, the workmen had no other men to put into office, but those middle-class radicals who under the Empire had formed the official parliamentary opposition and who as a matter of course betrayed them and their country. After the stamping-out of the Commune, the working class, disabled for years in their fighting power, had but one immediate interest: to avoid the recurrence of such another protracted reign of repression, and with it the necessity of again fighting, not for their own direct emancipation, but for a state of things permitting them to prepare for the final emancipatory struggle. Now, in France there are four great political parties: three monarchist, the Legitimists, Orleanists and Bonapartists, each with a separate pretender to the crown; and the Republican party. Whichever of the three pretenders were to ascend the throne, he would in every case be supported by a small minority only of the people, he would consequently have to rely upon force only. Thus, the reign of violence, the suppression of all public liberties and personal rights, which the working class must wish to avoid, was the necessary concomitant of every Monarchist restoration. On the other hand the maintenance of the established Republican government left them at least the chance of obtaining such a degree of personal and public liberty as would allow them to establish a working-class press, an agitation by meetings and an organization as an independent political party, and moreover, the conservation of the Republic would save them the necessity of delivering a separate battle for its future re-conquest. It was thus another proof of the high instinctive political intelligence of the French working class, that as soon as, on the 16th May last, the great conspiracy of the three Monarchist factions declared war against the Republic, the workmen, one and all, proclaimed the maintenance of the Republic to be their chief immediate object. No doubt in this they acted as the tail of the middle-class Republicans and Radicals, but a working class which has no press, no meetings, no clubs, no political societies, what else can it be but the tail of the Radical middle-class party? What can it do, in order to gain its political independence, but support the only party which is bound to secure to the people generally, and therefore, to the workmen too, such liberties as will admit of independent organization?, Some people say, the workmen at the last election ought to have put up their own candidates, but even in those places where they could have done so successfully, where were the working-class candidates, well known enough amongst their own class to find the necessary support? Why, the government since the Commune have taken good care to arrest, as a participator in that insurrection, every workman who made himself known even by private agitation in his own district of Paris. The victory of the Republicans at the elections last November was signal. It was followed by still more signal triumphs at the departmental, municipal and supplementary elections which followed it. The Monarchist conspiracy would, perhaps, not have given way for all that; but its hand was lamed by the unmistakable attitude of the army. Not only were there numerous Republican officers especially in the lower grades; but, what was more decisive, the mass of the soldiers refused to march against the Republic. That was the first result of the reorganization of the army, by which bought substitutes had been done away with and the army transformed into a fair representation of the young men of all classes. Thus, the conspiracy broke down without having to be broken up by force. And this, too, was much in the interest of the working class which, too weak yet after the blood-letting of 1871, can have no wish to waste again its greatest, its fighting power, in struggles for the benefit of others or to engage in a series of violent collisions before it has recovered its full strength. But this Republican victory has yet another significance. It proves that since 1870 the country people have made a great step in advance. Hitherto, every working-class victory gained in Paris, was nullified in a very short time by the reactionist spirit of the small peasantry who form the great mass of the French population. Since the beginning of this century, the French peasantry had been Bonapartist. The second Republic, established by the Paris workingmen in February 1848, had been cancelled by the six million peasant votes given to Louis Napoleon in December following. But the Prussian invasion of 1870 has shaken the Imperialist faith of the peasantry, and the elections of November last prove that the mass of the country population had become Republican, and this is a change of the highest importance. It does not only mean that henceforth all Monarchist restoration has become hopeless in France. It means also the approaching alliance between the workingmen of the towns and the peasantry of the country. The small peasant proprietors established by the great Revolution are proprietors of the soil, but in name. Their farms are mortgaged to usurers; their crops are spent in the payment of interest and law-expenses; the notary, the attorney, the bailiff, the auctioneer are constantly threatening at their doors. Their position is fully as bad as that of the workingmen, and almost as insecure. And if these peasants now turn from Bonapartism to the Republic, they show by this that they no longer expect an improvement of their condition from those Imperialist miracles which Louis Napoleon ever promised and never performed. Thiers faith in the mysterious powers of salvation held by an Emperor of peasants has been rudely dispelled by the second Empire. The spell is broken. The French peasantry are at last in a state of mind rational enough to look out for the real causes of the chronic distress and for the practical means to do away with it; and once set a thinking they must soon find out that their only remedy lies in an alliance with the only class that has no interest in their present miserable condition, the working class of the town. Thus, however contemptible the present Republican government of France may be, the final establishment of the Republic has at last given the French workingmen the ground upon which they can organize themselves as an independent political party, and fight their future battles, not for the benefit of others, but for their own; the ground, too, upon which they can unite with the hitherto hostile mass of the peasantry and thus render future victories not, as heretofore, short-lived triumphs of Paris over France, but final triumphs of all the oppressed classes of France, led by the workmen of Paris and the large provincial towns. There is still another important European country to be considered Russia. Not that there exists in Russia a working-class movement worth speaking of. But the internal and external circumstances in which Russia is placed are most peculiar and big with events of the highest importance with regard to the future, not only of the Russian workingmen, but those of all Europe. In 1861 the government of Alexander II carried out the emancipation of the serfs, the transformation of the immense majority of the Russian people from bondsmen, attached to the soil and subject to forced labour for their landlord, into free peasant proprietors. This change, the necessity of which had long been evident, was effected in such a way that neither the former landlords nor the former serfs were the gainers by it. The peasant villages received allotments of soil, which henceforth were to be their own, while the landlords were to be paid for the value of the land thus ceded to the villages, and also, to a certain extent, for the claim they hitherto had possessed to the peasant s labor. As the peasants evidently could not find the money to pay the landlords, the State stepped in. One portion of this payment was effected by transferring to the landlord a portion of the land hitherto cultivated by the peasants for their own account; the rest was paid in the shape of government bonds, advanced by the State, and to be repaid to it with interest, in yearly instalments, by the peasants. The majority of the landlords sold these bonds and spent the money; they are thus not only poorer than before, but cannot find laborers to till their estates, the peasants actually declining to work upon them and to leave their own fields uncultivated. As to the peasants, their shares of land had not only been reduced in size from what they had been before, and very often to an extent which, under Russian circumstances, left them insufficient to maintain a family; these shares had, in most instances, been taken from the very worst land on the estate, from bogs or other unclaimed lands, while the good land, hitherto owned by the peasants and improved by their labor, had been transferred to the landlords. Under these circumstances, the peasants, too, were considerably worse off than before; but besides this, they were expected to pay every year to the government the interest and part of the capital advanced by the State for buying them off, and, moreover, the taxes levied upon them increased from year to year. Furthermore, before emancipation, the peasants had possessed certain common rights on the estate lands of pasture for their cattle, the hewing of timber for building and other purposes, etc. These rights were expressly taken from them by the new settlement; if they wanted to exercise them again, they had to bargain with their former landlord. Thus, while the majority of the landed proprietors became even more indebted, in consequence of the change, than they had been before, the peasantry were reduced to a position in which they could neither live nor die. The great act of emancipation, so universally extolled and glorified by the Liberal press of Europe, had created nothing but the groundwork and the absolute necessity of a future revolution. This revolution, the government did all in its power to hasten on the corruption pervading all official spheres, and leaving whatever power for good they might be supposed to possess this hereditary corruption remained as bad as ever, and came to light glaringly in every public department at the outbreak of the Turkish war. The finances of the empire, completely disordered at the end of the Crimean war, were allowed to go from bad to worse. Loan after loan was contracted, until there was no other means of paying the interest of the old debts except by contracting new ones. During the first years of Alexander s reign, the old imperial despotism had been somewhat relaxed; the press had been allowed more freedom, trial by jury established and representative bodies, elected by the nobility, the citizens of the towns, and the peasants respectively, had been permitted to take some share in local and provincial administration. Even with the Poles some political flirtation had been carried on. But the public had misunderstood the benevolent intentions of the government. The press became too outspoken. The juries actually acquitted political prisoners which the government had expected them to convict against evidence. The local and provincial assemblies, one and all, declared that the government, by its act of emancipation, had ruined the country, and that things could not go on in that way any longer. A national assembly was even hinted at as the only means of getting out of troubles fast becoming insupportable. And finally, the Poles refused to be bamboozled with fine words, and broke out into a rebellion which it took all the forces of the empire, and all the brutality of the Russian generals, to quell in torrents of blood. Then the government turned round again. Stern repression once more became the order of the day. The press was muzzled, the political prisoners were handed over to special courts, consisting of judges packed for the purpose, the local and provincial assemblies were ignored. But it was too late. The government, having once shown signs of fear, had lost its prestige. The belief in its stability, and in its power of absolutely crushing all internal resistance, had gone. The germ of a future public opinion had sprung up. The forces could not be brought back to the former implicit obedience to government dictation. Discussion of public matters, if only in private circles, had become a habit among the educated classes. And finally, the government, with all its desire to return to the unbridled despotism of the reign of Nicholas, still pretended to keep up, before the eyes of Europe, the appearances of the liberalism initiated by Alexander. The consequence was a system of vacillation and hesitation, of concessions made to-day and retracted to-morrow, to be again half-conceded and half-retracted in turns, a policy changing from hour to hour, bringing home to everybody the intrinsic weakness, the want of insight and of will, on the part of a government which was nothing unless it was possessed of a will and of the means to enforce it. What was more natural than that every day should increase the contempt felt for a government which, long since known to be powerless for good and obeyed only through fear, now proved that it doubted of its power of maintaining its own existence, that it had at least as much fear of the people as the people had of it? There was only one way of salvation for the Russian government, the way open to all governments brought face to face with overwhelming popular resistance foreign war. And foreign war was resolved upon; a war, proclaimed before Europe as undertaken for the deliverance of Christians from protracted Turkish misrule, but proclaimed before the Russian people as carried on for the bringing home of their Slavonic brethren in race from Turkish bondage into the fold of the Holy Russian Empire. This war, after months of inglorious defeat, has now come to an end through the equally inglorious crushing of Turkish resistance, partly by treachery, partly by immensely superior numbers. But the Russian conquest of the greater part of Turkey in Europe is itself only the prelude to a general European war. Either Russia, at the impending European Conference (if that Conference ever meets), will have to recede so much from the position now gained, that the disproportion between the immense sacrifices and the puny results must bring the popular discontent to a violent revolutionary outburst; or else, Russia will have to maintain her newly conquered position in a European war. More than half exhausted as she is already, her government cannot carry her through such a war whatever may be its final result without important popular concessions. Such concessions, in the face of a situation as that described above, mean the commencement of a revolution. From this revolution the Russian government cannot possibly escape, if even it may succeed in delaying its outbreak for a year or two. But a Russian revolution means more than a mere change of government in Russia herself. It means the disappearance of a vast, though unwieldy, military power which, ever since the French Revolution, has formed the backbone of the united despotisms of Europe. It means the emancipation of Germany from Prussia, for Prussia has already been the creature of Russia, and has only existed by leaning upon her. It means the emancipation of Poland. It means the awakening of the smaller Slavonic nationalities of Eastern Europe from the Panslavist dreams fostered among them by the present Russian government. And it means the beginning of an active national life among the Russian people themselves, and along with it the springing up of a real working-class movement in Russia. Altogether, it means such a change in the whole situation of Europe as must be hailed with joy by the workingmen of every country as a giant step towards their common goal the universal emancipation of Labor.

Karl Marx and Frederick Engels 1878

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1878/03/03.htm

Sir, According to a telegram of Reuter s, Should this Herr Bucher be the same Lothar Bucher who, during his long London exile, shone as a staunch partisan of the late Mr. David Urquhart, whose anti-Russian doctrines he held forth week by week in the Berlin National Gazette; the same Lothar Bucher who, on his return to Berlin, turned so ardent a votary of Ferdinand Lassalle that the latter named him his testamentary executor, bequeathed him an annual revenue, and transferred the copyright of his works to Lothar Bucher ? Soon after Lassalle s death Lothar Bucher entered the Prussian Foreign Office, was made a Councillor of Legation, and became Bismarck s confidential man-of-all-work. He had the na vet to address a letter to myself, inviting me, of course with the sanction of his master, to undertake the money article of the Prussian official Staats-Anzeiger. The pecuniary terms were left to my discretion, while I was expressly told I should enjoy full liberty of treating the operations and the operators of the money market from my own scientific standpoint. Since this odd incident I felt not a little amused at seeing Lothar Bucher s contributions as a member of the International Working Men s Association daily and yearly chronicled in the columns of the Vorbote, an organ of the international, edited by Johann Philipp Becker at Geneva. If this be not a case of mistaken identity, and if there be anything in the reports that the Russian and German Governments, a propos of the attempts of Hoedel and Nobiling, intend to propose to the Congress international measures against the spread of Socialism, then Herr Bucher is the very man to tell the Congress authoritatively that the organisation, the action, and the doctrines of the German Social-Democratic party have no more to do with these attempts than with the sinking of the Grosser Kurfurst, or with the meeting of the Congress at Berlin; that the panic-mongering arrests throughout Germany and the whirlwind of dust raised by the Press-reptiles serve the exclusive purpose of an electioneering cry for a Reichstag ready to sanction at last the solution, long since elaborated by Prince Bismarck, of the paradox problem how to endow the German Government with all the financial resources of a modern State, while, at the same time, reimposing upon the German people the ancient political regime scattered to pieces by the hurricane of 1848. I am, Sir, your obedient servant,

Karl Marx and Frederick Engels 1878

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1878/06/13.htm

I believe it worth while to illustrate by a few notes the most recent contribution see the Nineteenth Century of July last to the extensive spurious literature on the International s History, because its last expounder, Mr. George Howell, an ex-workman and ex-member of the General Council of that Association, may erroneously be supposed to have drawn his wisdom from sources not generally accessible. Mr. Howell sets about his History by passing by the facts that, on September 28th, 1864, 1 was present at the foundation-meeting of the International, was there chosen a member of the provisional General Council, and soon after drew up the Inaugural Address, and the General Statutes of the Association, first issued at London in 1864, then confirmed by the Geneva Congress of 1866. So much Mr. Howell knew, but, for purposes of his own, prefers to make a German Doctor named Karl Marx first appear at the London Congress opened on September 25th, 1865. There and then, he avers, the said doctor had sown the seeds of discord and decay by the introduction of the Religious Idea. In the first instance, no Congress of the International took place in September, 1865. A few delegates from the main continental branches of the Association met at London for the sole purpose of conferring with the General Council on the Programme of the First Congress, which was to assemble at Geneva, in September, 1866. The real business of the Conference was transacted in private sittings, not at the semi-public meetings in Adelphi Terrace, exclusively made mention of by the exact historian, Mr. George Howell. Like the other representatives of the General Council, I had to secure the acceptance by the Conference of our own programme, on its publication thus characterised, in a letter to the Si cle, by the French historian, Henri Martin: By the way, a paragraph of the programme which I had the honour to indite for the General Council, runs thus: Upon this text Henri Martin put the gloss: Unfortunately, the people of Paris had kept their secret so well that, quite unaware of it, two of the Paris delegates to the Conference, Tolain, now a senator of the French Republic, and Fribourg, now a simple renegade, inveighed against the very proposition which was to call forth the enthusiastic comment of the French historian. The programme of the General Council contained not one syllable on Religion, but at the instance of the Paris delegates the forbidden dish got into the bill of fare in store for the prospective Congress, in this dressing: The topic of discussion thus introduced by the Paris delegates was left in their keeping. In point of fact, they dropped it at the Geneva Congress of 1866, and no one else picked it up. The London Congress of 1865, the Introduction there by a German Doctor named Karl Marx of the Religious Idea, and the fierce feud thence arising within the International this, his triple myth, Mr. George Howell caps by a legend. He says: Now the General Council issued an address, not to the American people, but to its President, Abraham Lincoln, which he gracefully acknowledged. The address, written by me, underwent no alteration whatever. As the words God made of one blood all nations of men had never figured in it, they could not be struck out. The attitude of the General Council in regard to the Religious Idea is clearly shown by the following incident: One of the Swiss branches of the Alliance, founded by Michael Bakunin, and calling itself Section des ath es Socialistes, requested its admission to the International from the General Council, but got the reply: Already in the case of the Young Men s Christian Association the Council has declared that it recognizes no theological sections. (See page 13 of Les pr tendues scissions dans l'Internationale Circulaire du Conseil G n ral, printed at Geneva.) Even Mr. George Howell, at that time not yet become a convert by close study of the Christian Reader, consummated his divorce from the International, not at the call of the Religious Idea, but on grounds altogether secular. At the foundation of the Commonwealth as the special organ of the General Council, he canvassed keenly the proud position of Editor. Having failed in his ambitious attempt, he waxed sulky, his zeal grew less and less, and soon after he was no more heard of. During the most eventful period of the International he was therefore an outsider. Conscious of his utter incompetence to trace the history of the Association, but at the same time eager to spice his article with strange revelations, he catches at the appearance, during the Fenian troubles, of General Cluseret in London where, we are told, at the Black Horse, Rathbone Place, Oxford-street, the General met a few men fortunately Englishmen, in order to initiate them into his plan of a general insurrection. I have some reason to doubt the genuineness of the anecdote, but suppose it to be true, what else would it prove but that Cluseret was not such a fool as to intrude his person and his plan upon the General Council, but kept both of them wisely in reserve for a few Englishmen of Mr. Howell s acquaintance, unless the latter himself be one of these stout fellows in buckram who, by their fortunate interference, contrived to save the British Empire and Europe from universal convulsion. Mr. George Howell has another dark secret to disclose. At the beginning of June, 1871, the General Council put forth an Address on the Civil War in France, welcomed on the part of the London press by a chorus of execration. One weekly fell foul of ,the infamous author , cowardly concealing his name behind the screen of the General Council. Thereupon I declared in The Daily News that I was the author. This stale secret Mr. George Howell reveals, in July, 1878, with all the consequentiality of the man behind the curtain. He forgets to add that the other nineteen British members present acclaimed the Address. Since then, the statements of this Address have been fully borne out by the Enquires of the French Rural Assembly, the evidence taken before the Versailles Courts-Martial, the trial of Jules Favre, and the memoirs of persons far from hostile to the victors. It is in the natural order of things that an English historian of Mr. George Howell s sound erudition should haughtily ignore French prints, whether official or not. But I confess to a feeling of disgust when, on such occasions for instance as the H del and Nobiling attempts, I behold great London papers ruminating the base calumnies, which their own correspondents, eye-witnesses, had been the first to refute. Mr. Howell reaches the climax of snobbism in his account of the exchequer of the General Council. The Council, in its published Report to the Congress of Basle (1869), ridicules the huge treasure with which the busy tongue of the European police and the wild imagination of the capitalist had endowed it. It says, Mr. Ernest Renan who, it is true, falls somewhat short of Mr. George Howell s standard of orthodoxy, even fancies the state of the primitive Christian communes sapping the Roman Empire might be best illustrated by that of the International Sections. Mr. George Howell, as a writer, is what the crystallographer would call a Pseudomorph, his outer form of penmanship being but imitative of the manner of thought and style natural to the English moneyed man of sated virtue and solvent morals. Although he borrows his array of figures as to the resources of the General Council from the accounts yearly laid by that same Council before a public International Congress, Mr. George Howell must not derogate from his imitative dignity by stooping to touch the obvious question: how came it to pass that, instead of taking comfort from the lean budgets of the General Council, all the governments of Continental Europe took fright at the powerful and formidable organisation of the International Working-men s Association, and the rapid development it had attained in a few years. (See Circular of the Spanish Foreign Minister to the representatives of Spain in Foreign Countries.) Instead of laying the Red Ghost by the simple process of shaking at its face the sorry returns of the General Council, why, in the name of common sense, did the Pope and his bishops exorcise the International, the French Rural Assembly outlaw it, Bismarck at the Salzburg meeting of the emperors of Austria and Germany threaten it with a Holy Alliance Crusade, and the White Czar commend it to his terrible Third Division, then presided over by the emotional Schouvaloff? Mr. George Howell condescends to admit: Poverty is no crime, but it is fearfully inconvenient. I admit, he speaks by book. The prouder he ought to have felt of his former fellowship with a Working-men s Association, which won world-wide fame and a place in the history of mankind, not by length of purse, but by strength of mind and unselfish energy. However, from the lofty standpoint of an insular philistine, Mr. George Howell reveals to the cultured people of the Nineteenth Century, that the International was a failure, and has faded away. In reality, the social democratic working-men s parties organised on more or less national dimensions, in Germany, Switzerland, Denmark, Portugal, Italy, Belgium, Holland, and the United States of America, form as many international groups, no longer single sections thinly scattered through different countries and held together by an eccentric General Council, but the working masses themselves in continuous, active, direct intercourse, cemented by exchange of thought, mutual services, and common aspiration. After the fall of the Paris Commune, all working class organisation in France was of course temporarily broken, but is now in an incipient state of reforming. On the other hand, despite all political and social obstacles, the Slavs, chiefly in Poland, Bohemia, and Russia, participate at present in this international movement to an extent not to be foreseen by the most sanguine in 1872. Thus, instead of dying out, the International did only pass from its first period of incubation to a higher one where its already original tendencies have in part become realities. In the course of its progressive development, it will yet have to undergo many a change, before the last chapter of its history can be written.

Karl Marx 1878

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1878/08/04.htm

The English working class had been gradually more and more deeply demoralised by the period of corruption since 1848 and had at last got to the point when they were nothing more than the tail of the great Liberal Party, i.e., henchmen of the capitalists. Their direction had gone completely over into the hands of the corrupt trade union leaders and professional agitators. These fellows shouted and howled behind Gladstone, Bright, Mundella, Morley and the whole gang of factory owners etc., in majorem gloriam [to the greater glory] of the Tsar as emancipator of nations, while they never raised a finger for their own brothers in South Wales, condemned to die of starvation by the mineowners. Wretches! To crown the whole affair worthily, in the last divisions in the House of Commons (on February 7 and 8, when the majority of the great dignitaries of the great Liberal Party Forster, Lowe, Harcourt, Goschen, Hartington and even [on Feb. 7] the great John Bright himself left their army in the lurch and bolted away from the division in order not to compromise themselves too much altogether by voting) the only workers' representatives in the House of Commons and moreover, horribile dictu [horrible to relate] direct representatives of the miners, and themselves originally miners Burt and the miserable Macdonald voted with the rump of the great Liberal Party, the enthusiasts for the Tsar. But the rapid development of Russia's plans suddenly broke the spell and shattered the mechanical agitation (fivepound notes were the main springs of the machinery); at the moment it would be physically dangerous for Mottershead, Howell, John Hales, Shipton, Osborne and the whole gang to let their voices be heard in a public meeting of workers; even their corner and ticket meetings are forcibly broken up and dispersed by the masses.

Letters: Marx-Engels Correspondence 1878

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1878/letters/78_02_11.htm

First, such people, in order to be useful to the proletarian movement, must bring with them really educated elements. This, however, is not the case with the great majority of German bourgeois converts. Neither the Zukunft [fortnightly Berlin magazine] nor the Neue Gesellschaft [monthly Zurich periodical] has provided anything to advance the movement one step. They are completely deficient in real, factual, or theoretical material. Instead, there are efforts to bring superficial socialist ideas into harmony with the various theoretical viewpoints which the gentlemen from the universities, or from wherever, bring with them, and among whom one is more confused than the other, thanks to the process of decomposition in which German philosophy finds itself today. Instead of first studying the new science [scientific socialism] thoroughly, everyone relies rather on the viewpoint he brought with him, makes a short cut toward it with his own private science, and immediately steps forth with pretensions of wanting to teach it. Hence, there are among those gentlemen as many viewpoints as there are heads; instead of clarifying anything, they only produce arrant confusion fortunately, almost always only among themselves. Such educated elements, whose guiding principle is to teach what they have not learned, the party can well dispense with. Second, when such people from other classes join the proletarian movement, the first demand upon them must be that they do not bring with them any remnants of bourgeois, petty-bourgeois, etc., prejudices, but that they irreversibly assimilate the proletarian viewpoint. But those gentlemen, as has been shown, adhere overwhelmingly to petty-bourgeois conceptions. In so petty-bourgeois a country as Germany, such conceptions certainly have their justification, but only outside the Social-Democratic Labor party. If the gentlemen want to build a social-democratic petty-bourgeois party, they have a full right to do so; one could then negotiate with them, conclude agreements, etc., according to circumstances. But in a labor party, they are a falsifying element. If there are grounds which necessitates tolerating them, it is a duty only to tolerate them, to allow them no influence in party leadership, and to keep in mind that a break with them is only a matter of time. In any case, the time seems to have come. It is inconceivable to us how the party can any longer tolerate in its midst the authors of that [Hochberg, Bernstein, Schramm] article. If the party leadership more or less falls into the hands of such people, the party will simply be emasculated and, with it, an end to the proletarian order. So far as we are concerned, after our whole past only one way is open to us. For nearly 40 years we have raised to prominence the idea of the class struggle as the immediate driving force of history, and particularly the class struggle between bourgeois and the proletariat as the great lever of the modern social revolution; hence, we can hardly go along with people who want to strike this class struggle from the movement. At the founding of the International, we expressly formulated the battle cry: The emancipation of the working class must be the work of the working class itself. We cannot, therefore, go along with people who openly claim that the workers are too ignorant to emancipate themselves but must first be emancipated from the top down, by the philanthropic big and petty bourgeois. Should the new party organ take a position that corresponds with the ideas of those gentlemen, become bourgeois and not proletarian, then there is nothing left for us, sorry as we should be to do so, than to speak out against it publicly and dissolve the solidarity within which we have hitherto represented the German party abroad. But we hope it will not come to that. This letter is to be communicated to all the five members of the Committee in Germany, as well as Bracke.... On our part, we have no objection to this being communicated to the gentlemen in Zurich.

Strategy and Tactics of the Class Struggle

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1879/09/17.htm

... And now, primo, I am obliged to tell you (cela est tout- -fait confidentiel) that I have been informed from Germany, my second volume could not be published so long as the present regime was maintained in its present severity. This news, considering the status quo, did not surprise me, and, I must confess, was far from annoying me for these reasons: Firstly: I should under no circumstances have published the second volume before the present English industrial crisis had reached its climax. The phenomena are this time singular, in many respects different from what they were in the past and this quite apart from other modifying circumstances is easily accounted for by the fact that never before was the English crisis preceded by tremendous crises now lasting already five years in the United States, South America, Germany, Austria, etc. It is therefore necessary to watch the present course of things until their maturity before you can consume them productively , I mean theoretically . One of the singular aspects of the present state is this: There have, as you know, been crashes of banks in Scotland and in some of the English counties, principally the Western ones (Cornwall and Wales). Still the real centre of the money market not only of the United Kingdom, but of the world London has till now been little affected. On the contrary, save a few exceptions, the immense joint-stock bank companies, like the Bank of England, have as yet only profited of the general prostration. And what this prostration is, you may judge from the utter despair of the English commercial and industrial philistine of ever seeing better times again! I have not seen the like, I have never witnessed a similar moral dislocation although I was in London in 1857 and 1866! There is no doubt, one of the circumstances favourable to the London money market is the state of the Bank of France, which, since the recent development of the intercourse between the two countries, has become a succoursale to the Bank of England. The Bank of France keeps an immense amount of bullion, the convertibility of its bank-notes being not yet re-established, and at the signal of any perturbation of the London Stock Exchange French money flows in to buy securities momentarily depreciated. If, during last autumn, the French money had been suddenly withdrawn, the Bank of England would certainly have had refuge to its last remedy in extremis, the suspension of the Bank Act, and in that case we would have had the monetary crash. On the other hand, the quiet way in which the restoration of cash payments was effected in the United States, has removed all strain from that corner upon the resources of the Bank of England. But what till now mainly contributed to prevent an explosion within the London money market, is the apparently quiet state of the banks of Lancashire and the other industrial districts (saving the mining districts of the West), though it is sure and ascertained that these banks have not only invested great part of their resources in discounting of bills of, and advances upon, unprofitable transactions of the manufacturers, but have, as for instance at Oldham, sunk a great part of their capital in the foundation of new factories. At the same time stocks, mainly of cotton produce, are daily accumulating not only in Asia (India principally) whither they are sent on consignment, but at Manchester, etc, etc. How this state of things can pass away without a general crash among the manufactures, and, consequently, among the local banks reacting directly upon the London money market is difficult to foresee. Meanwhile strikes and disturbance are general. I remark en passant that during the past year so bad for all other business the railways have been flourishing, but this was only due to extraordinary circumstances, like the Paris exhibition, etc. In truth, the railways keep up an appearance of prosperity, by accumulating debts, increasing from day to day their capital account. However the course of this crisis may develop although most important to observe in its details for the student of capitalistic production and the professional th oricien it will pass over, like its predecessors, and initiate a new industrial cycle with all its diversified phases of prosperity, etc. But under the cover of this apparently solid English society, there lurks another crisis the agricultural one which will work great and serious changes in its social structure. I shall recur to this subject on another occasion. It would lead me too far at present. Secondly: The bulk of materials I have not only from Russia, but from the United States, etc, make it pleasant for me to have a pretext of continuing my studies, instead of winding them up finally for the public. Thirdly: My medical adviser has warned me to shorten considerably my working day if I were not desirous to relapse into the state of 1874 and the following years where I got giddy and unable to proceed after a few hours of serious application. ... The railways sprang up first as the couronnement de l'oeuvre in those countries where modern industry was most developed, England, United States, Belgium, France, etc. I call them the "couronnement de l'oeuvre" not only in the sense that they were at last (together with steamships for oceanic intercourse and the telegraphs) the means of communication adequate to the modern means of production, but also in so far as they were the basis of immense joint stock companies, forming at the same time a new starting point for all other sorts of joint stock companies, to commence by banking companies. They gave in one word, an impetus never before suspected to the concentration of capital, and also to the accelerated and immensely enlarged cosmopolitan activity of loanable capital, thus embracing the whole world in a network of financial swindling and mutual indebtedness, the capitalist form of "international" brotherhood. On the other hand, the appearance of the railway system in the leading countries of capitalism allowed, and even forced, states where capitalism was confined to a few summits of society, to suddenly create and enlarge their capitalistic superstructure in dimensions altogether disproportionate to the bulk of the social body, carrying on the great work of production in the traditional modes. There is, therefore, not the least doubt that in those states the railway creation has accelerated the social and political disintegration, as in the more advanced states it hastened the final development and therefore the final change, of capitalistic production. In all states except England, the governments enriched and fostered the railway companies at the expense of the Public Exchequer. In the United States, to their profit, great part of the public land they received as a present, not only the land necessary for the construction of the lines but many miles of land along both sides the lines, covered with forests, etc. They become so the greatest landlords, the small immigrating farmers preferring of course land so situated as to ensure their produce ready means of transport. The system inaugurated in France by Louis Philippe, of handing over the railways to a small band of financial aristocrats, endowing them with long terms of possession, guaranteeing the interest out of the public pocket, etc., etc., was pushed to the utmost limit by Louis Bonaparte, whose regime, in fact, was essentially based upon the traffick in railway concessions, to some of which he was so kind as to make presents of canals, etc. And in Austria and Italy above all, the railways were a new source of unbearable state indebtedness and grinding of the masses. Generally the railways gave of course an immense impulse to the development of foreign commerce, but the commerce in countries which export principally raw produce increased the misery of the masses. Not only that the new indebtedness, contracted by the government on account of the railways, increased the bulk of imposts weighing upon them, but from the moment every local production could be converted into cosmopolitan gold, many articles formerly cheap, because invendible to a great degree, such as fruit, wine, fish, deer, etc., became dear and were withdrawn from the consumption of the people, while on the other hand, the production itself, I mean the special sort of produce, was changed according to its greater or minor suitableness for exportation, while formerly it was principally adapted to its consumption in loco. Thus, for instance, in Schleswig-Holstein agricultural land was converted into pasture, because the export of cattle was more profitable, but at the same time the agricultural population was driven away. All the changes very useful indeed for the great landed proprietor, the usurer, the merchant, the railways, the bankers and so forth, but very dismal for the real producer! It is, to conclude by this my letter (since the time for putting it to post draws nearer and nearer), impossible to find real analogies between the United States and Russia. In the former the expenses of the government diminish daily and its public debt is quickly and yearly reduced; in the latter public bankruptcy is a goal more and more appearing to become unavoidable. The former has freed itself (although in a most infamous way, for the advantage of the creditors and at the expense of the menu peuple) of its paper money, the latter has no more flourishing fabric than that of paper money. In the former the concentration of capital and the gradual expropriation of the masses is not only the vehicle, but also the natural offspring (though artificially accelerated by the civil war) of an unprecedented rapid industrial development, agricultural progress, etc.; the latter reminds you rather of the time of Louis XIV and Louis XV, where the financial, commercial, industrial superstructure, or rather the facades of the social edifices, looked (although they had a much more solid foundation than in Russia) like a satyre upon the stagnant state of the bulk of production (the agricultural one) and the famine of the producers. The United States have at present overtaken England in the rapidity of economical progress, though they lag still behind in the extent of acquired wealth; but at the same time the masses are quicker, and have greater political means in their hands, to resent the form of a progress accomplished at their expense. I need not prolong antitheses. A propos. Which do you consider the best Russian work on credit and banking? Mr Kaufmann was so kind as to send me his book on theory and practice of banking , but I was rather astonished that my former intelligent critic in the Petersburg Messager de l'Europe, had converted himself into a sort of Pindar of modern stock exchange swindling. Besides, considered merely and I expect generally nothing else of books of this kind from Fachstandpunkt, it is far from original in its details. The best part in it is the polemics against paper money. It is said that certain foreign bankers with whom a certain government desired to contract new loans, have asked as a guarantee a constitution. I am far from believing this, because their modern method of doing business was, till now at least, and would be, very indifferent as to forms of government.

Letters: Marx-Engels Correspondence 1879

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1879/letters/79_04_10.htm

Replying respectfully to your lines of the 13th, which arrived only yesterday, I regret that I am not in a position to name anybody who would be capable of supplying you with the articles desired in a really competent manner.

Letters: Marx-Engels Correspondence 1879

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1879/letters/79_06_17.htm

... It is quite understandable that Liebknecht s untimely meekness in the Reichstag should have created a very unfavourable impression in Latin Europe as well as among Germans everywhere. And we expressed this immediately in our letter. The old comfortable way of leisurely agitation with an occasional six weeks to six months term in jail has come to an end in Germany once and for all. No matter how the present state of affairs may end, the new movement begins on a more or less revolutionary basis and must therefore be much more resolute in character than the first period of the movement, now past. The phrase about the peaceable attainment of the goal will either be no longer necessary or it will not be taken seriously any longer. By making this phrase impossible and thrusting the movement in the revolutionary direction Bismarck has rendered us a great service, outweighing the bit of damage occasioned by his interference with agitation. On the other hand, as a result of the tame speech in the Reichstag the knights of the revolutionary phrase are again on their high horses and seek to disorganise the Party by cliquism and intrigues. The Workers Association here is the hub of all these machinations...

Marx-Engels Correspondence 1879

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1879/letters/79_07_01.htm

Liebknecht asks Hirsch if he will take over the editorship of the Party organ which is to be newly established in Z rich. Hirsch wants information as to the finances of the paper: what funds are at its disposal and who provides them. The first, in order to know whether the paper will be bound to fade out after a few months. And then to make sure who holds the purse strings and with them the ultimate control over the line of the paper. Liebknecht s answer to Hirsch : Everything all right, you will hear the rest from Z rich (Liebknecht to Hirsch, July 28) does not reach him. But from Z rich comes a letter to Hirsch from Bernstein (July 24) in which Bernstein announces that we have been charged with the launching and supervision (of the paper). A discussion had taken place between Viereck and us in which it had been felt that your position, owing to the differences which you had with individual comrades when you were a Laterne [Lantern] man would be made rather difficult; but I do not attach much weight to this objection. Not a word about the financing. Hirsch replies by return on July 26, with the question as to the material position of the paper. What comrades have pledged themselves to cover the deficit? Up to what amount and for how long? The question of the editor s salary plays no part at all here, all Hirsch wants to know is if the means are ensured for guaranteeing the paper for at least a year. Bernstein answers on July 31: Any deficit will be covered by voluntary contributions, of which some (!) are already subscribed. To Hirsch s remarks about the line he thought of giving to the paper, dealt with below, he replies with disapproving remarks and instructions: On which the supervisory committee must insist all the more since it is itself in its turn under control, i.e., responsible. On these points you will therefore have to come to an understanding with the supervisory committee. An early and if possible telegraphic reply desired. Thus instead of an answer to his legitimate questions Hirsch receives the information that he is to edit the paper under a supervisory committee seated in Z rich, whose views differ very essentially from his own and whose members are not even named to him! Justly indignant at this treatment, Hirsch prefers to come to an understanding with the Leipzig people. His letter of August 2 to Liebknecht must be known to you, as Hirsch expressly required that you and Viereck should be informed. Hirsch is even willing to submit to a supervisory committee in Z rich, up to the point of agreeing that it should have the right to make written observations to the editor and to appeal to the decision of the Leipzig control committee. In the meantime Liebknecht writes on July 28 to Hirsch: Liebknecht s next letter again contains nothing about the finances, but the assurance instead that the Z rich committee is not an editorial committee at all but is only entrusted with the management and finances. Again on August 14 Liebknecht writes the same to me and demands that we persuade Hirsch to accept. Even on August 20 you yourself are so little informed of the true facts of the case that you write to me: He (H chberg) has no more voice in the editing of the paper than any other well-known Party comrade. At last on August 11 Hirsch gets a letter from Viereck in which it is admitted that the three residing in Z rich are to take the foundation of the paper in hand as an editorial committee and with the agreement of the three Leipzig members to choose an editor.... So far as I recollect, the decisions communicated to us also stated that the (Z rich) organisation committee mentioned in (2) should take over the political as well as the financial responsibility in relation to the Party! ...From this position of affairs it seems to me to follow that...there can be no question of taking over the editorship without the co-operation of the three domiciled in Z rich who have been commissioned by the Party to start the paper. Here at last Hirsch had at least something definite, if only regarding the relation of the editor to the Z rich people. They are an editorial committee; they also have the political responsibility; without their co-operation no one can take over the editorship. In short, an indication is simply given to Hirsch that he should come to an understanding with the three people in Z rich whose names are still not given him. To complete the confusion, however, Liebknecht writes a postscript to Viereck s letter: S[inger] from B[erlin] has just been here and reported: the supervisory committee in Z rich is not, as Viereck thinks, an Editorial committee but essentially a management committee financially responsible to the party, i.e., to us, for the paper; naturally it is also the right and the duty of its members to discuss the editing with you (a right and a duty which belong, incidentally, to every Party member): they have not the authority to act as your guardians. The three Z rich and the one Leipzig committee members the only one present at the negotiations insist that Hirsch shall be under the official control of the Z rich people. A second Leipzig member directly denies this. And Hirsch is expected to come to a decision before the gentlemen are agreed among themselves? That Hirsch had the right to be informed of the decisions come to, which contained the conditions he was expected to submit to, was thought of all the less because it never once seems to have occurred to the Leipzigers to get authentic information themselves about these decisions. How else could the above contradiction have been possible? If the Leipzigers cannot agree as to the powers conferred upon the Z richers, the Z richers themselves are perfectly clear about them. Schramm to Hirsch, August 14: If you had not written at the time that you would do just the same in a similar case (to the Kayser case) and thus indicated the prospect of a similar style of writing, we should not waste a word over it. But in view of your declaration we must reserve to ourselves the right of having a decisive vote in the acceptance of articles for the new paper. The letter to Bernstein in which Hirsch is stated to have said this was dated July 26, that is to say long after the conference in Z rich at which the plenary powers of the three Z richers were established. But the Z richers are already revelling so much in the sense of their absolute bureaucratic power that in answer to this later letter of Hirsch they already claim further authority to decide upon the acceptance of articles. The editorial committee is already a censorship committee. It was not until H chberg came to Paris that Hirsch learned from him the names of the members of the two committees. If therefore the negotiations with Hirsch fell through, what was the reason? When he thereupon refused the offer one can only say he was right. The Leipzig committee, as we heard from H chberg, has been further strengthened by the addition of two members who do not live there; so it can only intervene rapidly if the three Leipzigers are unanimous. This completely transfers the real centre of gravity to Z rich, and in the long run Hirsch would no more have been able to work with the people there than would any other editor of really proletarian and revolutionary views. On this later. Bernstein has already informed Hirsch on July 24 that the differences he had had as a Laterne man with individual comrades would make his position difficult. Hirsch replies that in his opinion the general line of the paper must be the same as that of the Laterne, i.e., one which avoids prosecution in Switzerland and does not cause unnecessary alarm in Germany. He asks who the comrades are and continues: I only know one, and I can promise you that in a similar case of breach of discipline I should treat him in exactly the same way. To which Bernstein, conscious of his new official dignity as censor, replies: As to the line of the paper, the view of the supervisory committee is in fact that the Laterne should not be its model; in our opinion the paper should not be so much taken up with political radicalism but rather kept socialist in principle. Cases like the attack on Kayser, which was disapproved of by every comrade without exception (!) must be avoided in all circumstances. And so on and so on. Liebknecht calls the attack on Kayser a blunder and Schramm considers it so dangerous that he thereupon puts Hirsch under censorship. Hirsch again writes to H chberg, saying that a case like that of Kayser cannot occur if an official party organ is in existence whose clear statements and well-intentioned indications cannot be so brazenly thrown to the winds by a deputy. Viereck, too, writes that a dispassionate attitude, and the ignoring so far as possible of any differences which have occurred... are laid down for the new paper, it is not to be an enlarged Laterne and Bernstein could at most be reproached for a too moderate tendency, if that is a reproach at a time when we cannot after all sail under our full colours. And what is this Kayser case, this unforgivable crime which Hirsch is supposed to have committed? Kayser is the only one among the Social-Democratic deputies who spoke and voted in the Reichstag for protective tariffs. Hirsch accuses him of having committed a breach of Party discipline because Kayser: On both points Hirsch is undeniably right. And after Kayser had trampled underfoot on the one hand the Party programme, to which the deputies are, so to speak, sworn by a Congress decision, and on the other hand the very first and most imperative fundamental rule of Party tactics, and voted money to Bismarck as thanks for the Socialist Law, Hirsch in our opinion was absolutely right to let fly at him as roughly as he did. We have never been able to understand why this attack on Kayser could have aroused such violent wrath in Germany. H chberg now informs me that the fraction gave Kayser permission to come out as he did and that this permission is considered to exonerate Kayser. If this is the position of affairs it is really a bit strong. In the first place Hirsch could know no more of this secret decision than the rest of the world. Then the discredit for the Party, which previously could be diverted on to Kayser alone, is made all the greater by this business, as is also the service performed by Hirsch in openly exposing the disgusting phraseology and even more disgusting vote of Kayser to the whole world and thus saving the honour of the Party. Or is German Social-Democracy really infected by the parliamentary disease and does it believe that through election by the people the Holy Ghost is poured out upon the elected, fraction meetings are transformed into infallible Councils and fraction decisions into unassailable dogmas? It is true that a blunder has been committed, not however by Hirsch, but by the deputies who covered Kayser by their resolution. If those whose special duty it is to pay attention to the maintenance of Party discipline themselves break Party discipline so glaringly by a decision of this kind, so much the worse. Still worse, however, when people advance to the belief that it was not Kayser by his speech and vote or the other deputies by their resolution who violated Party discipline, but Hirsch, because despite the decision, which, moreover, was still unknown to him, he attacked Kayser. For the rest, it is clear that on the tariff question the Party took up the same confused and indecisive attitude as it had done hitherto on almost all economic questions which have become practical ones, e.g., the imperial railways. This is due to the fact that the Party organs, especially Vorw rts [Forward], instead of thoroughly discussing these questions have preferred to concern themselves with the construction of the future order of society. When, after the Socialist Law, the tariff question suddenly became a practical one, the most varied shades of opinion arose and there was not a single person on the spot who possessed the prerequisite for the formation of a clear and correct judgment: knowledge of the conditions of German industry and its position on the world market. Among the electorate it was inevitable that tendencies in favour of protection should appear here and there and there was a wish to take these into consideration too. The only way of getting out of this confusion, by taking the question in a purely political way (as was done in the Laterne), was not decisively adopted; thus it was inevitable that in this debate the Party should have come out for the first time in a hesitating, uncertain and confused manner and finally, with and through Kayser, thoroughly discredited itself. The attack on Kayser is now made the occasion for preaching to Hirsch in every key that the new paper must on no account copy the excesses of the Laterne and should not be so much taken up with political radicalism as kept to a dispassionate line, socialist in principle. And this by Viereck as much as by Bernstein, who, just because he is too moderate, seems to the former to be the right man, because one cannot after all sail under one s full colours at present. But why emigrate at all, if not in order to be able to sail under one s full colours? There is nothing to prevent this abroad. The German Press, Assembly and Penal Laws do not exist in Switzerland. It is therefore not only possible but a duty to say things there which could not be said at home, under the ordinary German laws, even before the Socialist Law. For here we stand not only before Germany but before Europe, and it is a duty, so far as the Swiss laws permit of it, to state to Europe the methods and aims of the German Party without concealment. Anyone who wants to bind himself by German laws in Switzerland would only prove that he was worthy of these German laws and in fact had nothing to say which was not permissible in Germany before the Exceptional Laws. Nor should any consideration be paid to the possibility that the editors will be temporarily cut off from a return to Germany. He who is not ready to risk this is not fit for such an exposed post of honour. And further. The Exceptional Laws have banned and outlawed the German Party precisely because it was the only serious opposition party in Germany. If, in an organ published abroad, the Party shows its gratitude to Bismarck by giving up this role of the only serious opposition party, by coming out nice and docile and accepting the kick with a dispassionate attitude, it only proves that it deserved the kick. Of all the German papers produced in emigration abroad since 1830, the Laterne is certainly one of the most moderate. But if even the Laterne was too bold then the new organ can only compromise the Party in the eyes of its sympathisers in non-German countries. In the meantime H chberg s Yearbook has reached us, containing an article The Socialist Movement in Germany in Retrospect, which, as H chberg himself tells me, has been written by these same three members of the Z rich Commission. Here we have their authentic criticism of the movement up till now and with it their authentic programme for the line of the new organ, in so far as this depends on them. Right at the beginning we read: I will not examine whether or how far this is historically accurate. The special reproach here brought against Schweitzer is that he diminished Lassalleanism, which is here taken as a bourgeois democratic-philanthropic movement, into a one-sided struggle for the interests of the industrial workers, by deepening its character as a class struggle of the industrial workers against the bourgeoisie. He is further reproached with his rejection of bourgeois democracy. And what has bourgeois democracy to do with the Social-Democratic Party? If it consists of honest men it cannot wish for admittance, and if it does nevertheless wish to be admitted this can only be in order to start a row. The Lassallean party chose to conduct itself in the most one-sided way as a workers party. The gentlemen who write that are themselves members of a Party which conducts itself in the most one-sided way as a workers Party, they are at present invested with offices and dignities in this Party. Here there is an absolute incompatibility. If they mean what they write they must leave the Party, or at least resign their offices and dignities. If they do not do so, they are admitting that they are proposing to utilise their official position in order to combat the proletarian character of the Party. If therefore the Party leaves them their offices and dignities it will be betraying itself. In the opinion of these gentlemen, then, the Social-Democratic Party should not be a one-sided workers Party but an all-sided Party of everyone imbued with a true love of humanity. It must prove this above all by laying aside its crude proletarian passions and placing itself under the guidance of educated, philanthropic bourgeois in order to cultivate good taste and learn good form (page 85). Then even the disreputable behaviour of many leaders will give way to a thoroughly respectable bourgeois behaviour. (As if the externally disreputable behaviour of those here referred to were not the least they can be reproached with!) Then, too, numerous adherents from the circles of the educated and propertied classes will make their appearance. But these must first be won if the ... agitation conducted is to attain tangible successes. German Socialism has attached too much importance to the winning of the masses and in so doing has neglected energetic (!) propaganda among the so-called upper strata of society. And then the Party still lacks men fitted to represent it in the Reichstag. It is, however, desirable and necessary to entrust the mandate to men who have the time and opportunity to make themselves thoroughly acquainted with the relevant materials. The simple worker and small self-employed man...has the necessary leisure for this only in rare and exceptional cases. So elect bourgeois! In short: the working class of itself is incapable of its own emancipation. For this purpose it must place itself under the leadership of educated and propertied bourgeois who alone possess the time and opportunity to acquaint themselves with what is good for the workers. And secondly the bourgeoisie is on no account to be fought against but to be won over by energetic propaganda. But if one wants to win over the upper strata of society, or only its well-disposed elements, one must not frighten them on any account. And here the three Z richers think they have made a reassuring discovery: But still better follows. In order to relieve the bourgeoisie of the last trace of anxiety it must be clearly and convincingly proved to them that the Red bogey is really only a bogey, and does not exist. But what is the secret of the Red bogey if it is not the bourgeoisie s dread of the inevitable life-and-death struggle between it and the proletariat? Dread of the inevitable decision of the modern class struggle? Do away with the class struggle and the bourgeoisie and all independent people will not be afraid to go hand in hand with the proletariat. And the ones to be cheated will be precisely the proletariat. Let the Party therefore prove by its humble and repentant attitude that it has once and for all laid aside the improprieties and excesses which provoked the Socialist Law. If it voluntarily promises that it only intends to act within the limits of the Socialist Law, Bismarck and the bourgeoisie will surely have the kindness to repeal this then superfluous law! "Let no one misunderstand us"; we do not want to give up our Party and our programme, but think that for years hence we shall have enough to do if we concentrate our whole strength and energy upon the attainment of certain immediate aims which must in any case be achieved before the realisation of the more far-reaching ends can be thought of. Then the bourgeois, petty bourgeois and workers who are at present frightened away...by the far-reaching demands will join us in masses. The programme is not to be given up but only postponed to an indefinite period. One accepts it, though not really for oneself and one s own lifetime but posthumously as an heirloom to be handed down to one s children and grandchildren. In the meantime one devotes one s whole strength and energy to all sorts of petty rubbish and the patching up of the capitalist order of society, in order at least to produce the appearance of something happening without at the same time scaring the bourgeoisie. There I must really praise the Communist, Miquel, who proved his unshakable belief in the inevitable overthrow of capitalist society in the course of the next few hundred years by heartily carrying on swindles, contributing his honest best to the crash of 1873 and so really doing something to assist the collapse of the existing order. Another offence against good form was also the exaggerated attacks on the company promoters, who were after all only children of their time"; the abuse of Strousberg and similar people ... would therefore have been better omitted. Unfortunately everyone is only a child of his time and if this is a sufficient excuse nobody ought ever to be attacked any more, all controversy, all struggle on our part ceases; we quietly accept all the kicks our adversaries give us because we, who are so wise, know that these adversaries are only children of their time and cannot act otherwise. Instead of repaying their kicks with interest we ought rather to pity these unfortunates. Then again the Party s support of the Commune had the disadvantage, nevertheless, that people who were otherwise well disposed to us were alienated and in general the hatred of the bourgeoisie against us was increased. And further, the Party is not wholly without blame for the introduction of the October Law, for it had increased the hatred of the bourgeoisie In an unnecessary way. There you have the programme of the three censors of Z rich. In clarity it leaves nothing to be desired. Least of all to us, who are very familiar with the whole of this phraseology from the 1848 days. It is the representatives of the petty bourgeoisie who are here presenting themselves, full of anxiety that the proletariat, under the pressure of its revolutionary position, may go too far. Instead of decided political opposition, general compromise; instead of the struggle against the government and the bourgeoisie, an attempt to win and to persuade; instead of defiant resistance to ill-treatment from above, a humble submission and a confession that the punishment was deserved. Historically necessary conflicts are all re-interpreted as misunderstandings, and all discussion ends with the assurance that after all we are all agreed on the main point. The people who came out as bourgeois democrats in 1848 could just as well call themselves social-democrats now. To them the democratic republic was unattainably remote, and to these people the overthrow of the capitalist system is equally so, and therefore has absolutely no significance for practical present-day politics; one can mediate, compromise and philanthropise to one s heart s content. It is just the same with the class struggle between proletariat and bourgeoisie. It is recognised on paper because its existence can no longer be denied, but in practice it is hushed up, diluted, attenuated. The Social-Democratic Party is not to be a workers party, is not to burden itself with the hatred of the bourgeoisie or of anyone else; should above all conduct energetic propaganda among the bourgeoisie: instead of laying stress on far-reaching aims which frighten the bourgeoisie and are not, after all, attainable in our generation, it should rather devote its whole strength and energy to those small petty-bourgeois patching-up reforms which by providing the old order of society with new props may perhaps transform the ultimate catastrophe into a gradual, piecemeal and, so far as is possible, peaceful process of dissolution. These are the same people who under the pretence of indefatigable activity not only do nothing themselves but also try to prevent anything happening at all except chatter; the same people whose fear of every form of action in 1848 and 1849 obstructed the movement at every step and finally brought about its downfall; the same people who see a reaction and are then quite astonished to find themselves at last in a blind alley where neither resistance nor flight is possible; the same people who want to confine history within their narrow petty-bourgeois horizon and over whose heads history invariably proceeds to the order of the day. As to their socialist content this has been adequately criticised already in the [Communist] Manifesto, chapter X, German or True Socialism. When the class struggle is pushed on one side as a disagreeable crude phenomenon, nothing remains as a basis for socialism but true love of humanity and empty phraseology about justice. It is an inevitable phenomenon, rooted in the course of development, that people from what have hitherto been the ruling classes should also join the militant proletariat and contribute cultural elements to it. We clearly stated this in the [Communist] Manifesto. But here there are two points to be noted: First, in order to be of use to the proletarian movement these people must also bring real cultural elements to it. But with the great majority of the German bourgeois converts that is not the case. Neither the Zukunft [Future] nor the Neue Gesellschaft [New Society] have contributed anything which could advance the movement one step further. Here there is an absolute lack of real cultural material, whether concrete or theoretical. In its place we get attempts to bring superficially adopted socialist ideas into harmony with the most varied theoretical standpoints which these gentlemen have brought with them from the university or elsewhere, and of which, owing to the process of decomposition in which the remnants of German philosophy are at present involved, each is more confused than the last. Instead of thoroughly studying the new science themselves to begin with, each of them preferred to trim it to fit the point of view he had already, made a private science of his own without more ado and at once came forward with the claim that he was ready to teach it. Hence there are about as many points of view among these gentry as there are heads; instead of producing clarity in a single case they have only produced desperate confusion fortunately almost exclusively among themselves. Cultural elements whose first principle is to teach what they have not learnt can be very well dispensed with by the Party. Secondly. If people of this kind from other classes join the proletarian movement, the first condition is that they should not bring any remnants of bourgeois, petty-bourgeois, etc., prejudices with them but should whole-heartedly adopt the proletarian point of view. But these gentlemen, as has been proved, are stuffed and crammed with bourgeois and petty-bourgeois ideas. In such a petty-bourgeois country as Germany these ideas certainly have their own justification. But only outside the Social-Democratic Workers Party. If these gentlemen form themselves into a Social-Democratic Petty-Bourgeois Party they have a perfect right to do so; one could then negotiate with them, form a bloc according to circumstances, etc. But in a workers party they are an adulterating element. If reasons exist for tolerating them there for the moment, it is also a duty only to tolerate them, to allow them no influence in the Party leadership and to remain aware that a break with them is only a matter of time. The time, moreover, seems to have come. How the Party can tolerate the authors of this article in its midst any longer is to us incomprehensible. But if the leadership of the Party should fall more or less into the hands of such people then the Party will simply be castrated and proletarian energy will be at an end. As for ourselves, in view of our whole past there is only one path open to us. For almost forty years we have stressed the class struggle as the immediate driving force of history, and in particular the class struggle between the bourgeoisie and the proletariat as the great lever of the modern social revolution; it is therefore impossible for us to co-operate with people who wish to expunge this class struggle from the movement. When the International was formed we expressly formulated the battle-cry: the emancipation of the working class must be achieved by the working class itself. We cannot therefore co-operate with people who say that the workers are too uneducated to emancipate themselves and must first be freed from above by philanthropic bourgeois and petty bourgeois. If the new Party organ adopts a line corresponding to the views of these gentlemen, and is bourgeois and not proletarian, then nothing remains for us, much though we should regret it, but publicly to declare our opposition to it and to dissolve the solidarity with which we have hitherto represented the German Party abroad. But it is to be hoped that things will not come to that.

Letters: Marx-Engels Correspondence 1879

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1879/letters/79_09_15.htm

... Matters may indeed reach the point where Engels and I would be compelled to issue a public statement against the Leipzigers and their Zurich allies. This is the state of affairs: Bebel wrote us that they wanted to found a Party organ in Zurich and he requested our names as collaborators. We were informed that Hirsch would probably be the editor. Thereupon we accepted, and I wrote direct to Hirsch (then in Paris, from where he has since been banished, for the second time) to accept the editorial post, for he alone afforded us the certainty that a mob of doctors, students, etc, and a professorial socialist rabble, such as strut about in the Zukunft, etc, and have already begun to penetrate the Vorw rts, would be kept out, and the Party line would be adhered to strictly... These fellows, nonentities in theory and incompetent in practice, want to draw the teeth of socialism (which they interpret in accordance with university recipes) and particularly of the Social-Democratic Party, to enlighten the workers or, as they put it, to supply them with cultural elements from their confused half-knowledge, and above all to make the Party respectable in the eyes of the philistines. They are poor counter-revolutionary windbags... Now if the weekly, the Party journal, should actually proceed along the lines initiated by H chberg s Jahrbuch, we should be compelled to take a public stand against such a debasement of Party and theory! Engels has drawn up a circular (letter) to Bebel, etc (only for private circulation among the German Party leaders, of course), in which our standpoint is set forth without reserve. Thus the gentlemen have been warned in advance, and they know us well enough to understand that this means: either bending or breaking! If they want to compromise themselves, so much the worse for them! In no event will they be allowed to compromise us. You can see how low they have already been brought by parliamentarism for example from the fact that they are accusing Hirsch of having committed a great crime why? Because he has handled the scoundrel Kayser somewhat roughly in the Laterne for the latter s disgraceful speech on Bismarck s tariff legislation. But now they say the Party, that is, the handful of parliamentary representatives of the Party, had authorised Kayser to speak like that! All the more shame for this handful! But even that is a miserable excuse. In fact they were foolish enough to let Kayser speak for himself and on behalf of his constituents; but he spoke in the name of the Party. However that may be, they are already so far affected by parliamentary idiotism that they think they are above criticism, and they denounce criticism as a crime: l se-majest ...

Marx-Engels Correspondence 1879

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1879/letters/79_09_19.htm

... And this brings me to the Report. Although the beginning is very good and the treatment of the protective tariff debate in these circumstances is skilful the concessions made to the German philistines in the third part are unwelcome. Why that wholly superfluous passage about the civil war , why that kowtowing to public opinion which in Germany will always be that of the beer-house philistine? Why here the total obliteration of the class character of the movement? Why give the Anarchists this ground for rejoicing? And all these concessions moreover are wholly useless. The German philistine is cowardice incarnate; he respects only those who inspire him with fear. But anyone who wants to get into his good graces he considers one of his own kind and respects him no more than his own kind, namely not at all. And now that the beer-house philistine s storm of indignation, called public opinion, has, as is generally admitted, subsided again and since heavy taxation has in any case knocked the spirit out of these people, why these honeyed speeches? If you only knew how they sound abroad! It is quite a good thing that Party organs must be edited by people who are in the thick of the Party and the struggle. But if you had been only six months abroad you would think quite differently of this entirely unnecessary self-debasement of the Party deputies before the philistines. The storm that broke over the heads of the French Socialists after the Commune was after all something quite different from the outcry raised in Germany on account of the Nobiling affair. And how much more proud and dignified was the bearing of the French! Where do you find among them such weakness, such paying of compliments to one s opponents? They kept silent when they could not speak freely; they let the philistines scream as much as they liked knowing that their time would surely come again; and now it has come... As for the rest I only want to remark about Auer s insinuations that we here underestimate neither the difficulties with which the Party has to contend in Germany nor the significance of the successes achieved nevertheless and the quite exemplary conduct up to now of the Party masses. It naturally goes without saying that every victory gained in Germany gladdens our hearts as much as one gained elsewhere, and even more so because from the very beginning the development of the German Party was associated with our theoretical statements. But for that very reason we must be particularly interested to see that the practical conduct of the German Party and especially the public utterances of the Party leadership should be in harmony with the general theory. Our criticism is certainly not pleasant for some people. But it surely must be of greater value to the Party and its leadership than all uncritical compliments to have abroad a few people who, unbiased by confusing local conditions and details of the struggle, measure happenings and utterances from time to time by the theoretical propositions valid for all modern proletarian movements, and who convey to it the impression its actions create outside Germany.

Marx-Engels Correspondence 1879

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1879/letters/79_11_14.htm

... There is no room for us in a paper in which it is possible virtually to bewail the Revolution of 1848 that for the first time opened wide the portals to Social-Democracy. It plainly appears from this article and H chberg s letter that the stellar trio claims the right to set forth in the Sozialdemokrat, alongside the proletarian views, its own petty-bourgeois socialist views first clearly enunciated in the Jahrbuch. And I fail to see how you in Leipzig can prevent this without a formal breach, once things have come to such a pass. You continue to regard these people as Party comrades. We cannot do so. The article in the Jahrbuch draws a sharp and absolutely distinct line between us. We cannot even negotiate with these people so long as they assert that they belong to the same party as we. The points in question are points that can no longer be discussed in any proletarian party. To make them a subject of discussion within the party would be to put in question the whole of proletarian socialism. As a matter of fact it is better that under these circumstances we do not cooperate. We should have had to protest constantly and to announce publicly our withdrawal after a few weeks, which after all would not have helped matters. We greatly regret that just at this time of suppression we are unable to support you unconditionally. As long as the Party in Germany remained true to its proletarian character we set aside all other considerations. But now, when the petty-bourgeois elements that have been admitted openly show their true colours, the situation has changed. Once they are permitted to smuggle their petty-bourgeois ideas piecemeal into the organ of the German Party, this fact simply closes that organ to us... As for the rest, world history is taking its course, regardless of these wise and moderate philistines. In Russia matters must come to a head in a few months from now. Either absolutism is overthrown and then, after the downfall of the great reserve of reaction, a different atmosphere will at once pervade Europe. Or a European war will break out which will also bury the present German Party beneath the inevitable struggle of each people for its national existence. Such a war would be the greatest misfortune for us; it might set the movement back twenty years. But the new party that would ultimately have to emerge anyhow would in all European countries be free from a mass of objectionable and petty matters that now everywhere hamper the movement.

Marx-Engels Correspondence 1879

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1879/letters/79_12_16.htm

The blackguardly features of capitalist exploitation which were exposed by the official investigation organized by the English government and the legislation which was necessitated there as a result of these revelations (legal limitation of the working day to 10 hours, the law concerning female and child labor, etc.), have forced the French bourgeoisie to tremble even more before the dangers which an impartial and systematic investigation might represent. In the hope that maybe we shall induce a republican government to follow the example of the monarchical government of England by likewise organizing a far reaching investigation into facts and crimes of capitalist exploitation, we shall attempt to initiate an inquiry of this kind with those poor resources which are at our disposal. We hope to meet in this work with the support of all workers in town and country who understand that they alone can describe with full knowledge the misfortunes form which they suffer and that only they, and not saviors sent by providence, can energetically apply the healing remedies for the social ills which they are prey. We also rely upon socialists of all schools who, being wishful for social reform, must wish for an exact and positive knowledge of the conditions in which the working class the class to whom the future belongs -works and moves. These statements of labor's grievances are the first act which socialist democracy must perform in order to prepare the way for social regeneration. The following hundred questions are the most important. In replies the number of the corresponding question should be given. It is not essential to reply to every question, but our recommendation is that replies should be as detailed and comprehensive as possible. The name of the working man or woman who is replying will not be published without special permission but the name and address should be given so that if necessary we can send communication. Replies should be sent to the Secretary of the Revue Socialiste, M.Lecluse, 28, rue royale, saint cloud, nr. Paris. The replies will be classified and will serve as material for special studies, which will be published in the Revue and will later be reprinted as a separate volume.

1880: A Worker's Inquiry

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1880/04/20.htm

Comrades! Poles, thrown out of the fatherland after the first partition of their country, cross the Atlantic, coming to the defense of the American Commonwealth arising at that time. Kosciuszko fights alongside of Washington. In 1794, when the French Revolution with difficulty fought the powers of the Coalition, full of glory, the Polish Uprising liberates it. Poland lost her independence but the Revolution was rescued. The conquered Poles volunteered for the ranks of the sansculotte army and helped them to destroy feudal Europe. Finally in 1830 Czar Nicholas and the King of Prussia were to execute their plot of another invasion of France, with the aim of returning the rightful monarchy; but the Polish Revolution whose memory you celebrate today, arose as a barrier. Order was restored in Warsaw. The cry, Long live Poland, which arose at that time throughout entire Western Europe, was not only an expression of sympathy and respect for the patriotic warriors, crushed by brute force; with this cry it still joyously welcomes a nation all the uprisings of which--so unfortunate for itself--always dammed the counter-revolutionary current, and her bravest sons everlastingly conducted the war of counter-attacks, fighting everywhere under the banner of the people's revolutions. On the other hand the dismemberment of Poland established the Holy Alliance which acted as a mantle for the ascendancy of the czar over all the governments of Europe. For that reason, therefore, the cry, "Long live Poland" indicated: death to the Holy Alliance, death to the supporters of militarized Russia, Prussia and Austria, death to the Mongolian rule over contemporary society. From 1830, when the bourgeoisie took hold more or less of the political power in France and England, the proletarian movement commenced to make itself prominent. From 1840 the possessing classes in England were forced to seek military intervention in order to support themselves against the party of Chartists, that first militant organization of the working class. In the last asylum of Independent Poland, in Cracow, there burst, in 1848, the first political revolution which sets forth the declaration of social rights. From that moment Poland loses all the false sympathies of entire Europe. In 1847 the first international proletarian congress secretly takes place in London. It gives out the Communist Manifesto which ends with the new revolutionary shibboleth: Proletarians of all countries, unite. Poland had its representatives at this congress, whose resolutions, at a public meeting in Brussels, the famed Lelewel and his supporters, accepted. The revolutionary armies of 1848-9, German, Italian, Hungarian, Rumanian, were full of Poles who distinguished themselves as soldiers and commanders. Although socialistic tendencies of the epoch were drowned in the blood of the June days, it must not be forgotten that the revolution of 1848, in sweeping the whole of Europe, created for the moment one polity of all the nations and in this way prepared the ground for the International Workers' Association. The Polish uprising of 1863, giving cause for a common protest of English and French workers against the perfidious international actions of their governments, caused the formation of the International which arose with the co-operation of the Polish emigrants. And, finally, among them the Paris Commune found its true leaders; after its fall, before the Versailles Court Martial, it sufficed to call one's self a Pole to be shot. And so, the Poles played outside the boundaries of their own country a great role in the struggle for proletarian emancipation; they were in the full sense of the word its international champions. Let that struggle extend itself today within the Polish nation itself, let her be upheld by the emigrant press and propaganda, let her go arm in arm with her Russian brethren with their unequalled efforts, and then will be found one more reason for the repetition of the old cry: Long live Poland. Greetings and Fraternity,

Marx-Engels Correspondence 1880

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1880/11/27.htm

I am afraid our friends in Germany are mistaken about the kind of organisation which should be maintained under present conditions. I have nothing against the fact that the chief members of Parliament are taking the lead in the absence of any other leadership. But they can neither demand nor enforce the strict obedience which the old Party leadership--elected for this purpose--could insist upon. Least of all in the present circumstances, without a press, without mass meetings. The looser the organisation is now in appearance the stronger it will be in reality. But instead of this the old system is to be maintained, final decisions are in the hands of the party leadership (although there is no congress to correct it or if necessary to dismiss it), and anybody who attacks one of them is a heretic. And with it all the best of them know themselves that there are all sorts of incapable and in other ways not quite sound people among them, and they must surely be very limited if they do not realise that it is not they who have the command of their organ but Hochberg, thanks to his money-bags, and with him his fellow-philistines Schramm and Bernstein. In my opinion the old Party, together with its former organisation, has come to an end. If, as is to be expected, the European movement soon gets going again, the great mass of the German proletariat will enter it and then the 500,000 men of the year 1878 will join the trained and educated kernel of this mass; but then too the old "strict organisation" handed down by Lassallean tradition will become a brake which might hold back a cart but cannot be applied to an avalanche. Moreover these people are doing nothing but things well-calculated to break up the Party. First the Party is supposed constantly to provide for the old agitators and editors, thanks to which it gets saddled with a whole crowd of papers with nothing whatever in them beyond what can be read in every bourgeois gossip rag. And the workers are expected to cooperate with this indefinitely! Secondly, they come out in the Reichstag and the Saxon Landtag in such a tame way, for the most part, that they discredit themselves and the Party before the whole world, making "positive proposals" to the existing government as to how to do things better in small questions of detail, etc. And the workers, who have been declared outside the law, who are delivered over bound hand and foot to the caprices of the police, are expected to regard this as proper representation! Thirdly, the philistine petty-bourgeois tone of the Sozial Demokrat, which they sanction. In every letter they tell us not on any account to believe reports of any division or differences of opinion having broken out in the Party, but everybody who comes from Germany assures one that the people are completely bewildered by this behaviour on the part of their leaders and by no means in agreement with it. Indeed, considering the character of our workers, which has so splendidly maintained itself, anything else would be impossible. It is the peculiar characteristic of the German movement that all the mistakes of the leadership are invariably made good again by the masses, and so it will no doubt be this time too.

Letters: Marx-Engels Correspondence 1880

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My Dear Sir: I have sent you today a copy of the French edition of Capital. I have at the same time to thank you for your friendly article in the Sun. Apart Mr. Gladstone s sensational failures abroad political interest centers here at present in the Irish Land Question. And why? Mainly because it is the harbinger of the English Land Question. Not only that the great landlords of England are also the largest landholders of Ireland, but having once broken down in what is ironically called the sister island, the English landed system will no longer be tenable at home. There are arraigned against it the British farmers, wincing under high rents, and thanks to the American competition low prices; the British agricultural laborers, at last impatient of their traditional position of ill-used beasts of burden, and that British party which styles itself Radical. The latter consists of two sets of men; first the ideologues of the party, eager to overthrow the political power of the aristocracy by mining its material basis, the semi-feudal landed property. But behind these principle-spouters, and hunting them on, looks another set of men sharp, close-fisted, calculating capitalists, fully aware that the abolition of the old land laws, in the way proposed by the ideologues, cannot but convert land into a commercial article that must ultimately concentrate in the hands of capital. On the other side, considered as a natural entity, John Bull has ugly misgivings lest the aristocratic English landed garrison in Ireland once gone England s political sway over Ireland will go, too! Liebknecht has to enter prison for six months. The Anti-Socialists Law having failed to overthrow or even to weaken the German Social Democratic organization, Bismarck clings the more desperately to his panacea, and fancies that it must work, if only applied on a larger scale. Hence he has extended the state of siege to Hamburg, Altona, and three other Northern towns. Under these circumstances, the German friends have written me a letter of which one passage reads thus: So far this extract. Now we here at London, Paris, etc., will do our best. At the same time, I believe that a man of your influence might organize a subscription in the United States. Even if the monetary result were not important, denunciations of Bismarck s new coup d'etat in public meetings held by you, reported in the American press, reproduced on the other side of the Atlantic, would sorely hit the Pomeranian hobereau and be welcomed by all the socialists of Europe. More information you might get from Mr. Sorge (Hoboken). Any money forthcoming to be sent over to Mr. Otto Freytag, Landtagsabgeordneter, Amtmannshof, Leipzig. His address ought, of course, not to be made public; otherwise the German police would simply-confiscate. A propos. My youngest daughter who was not with us at Ramsgate just tells me that she has cut my portrait from the copy of the Capital I sent you, on the pretext that it was a mere caricature. Well, I shall make up for it by a photogram to be taken on the first fine day. Mrs. Marx and the whole family send you their best wishes.

Letters: Letters of Marx and Engels from Science and Society

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1880/letters/80_11_04.htm

Dear Sorge: You must attribute my long silence (1) to a very great pressure of work, and (2) to the grave illness of my wife, which has already lasted over a year. You have seen the heights to which John Most has developed, and, on the other hand, how miserably the so-called party organ, the Zurich Sozialdemokrat (not to mention the Jahrbuch there) has been managed, duce Dr. Hochberg. Engels and I have been engaged in constant correspondence with the Leipzigers in this connection, with sharp clashes occurring often. But we have avoided intervening publicly in any way. It is not fitting for those who sit quietly, comparativement parlant, abroad to make the position of those working within the country under the hardest conditions and with the greatest personal sacrifices more difficult, to the delight of the bourgeois and the government. Liebknecht was here a few weeks ago, and improvement has been promised in every respect. The party organization has been renewed, which could be done only in a secret manner, i.e., so far as secret means a secret to the police. It is only recently that I fully discovered Most s blackguardism in a Russian socialist paper. He never dared to print in German what can be read here in the Russian vernacular. This is no longer an attack upon individual persons, but a dragging of the whole German labor movement through the mud. At the same time it grotesquely shows his absolute lack of understanding of the doctrine he formerly dealt in. It is babbling so silly, so illogical, so degenerate, that it finally dissolves into nothing, viz., Johann Most s boundless personal vanity. As he was unable to accomplish anything in Germany in spite of all his ranting, except among a certain Berlin mob, he has allied himself with the younger generation of Bakuninists in Paris, the group that publishes the Revolution sociale (with a circle of readers = exactly 210), but which possesses Pyat s Commune as its ally. The cowardly, melodramatic humbug Pyat in whose Commune I figure as Bismarck s right hand has a grudge against me because I have always treated him with absolute contempt and thwarted all his attempts to use the International for his sensational tricks. In any event Most has performed the good service of having brought all the ranters Andreas Scheu, Hasselmann, etc., etc. together as a group. As a result of Bismarck s new state of siege decrees and the persecution of our party organs, it is absolutely necessary to raise money for the Party. I have therefore written to John Swinton (for a well-meaning bourgeois is best suited for this purpose), and told him to apply to you for detailed information regarding German conditions. Aside from the trifles mentioned on the previous page and how many of these have we seen burst and vanish again without a trace during the many years of our exile things are going along splendidly on the whole (I mean by this the general developments in Europe), as well as within the circles of the really revolutionary party on the Continent. You have probably noticed that the Egalit , in particular, (thanks en premiere instance to Guesde s coming over to us and to the work of my son-in-law Lafargue) has for the first time offered us a French workers paper in the wider sense. Malon, too, in the Revue Socialiste, has had to espouse socialisme moderne scientifique, i.e., German socialism, even though with the inconsistencies inseparable from his eclectic nature (we were enemies, as he was originally one of the founders of the Alliance). I wrote the Questionneur for him, which was first printed in the Revue Socialiste and then distributed throughout France in a very large number of reprints. Shortly afterward Guesde came to London to draw up a workers election program together with us (myself, Engels, Lafargue) for the coming general elections. With the exception of some trivialities which Guesde found it necessary to throw to the French workers notwithstanding my protest, such as fixing the minimum wage by law, etc. (I told him: If the French proletariat is still so childish as to require such bait, it is not worth while drawing up any program whatever ), the economic section of the very brief document consists solely of demands that have spontaneously arisen out of the labor movement itself, except for the introductory passages where the communist goal is defined in a few words. It was a tremendous step forward to pull the French workers down to earth from their fog of phraseology, and therefore it was a violent shock to all the French giddy-heads, who live by fog-making. After violent opposition by the anarchists, the program was first adopted in the Region centrale i.e., Paris and its environs and later in many other workers centers. The simultaneous formation of opposed groups of workers, which accepted, however, most of the practical demands of the program (sauf les anarchistes, who do not consist of actual workers, but of declasses with a few duped workers as their rank-and-file soldiers), and the fact that very divergent standpoints were expressed solely regarding other questions, prove to me that this is the first real labor movement in France. Up to the present time only sects existed there, which naturally received their mot d'ordre from the founder of the sect, whereas the mass of the proletariat followed the radical or pseudo-radical bourgeois and fought for them on the day of decision, only to be slaughtered, deported, etc., the very next day by the fellows they had put into power. The Emancipation that was put out in Lyons a few days ago will be the organ of the Parti ouvrier that has sprung up on the basis of German socialism. Meanwhile we also have had and have our champions in the camp of the enemy itself i.e., in the radical camp. Theisz has taken up the labor problem in the Intransigeant, Rochefort s organ; after the defeat of the Commune he came to London a Proudhonist, like all thinking French socialists, where he changed completely through personal contact with me and conscientious study of Capital. On the other hand, my son-in-law gave up his professorship in King s College, returned to Paris (his family is still here fortunately), and became one of the most influential editors of Justice, which belongs to Clemenceau, the leader of the Extreme Left. He has done such good work that Clemenceau, who publicly came out only last April against socialism and as the advocate of American-democratic-republican views, has swung over to us in his latest Marseilles speech against Gambetta, both in its general tendency and in its principal points, as contained in the minimum program. Whether he'll keep what he promises is wholly immaterial. In any event he has introduced our element into the Radical Party, whose organs, comically enough, regard what they had ignored or ridiculed as long as it was merely issued as the slogan of the Parti ouvrier as something wonderful now that it comes from the mouth of Clemenceau. I need hardly tell you for you know French chauvinism that the secret threads by which the leaders, from Guesde-Malon to Clemenceau, have been set in motion are entre nous. Il n'en faut pas parler. Quand on veut agir pour Messieurs les Fran ais, il faut le faire anonymement, pour ne pas choquer le sentiment national. As it is, the anarchists denounce our cooperators already as Prussian agents, under the dictatorship of the notorious Prussian agent Karl Marx. In Russia, where Capital is more read and appreciated than anywhere else, our success is even greater. On the one hand, we have the critics (mostly young university professors, some of them personal friends of mine, as well as some writers for the reviews), and on the other, the terrorist central committee, whose program secretly printed and issued in Petersburg recently, has provoked great fury among the anarchist Russians in Switzerland, who publish The Black Redistribution (this is the literal translation from the Russian) in Geneva. These persons most (not all) of them people who left Russia voluntarily constitute the so-called party of propaganda as opposed to the terrorists who risk their lives. (In order to carry on propaganda in Russia they move to Geneva! What a quid pro quo!) These gentlemen are against all political-revolutionary action. Russia is to leap into the anarchist-communist-atheist millennium in one breakneck jump! In the meantime they are preparing for this leap by a tiresome doctrinairism whose so-called principes courent la rue depuis feu Bakounine. And now enough for this time. Let me hear from you soon. Best regards from my wife. I should be very much pleased if you could find me something good (meaty) on economic conditions in California, of course at my expense. California is very important for me because nowhere else has the upheaval most shamelessly caused by capitalist centralization taken place with such speed.

Letters: Letters of Marx and Engels from Science and Society

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1880/letters/80_11_05.htm

... If you say that you do not share the views of my party for England I can only reply that that party considers an English revolution not necessary, but according to historic precedents possible. If the unavoidable evolution turn into a revolution, it would not only be the fault of the ruling classes, but also of the working class. Every pacific concession of the former has been wrung from them by pressure from without . Their action kept pace with that pressure and if the latter has more and more weakened, it is only because the English working class know not how to wield their power and use their liberties, both of which they possess legally. In Germany the working class were fully aware from the beginning of their movement that you cannot get rid of a military despotism but by a Revolution. At the same time they understood that such a Revolution, even if at first successful, would finally turn against them without previous organisation, acquirement of knowledge, propaganda, and ... [word illegible]. Hence they moved within strictly legal bounds. The illegality was all on the side of the government, which declared them en dehors la loi. Their crimes were not deeds, but opinions unpleasant to their rulers. Fortunately, the same government the working class having been pushed to the background with the help of the bourgeoisie becomes now more and more unbearable to the latter, whom it hits on their most tender point the pocket. This state of things cannot last long...

Letters: Karl Marx and Frederick Engels, Selected Correspondence 1880

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1880/letters/80_12_08.htm

Modern Socialism is, in its essence, the direct product of the recognition, on the one hand, of the class antagonisms existing in the society of today between proprietors and non-proprietors, between capitalists and wage-workers; on the other hand, of the anarchy existing in production. But, in its theoretical form, modern Socialism originally appears ostensibly as a more logical extension of the principles laid down by the great French philosophers of the 18th century. Like every new theory, modern Socialism had, at first, to connect itself with the intellectual stock-in-trade ready to its hand, however deeply its roots lay in material economic facts. The great men, who in France prepared men s minds for the coming revolution, were themselves extreme revolutionists. They recognized no external authority of any kind whatever. Religion, natural science, society, political institutions everything was subjected to the most unsparing criticism: everything must justify its existence before the judgment-seat of reason or give up existence. Reason became the sole measure of everything. It was the time when, as Hegel says, the world stood upon its head ; first in the sense that the human head, and the principles arrived at by its thought, claimed to be the basis of all human action and association; but by and by, also, in the wider sense that the reality which was in contradiction to these principles had, in fact, to be turned upside down. Every form of society and government then existing, every old traditional notion, was flung into the lumber-room as irrational; the world had hitherto allowed itself to be led solely by prejudices; everything in the past deserved only pity and contempt. Now, for the first time, appeared the light of day, the kingdom of reason; henceforth superstition, injustice, privilege, oppression, were to be superseded by eternal truth, eternal Right, equality based on Nature and the inalienable rights of man. We know today that this kingdom of reason was nothing more than the idealized kingdom of the bourgeoisie; that this eternal Right found its realization in bourgeois justice; that this equality reduced itself to bourgeois equality before the law; that bourgeois property was proclaimed as one of the essential rights of man; and that the government of reason, the Contrat Social of Rousseau, came into being, and only could come into being, as a democratic bourgeois republic. The great thinkers of the 18th century could, no more than their predecessors, go beyond the limits imposed upon them by their epoch. But, side by side with the antagonisms of the feudal nobility and the burghers, who claimed to represent all the rest of society, was the general antagonism of exploiters and exploited, of rich idlers and poor workers. It was this very circumstance that made it possible for the representatives of the bourgeoisie to put themselves forward as representing not one special class, but the whole of suffering humanity. Still further. From its origin the bourgeoisie was saddled with its antithesis: capitalists cannot exist without wage-workers, and, in the same proportion as the mediaeval burgher of the guild developed into the modern bourgeois, the guild journeyman and the day-laborer, outside the guilds, developed into the proletarian. And although, upon the whole, the bourgeoisie, in their struggle with the nobility, could claim to represent at the same time the interests of the different working-classes of that period, yet in every great bourgeois movement there were independent outbursts of that class which was the forerunner, more or less developed, of the modern proletariat. For example, at the time of the German Reformation and the Peasants War, the Anabaptists and Thomas M nzer; in the great English Revolution, the Levellers; in the great French Revolution, Babeuf. These were theoretical enunciations, corresponding with these revolutionary uprisings of a class not yet developed; in the 16th and 17th centuries, Utopian pictures of ideal social conditions; in the 18th century, actual communistic theories (Morelly and Mably). The demand for equality was no longer limited to political rights; it was extended also to the social conditions of individuals. It was not simply class privileges that were to be abolished, but class distinctions themselves. A Communism, ascetic, denouncing all the pleasures of life, Spartan, was the first form of the new teaching. Then came the three great Utopians: Saint-Simon, to whom the middle-class movement, side by side with the proletarian, still had a certain significance; Fourier; and Owen, who in the country where capitalist production was most developed, and under the influence of the antagonisms begotten of this, worked out his proposals for the removal of class distinction systematically and in direct relation to French materialism. One thing is common to all three. Not one of them appears as a representative of the interests of that proletariat which historical development had, in the meantime, produced. Like the French philosophers, they do not claim to emancipate a particular class to begin with, but all humanity at once. Like them, they wish to bring in the kingdom of reason and eternal justice, but this kingdom, as they see it, is as far as Heaven from Earth, from that of the French philosophers. For, to our three social reformers, the bourgeois world, based upon the principles of these philosophers, is quite as irrational and unjust, and, therefore, finds its way to the dust-hole quite as readily as feudalism and all the earlier stages of society. If pure reason and justice have not, hitherto, ruled the world, this has been the case only because men have not rightly understood them. What was wanted was the individual man of genius, who has now arisen and who understands the truth. That he has now arisen, that the truth has now been clearly understood, is not an inevitable event, following of necessity in the chains of historical development, but a mere happy accident. He might just as well have been born 500 years earlier, and might then have spared humanity 500 years of error, strife, and suffering. We saw how the French philosophers of the 18th century, the forerunners of the Revolution, appealed to reason as the sole judge of all that is. A rational government, rational society, were to be founded; everything that ran counter to eternal reason was to be remorselessly done away with. We saw also that this eternal reason was in reality nothing but the idealized understanding of the 18th century citizen, just then evolving into the bourgeois. The French Revolution had realized this rational society and government. But the new order of things, rational enough as compared with earlier conditions, turned out to be by no means absolutely rational. The state based upon reason completely collapsed. Rousseau s Contrat Social had found its realization in the Reign of Terror, from which the bourgeoisie, who had lost confidence in their own political capacity, had taken refuge first in the corruption of the Directorate, and, finally, under the wing of the Napoleonic despotism. The promised eternal peace was turned into an endless war of conquest. The society based upon reason had fared no better. The antagonism between rich and poor, instead of dissolving into general prosperity, had become intensified by the removal of the guild and other privileges, which had to some extent bridged it over, and by the removal of the charitable institutions of the Church. The freedom of property from feudal fetters, now veritably accomplished, turned out to be, for the small capitalists and small proprietors, the freedom to sell their small property, crushed under the overmastering competition of the large capitalists and landlords, to these great lords, and thus, as far as the small capitalists and peasant proprietors were concerned, became freedom from property . The development of industry upon a capitalistic basis made poverty and misery of the working masses conditions of existence of society. Cash payment became more and more, in Carlyle s phrase [See Thomas Carlyle, Past and Present, London 1843], the sole nexus between man and man. The number of crimes increased from year to year. Formerly, the feudal vices had openly stalked about in broad daylight; though not eradicated, they were now at any rate thrust into the background. In their stead, the bourgeois vices, hitherto practiced in secret, began to blossom all the more luxuriantly. Trade became to a greater and greater extent cheating. The fraternity of the revolutionary motto was realized in the chicanery and rivalries of the battle of competition. Oppression by force was replaced by corruption; the sword, as the first social lever, by gold. The right of the first night was transferred from the feudal lords to the bourgeois manufacturers. Prostitution increased to an extent never heard of. Marriage itself remained, as before, the legally recognized form, the official cloak of prostitution, and, moreover, was supplemented by rich crops of adultery. In a word, compared with the splendid promises of the philosophers, the social and political institutions born of the triumph of reason were bitterly disappointing caricatures. All that was wanting was the men to formulate this disappointment, and they came with the turn of the century. In 1802, Saint-Simon s Geneva letters appeared; in 1808 appeared Fourier s first work, although the groundwork of his theory dated from 1799; on January 1, 1800, Robert Owen undertook the direction of New Lanark. At this time, however, the capitalist mode of production, and with it the antagonism between the bourgeoisie and the proletariat, was still very incompletely developed. Modern Industry, which had just arisen in England, was still unknown in France. But Modern Industry develops, on the one hand, the conflicts which make absolutely necessary a revolution in the mode of production, and the doing away with its capitalistic character conflicts not only between the classes begotten of it, but also between the very productive forces and the forms of exchange created by it. And, on the other hand, it develops, in these very gigantic productive forces, the means of ending these conflicts. If, therefore, about the year 1800, the conflicts arising from the new social order were only just beginning to take shape, this holds still more fully as to the means of ending them. The have-nothing masses of Paris, during the Reign of Terror, were able for a moment to gain the mastery, and thus to lead the bourgeois revolution to victory in spite of the bourgeoisie themselves. But, in doing so, they only proved how impossible it was for their domination to last under the conditions then obtaining. The proletariat, which then for the first time evolved itself from these have-nothing masses as the nucleus of a new class, as yet quite incapable of independent political action, appeared as an oppressed, suffering order, to whom, in its incapacity to help itself, help could, at best, be brought in from without or down from above. This historical situation also dominated the founders of Socialism. To the crude conditions of capitalistic production and the crude class conditions correspond crude theories. The solution of the social problems, which as yet lay hidden in undeveloped economic conditions, the Utopians attempted to evolve out of the human brain. Society presented nothing but wrongs; to remove these was the task of reason. It was necessary, then, to discover a new and more perfect system of social order and to impose this upon society from without by propaganda, and, wherever it was possible, by the example of model experiments. These new social systems were foredoomed as Utopian; the more completely they were worked out in detail, the more they could not avoid drifting off into pure phantasies. These facts once established, we need not dwell a moment longer upon this side of the question, now wholly belonging to the past. We can leave it to the literary small fry to solemnly quibble over these phantasies, which today only make us smile, and to crow over the superiority of their own bald reasoning, as compared with such insanity . For ourselves, we delight in the stupendously grand thoughts and germs of thought that everywhere break out through their phantastic covering, and to which these Philistines are blind. Saint-Simon was a son of the great French Revolution, at the outbreak of which he was not yet 30. The Revolution was the victory of the 3rd estate i.e., of the great masses of the nation, working in production and in trade, over the privileged idle classes, the nobles and the priests. But the victory of the 3rd estate soon revealed itself as exclusively the victory of a smaller part of this estate , as the conquest of political power by the socially privileged section of it i.e., the propertied bourgeoisie. And the bourgeoisie had certainly developed rapidly during the Revolution, partly by speculation in the lands of the nobility and of the Church, confiscated and afterwards put up for sale, and partly by frauds upon the nation by means of army contracts. It was the domination of these swindlers that, under the Directorate, brought France to the verge of ruin, and thus gave Napoleon the pretext for his coup d tat. Hence, to Saint-Simon the antagonism between the 3rd Estate and the privileged classes took the form of an antagonism between workers and idlers . The idlers were not merely the old privileged classes, but also all who, without taking any part in production or distribution, lived on their incomes. And the workers were not only the wage-workers, but also the manufacturers, the merchants, the bankers. That the idlers had lost the capacity for intellectual leadership and political supremacy had been proved, and was by the Revolution finally settled. That the non-possessing classes had not this capacity seemed to Saint-Simon proved by the experiences of the Reign of Terror. Then, who was to lead and command? According to Saint-Simon, science and industry, both united by a new religious bond, destined to restore that unity of religious ideas which had been lost since the time of the Reformation a necessarily mystic and rigidly hierarchic new Christianity . But science, that was the scholars; and industry, that was, in the first place, the working bourgeois, manufacturers, merchants, bankers. These bourgeois were, certainly, intended by Saint-Simon to transform themselves into a kind of public officials, of social trustees; but they were still to hold, vis- -vis of the workers, a commanding and economically privileged position. The bankers especially were to be called upon to direct the whole of social production by the regulation of credit. This conception was in exact keeping with a time in which Modern Industry in France and, with it, the chasm between bourgeoisie and proletariat was only just coming into existence. But what Saint-Simon especially lays stress upon is this: what interests him first, and above all other things, is the lot of the class that is the most numerous and the most poor ( la classe la plus nombreuse et la plus pauvre ). Already in his Geneva letters, Saint-Simon lays down the proposition that all men ought to work . In the same work he recognizes also that the Reign of Terror was the reign of the non-possessing masses. But to recognize the French Revolution as a class war, and not simply one between nobility and bourgeoisie, but between nobility, bourgeoisie, and the non-possessors, was, in the year 1802, a most pregnant discovery. In 1816, he declares that politics is the science of production, and foretells the complete absorption of politics by economics. The knowledge that economic conditions are the basis of political institutions appears here only in embryo. Yet what is here already very plainly expressed is the idea of the future conversion of political rule over men into an administration of things and a direction of processes of production that is to say, the abolition of the state , about which recently there has been so much noise. Saint-Simon shows the same superiority over his contemporaries, when in 1814, immediately after the entry of the allies into Paris, and again in 1815, during the Hundred Days War, he proclaims the alliance of France and England, and then of both of these countries, with Germany, as the only guarantee for the prosperous development and peace of Europe. To preach to the French in 1815 an alliance with the victors of Waterloo required as much courage as historical foresight. If in Saint-Simon we find a comprehensive breadth of view, by virtue of which almost all the ideas of later Socialists that are not strictly economic are found in him in embryo, we find in Fourier a criticism of the existing conditions of society, genuinely French and witty, but not upon that account any the less thorough. Fourier takes the bourgeoisie, their inspired prophets before the Revolution, and their interested eulogists after it, at their own word. He lays bare remorselessly the material and moral misery of the bourgeois world. He confronts it with the earlier philosophers dazzling promises of a society in which reason alone should reign, of a civilization in which happiness should be universal, of an illimitable human perfectibility, and with the rose-colored phraseology of the bourgeois ideologists of his time. He points out how everywhere the most pitiful reality corresponds with the most high-sounding phrases, and he overwhelms this hopeless fiasco of phrases with his mordant sarcasm. Fourier is not only a critic, his imperturbably serene nature makes him a satirist, and assuredly one of the greatest satirists of all time. He depicts, with equal power and charm, the swindling speculations that blossomed out upon the downfall of the Revolution, and the shopkeeping spirit prevalent in, and characteristic of, French commerce at that time. Still more masterly is his criticism of the bourgeois form of the relations between sexes, and the position of woman in bourgeois society. He was the first to declare that in any given society the degree of woman s emancipation is the natural measure of the general emancipation. But Fourier is at his greatest in his conception of the history of society. He divides its whole course, thus far, into four stages of evolution savagery, barbarism, the patriarchate, civilization. This last is identical with the so-called civil, or bourgeois, society of today i.e., with the social order that came in with the 16th century. He proves that the civilized stage raises every vice practiced by barbarism in a simple fashion into a form of existence, complex, ambiguous, equivocal, hypocritical that civilization moves in a vicious circle , in contradictions which it constantly reproduces without being able to solve them; hence it constantly arrives at the very opposite to that which it wants to attain, or pretends to want to attain, so that, e.g., under civilization poverty is born of superabundance itself . [Th orie de l unite universelle, Fourier, 1843 and Le nouveau monde industriel et soci taire, ou invention du proc d d'industrie attrayante et enaturelle distribu e en s ries passionn es, Fourier, 1845] Fourier, as we see, uses the dialectic method in the same masterly way as his contemporary, Hegel. Using these same dialectics, he argues against talk about illimitable human perfectibility, that every historical phase has its period of ascent and also its period of descent, and he applies this observation to the future of the whole human race. As Kant introduced into natural science the idea of the ultimate destruction of the Earth, Fourier introduced into historical science that of the ultimate destruction of the human race. Whilst in France the hurricane of the Revolution swept over the land, in England a quieter, but not on that account less tremendous, revolution was going on. Steam and the new tool-making machinery were transforming manufacture into modern industry, and thus revolutionizing the whole foundation of bourgeois society. The sluggish march of development of the manufacturing period changed into a veritable storm and stress period of production. With constantly increasing swiftness the splitting-up into large capitalists and non-possessing proletarians went on. Between these, instead of the former stable middle-class, an unstable mass of artisans and small shopkeepers, the most fluctuating portion of the population, now led a precarious existence. The new mode of production was, as yet, only at the beginning of its period of ascent; as yet it was the normal, regular method of production the only one possible under existing conditions. Nevertheless, even then it was producing crying social abuses the herding together of a homeless population in the worst quarters of the large towns; the loosening of all traditional moral bonds, of patriarchal subordination, of family relations; overwork, especially of women and children, to a frightful extent; complete demoralization of the working-class, suddenly flung into altogether new conditions, from the country into the town, from agriculture into modern industry, from stable conditions of existence into insecure ones that change from day to day. At this juncture, there came forward as a reformer a manufacturer 29-years-old a man of almost sublime, childlike simplicity of character, and at the same time one of the few born leaders of men. Robert Owen had adopted the teaching of the materialistic philosophers: that man s character is the product, on the one hand, of heredity; on the other, of the environment of the individual during his lifetime, and especially during his period of development. In the industrial revolution most of his class saw only chaos and confusion, and the opportunity of fishing in these troubled waters and making large fortunes quickly. He saw in it the opportunity of putting into practice his favorite theory, and so of bringing order out of chaos. He had already tried it with success, as superintendent of more than 500 men in a Manchester factory. From 1800 to 1829, he directed the great cotton mill at New Lanark, in Scotland, as managing partner, along the same lines, but with greater freedom of action and with a success that made him a European reputation. A population, originally consisting of the most diverse and, for the most part, very demoralized elements, a population that gradually grew to 2,500, he turned into a model colony, in which drunkenness, police, magistrates, lawsuits, poor laws, charity, were unknown. And all this simply by placing the people in conditions worthy of human beings, and especially by carefully bringing up the rising generation. He was the founder of infant schools, and introduced them first at New Lanark. At the age of two, the children came to school, where they enjoyed themselves so much that they could scarely be got home again. Whilst his competitors worked their people 13 or 14 hours a day, in New Lanark the working-day was only 10 and a half hours. When a crisis in cotton stopped work for four months, his workers received their full wages all the time. And with all this the business more than doubled in value, and to the last yielded large profits to its proprietors. In spite of all this, Owen was not content. The existence which he secured for his workers was, in his eyes, still far from being worthy of human beings. "The people were slaves at my mercy." The relatively favorable conditions in which he had placed them were still far from allowing a rational development of the character and of the intellect in all directions, much less of the free exercise of all their faculties. The answer was clear. It had been used to pay the proprietors of the establishment 5 per cent on the capital they had laid out, in addition to over 300,000 clear profit. And that which held for New Lanark held to a still greater extent for all the factories in England. To them, therefore, the fruits of this new power belonged. The newly-created gigantic productive forces, hitherto used only to enrich individuals and to enslave the masses, offered to Owen the foundations for a reconstruction of society; they were destined, as the common property of all, to be worked for the common good of all. Owen s communism was based upon this purely business foundation, the outcome, so to say, of commercial calculation. Throughout, it maintained this practical character. Thus, in 1823, Owen proposed the relief of the distress in Ireland by Communist colonies, and drew up complete estimates of costs of founding them, yearly expenditure, and probable revenue. And in his definite plan for the future, the technical working out of details is managed with such practical knowledge ground plan, front and side and bird s-eye views all included that the Owen method of social reform once accepted, there is from the practical point of view little to be said against the actual arrangement of details. His advance in the direction of Communism was the turning-point in Owen s life. As long as he was simply a philanthropist, he was rewarded with nothing but wealth, applause, honor, and glory. He was the most popular man in Europe. Not only men of his own class, but statesmen and princes listened to him approvingly. But when he came out with his Communist theories that was quite another thing. Three great obstacles seemed to him especially to block the path to social reform: private property, religion, the present form of marriage. He knew what confronted him if he attacked these outlawry, excommunication from official society, the loss of his whole social position. But nothing of this prevented him from attacking them without fear of consequences, and what he had foreseen happened. Banished from official society, with a conspiracy of silence against him in the press, ruined by his unsuccessful Communist experiments in America, in which he sacrificed all his fortune, he turned directly to the working-class and continued working in their midst for 30 years. Every social movement, every real advance in England on behalf of the workers links itself on to the name of Robert Owen. He forced through in 1819, after five years fighting, the first law limiting the hours of labor of women and children in factories. He was president of the first Congress at which all the Trade Unions of England united in a single great trade association. He introduced as transition measures to the complete communistic organization of society, on the one hand, cooperative societies for retail trade and production. These have since that time, at least, given practical proof that the merchant and the manufacturer are socially quite unnecessary. On the other hand, he introduced labor bazaars for the exchange of the products of labor through the medium of labor-notes, whose unit was a single hour of work; institutions necessarily doomed to failure, but completely anticipating Proudhon s bank of exchange of a much later period, and differing entirely from this in that it did not claim to be the panacea for all social ills, but only a first step towards a much more radical revolution of society. The Utopians mode of thought has for a long time governed the Socialist ideas of the 19th century, and still governs some of them. Until very recently, all French and English Socialists did homage to it. The earlier German Communism, including that of Weitling, was of the same school. To all these, Socialism is the expression of absolute truth, reason and justice, and has only to be discovered to conquer all the world by virtue of its own power. And as an absolute truth is independent of time, space, and of the historical development of man, it is a mere accident when and where it is discovered. With all this, absolute truth, reason, and justice are different with the founder of each different school. And as each one s special kind of absolute truth, reason, and justice is again conditioned by his subjective understanding, his conditions of existence, the measure of his knowledge and his intellectual training, there is no other ending possible in this conflict of absolute truths than that they shall be mutually exclusive of one another. Hence, from this nothing could come but a kind of eclectic, average Socialism, which, as a matter of fact, has up to the present time dominated the minds of most of the socialist workers in France and England. Hence, a mish-mash allowing of the most manifold shades of opinion: a mish-mash of such critical statements, economic theories, pictures of future society by the founders of different sects, as excite a minimum of opposition; a mish-mash which is the more easily brewed the more definite sharp edges of the individual constituents are rubbed down in the stream of debate, like rounded pebbles in a brook. To make a science of Socialism, it had first to be placed upon a real basis.

Socialism: Utopian and Scientific (Chpt. 1)

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1880/soc-utop/ch01.htm

In the meantime, along with and after the French philosophy of the 18th century, had arisen the new German philosophy, culminating in Hegel. Its greatest merit was the taking up again of dialectics as the highest form of reasoning. The old Greek philosophers were all born natural dialecticians, and Aristotle, the most encyclopaedic of them, had already analyzed the most essential forms of dialectic thought. The newer philosophy, on the other hand, although in it also dialectics had brilliant exponents (e.g. Descartes and Spinoza), had, especially through English influence, become more and more rigidly fixed in the so-called metaphysical mode of reasoning, by which also the French of the 18th century were almost wholly dominated, at all events in their special philosophical work. Outside philosophy in the restricted sense, the French nevertheless produced masterpieces of dialectic. We need only call to mind Diderot's Le Neveu de Rameau, and Rousseau's Discours sur l'origine et les fondements de l'inegalite parmi les hommes. We give here, in brief, the essential character of these two modes of thought. When we consider and reflect upon Nature at large, or the history of mankind, or our own intellectual activity, at first we see the picture of an endless entanglement of relations and reactions, permutations and combinations, in which nothing remains what, where and as it was, but everything moves, changes, comes into being and passes away. We see, therefore, at first the picture as a whole, with its individual parts still more or less kept in the background; we observe the movements, transitions, connections, rather than the things that move, combine, and are connected. This primitive, naive but intrinsically correct conception of the world is that of ancient Greek philosophy, and was first clearly formulated by Heraclitus: everything is and is not, for everything is fluid, is constantly changing, constantly coming into being and passing away.[A] But this conception, correctly as it expresses the general character of the picture of appearances as a whole, does not suffice to explain the details of which this picture is made up, and so long as we do not understand these, we have not a clear idea of the whole picture. In order to understand these details, we must detach them from their natural, special causes, effects, etc. This is, primarily, the task of natural science and historical research: branches of science which the Greek of classical times, on very good grounds, relegated to a subordinate position, because they had first of all to collect materials for these sciences to work upon. A certain amount of natural and historical material must be collected before there can be any critical analysis, comparison, and arrangement in classes, orders, and species. The foundations of the exact natural sciences were, therefore, first worked out by the Greeks of the Alexandrian period [B], and later on, in the Middle Ages, by the Arabs. Real natural science dates from the second half of the 15th century, and thence onward it had advanced with constantly increasing rapidity. The analysis of Nature into its individual parts, the grouping of the different natural processes and objects in definite classes, the study of the internal anatomy of organized bodies in their manifold forms these were the fundamental conditions of the gigantic strides in our knowledge of Nature that have been made during the last 400 years. But this method of work has also left us as legacy the habit of observing natural objects and processes in isolation, apart from their connection with the vast whole; of observing them in repose, not in motion; as constraints, not as essentially variables; in their death, not in their life. And when this way of looking at things was transferred by Bacon and Locke from natural science to philosophy, it begot the narrow, metaphysical mode of thought peculiar to the last century. To the metaphysician, things and their mental reflexes, ideas, are isolated, are to be considered one after the other and apart from each other, are objects of investigation fixed, rigid, given once for all. He thinks in absolutely irreconcilable antitheses. His communication is 'yea, yea; nay, nay'; for whatsoever is more than these cometh of evil." For him, a thing either exists or does not exist; a thing cannot at the same time be itself and something else. Positive and negative absolutely exclude one another; cause and effect stand in a rigid antithesis, one to the other. At first sight, this mode of thinking seems to us very luminous, because it is that of so-called sound commonsense. Only sound commonsense, respectable fellow that he is, in the homely realm of his own four walls, has very wonderful adventures directly he ventures out into the wide world of research. And the metaphysical mode of thought, justifiable and necessary as it is in a number of domains whose extent varies according to the nature of the particular object of investigation, sooner or later reaches a limit, beyond which it becomes one-sided, restricted, abstract, lost in insoluble contradictions. In the contemplation of individual things, it forgets the connection between them; in the contemplation of their existence, it forgets the beginning and end of that existence; of their repose, it forgets their motion. It cannot see the woods for the trees. For everyday purposes, we know and can say, e.g., whether an animal is alive or not. But, upon closer inquiry, we find that this is, in many cases, a very complex question, as the jurists know very well. They have cudgelled their brains in vain to discover a rational limit beyond which the killing of the child in its mother's womb is murder. It is just as impossible to determine absolutely the moment of death, for physiology proves that death is not an instantaneous, momentary phenomenon, but a very protracted process. In like manner, every organized being is every moment the same and not the same; every moment, it assimilates matter supplied from without, and gets rid of other matter; every moment, some cells of its body die and others build themselves anew; in a longer or shorter time, the matter of its body is completely renewed, and is replaced by other molecules of matter, so that every organized being is always itself, and yet something other than itself. Further, we find upon closer investigation that the two poles of an antithesis, positive and negative, e.g., are as inseparable as they are opposed, and that despite all their opposition, they mutually interpenetrate. And we find, in like manner, that cause and effect are conceptions which only hold good in their application to individual cases; but as soon as we consider the individual cases in their general connection with the universe as a whole, they run into each other, and they become confounded when we contemplate that universal action and reaction in which causes and effects are eternally changing places, so that what is effect here and now will be cause there and then, and vice versa. None of these processes and modes of thought enters into the framework of metaphysical reasoning. Dialectics, on the other hand, comprehends things and their representations, ideas, in their essential connection, concatenation, motion, origin and ending. Such processes as those mentioned above are, therefore, so many corroborations of its own method of procedure. Nature is the proof of dialectics, and it must be said for modern science that it has furnished this proof with very rich materials increasingly daily, and thus has shown that, in the last resort, Nature works dialectically and not metaphysically; that she does not move in the eternal oneness of a perpetually recurring circle, but goes through a real historical evolution. In this connection, Darwin must be named before all others. He dealt the metaphysical conception of Nature the heaviest blow by his proof that all organic beings, plants, animals, and man himself, are the products of a process of evolution going on through millions of years. But, the naturalists, who have learned to think dialectically, are few and far between, and this conflict of the results of discovery with preconceived modes of thinking, explains the endless confusion now reigning in theoretical natural science, the despair of teachers as well as learners, of authors and readers alike. An exact representation of the universe, of its evolution, of the development of mankind, and of the reflection of this evolution in the minds of men, can therefore only be obtained by the methods of dialectics with its constant regard to the innumerable actions and reactions of life and death, of progressive or retrogressive changes. And in this spirit, the new German philosophy has worked. Kant began his career by resolving the stable Solar system of Newton and its eternal duration, after the famous initial impulse had once been given, into the result of a historical process, the formation of the Sun and all the planets out of a rotating, nebulous mass. From this, he at the same time drew the conclusion that, given this origin of the Solar system, its future death followed of necessity. His theory, half a century later, was established mathematically by Laplace, and half a century after that, the spectroscope proved the existence in space of such incandescent masses of gas in various stages of condensation. This new German philosophy culminated in the Hegelian system. In this system and herein is its great merit for the first time the whole world, natural, historical, intellectual, is represented as a process i.e., as in constant motion, change, transformation, development; and the attempt is made to trace out the internal connection that makes a continuous whole of all this movement and development. From this point of view, the history of mankind no longer appeared as a wild whirl of senseless deeds of violence, all equally condemnable at the judgment seat of mature philosophic reason and which are best forgotten as quickly as possible, but as the process of evolution of man himself. It was now the task of the intellect to follow the gradual march of this process through all its devious ways, and to trace out the inner law running through all its apparently accidental phenomena. That the Hegelian system did not solve the problem it propounded is here immaterial. Its epoch-making merit was that it propounded the problem. This problem is one that no single individual will ever be able to solve. Although Hegel was with Saint-Simon the most encyclopaedic mind of his time, yet he was limited, first, by the necessary limited extent of his own knowledge and, second, by the limited extent and depth of the knowledge and conceptions of his age. To these limits, a third must be added; Hegel was an idealist. To him, the thoughts within his brain were not the more or less abstract pictures of actual things and processes, but, conversely, things and their evolution were only the realized pictures of the "Idea", existing somewhere from eternity before the world was. This way of thinking turned everything upside down, and completely reversed the actual connection of things in the world. Correctly and ingeniously as many groups of facts were grasped by Hegel, yet, for the reasons just given, there is much that is botched, artificial, labored, in a word, wrong in point of detail. The Hegelian system, in itself, was a colossal miscarriage but it was also the last of its kind. It was suffering, in fact, from an internal and incurable contradiction. Upon the one hand, its essential proposition was the conception that human history is a process of evolution, which, by its very nature, cannot find its intellectual final term in the discovery of any so-called absolute truth. But, on the other hand, it laid claim to being the very essence of this absolute truth. A system of natural and historical knowledge, embracing everything, and final for all time, is a contradiction to the fundamental law of dialectic reasoning. This law, indeed, by no means excludes, but, on the contrary, includes the idea that the systematic knowledge of the external universe can make giant strides from age to age. The perception of the the fundamental contradiction in German idealism led necessarily back to materialism, but nota bene not to the simply metaphysical, exclusively mechanical materialism of the 18th century. Old materialism looked upon all previous history as a crude heap of irrationality and violence; modern materialism sees in it the process of evolution of humanity, and aims at discovering the laws thereof. With the French of the 18th century, and even with Hegel, the conception obtained of Nature as a whole moving in narrow circles, and forever immutable, with its eternal celestial bodies, as Newton, and unalterable organic species, as Linnaeus, taught. Modern materialism embraces the more recent discoveries of natural science, according to which Nature also has its history in time, the celestial bodies, like the organic species that, under favorable conditions, people them, being born and perishing. And even if Nature, as a whole, must still be said to move in recurrent cycles, these cycles assume infinitely larger dimensions. In both aspects, modern materialism is essentially dialectic, and no longer requires the assistance of that sort of philosophy which, queen-like, pretended to rule the remaining mob of sciences. As soon as each special science is bound to make clear its position in the great totality of things and of our knowledge of things, a special science dealing with this totality is superfluous or unnecessary. That which still survives of all earlier philosophy is the science of thought and its law formal logic and dialectics. Everything else is subsumed in the positive science of Nature and history. Whilst, however, the revolution in the conception of Nature could only be made in proportion to the corresponding positive materials furnished by research, already much earlier certain historical facts had occurred which led to a decisive change in the conception of history. In 1831, the first working-class rising took place in Lyons; between 1838 and 1842, the first national working-class movement, that of the English Chartists, reached its height. The class struggle between proletariat and bourgeoisie came to the front in the history of the most advanced countries in Europe, in proportion to the development, upon the one hand, of modern industry, upon the other, of the newly-acquired political supremacy of the bourgeoisie. Facts more and more strenuously gave the lie to the teachings of bourgeois economy as to the identity of the interests of capital and labor, as to the universal harmony and universal prosperity that would be the consequence of unbridled competition. All these things could no longer be ignored, any more than the French and English Socialism, which was their theoretical, though very imperfect, expression. But the old idealist conception of history, which was not yet dislodged, knew nothing of class struggles based upon economic interests, knew nothing of economic interests; production and all economic relations appeared in it only as incidental, subordinate elements in the "history of civilization". The new facts made imperative a new examination of all past history. Then it was seen that all past history, with the exception of its primitive stages, was the history of class struggles; that these warring classes of society are always the products of the modes of production and of exchange in a word, of the economic conditions of their time; that the economic structure of society always furnishes the real basis, starting from which we can alone work out the ultimate explanation of the whole superstructure of juridical and political institutions as well as of the religious, philosophical, and other ideas of a given historical period. Hegel has freed history from metaphysics he made it dialectic; but his conception of history was essentially idealistic. But now idealism was driven from its last refuge, the philosophy of history; now a materialistic treatment of history was propounded, and a method found of explaining man's "knowing" by his "being", instead of, as heretofore, his "being" by his "knowing". From that time forward, Socialism was no longer an accidental discovery of this or that ingenious brain, but the necessary outcome of the struggle between two historically developed classes the proletariat and the bourgeoisie. Its task was no longer to manufacture a system of society as perfect as possible, but to examine the historico-economic succession of events from which these classes and their antagonism had of necessity sprung, and to discover in the economic conditions thus created the means of ending the conflict. But the Socialism of earlier days was as incompatible with this materialist conception as the conception of Nature of the French materialists was with dialectics and modern natural science. The Socialism of earlier days certainly criticized the existing capitalistic mode of production and its consequences. But it could not explain them, and, therefore, could not get the mastery of them. It could only simply reject them as bad. The more strongly this earlier Socialism denounced the exploitations of the working-class, inevitable under Capitalism, the less able was it clearly to show in what this exploitation consisted and how it arose, but for this it was necessary It was shown that the appropriation of unpaid labor is the basis of the capitalist mode of production and of the exploitation of the worker that occurs under it; that even if the capitalist buys the labor power of his laborer at its full value as a commodity on the market, he yet extracts more value from it than he paid for; and that in the ultimate analysis, this surplus-value forms those sums of value from which are heaped up constantly increasing masses of capital in the hands of the possessing classes. The genesis of capitalist production and the production of capital were both explained. These two great discoveries, the materialistic conception of history and the revelation of the secret of capitalistic production through surplus-value, we owe to Marx. With these discoveries, Socialism became a science. The next thing was to work out all its details and relations. China also been began development in natural sciences in the third century B.C.E.

Socialism: Utopian and Scientific (Chpt. 2)

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1880/soc-utop/ch02.htm

The materialist conception of history starts from the proposition that the production of the means to support human life and, next to production, the exchange of things produced, is the basis of all social structure; that in every society that has appeared in history, the manner in which wealth is distributed and society divided into classes or orders is dependent upon what is produced, how it is produced, and how the products are exchanged. From this point of view, the final causes of all social changes and political revolutions are to be sought, not in men's brains, not in men's better insights into eternal truth and justice, but in changes in the modes of production and exchange. They are to be sought, not in the philosophy, but in the economics of each particular epoch. The growing perception that existing social institutions are unreasonable and unjust, that reason has become unreason, and right wrong , is only proof that in the modes of production and exchange changes have silently taken place with which the social order, adapted to earlier economic conditions, is no longer in keeping. From this it also follows that the means of getting rid of the incongruities that have been brought to light must also be present, in a more or less developed condition, within the changed modes of production themselves. These means are not to be invented by deduction from fundamental principles, but are to be discovered in the stubborn facts of the existing system of production. What is, then, the position of modern Socialism in this connection? The present situation of society this is now pretty generally conceded is the creation of the ruling class of today, of the bourgeoisie. The mode of production peculiar to the bourgeoisie, known, since Marx, as the capitalist mode of production, was incompatible with the feudal system, with the privileges it conferred upon individuals, entire social ranks and local corporations, as well as with the hereditary ties of subordination which constituted the framework of its social organization. The bourgeoisie broke up the feudal system and built upon its ruins the capitalist order of society, the kingdom of free competition, of personal liberty, of the equality, before the law, of all commodity owners, of all the rest of the capitalist blessings. Thenceforward, the capitalist mode of production could develop in freedom. Since steam, machinery, and the making of machines by machinery transformed the older manufacture into modern industry, the productive forces, evolved under the guidance of the bourgeoisie, developed with a rapidity and in a degree unheard of before. But just as the older manufacture, in its time, and handicraft, becoming more developed under its influence, had come into collision with the feudal trammels of the guilds, so now modern industry, in its complete development, comes into collision with the bounds within which the capitalist mode of production holds it confined. The new productive forces have already outgrown the capitalistic mode of using them. And this conflict between productive forces and modes of production is not a conflict engendered in the mind of man, like that between original sin and divine justice. It exists, in fact, objectively, outside us, independently of the will and actions even of the men that have brought it on. Modern Socialism is nothing but the reflex, in thought, of this conflict in fact; its ideal reflection in the minds, first, of the class directly suffering under it, the working class. Now, in what does this conflict consist? Before capitalist production i.e., in the Middle Ages the system of petty industry obtained generally, based upon the private property of the laborers in their means of production; in the country, the agriculture of the small peasant, freeman, or serf; in the towns, the handicrafts organized in guilds. The instruments of labor land, agricultural implements, the workshop, the tool were the instruments of labor of single individuals, adapted for the use of one worker, and, therefore, of necessity, small, dwarfish, circumscribed. But, for this very reason, they belonged as a rule to the producer himself. To concentrate these scattered, limited means of production, to enlarge them, to turn them into the powerful levers of production of the present day this was precisely the historic role of capitalist production and of its upholder, the bourgeoisie. In the fourth section of Capital, Marx has explained in detail how since the 15th century this has been historically worked out through the three phases of simple co-operation, manufacture, and modern industry. But the bourgeoisie, as is shown there, could not transform these puny means of production into mighty productive forces without transforming them, at the same time, from means of production of the individual into social means of production only workable by a collectivity of men. The spinning wheel, the handloom, the blacksmith's hammer, were replaced by the spinning-machine, the power-loom, the steam-hammer; the individual workshop, by the factory implying the co-operation of hundreds and thousands of workmen. In like manner, production itself changed from a series of individual into a series of social acts, and the production from individual to social products. The yarn, the cloth, the metal articles that now come out of the factory were the joint product of many workers, through whose hands they had successively to pass before they were ready. No one person could say of them: "I made that; this is my product." But where, in a given society, the fundamental form of production is that spontaneous division of labor which creeps in gradually and not upon any preconceived plan, there the products take on the form of commodities, whose mutual exchange, buying and selling, enable the individual producers to satisfy their manifold wants. And this was the case in the Middle Ages. The peasant, e.g., sold to the artisan agricultural products and bought from him the products of handicraft. Into this society of individual producers, of commodity producers, the new mode of production thrust itself. In the midst of the old division of labor, grown up spontaneously and upon no definite plan, which had governed the whole of society, now arose division of labor upon a definite plan, as organized in the factory; side by side with individual production appeared social production. The products of both were sold in the same market, and, therefore, at prices at least approximately equal. But organization upon a definite plan was stronger than spontaneous division of labor. The factories working with the combined social forces of a collectivity of individuals produced their commodities far more cheaply than the individual small producers. Individual producers succumbed in one department after another. Socialized production revolutionized all the old methods of production. But its revolutionary character was, at the same time, so little recognized that it was, on the contrary, introduced as a means of increasing and developing the production of commodities. When it arose, it found ready-made, and made liberal use of, certain machinery for the production and exchange of commodities: merchants' capital, handicraft, wage-labor. Socialized production thus introducing itself as a new form of the production of commodities, it was a matter of course that under it the old forms of appropriation remained in full swing, and were applied to its products as well. In the medieval stage of evolution of the production of commodities, the question as to the owner of the product of labor could not arise. The individual producer, as a rule, had, from raw material belonging to himself, and generally his own handiwork, produced it with his own tools, by the labor of his own hands or of his family. There was no need for him to appropriate the new product. It belonged wholly to him, as a matter of course. His property in the product was, therefore, based upon his own labor. Even where external help was used, this was, as a rule, of little importance, and very generally was compensated by something other than wages. The apprentices and journeymen of the guilds worked less for board and wages than for education, in order that they might become master craftsmen themselves. Then came the concentration of the means of production and of the producers in large workshops and manufactories, their transformation into actual socialized means of production and socialized producers. But the socialized producers and means of production and their products were still treated, after this change, just as they had been before i.e., as the means of production and the products of individuals. Hitherto, the owner of the instruments of labor had himself appropriated the product, because, as a rule, it was his own product and the assistance of others was the exception. Now, the owner of the instruments of labor always appropriated to himself the product, although it was no longer his product but exclusively the product of the labor of others. Thus, the products now produced socially were not appropriated by those who had actually set in motion the means of production and actually produced the commodities, but by the capitalists. The means of production, and production itself, had become in essence socialized. But they were subjected to a form of appropriation which presupposes the private production of individuals, under which, therefore, every one owns his own product and brings it to market. The mode of production is subjected to this form of appropriation, although it abolishes the conditions upon which the latter rests. This contradiction, which gives to the new mode of production its capitalistic character, contains the germ of the whole of the social antagonisms of today. The greater the mastery obtained by the new mode of production over all important fields of production and in all manufacturing countries, the more it reduced individual production to an insignificant residuum, the more clearly was brought out the incompatibility of socialized production with capitalistic appropriation. The first capitalists found, as we have said, alongside of other forms of labor, wage-labor ready-made for them on the market. But it was exceptional, complementary, accessory, transitory wage-labor. The agricultural laborer, though, upon occasion, he hired himself out by the day, had a few acres of his own land on which he could at all events live at a pinch. The guilds were so organized that the journeyman of today became the master of tomorrow. But all this changed, as soon as the means of production became socialized and concentrated in the hands of capitalists. The means of production, as well as the product, of the individual producer became more and more worthless; there was nothing left for him but to turn wage-worker under the capitalist. Wage-labor, aforetime the exception and accessory, now became the rule and basis of all production; aforetime complementary, it now became the sole remaining function of the worker. The wage-worker for a time became a wage-worker for life. The number of these permanent was further enormously increased by the breaking-up of the feudal system that occurred at the same time, by the disbanding of the retainers of the feudal lords, the eviction of the peasants from their homesteads, etc. The separation was made complete between the means of production concentrated in the hands of the capitalists, on the one side, and the producers, possessing nothing but their labor-power, on the other. The contradiction between socialized production and capitalistic appropriation manifested itself as the antagonism of proletariat and bourgeoisie. We have seen that the capitalistic mode of production thrust its way into a society of commodity-producers, of individual producers, whose social bond was the exchange of their products. But every society based upon the production of commodities has this peculiarity: that the producers have lost control over their own social inter-relations. Each man produces for himself with such means of production as he may happen to have, and for such exchange as he may require to satisfy his remaining wants. No one knows how much of his particular article is coming on the market, nor how much of it will be wanted. No one knows whether his individual product will meet an actual demand, whether he will be able to make good his costs of production or even to sell his commodity at all. Anarchy reigns in socialized production. But the production of commodities, like every other form of production, has it peculiar, inherent laws inseparable from it; and these laws work, despite anarchy, in and through anarchy. They reveal themselves in the only persistent form of social inter-relations i.e., in exchange and here they affect the individual producers as compulsory laws of competition. They are, at first, unknown to these producers themselves, and have to be discovered by them gradually and as the result of experience. They work themselves out, therefore, independently of the producers, and in antagonism to them, as inexorable natural laws of their particular form of production. The product governs the producers. In mediaeval society, especially in the earlier centuries, production was essentially directed toward satisfying the wants of the individual. It satisfied, in the main, only the wants of the producer and his family. Where relations of personal dependence existed, as in the country, it also helped to satisfy the wants of the feudal lord. In all this there was, therefore, no exchange; the products, consequently, did not assume the character of commodities. The family of the peasant produced almost everything they wanted: clothes and furniture, as well as the means of subsistence. Only when it began to produce more than was sufficient to supply its own wants and the payments in kind to the feudal lords, only then did it also produce commodities. This surplus, thrown into socialized exchange and offered for sale, became commodities. The artisan in the towns, it is true, had from the first to produce for exchange. But they, also, themselves supplied the greatest part of their individual wants. They had gardens and plots of land. They turned their cattle out into the communal forest, which, also, yielded them timber and firing. The women spun flax, wool, and so forth. Production for the purpose of exchange, production of commodities, was only in its infancy. Hence, exchange was restricted, the market narrow, the methods of production stable; there was local exclusiveness without, local unity within; the mark in the country; in the town, the guild. But with the extension of the production of commodities, and especially with the introduction of the capitalist mode of production, the laws of commodity-production, hitherto latent, came into action more openly and with greater force. The old bonds were loosened, the old exclusive limits broken through, the producers were more and more turned into independent, isolated producers of commodities. It became apparent that the production of society at large was ruled by absence of plan, by accident, by anarchy; and this anarchy grew to greater and greater height. But the chief means by aid of which the capitalist mode of production intensified this anarchy of socialized production was the exact opposite of anarchy. It was the increasing organization of production, upon a social basis, in every individual productive establishment. By this, the old, peaceful, stable condition of things was ended. Wherever this organization of production was introduced into a branch of industry, it brooked no other method of production by its side. The field of labor became a battle-ground. The great geographical discoveries, and the colonization following them, multiplied markets and quickened the transformation of handicraft into manufacture. The war did not simply break out between the individual producers of particular localities. The local struggles begat, in their turn, national conflicts, the commercial wars of the 17th and 18th centuries. Finally, modern industry and the opening of the world-market made the struggle universal, and at the same time gave it an unheard-of virulence. Advantages in natural or artificial conditions of production now decide the existence or non-existence of individual capitalists, as well as of whole industries and countries. He that falls is remorselessly cast aside. It is the Darwinian struggle of the individual for existence transferred from Nature to society with intensified violence. The conditions of existence natural to the animal appear as the final term of human development. The contradiction between socialized production and capitalistic appropriation now presents itself as an antagonism between the organization of production in the individual workshop and the anarchy of production in society generally. The capitalistic mode of production moves in these two forms of the antagonism immanent to it from its very origin. It is never able to get out of that "vicious circle" which Fourier had already discovered. What Fourier could not, indeed, see in his time is that this circle is gradually narrowing; that the movement becomes more and more a spiral, and must come to an end, like the movement of planets, by collision with the centre. It is the compelling force of anarchy in the production of society at large that more and more completely turns the great majority of men into proletarians; and it is the masses of the proletariat again who will finally put an end to anarchy in production. It is the compelling force of anarchy in social production that turns the limitless perfectibility of machinery under modern industry into a compulsory law by which every individual industrial capitalist must perfect his machinery more and more, under penalty of ruin. But the perfecting of machinery is making human labor superfluous. If the introduction and increase of machinery means the displacement of millions of manual by a few machine-workers, improvement in machinery means the displacement of more and more of the machine-workers themselves. It means, in the last instance, the production of a number of available wage workers in excess of the average needs of capital, the formation of a complete industrial reserve army, as I called it in 1845 , available at the times when industry is working at high pressure, to be cast out upon the street when the inevitable crash comes, a constant dead weight upon the limbs of the working-class in its struggle for existence with capital, a regulator for keeping of wages down to the low level that suits the interests of capital. We have seen that the ever-increasing perfectibility of modern machinery is, by the anarchy of social production, turned into a compulsory law that forces the individual industrial capitalist always to improve his machinery, always to increase its productive force. The bare possibility of extending the field of production is transformed for him into a similarly compulsory law. The enormous expansive force of modern industry, compared with which that of gases is mere child's play, appears to us now as a necessity for expansion, both qualitative and quantative, that laughs at all resistance. Such resistance is offered by consumption, by sales, by the markets for the products of modern industry. But the capacity for extension, extensive and intensive, of the markets is primarily governed by quite different laws that work much less energetically. The extension of the markets cannot keep pace with the extension of production. The collision becomes inevitable, and as this cannot produce any real solution so long as it does not break in pieces the capitalist mode of production, the collisions become periodic. Capitalist production has begotten another "vicious circle". As a matter of fact, since 1825, when the first general crisis broke out, the whole industrial and commercial world, production and exchange among all civilized peoples and their more or less barbaric hangers-on, are thrown out of joint about once every 10 years. Commerce is at a stand-still, the markets are glutted, products accumulate, as multitudinous as they are unsaleable, hard cash disappears, credit vanishes, factories are closed, the mass of the workers are in want of the means of subsistence, because they have produced too much of the means of subsistence; bankruptcy follows upon bankruptcy, execution upon execution. The stagnation lasts for years; productive forces and products are wasted and destroyed wholesale, until the accumulated mass of commodities finally filter off, more or less depreciated in value, until production and exchange gradually begin to move again. Little by little, the pace quickens. It becomes a trot. The industrial trot breaks into a canter, the canter in turn grows into the headlong gallop of a perfect steeplechase of industry, commercial credit, and speculation, which finally, after breakneck leaps, ends where it began in the ditch of a crisis. And so over and over again. We have now, since the year 1825, gone through this five times, and at the present moment (1877), we are going through it for the sixth time. And the character of these crises is so clearly defined that Fourier hit all of them off when he described the first "crise plethorique", a crisis from plethora. In these crises, the contradiction between socialized production and capitalist appropriation ends in a violent explosion. The circulation of commodities is, for the time being, stopped. Money, the means of circulation, becomes a hindrance to circulation. All the laws of production and circulation of commodities are turned upside down. The economic collision has reached its apogee. The mode of production is in rebellion against the mode of exchange. The fact that the socialized organization of production within the factory has developed so far that it has become incompatible with the anarchy of production in society, which exists side by side with and dominates it, is brought home to the capitalist themselves by the violent concentration of capital that occurs during crises, through the ruin of many large, and a still greater number of small, capitalists. The whole mechanism of the capitalist mode of production breaks down under the pressure of the productive forces, its own creations. It is no longer able to turn all this mass of means of production into capital. They lie fallow, and for that very reason the industrial reserve army must also lie fallow. Means of production, means of subsistence, available laborers, all the elements of production and of general wealth, are present in abundance. But "abundance becomes the source of distress and want" (Fourier), because it is the very thing that prevents the transformation of the means of production and subsistence into capital. For in capitalistic society, the means of production can only function when they have undergone a preliminary transformation into capital, into the means of exploiting human labor-power. The necessity of this transformation into capital of the means of production and subsistence stands like a ghost between these and the workers. It alone prevents the coming together of the material and personal levers of production; it alone forbids the means of production to function, the workers to work and live. On the one hand, therefore, the capitalistic mode of production stands convicted of its own incapacity to further direct these productive forces. On the other, these productive forces themselves, with increasing energy, press forward to the removal of the existing contradiction, to the abolition of their quality as capital, to the practical recognition of their character as social production forces. This rebellion of the productive forces, as they grow more and more powerful, against their quality as capital, this stronger and stronger command that their social character shall be recognized, forces the capital class itself to treat them more and more as social productive forces, so far as this is possible under capitalist conditions. The period of industrial high pressure, with its unbounded inflation of credit, not less than the crash itself, by the collapse of great capitalist establishments, tends to bring about that form of the socialization of great masses of the means of production which we meet with in the different kinds of joint-stock companies. Many of these means of production and of distribution are, from the outset, so colossal that, like the railways, they exclude all other forms of capitalistic expansion. At a further stage of evolution, this form also becomes insufficient. The producers on a large scale in a particular branch of an industry in a particular country unite in a "Trust", a union for the purpose of regulating production. They determine the total amount to be produced, parcel it out among themselves, and thus enforce the selling price fixed beforehand. But trusts of this kind, as soon as business becomes bad, are generally liable to break up, and on this very account compel a yet greater concentration of association. The whole of a particular industry is turned into one gigantic joint-stock company; internal competition gives place to the internal monopoly of this one company. This has happened in 1890 with the English alkali production, which is now, after the fusion of 48 large works, in the hands of one company, conducted upon a single plan, and with a capital of 6,000,000 pounds. In the trusts, freedom of competition changes into its very opposite into monopoly; and the production without any definite plan of capitalistic society capitulates to the production upon a definite plan of the invading socialistic society. Certainly, this is so far still to the benefit and advantage of the capitalists. But, in this case, the exploitation is so palpable, that it must break down. No nation will put up with production conducted by trusts, with so barefaced an exploitation of the community by a small band of dividend-mongers. In any case, with trusts or without, the official representative of capitalist society the state will ultimately have to undertake the direction of production. This necessity for conversion into State property is felt first in the great institutions for intercourse and communication the post office, the telegraphs, the railways. If the crises demonstrate the incapacity of the bourgeoisie for managing any longer modern productive forces, the transformation of the great establishments for production and distribution into joint-stock companies, trusts, and State property, show how unnecessary the bourgeoisie are for that purpose. All the social functions of the capitalist has no further social function than that of pocketing dividends, tearing off coupons, and gambling on the Stock Exchange, where the different capitalists despoil one another of their capital. At first, the capitalistic mode of production forces out the workers. Now, it forces out the capitalists, and reduces them, just as it reduced the workers, to the ranks of the surplus-population, although not immediately into those of the industrial reserve army. But, the transformation either into joint-stock companies and trusts, or into State-ownership does not do away with the capitalistic nature of the productive forces. In the joint-stock companies and trusts, this is obvious. And the modern State, again, is only the organization that bourgeois society takes on in order to support the external conditions of the capitalist mode of production against the encroachments as well of the workers as of individual capitalists. The modern state, no matter what its form, is essentially a capitalist machine the state of the capitalists, the ideal personification of the total national capital. The more it proceeds to the taking over of productive forces, the more does it actually become the national capitalist, the more citizens does it exploit. The workers remain wage-workers proletarians. The capitalist relation is not done away with. It is, rather, brought to a head. But, brought to a head, it topples over. State-ownership of the productive forces is not the solution of the conflict, but concealed within it are the technical conditions that form the elements of that solution. This solution can only consist in the practical recognition of the social nature of the modern forces of production, and therefore in the harmonizing with the socialized character of the means of production. And this can only come about by society openly and directly taking possession of the productive forces which have outgrown all control, except that of society as a whole. The social character of the means of production and of the products today reacts against the producers, periodically disrupts all production and exchange, acts only like a law of Nature working blindly, forcibly, destructively. But,with the taking over by society of the productive forces, the social character of the means of production and of the products will be utilized by the producers with a perfect understanding of its nature, and instead of being a source of disturbance and periodical collapse, will become the most powerful lever of production itself. Active social forces work exactly like natural forces: blindly, forcibly, destructively, so long as we do not understand, and reckon with, them. But, when once we understand them, when once we grasp their action, their direction, their effects, it depends only upon ourselves to subject them more and more to our own will, and, by means of them, to reach our own ends. And this holds quite especially of the mighty productive forces of today. As long as we obstinately refuse to understand the nature and the character of these social means of action and this understanding goes against the grain of the capitalist mode of production, and its defenders so long these forces are at work in spite of us, in opposition to us, so long they master us, as we have shown above in detail. But when once their nature is understood, they can, in the hands of the producers working together, be transformed from master demons into willing servants. The difference is as that between the destructive force of electricity in the lightning in the storm, and electricity under command in the telegraph and the voltaic arc; the difference between a conflagration, and fire working in the service of man. With this recognition, at last, of the real nature of the productive forces of today, the social anarchy of production gives place to a social regulation of production upon a definite plan, according to the needs of the community and of each individual. Then the capitalist mode of appropriation, in which the product enslaves first the producer, and then the appropriator, is replaced by the mode of appropriation of the products that is based upon the nature of the modern means of production; upon the one hand, direct social appropriation, as means to the maintenance and extension of production on the other, direct individual appropriation, as means of subsistence and of enjoyment. Whilst the capitalist mode of production more and more completely transforms the great majority of the population into proletarians, it creates the power which, under penalty of its own destruction, is forced to accomplish this revolution. Whilst it forces on more and more of the transformation of the vast means of production, already socialized, into State property, it shows itself the way to accomplishing this revolution. The proletariat seizes political power and turns the means of production into State property. But, in doing this, it abolishes itself as proletariat, abolishes all class distinction and class antagonisms, abolishes also the State as State. Society, thus far, based upon class antagonisms, had need of the State. That is, of an organization of the particular class which was, pro tempore, the exploiting class, an organization for the purpose of preventing any interference from without with the existing conditions of production, and, therefore, especially, for the purpose of forcibly keeping the exploited classes in the condition of oppression corresponding with the given mode of production (slavery, serfdom, wage-labor). The State was the official representative of society as a whole; the gathering of it together into a visible embodiment. But, it was this only in so far as it was the State of that class which itself represented, for the time being, society as a whole: When, at last, it becomes the real representative of the whole of society, it renders itself unnecessary. As soon as there is no longer any social class to be held in subjection; as soon as class rule, and the individual struggle for existence based upon our present anarchy in production, with the collisions and excesses arising from these, are removed, nothing more remains to be repressed, and a special repressive force, a State, is no longer necessary. The first act by virtue of which the State really constitutes itself the representative of the whole of society the taking possession of the means of production in the name of society this is, at the same time, its last independent act as a State. State interference in social relations becomes, in one domain after another, superfluous, and then dies out of itself; the government of persons is replaced by the administration of things, and by the conduct of processes of production. The State is not "abolished". It dies out. This gives the measure of the value of the phrase: "a free State", both as to its justifiable use at times by agitators, and as to its ultimate scientific insufficiency; and also of the demands of the so-called anarchists for the abolition of the State out of hand. Since the historical appearance of the capitalist mode of production, the appropriation by society of all the means of production has often been dreamed of, more or less vaguely, by individuals, as well as by sects, as the ideal of the future. But it could become possible, could become a historical necessity, only when the actual conditions for its realization were there. Like every other social advance, it becomes practicable, not by men understanding that the existence of classes is in contradiction to justice, equality, etc., not by the mere willingness to abolish these classes, but by virtue of certain new economic conditions. The separation of society into an exploiting and an exploited class, a ruling and an oppressed class, was the necessary consequences of the deficient and restricted development of production in former times. So long as the total social labor only yields a produce which but slightly exceeds that barely necessary for the existence of all; so long, therefore, as labor engages all or almost all the time of the great majority of the members of society so long, of necessity, this society is divided into classes. Side by side with the great majority, exclusively bond slaves to labor, arises a class freed from directly productive labor, which looks after the general affairs of society: the direction of labor, State business, law, science, art, etc. It is, therefore, the law of division of labor that lies at the basis of the division into classes. But this does not prevent this division into classes from being carried out by means of violence and robbery, trickery and fraud. it does not prevent the ruling class, once having the upper hand, from consolidating its power at the expense of the working-class, from turning its social leadership into an intensified exploitation of the masses. But if, upon this showing, division into classes has a certain historical justification, it has this only for a given period, only under given social conditions. It was based upon the insufficiency of production. It will be swept away by the complete development of modern productive forces. And, in fact, the abolition of classes in society presupposes a degree of historical evolution at which the existence, not simply of this or that particular ruling class, but of any ruling class at all, and, therefore, the existence of class distinction itself, has become a obsolete anachronism. It presupposes, therefore, the development of production carried out to a degree at which appropriation of the means of production and of the products, and, with this, of political domination, of the monopoly of culture, and of intellectual leadership by a particular class of society, has become not only superfluous but economically, politically, intellectually, a hindrance to development. This point is now reached. Their political and intellectual bankruptcy is scarcely any longer a secret to the bourgeoisie themselves. Their economic bankruptcy recurs regularly every 10 years. In every crisis, society is suffocated beneath the weight of its own productive forces and products, which it cannot use, and stands helpless, face-to-face with the absurd contradiction that the producers have nothing to consume, because consumers are wanting. The expansive force of the means of production bursts the bonds that the capitalist mode of production had imposed upon them. Their deliverance from these bonds is the one precondition for an unbroken, constantly-accelerated development of the productive forces, and therewith for a practically unlimited increase of production itself. Nor is this all. The socialized appropriation of the means of production does away, not only with the present artificial restrictions upon production, but also with the positive waste and devastation of productive forces and products that are at the present time the inevitable concomitants of production, and that reach their height in the crises. Further, it sets free for the community at large a mass of means of production and of products, by doing away with the senseless extravagance of the ruling classes of today, and their political representatives. The possibility of securing for every member of society, by means of socialized production, an existence not only fully sufficient materially, and becoming day-by-day more full, but an existence guaranteeing to all the free development and exercise of their physical and mental faculties this possibility is now, for the first time, here, but it is here. With the seizing of the means of production by society, production of commodities is done away with, and, simultaneously, the mastery of the product over the producer. Anarchy in social production is replaced by systematic, definite organization. The struggle for individual existence disappears. Then, for the first time, man, in a certain sense, is finally marked off from the rest of the animal kingdom, and emerges from mere animal conditions of existence into really human ones. The whole sphere of the conditions of life which environ man, and which have hitherto ruled man, now comes under the dominion and control of man, who for the first time becomes the real, conscious lord of nature, because he has now become master of his own social organization. The laws of his own social action, hitherto standing face-to-face with man as laws of Nature foreign to, and dominating him, will then be used with full understanding, and so mastered by him. Man's own social organization, hitherto confronting him as a necessity imposed by Nature and history, now becomes the result of his own free action. The extraneous objective forces that have, hitherto, governed history,pass under the control of man himself. Only from that time will man himself, more and more consciously, make his own history only from that time will the social causes set in movement by him have, in the main and in a constantly growing measure, the results intended by him. It is the ascent of man from the kingdom of necessity to the kingdom of freedom. Let us briefly sum up our sketch of historical evolution. To accomplish this act of universal emancipation is the historical mission of the modern proletariat. To thoroughly comprehend the historical conditions and thus the very nature of this act, to impart to the now oppressed proletarian class a full knowledge of the conditions and of the meaning of the momentous act it is called upon to accomplish, this is the task of the theoretical expression of the proletarian movement, scientific Socialism.

Socialism: Utopian and Scientific (Chpt. 3)

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1880/soc-utop/ch03.htm

When Europe emerged from the Middle Ages, the rising middle-class of the towns constituted its revolutionary element. It had conquered a recognized position within mediaeval feudal organization, but this position, also, had become too narrow for its expansive power. The development of the middle-class, the bourgeoisie, became incompatible with the maintenance of the feudal system; the feudal system, therefore, had to fall. But the great international centre of feudalism was the Roman Catholic Church. It united the whole of feudalized Western Europe, in spite of all internal wars, into one grand political system, opposed as much to the schismatic Greeks as to the Mohammedan countries. It had organized its own hierarchy on the feudal model, and, lastly, it was itself by far the most powerful feudal lord, holding, as it did, fully 1/3rd of the soil of the Catholic world. Before profane feudalism could be successfully attacked in each country and in detail, this, its sacred central organization, had to be destroyed. Moreover, parallel with the rise of the middle-class went on the great revival of science; astronomy, mechanics, physics, anatomy, physiology were again cultivated. And the bourgeoisie, for the development of its industrial production, required a science which ascertained the physical properties of natural objects and the modes of action of the forces of Nature. Now up to then science had but been the humble handmaid of the Church, had not been allowed to overlap the limits set by faith, and for that reason had been no science at all. Science rebelled against the Church; the bourgeoisie could not do without science, and, therefore, had to join in the rebellion. The above, though touching but two of the points where the rising middle-class was bound to come into collision with the established religion, will be sufficient to show, first, that the class most directly interested in the struggle against the pretensions of the Roman Church was the bourgeoisie; and second, that every struggle against feudalism, at that time, had to take on a religious disguise, had to be directed against the Church in the first instance. But if the universities and the traders of the cities started the cry, it was sure to find, and did find, a strong echo in the masses of the country people, the peasants, who everywhere had to struggle for their very existence with their feudal lords, spiritual and temporal. The long fight of the bourgeoisie against feudalism culminated in three great, decisive battles. The first was what is called the Protestant Reformation in Germany. The war cry raised against the Church, by Luther, was responded to by two insurrections of a political nature; first, that of the lower nobility under Franz von Sickingen (1523), then the great Peasants' War, 1525. Both were defeated, chiefly in consequence of the indecision of the parties most interested, the burghers of the towns an indecision into the causes of which we cannot here enter. From that moment, the struggle degenerated into a fight between the local princes and the central power, and ended by blotting out Germany, for 200 years, from the politically active nations of Europe. The Lutheran Reformation produced a new creed indeed, a religion adapted to absolute monarchy. No sooner were the peasant of North-east Germany converted to Lutheranism than they were from freemen reduced to serfs. But where Luther failed, Calvin won the day. Calvin's creed was one fit for the boldest of the bourgeoisie of his time. His predestination doctrine was the religious expression of the fact that in the commercial world of competition success or failure does not depend upon a man's activity or cleverness, but upon circumstances uncontrollable by him. It is not of him that willeth or of him that runneth, but of the mercy of unknown superior economic powers; and this was especially true at a period of economic revolution, when all old commercial routes and centres were replaced by new ones, when India and America were opened to the world, and when even the most sacred economic articles of faith the value of gold and silver began to totter and to break down. Calvin's church constitution of God was republicanized, could the kingdoms of this world remains subject to monarchs, bishops, and lords? While German Lutheranism became a willing tool in the hands of princes, Calvinism founded a republic in Holland, and active republican parties in England, and, above all, Scotland. In Calvinism, the second great bourgeois upheaval found its doctrine ready cut and dried. This upheaval took place in England. The middle-class of the towns brought it on, and the yeomanry of the country districts fought it out. Curiously enough, in all the three great bourgeois risings, the peasantry furnishes the army that has to do the fighting; and the peasantry is just the class that, the victory once gained, is most surely ruined by the economic consequences of that victory. A hundred years after Cromwell, the yeomanry of england had almost disappeared. Anyhow, had it not been for that yeomanry and for the plebian element in the towns, the bourgeoisie alone would never have fought the matter out to the bitter end, and would never have brought Charles I to the scaffold. In order to secure even those conquests of the bourgeoisie that were ripe for gathering at the time, the revolution had to be carried considerably further exactly as in 1793 in France and 1848 in Germany. This seems, in fact, to be one of the laws of evolution of bourgeois society. Well, upon this excess of revolutionary activity there necessarily followed the inevitable reaction which, in its turn, went beyond the point where it might have maintained itself. After a series of oscillations, the new centre of gravity was at last attained and became a new starting-point. The grand period of English history, known to respectability under the name of "the Great Rebellion", and the struggles succeeding it, were brought to a close by the comparatively puny events entitled by Liberal historians "the Glorious Revolution". The new starting-point was a compromise between the rising middle-class and the ex-feudal landowners. The latter, though called, as now, the aristocracy, had been long since on the way which led them to become what Louis Philippe in France became at a much later period: "The first bourgeois of the kingdom". Fortunately for England, the old feudal barons had killed one another during the War of the Roses. Their successors, though mostly scions of the old families, had been so much out of the direct line of descent that they constituted quite a new body, with habits and tendencies far more bourgeois than feudal. They fully understood the value of money, and at once began to increase their rents by turning hundreds of small farmers out and replacing them with sheep. Henry VIII, while squandering the Church lands, created fresh bourgeois landlords by wholesale; the innumerable confiscation of estates, regranted to absolute or relative upstarts, and continued during the whole of the 17th century, had the same result. Consequently, ever since Henry VII, the English "aristocracy", far from counteracting the development of industrial production, had, on the contrary, sought to indirectly profit thereby; and there had always been a section of the great landowners willing, from economical or political reasons, to cooperate with the leading men of the financial and industrial bourgeoisie. The compromise of 1689 was, therefore, easily accomplished. The political spoils of "pelf and place" were left to the great landowning families, provided the economic interests of the financial, manufacturing, and commercial middle-class were sufficiently attended to. And these economic interests were at that time powerful enough to determine the general policy of the nation. There might be squabbles about matters of detail, but, on the whole, the aristocratic oligarchy knew too well that its own economic prosperity was irretrievably bound up with that of the industrial and commercial middle-class. From that time, the bourgeoisie was a humble, but still a recognized, component of the ruling classes of England. With the rest of them, it had a common interest in keeping in subjection the great working mass of the nation. The merchant or manufacturer himself stood in the position of master, or, as it was until lately called, of "natural superior" to his clerks, his work-people, his domestic servants. His interest was to get as much and as good work out of them as he could; for this end, they had to be trained to proper submission. He was himself religious; his religion had supplied the standard under which he had fought the king and the lords; he was not long in discovering the opportunities this same religion offered him for working upon the minds of his natural inferiors, and making them submissive to the behests of the masters it had pleased God to place over them. In short, the English bourgeoisie now had to take a part in keeping down the "lower orders", the great producing mass of the nation, and one of the means employed for that purpose was the influence of religion. There was another factor that contributed to strengthen the religious leanings of the bourgeoisie. That was the rise of materialism in England. This new doctrine not only shocked the pious feelings of the middle-class; it announced itself as a philosophy only fit for scholars and cultivated men of the world, in contrast to religion, which was good enough for the uneducated masses, including the bourgeoisie. With Hobbes, it stepped on the stage as a defender of royal prerogative and omnipotence; it called upon absolute monarchy to keep down that puer robustus sed malitiosus ["Robust but malicious boy"] to wit, the people. Similarly, with the successors of Hobbes, with Bolingbroke, Shaftesbury, etc., the new deistic form of materialism remained an aristocratic, esoteric doctrine, and, therefore, hateful to the middle-class both for its religious heresy and for its anti-bourgeois political connections. Accordingly, in opposition to the materialism and deism of the aristocracy, those Protestant sects which had furnished the flag and the fighting contingent against the Stuarts continued to furnish the main strength of the progressive middle-class, and form even today the backbone of "the Great Liberal Party". In the meantime, materialism passed from England to France, where it met and coalesced with another materialistic school of philosophers, a branch of Cartesianism. In France, too, it remained at first an exclusively aristocratic doctrine. But, soon, its revolutionary character asserted itself. The French materialists did not limit their criticism to matters of religious belief; they extended it to whatever scientific tradition or political institution they met with; and to prove the claim of their doctrine to universal application, they took the shortest cut, and boldly applied it to all subjects of knowledge in the giant work after which they were named the Encyclopaedia. Thus, in one or the other of its two forms avowed materialism or deism it became the creed of the whole cultures youth of France; so much so that, when the Great Revolution broke out, the doctrine hatched by English Royalists gave a theoretical flag to French Republicans and Terrorists, and furnished the text for the Declaration of the Rights of Man. The Great French Revolution was the third uprising of the bourgeoisie, but the first that had entirely cast off the religious cloak, and was fought out on undisguised political lines; it was the first, too, that was really fought out up to the destruction of one of the combatants, the aristocracy, and the complete triumph of the other, the bourgeoisie. In England, the continuity of pre-revolutionary and post-revolutionary institutions, and the compromise between landlords and capitalists, found its expression in the continuity of judicial precedents and in the religious preservation of the feudal forms of the law. In France, the Revolution constituted a complete breach with the traditions of the past; it cleared out the very last vestiges of feudalism, and created in the Code Civil a masterly adaptation of the old Roman law that almost perfect expression of the juridical relations corresponding to the economic stage called by Marx the production of commodities to modern capitalist conditions; so masterly that this French revolutionary code still serves as a model for reforms of the law of property in all other countries, not excepting England. Let us, however, not forget that if English law continues to express the economic relations of capitalist society in that barbarous feudal language which corresponds to the thing expressed, just as English spelling corresponds to English pronunciation vous ecrivez Londres et vous prononcez Constantinople, said a Frenchman that same English law is the only one which has preserved through ages, and transmitted to America and the Colonies, the best part of that old Germanic personal freedom, local self-government, and independence from all interference (but that of the law courts), which on the Continent has been lost during the period of absolute monarchy, and has nowhere been as yet fully recovered. To return to our British bourgeois. The French Revolution gave him a splendid opportunity, with the help of the Continental monarchies, to destroy French maritime commerce, to annex French colonies, and to crush the last French pretensions to maritime rivalry. That was one reason why he fought it. Another was that the ways of this revolution went very much against his grain. Not only its "execrable" terrorism, but the very attempt to carry bourgeois rule to extremes. What should the British bourgeois do without his aristocracy, that taught him manners, such as they were, and invented fashions for him that furnished officers for the army, which kept order at home, and the navy, which conquered colonial possessions and new markets aboard? There was, indeed, a progressive minority of the bourgeoisie, that minority whose interests were not so well attended to under the compromise; this section, composed chiefly of the less wealthy middle-class, did sympathize with the Revolution, but it was powerless in Parliament. Thus, if materialism became the creed of the French Revolution, the God-fearing English bourgeois held all the faster to his religion. Had not the reign of terror in Paris proved what was the upshot, if the religious instincts of the masses were lost? The more materialism spread from France to neighboring countries, and was reinforced by similar doctrinal currents, notably by German philosophy, the more, in fact, materialism and free thought generally became, on the Continent, the necessary qualifications of a cultivated man, the more stubbornly the English middle-class stuck to its manifold religious creeds. These creeds might differ from one another, but they were, all of them, distinctly religious, Christian creeds. While the Revolution ensured the political triumph of the bourgeoisie in France, in England Watt, Arkwright, Cartwright, and others, initiated an industrial revolution, which completely shifted the centre of gravity of economic power. The wealth of the bourgeoisie increased considerably faster than that of the landed aristocracy. Within the bourgeoisie itself, the financial aristocracy, the bankers, etc., were more and more pushed into the background by the manufacturers. The compromise of 1689, even after the gradual changes it had undergone in favor of the bourgeoisie, no longer corresponded to the relative position of the parties to it. The character of these parties, too, had changed; the bourgeoisie of 1830 was very different from that of the preceding century. The political power still left to the aristocracy, and used by them to resist the pretensions of the new industrial bourgeoisie, became incompatible with the new economic interests. A fresh struggle with the aristocracy was necessary; it could end only in a victory of the new economic power. First, the Reform Act was pushed through, in spite of all resistance, under the impulse of the French Revolution of 1830. It gave to the bourgeoisie a recognized and powerful place in Parliament. Then the Repeal of the Corn Laws [a move toward free-trade], which settled, once and for all, the supremacy of the bourgeoisie, and especially of its most active portion, the manufacturers, over the landed aristocracy. This was the greatest victory of the bourgeoisie; it was, however, also the last it gained in its own exclusive interest. Whatever triumphs it obtained later on, it had to share with a new social power first its ally, but soon its rival. The industrial revolution had created a class of large manufacturing capitalists, but also a class and a far more numerous one of manufacturing work-people. This class gradually increased in numbers, in proportion as the industrial revolution seized upon one branch of manufacture after another, and in the same proportion it increased its power. This power it proved as early as 1824, by forcing a reluctant Parliament to repeal the acts forbidding combinations of workmen. During the Reform agitation, the workingmen constituted the Radical wing of the Reform party; the Act of 1832 having excluded them from the suffrage, the formulated their demands in the People's Charter, and constituted themselves, in opposition to the great bourgeois Anti-Corn Law party, into an independent party, the Chartists, the first working-men's party of modern times. Then came the Continental revolutions of February and March 1848, in which the working people played such a prominent part, and, at least in Paris, put forward demands which were certainly inadmissible from the point of view of capitalist society. And then came the general reaction. First, the defeat of the Chartists on April 10, 1848; then the crushing of the Paris workingmen's insurrection in June of the same year; then the disasters of 1849 in Italy, Hungary, South Germany, and at last the victory of Louis Bonaparte over Paris, December 2, 1851. For a time, at least, the bugbear of working-class pretensions was put down, but at what cost! If the British bourgeois had been convinced before of the necessity of maintaining the common people in a religious mood, how much more must he feel that necessity after all these experiences? Regardless of the sneers of his Continental compeers, he continued to spend thousands and tens of thousands, year after year, upon the evangelization of the lower orders; not content with his own native religious machinery, he appealed to Brother Jonathan 1), the greatest organizer in existence of religion as a trade, and imported from America revivalism, Moody and Sankey, and the like; and, finally, he accepted the dangerous aid of the Salvation Army, which revives the propaganda of early Christianity, appeals to the poor as the elect, fights capitalism in a religious way, and thus fosters an element of early Christian class antagonism, which one day may become troublesome to the well-to-do people who now find the ready money for it. It seems a law of historical development that the bourgeoisie can in no European country get hold of political power at least for any length of time in the same exclusive way in which the feudal aristocracy kept hold of it during the Middle Ages. Even in France, where feudalism was completely extinguished, the bourgeoisie as a whole has held full possession of the Government for very short periods only. During Louis Philippe's reign, 1830-48, a very small portion of the bourgeoisie ruled the kingdom; by far the larger part were excluded from the suffrage by the high qualification. Under the Second Republic, 1848-51, the whole bourgeoisie ruled but for three years only; their incapacity brought on the Second Empire. It is only now, in the Third Republic, that the bourgeoisie as a whole have kept possession of the helm for more than 20 years; and they are already showing lively signs of decadence. A durable reign of the bourgeoisie has been possible only in countries like America, where feudalism was unknown, and society at the very beginning started from a bourgeois basis. And even in France and America, the successors of the bourgeoisie, the working people, are already knocking at the door. In England, the bourgeoisie never held undivided sway. Even the victory of 1832 left the landed aristocracy in almost exclusive possession of all the leading Government offices. The meekness with which the middle-class submitted to this remained inconceivable to me until the great Liberal manufacturer, Mr. W. A. Forster, in a public speech, implored the young men of Bradford to learn French, as a means to get on in the world, and quoted from his own experience how sheepish he looked when, as a Cabinet Minister, he had to move in society where French was, at least, as necessary as English! The fact was, the English middle-class of that time were, as a rule, quite uneducated upstarts, and could not help leaving to the aristocracy those superior Government places where other qualifications were required than mere insular narrowness and insular conceit, seasoned by business sharpness. 2) Even now the endless newspaper debates about middle-class education show that the English middle-class does not yet consider itself good enough for the best education, and looks to something more modest. Thus, even after the repeal of the Corn Laws, it appeared a matter of course that the men who had carried the day the Cobdens, Brights, Forsters, etc. should remain excluded from a share in the official government of the country, until 20 years afterwards a new Reform Act opened to them the door of the Cabinet. The English bourgeoisie are, up to the present day, so deeply penetrated by a sense of their social inferiority that they keep up, at their own expense and that of the nation, an ornamental caste of drones to represent the nation worthily at all State functions; and they consider themselves highly honored whenever one of themselves is found worthy of admission into this select and privileged body, manufactured, after all, by themselves. The industrial and commercial middle-class had, therefore, not yet succeeded in driving the landed aristocracy completely from political power when another competitor, the working-class, appeared on the stage. The reaction after the Chartist movement and the Continental revolutions, as well as the unparalleled extension of English trade from 1848-66 (ascribed vulgarly to Free Trade alone, but due far more to the colossal development of railways, ocean steamers, and means of intercourse generally), had again driven the working-class into the dependency of the Liberal party, of which they formed, as in pre-Chartist times, the Radical wing. Their claims to the franchise, however, gradually became irresistible; while the Whig leaders of the Liberals "funked", Disraeli showed his superiority by making the Tories seize the favorable moment and introduce household suffrage in the boroughs, along with a redistribution of seats. Then followed the ballot; then, in 1884, the extension of household suffrage to the counties and a fresh redistribution of seats, by which electoral districts were, to some extent, equalized. All these measures considerably increased the electoral power of the working-class, so much so that in at least 150 to 200 constituencies that class now furnished the majority of the voters. But parliamentary government is a capital school for teaching respect for tradition; if the middle-class look with awe and veneration upon what Lord John Manners playfully called "our old nobility", the mass of the working-people then looked up with respect and deference to what used to be designated as "their betters", the middle-class. Indeed, the British workman, some 15 years ago, was the model workman, whose respectful regard for the position of his master, and whose self-restraining modesty in claiming rights for himself, consoled our German economists of the Katheder-Socialist school for the incurable communistic and revolutionary tendencies of their own working-men at home. But the English middle-class good men of business as they are saw farther than the German professors. They had shared their powers but reluctantly with the working-class. They had learnt, during the Chartist years, what that puer robustus sed malitiosus, the people, is capable of. And since that time, they had been compelled to incorporate the better part of the People's Charter in the Statutes of the United Kingdom. Now, if ever, the people must be kept in order by moral means, and the first and foremost of all moral means of action upon the masses is and remains religion. Hence the parsons' majorities on the School Boards, hence the increasing self-taxation of the bourgeoisie for the support of all sorts of revivalism, from ritualism to the Salvation Army. And now came the triumph of British respectability over the free thought and religious laxity of the Continental bourgeois. The workmen of France and Germany had become rebellious. They were thoroughly infected with Socialism, and, for very good reasons, were not at all particular as to the legality of the means by which to secure their own ascendancy. The puer robustus, here, turned from day-to-day more malitiosus. Nothing remained to the French and German bourgeoisie as a last resource but to silently drop their free thought, as a youngster, when sea-sickness creeps upon him, quietly drops the burning cigar he brought swaggeringly on board; one-by-one, the scoffers turned pious in outward behavior, spoke with respect of the Church, its dogmas and rites, and even conformed with the latter as far as could not be helped. French bourgeois dined maigre on Fridays, and German ones say out long Protestant sermons in their pews on Sundays. They had come to grief with materialism. "Die Religion muss dem Volk erhalten werden" religion must be kept alive for the people that was the only and the last means to save society from utter ruin. Unfortunately for themselves, they did not find this out until they had done their level best to break up religion for ever. And now it was the turn of the British bourgeoisie to sneer and to say: "Why, you fools, I could have told you that 200 years ago!" However, I am afraid neither the religious stolidity of the British, nor the post festum conversion of the Continental bourgeois will stem the rising Proletarian tide. Tradition is a great retarding force, is the vis inertiae of history, but, being merely passive, is sure to be broken down; and thus religion will be no lasting safeguard to capitalist society. If our juridical, philosophical, and religious ideas are the more or less remote offshoots of the economical relations prevailing in a given society, such ideas cannot, in the long run, withstand the effects of a complete change in these relations. And, unless we believe in supernatural revelation, we must admit that no religious tenets will ever suffice to prop up a tottering society. In fact, in England too, the working-people have begun to move again. They are, no doubt, shackled by traditions of various kinds. Bourgeois traditions, such as the widespread belief that there can be but two parties, Conservatives and Liberals, and that the working-class must work out its salvation by and through the great Liberal Party. Working-men's traditions, inherited from their first tentative efforts at independent action, such as the exclusion, from ever so many old Trade Unions, of all applicants who have not gone through a regular apprenticeship; which means the breeding, by every such union, of its own blacklegs. But, for all that, the English working-class is moving, as even Professor Brentano has sorrowfully had to report to his brother Katheder-Socialists. It moves, like all things in England, with a slow and measured step, with hesitation here, with more or less unfruitful, tentative attempts there; it moves now and then with an over-cautious mistrust of the name of Socialism, while it gradually absorbs the substance; and the movement spreads and seizes one layer of the workers after another. It has now shaken out of their torpor the unskilled laborers of the East End of London, and we all know what a splendid impulse these fresh forces have given it in return. And if the pace of the movement is not up to the impatience of some people, let them not forget that it is the working-class which keeps alive the finest qualities of the English character, and that, if a step in advance is once gained in England, it is, as a rule, never lost afterwards. If the sons of the old Chartists, for reasons unexplained above, were not quite up to the mark, the grandsons bid fair to be worthy of their forefathers. But the triumph of the European working-class does not depend upon England alone. It can only be secured by the cooperation of, at least, England, France, and Germany. In both the latter countries, the working-class movement is well ahead of England. In Germany, it is even within measurable distance of success. The progress it has there made during the last 25 years is unparalleled. It advances with ever-increasing velocity. If the German middle-class have shown themselves lamentably deficient in political capacity, discipline, courage, energy, and perseverance, the German working-class have given ample proof of all these qualities. Four hundred years ago, Germany was the starting-point of the first upheaval of the European middle-class; as things are now, is it outside the limits of possibility that Germany will be the scene, too, of the first great victory of the European proletariat?

Socialism: Utopian and Scientific (Introduction - History)

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1880/soc-utop/int-hist.htm

The present little book is, originally, part of a larger whole. About 1875, Dr. E. D hring, privatdocent [university lecturer who formerly received fees from his students rather than a wage] at Berlin University, suddenly and rather clamorously announced his conversion to Socialism, and presented the German public not only with an elaborate Socialist theory, but also with a complete practical plan for the reorganization of society. As a matter of course, he fell foul of his predecessors; above all, he honored Marx by pouring out upon him the full vials of his wrath. This took place about the same time when the two sections of the Socialist party in Germany Eisenachers and Lasselleans had just effected their fusion [at the Gotha Unification Congress], and thus obtained not only an immense increase of strength, but, was what more, the faculty of employing the whole of this strength against the common enemy. The Socialist party in Germany was fast becoming a power. But, to make it a power, the first condition was that the newly-conquered unity should not be imperilled. And Dr. D hring openly proceeded to form around himself a sect, the nucleus of a future separate party. It, thus, became necessary to take up the gauntlet thrown down to us, and to fight out the struggle, whether we liked it or not. This, however, though it might not be an over-difficult, was evidently a long-winded business. As is well-known, we Germans are of a terribly ponderous Grundlichkeit, radical profundity or profound radicality, whatever you may like to call it. Whenever anyone of us expounds what he considers a new doctrine, he has first to elaborate it into an all-comprising system. He has to prove that both the first principles of logic and the fundamental laws of the universe had existed from all eternity for no other purpose than to ultimately lead to this newly-discovered, crowning theory. And Dr. D hring, in this respect, was quite up to the national mark. Nothing less than a complete "System of Philosophy", mental, moral, natural, and historical; a complete "System of Political Economy and Socialism"; and, finally, a "Critical History of Political Economy" three big volumes in octavo, heavy extrinsically and intrinsically, three army-corps of arguments mobilized against all previous philosophers and economists in general, and against Marx in particular in fact, an attempt at a complete "revolution in science" these were what I should have to tackle. I had to treat of all and every possible subject, from concepts of time and space to Bimetallism; from the eternity of matter and motion, to the perishable nature of moral ideas; from Darwin's natural selection to the education of youth in a future society. Anyhow, the systematic comprehensiveness of my opponent gave me the opportunity of developing, in opposition to him, and in a more connected form than had previously been done, the views held by Marx and myself on this great variety of subjects. And that was the principal reason which made me undertake this otherwise ungrateful task. My reply was first published in a series of articles in the Leipzig Vorwarts, the chief organ of the Socialist party , and later on as a book: "Herr Eugen D hrings Umwalzung der Wissenchaft" (Mr. E. D hring's "Revolution in Science"), a second edition of which appeared in Zurich, 1886. At the request of my friend, Paul Lafargue, now representative of Lille in the French Chamber of Deputies, I arranged three chapters of this book as a pamphlet, which he translated and published in 1880, under the title: "Socialisme utopique et Socialisme scientifique". From this French text, a Polish and a Spanish edition were prepared. In 1883, our German friends brought out the pamphlet in the original language. Italian, Russian, Danish, Dutch, and Roumanian translations, based upon the German text, have since been published. Thus, the present English edition, this little book circulates in 10 languages. I am not aware that any other Socialist work, not even our Communist Manifesto of 1848, or Marx's Capital, has been so often translated. In Germany, it has had four editions of about 20,000 copies in all. The Appendix, "The Mark", was written with the intention of spreading among the German Socialist party some elementary knowledge of the history and development of landed property in Germany. This seemed all the more necessary at a time when the assimilation by that party of the working-people of the towns was in a fair way of completion, and when the agricultural laborers and peasant had to be taken in hand. This appendix has been included in the translation, as the original forms of tenure of land common to all Teutonic tribes, and the history of their decay, are even less known in England and in Germany. I have left the text as it stands in the original, without alluding to the hypothesis recently started by Maxim Kovalevsky, according to which the partition of the arable and meadow lands among the members of the Mark was preceded by their being cultivated for joint-account by a large patriarchal family community, embracing several generations (as exemplified by the still existing South Slavonian Zadruga), and that the partition, later on, took place when the community had increased, so as to become too unwieldy for joint-account management. Kovalevsky is probably quite right, but the matter is still sub judice [under consideration]. The economic terms used in this work, as afar as they are new, agree with those used in the English edition of Marx's Capital. We call "production of commodities" that economic phase where articles are produced not only for the use of the producers, but also for the purpose of exchange; that is, as commodities, not as use values. This phase extends from the first beginnings of production for exchange down to our present time; it attains its full development under capitalist production only, that is, under conditions where the capitalist, the owner of the means of production, employs, for wages, laborers, people deprived of all means of production except their own labor-power, and pockets the excess of the selling price of the products over his outlay. We divide the history of industrial production since the Middle Ages into three periods: I am perfectly aware that the contents of this work will meet with objection from a considerable portion of the British public. But, if we Continentals had taken the slightest notice of the prejudices of British "respectability", we should be even worse off than we are. This book defends what we call "historical materialism", and the word materialism grates upon the ears of the immense majority of British readers. "Agnosticism" might be tolerated, but materialism is utterly inadmissible. And, yet, the original home of all modern materialism, from the 17th century onwards, is England. Thus Karl Marx wrote about the British origin of modern materialism. If Englishmen nowadays do not exactly relish the compliment he paid their ancestors, more's the pity. It is none the less undeniable that Bacon, Hobbes, and Locke are the fathers of that brilliant school of French materialism which made the 18th century, in spite of all battles on land and sea won over Frenchmen by Germans and Englishmen, a pre-eminently French century, even before that crowning French Revolution, the results of which we outsiders, in England as well as Germany, are still trying to acclimatize. There is no denying it. About the middle of this century, what struck every cultivated foreigner who set up his residence in England, was what he was then bound to consider the religious bigotry and stupidity of the English respectable middle-class. We, at that time, were all materialists, or, at least, very advanced free-thinkers, and to us it appeared inconceivable that almost all educated people in England should believe in all sorts of impossible miracles, and that even geologists like Buckland and Mantell should contort the facts of their science so as not to clash too much with the myths of the book of Genesis; while, in order to find people who dared to use their own intellectual faculties with regard to religious matters, you had to go amongst the uneducated, the "great unwashed", as they were then called, the working people, especially the Owenite Socialists. But England has been "civilized" since then. The exhibition of 1851 sounded the knell of English insular exclusiveness. England became gradually internationalized, in diet, in manners, in ideas; so much so that I begin to wish that some English manners and customs had made as much headway on the Continent as other Continental habits have made here. Anyhow, the introduction and spread of salad-oil (before 1851 known only to the aristocracy) has been accompanied by a fatal spread of Continental scepticism in matters religious, and it has come to this, that agnosticism, though not yet considered "the thing" quite as much as the Church of England, is yet very nearly on a par, as far as respectability goes, with Baptism, and decidedly ranks above the Salvation Army. And I cannot help believing that under those circumstances it will be consoling to many who sincerely regret and condemn this progress of infidelity to learn that these "new-fangled notions" are not of foreign origin, are not "made in Germany", like so many other articles of daily use, but are undoubtedly Old English, and that their British originators 200 years ago went a good deal further than their descendants now dare to venture. What, indeed, is agnosticism but, to use an expressive Lancashire term, "shamefaced" materialism? The agnostic's conception of Nature is materialistic throughout. The entire natural world is governed by law, and absolutely excludes the intervention of action from without. But, he adds, we have no means either of ascertaining or of disproving the existence of some Supreme Being beyond the known universe. Now, this might hold good at the time when Laplace, to Napoleon's question, why, in the great astronomer's Treatise on Celestial Mechanics, the Creator was not even mentioned, proudly replied" "I had no need of this hypothesis." But, nowadays, in our evolutionary conception of the universe, there is absolutely no room for either a Creator or a Ruler; and to talk of a Supreme Being shut out from the whole existing world, implies a contradiction in terms, and, as it seems to me, a gratuitous insult to the feelings of religious people. Again, our agnostic admits that all our knowledge is based upon the information imparted to us by our senses. But, he adds, how do we know that our senses give us correct representations of the objects we perceive through them? And he proceeds to inform us that, whenever we speak of objects, or their qualities, of which he cannot know anything for certain, but merely the impressions which they have produced on his senses. Now, this line of reasoning seems undoubtedly hard to beat by mere argumentation. But before there was argumentation, there was action. Im Anfang war die That. [from Goethe's Faust: "In the beginning was the deed."] And human action had solved the difficulty long before human ingenuity invented it. The proof of the pudding is in the eating. From the moment we turn to our own use these objects, according to the qualities we perceive in them, we put to an infallible test the correctness or otherwise of our sense-perception. If these perceptions have been wrong, then our estimate of the use to which an object can be turned must also be wrong, and our attempt must fail. But, if we succeed in accomplishing our aim, if we find that the object does agree with our idea of it, and does answer the purpose we intended it for, then that is proof positive that our perceptions of it and of its qualities, so far, agree with reality outside ourselves. And, whenever we find ourselves face-to-face with a failure, then we generally are not long in making out the cause that made us fail; we find that the perception upon which we acted was either incomplete and superficial, or combined with the results of other perceptions in a way not warranted by them what we call defective reasoning. So long as we take care to train our senses properly, and to keep our action within the limits prescribed by perceptions properly made and properly used, so long as we shall find that the result of our action proves the conformity of our perceptions with the objective nature of the things perceived. Not in one single instance, so far, have we been led to the conclusion that our sense-perception, scientifically controlled, induce in our minds ideas respecting the outer world that are, by their very nature, at variance with reality, or that there is an inherent incompatibility between the outer world and our sense-perceptions of it. But then come the Neo-Kantian agnostics and say: We may correctly perceive the qualities of a thing, but we cannot by any sensible or mental process grasp the thing-in-itself. This "thing-in-itself" is beyond our ken. To this Hegel, long since, has replied: If you know all the qualities of a thing, you know the thing itself; nothing remains but the fact that the said thing exists without us; and, when your senses have taught you that fact, you have grasped the last remnant of the thing-in-itself, Kant's celebrated unknowable Ding an sich. To which it may be added that in Kant's time our knowledge of natural objects was indeed so fragmentary that he might well suspect, behind the little we knew about each of them, a mysterious "thing-in-itself". But one after another these ungraspable things have been grasped, analyzed, and, what is more, reproduced by the giant progress of science; and what we can produce we certainly cannot consider as unknowable. To the chemistry of the first half of this century, organic substances were such mysterious object; now we learn to build them up one after another from their chemical elements without the aid of organic processes. Modern chemists declare that as soon as the chemical constitution of no-matter-what body is known, it can be built up from its elements. We are still far from knowing the constitution of the highest organic substances, the albuminous bodies; but there is no reason why we should not, if only after centuries, arrive at the knowledge and, armed with it, produce artificial albumen. But, if we arrive at that, we shall at the same time have produced organic life, for life, from its lowest to its highest forms, is but the normal mode of existence of albuminous bodies. As soon, however, as our agnostic has made these formal mental reservations, he talks and acts as the rank materialist he at bottom is. He may say that, as far as we know, matter and motion, or as it is now called, energy, can neither be created nor destroyed, but that we have no proof of their not having been created at some time or other. But if you try to use this admission against him in any particular case, he will quickly put you out of court. If he admits the possibility of spiritualism in abstracto, he will have none of it in concreto. As far as we know and can know, he will tell you there is no creator and no Ruler of the universe; as far as we are concerned, matter and energy can neither be created nor annihilated; for us, mind is a mode of energy, a function of the brain; all we know is that the material world is governed by immutable laws, and so forth. Thus, as far as he is a scientific man, as far as he knows anything, he is a materialist; outside his science, in spheres about which he knows nothing, he translates his ignorance into Greek and calls it agnosticism. At all events, one thing seems clear: even if I was an agnostic, it is evident that I could not describe the conception of history sketched out in this little book as "historical agnosticism". Religious people would laugh at me, agnostics would indignantly ask, was I making fun of them? And, thus, I hope even British respectability will not be overshocked if I use, in English as well as in so many other languages, the term "historical materialism", to designate that view of the course of history which seeks the ultimate cause and the great moving power of all important historic events in the economic development of society, in the changes in the modes of production and exchange, in the consequent division of society into distinct classes, and in the struggles of these classes against one another. This indulgence will, perhaps, be accorded to me all the sooner if I show that historical materialism may be of advantage even to British respectability. I have mentioned the fact that, about 40 or 50 years ago, any cultivated foreigner settling in England was struck by what he was then bound to consider the religious bigotry and stupidity of the English respectable middle-class. I am now going to prove that the respectable English middle-class of that time was not quite as stupid as it looked to the intelligent foreigner. Its religious leanings can be explained.

Socialism: Utopian and Scientific (Introduction - Materialism)

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1880/soc-utop/int-mat.htm

Sir , The Daily News of to-day, in an article entitled: Prosecution of the Freiheit Journal, states that the number of that paper, containing an article on the death of the Emperor of Russia, also contained some allusion to the perpetrator of the Mansion House mystery. As this statement is open to an interpretation altogether at variance with the contents of the article in question; as that article is entirely unconnected with the one on the St. Petersburg affair and as Mr. Most the editor is at present not in a position to defend himself in the press, we beg to ask you to insert the following literal translation of all that is said, in the number of the Freiheit alluded to, with regard to the Mansion House mystery. We are, Sir, your obedient servants, London, March 31

Karl Marx and Frederick Engels 1881

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1881/04/01.htm

A fair day's wages for a fair day's work? But what is a fair day's wages, and what is a fair day's work? How are they determined by the laws under which modern society exists and develops itself? For an answer to this we must not apply to the science of morals or of law and equity, nor to any sentimental feeling of humanity, justice, or even charity. What is morally fair, what is even fair in law, may be far from being socially fair. Social fairness or unfairness is decided by one science alone the science which deals with the material facts of production and exchange, the science of political economy. Now what does political economy call a fair day's wages and a fair day's work? Simply the rate of wages and the length and intensity of a day's work which are determined by competition of employer and employed in the open market. And what are they, when thus determined? A fair day's wages, under normal conditions, is the sum required to procure to the labourer the means of existence necessary, according to the standard of life of his station and country' to keep himself in working order and to propagate his race. The actual rate of wages, with the fluctuations of trade, may be sometimes above, sometimes below this rate; but, under fair conditions, that rate ought to be the average of all oscillations. A fair day's work is that length of working day and that intensity of actual work which expends one day's full working power of the workman without encroaching upon his capacity for the same amount of work for the next and following days. The transaction, then, may be thus described the workman gives to the Capitalist his full day's working power; that is, so much of it as he can give without rendering impossible the continuous repetition of the transaction. In exchange he receives just as much, and no more, of the necessaries of life as is required to keep up the repetition of the same bargain every day. The workman gives as much, the Capitalist gives as little, as the nature of the bargain will admit. This is a very peculiar sort of fairness. But let us look a little deeper into the matter. As, according to political economists, wages and working days are fixed by competition, fairness seems to require that both sides should have the same fair start on equal terms. But that is not the case. The Capitalist, if he cannot agree with the Labourer, can afford to wait, and live upon his capital. The workman cannot. He has but wages to live upon, and must therefore take work when, where, and at what terms he can get it. The workman has no fair start. He is fearfully handicapped by hunger. Yet, according to the political economy of the Capitalist class, that is the very pink of fairness. But this is a mere trifle. The application of mechanical power and machinery to new trades, and the extension and improvements of machinery in trades already subjected to it, keep turning out of work more and more "hands"; and they do so at a far quicker rate than that at which these superseded "hands" can be absorbed by, and find employment in, the manufactures of the country. These superseded "hands" form a real industrial army of reserve for the use of Capital. If trade is bad they may starve, beg, steal, or go to the workhouse ; if trade is good they are ready at hand to expand production; and until the very last man, woman, or child of this army of reserve shall have found work which happens in times of frantic over-production alone until then will its competition keep down wages, and by its existence alone strengthen the power of Capital in its struggle with Labour. In the race with Capital, Labour is not only handicapped, it has to drag a cannon-ball riveted to its foot. Yet that is fair according to Capitalist political economy. But let us inquire out of what fund does Capital pay these very fair wages? Out of capital, of course. But capital produces no' value. Labour is, besides the earth, the only source of wealth; capital itself is nothing but the stored-up produce of labour. So that the wages of Labour are paid out of labour, and the working man is paid out of his own produce. According to what we may call common fairness, the wages of the labourer ought to consist in the produce of his labour. But that would not be fair according to political economy. On the contrary, the produce of the workman's labour goes to the Capitalist, and the workman gets out of it no more than the bare necessaries of life. And thus the end of this uncommonly "fair" race of competition is that the produce of the labour of those who do work, gets unavoidably accumulated in the hands of those that do not work, and becomes in their hands the most powerful means to enslave the very men who produced it. A fair day's wages for a fair day's work! A good deal might be said about the fair day's work too, the fairness of which is perfectly on a par with that of the wages. But that we must leave for another occasion. From what has been stated it is pretty clear that the old watchword has lived its day, and will hardly hold water nowadays. The fairness of political economy, such as it truly lays down the laws which rule actual society, that fairness is all on one side on that of Capital. Let, then, the old motto be buried for ever and replaced by another:

1881: A Fair Day's Wages for a Fair Day's Work

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1881/05/07.htm

This is a law of political economy, or, in other words, a law of the present economical organisation of society, which is more powerful than all the Common and Statute Law of England put together, the Court of Chancery included. While society is divided into two opposing classes -- on the one hand, the capitalists, monopolisers of the whole of the means of production, land, raw materials, machinery; on the other hand, labourers, working people deprived of all property in the means of production, owners of nothing but their own working power; while this social organisation exists the law of wages will remain all-powerful, and will every day afresh rivet the chains by which the working man is made the slave of his own produce -- monopolised by the capitalist. The Trades Unions of this country have now for nearly sixty years fought against this law -- with what result? Have they succeeded in freeing the working class from the bondage in which capital -- the produce of its own hands -- holds it? Have they enabled a single section of the working class to rise above the situation of wages-slaves, to become owners of their own means of production, of the raw materials, tools, machinery required in their trade, and thus to become the owners of the produce of their own labour? It is well known that not only they have not done so but that they never tried. Far be it from us to say that Trades Unions are of no use because they have not done that. On the contrary, Trades Unions in England, as well as in every other manufacturing country, are a necessity for the working classes in their struggle against capital. The average rate of wages is equal to the sum of necessaries sufficient to keep up the race of workmen in a certain country according to the standard of life habitual in that country. That standard of life may be very different for different classes of workmen. The great merit of Trades Unions, in their struggle to keep up the rate of wages and to reduce working hours, is that they tend to keep up and to raise the standard of life. There are many trades in the East-end of London whose labour is not more skilled and quite as hard as that of bricklayers and bricklayers' labourers, yet they hardly earn half the wages of these. Why? Simply because a powerful organisation enables the one set to maintain a comparatively high standard of life as the rule by which their wages are measured; while the other set, disorganised and powerless, have to submit not only to unavoidable but also to arbitrary encroachments of their employers: their standard of life is gradually reduced, they learn how to live on less and less wages, and their wages naturally fall to that level which they themselves have learnt to accept as sufficient. The law of wages, then, is not one which draws a hard and fast line. It is not inexorable with certain limits. There is at every time (great depression excepted) for every trade a certain latitude within which the rate of wages may be modified by the results of the struggle between the two contending parties. Wages in every case are fixed by a bargain, and in a bargain he who resists longest and best has the greatest chance of getting more than his due. If the isolated workman tries to drive his bargain with the capitalist he is easily beaten and has to surrender at discretion, but if a whole trade of workmen form a powerful organisation, collect among themselves a fund to enable them to defy their employers if need be, and thus become enabled to treat with these employers as a power, then, and then only, have they a chance to get even that pittance which, according to the economical constitution of present society, may be called a fair day's wages for a fair day's work. The law of wages is not upset by the struggles of Trades Unions. On the contrary, it is enforced by them. Without the means of resistance of the Trades Unions the labourer does not receive even what is his due according to the rules of the wages system. It is only with the fear of the Trades Union before his eyes that the capitalist can be made to part with the full market value of his labourer's working power. Do you want a proof? Look at the wages paid to the members of the large Trades Unions, and at the wages paid to the numberless small trades in that pool of stagnant misery, the East-end of London. Thus the Trades Unions do not attack the wages system. But it is not the highness or lowness of wages which constitutes the economical degradation of the working class: this degradation is comprised in the fact that, instead of receiving for its labour the full produce of this labour, the working class has to be satisfied with a portion of its own produce called wages. The capitalist pockets the whole produce (paying the labourer out of it) because he is the owner of the means of labour. And, therefore, there is no real redemption for the working class until it becomes owner of all the means of work -- land, raw material, machinery, etc. -- and thereby also the owner of THE WHOLE OF THE PRODUCE OF ITS OWN LABOUR.

1881: The Wages System

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1881/05/21.htm

We suppose no English working man of the present day needs to be taught that it is the interest of the individual capitalist, as well as of the capitalist class generally, to reduce wages as much as possible. The produce of labour, after deducting all expenses, is divided, as David Ricardo has irrefutably proved, into two shares: the one forms the labourer's wages, the other the capitalist's profits. Now, this net produce of labour being, in every individual case, a given quantity, it is clear that the share called profits cannot increase without the share called wages decreasing. To deny that it is the interest of the capitalist to reduce wages, would be tantamount to say that it is not his interest to increase his profits. We know very well that there are other means of temporarily increasing profits, but they do not alter the general law, and therefore need not trouble us here. Now, how can the capitalists reduce wages when the rate of wages is governed by a distinct and well-defined law of social economy? The economical law of wages is there, and is irrefutable. But, as we have seen, it is elastic, and it is so in two ways. The rate of wages can be lowered, in a particular trade, either directly, by gradually accustoming the workpeople of that trade to a lower standard of life, or, indirectly, by increasing the number of working hours per day (or the intensity of work during the same working hours) without increasing the pay. And the interest of every individual capitalist to increase his profits by reducing the wages of his workpeople receives a fresh stimulus from the competition of capitalists of the same trade amongst each other. Each one of them tries to undersell his competitors, and unless he is to sacrifice his profits he must try and reduce wages. Thus, the pressure upon the rate of wages brought about by the interest of every individual capitalist is increased tenfold by the competition amongst them. What was before a matter of more or less profit, now becomes a matter of necessity. Against this constant, unceasing pressure unorganised labour has no effective means of resistance. Therefore, in trades without organisation of the workpeople, wages tend constantly to fall and the working hours tend constantly to increase. Slowly, but surely, this process goes on. Times of prosperity may now and then interrupt it, but times of bad trade hasten it on all the more afterwards. The workpeople gradually get accustomed to a lower and lower standard of life. While the length of working day more and more approaches the possible maximum, the wages come nearer and nearer to their absolute minimum -- the sum below which it becomes absolutely impossible for the workman to live and to reproduce his race. There was a temporary exception to this about the beginning of this century. The rapid extension of steam and machinery was not sufficient for the still faster increasing demand for their produce. Wages in these trades, except those of children sold from the workhouse to the manufacturer, were as a rule high; those of such skilled manual labour as could not be done without were very high; what a dyer, a mechanic, a velvet-cutter, a hand-mule spinner, used to receive now sounds fabulous. At the same time the trades superseded by machinery were slowly starved to death. But newly-invented machinery by-and-by superseded these well-paid workmen; machinery was invented which made machinery, and that at such a rate that the supply of machine-made goods not only equalled, but exceeded, the demand. When the general peace, in 1815, re-established regularity of trade, the decennial fluctuations between prosperity, over-production, and commercial panic began. Whatever advantages the workpeople had preserved from old prosperous times, and perhaps even increased during the period of frantic over-production, were now taken from them during the period of bad trade and panic; and soon the manufacturing population of England submitted to the general law that the wages of unorganised labour constantly tend towards the absolute minimum. But in the meantime the Trades Unions, legalised in 1824 had also stepped in, and high time it was. Capitalists are always organised. They need in most cases no formal union, no rules, officers, etc. Their small number, as compared with that of the workmen, the fact of their forming a separate class, their constant social and commercial intercourse stand them in lieu of that; it is only later on, when a branch of manufactures has taken possession of a district, such as the cotton trade has of Lancashire, that a formal capitalists' Trades Union becomes necessary. On the other hand, the workpeople from the very beginning cannot do without a strong organisation, well-defined by rules and delegating its authority to officers and committees. The Act of 1824 rendered these organisations legal. From that day Labour became a power in England. The formerly helpless mass, divided against itself, was no longer so. To the strength given by union and common action soon was added the force of a well-filled exchequer -- "resistance money", as our French brethren expressively call it. The entire position of things now changed. For the capitalist it became a risky thing to indulge in a reduction of wages or an increase of working hours. Hence the violent outbursts of the capitalist class of those times against Trades Unions. That class had always considered its long-established practice of grinding down the working class as a vested right and lawful privilege. That was now to be put a stop to. No wonder they cried out lustily and held themselves at least as much injured in their rights and property as Irish landlords do nowadays. Sixty years' experience of struggle have brought them round to some extent. Trades Unions have now become acknowledged institutions, and their action as one of the regulators of wages is recognised quite as much as the action of the Factories and Workshops Acts as regulators of the hours of work. Nay, the cotton masters in Lancashire have lately even taken a leaf out of the workpeople's book, and now know how to organise a strike, when it suits them, as well or better than any Trades Union. Thus it is through the action of Trades Unions that the law of wages is enforced as against the employers, and that the workpeople of any well-organised trade are enabled to obtain, at least approximately, the full value of the working power which they hire to their employer; and that, with the help of State laws, the hours of labour are made at least not to exceed too much that maximum length beyond which the working power is prematurely exhausted. This, however, is the utmost Trades Unions, as at present organised, can hope to obtain, and that by constant struggle only, by an immense waste of strength and money; and then the fluctuations of trade, once every ten years at least, break down for the moment what has been conquered, and the fight has to be fought over again. It is a vicious circle from which there is no issue. The working class remains what it was, and what our Chartist forefathers were not afraid to call it, a class of wages slaves. Is this to be the final result of all this labour, self-sacrifice, and suffering? Is this to remain for ever the highest aim of British workmen? Or is the working class of this country at last to attempt breaking through this vicious circle, and to find an issue out of it in a movement for the ABOLITION OF THE WAGES SYSTEM ALTOGETHER? Next week we shall examine the part played by Trades Unions as organisers of the working class. The struggle of the labourer against capital, we said. That struggle does exist, whatever the apologists of capital may say to the contrary. It will exist so long as a reduction of wages remains the safest and readiest means of raising profits; nay, so long as the wages system itself shall exist. The very existence of Trades Unions is proof sufficient of the fact; if they are not made to fight against the encroachments of capital what are they made for? There is no use in mincing matters. No milksop words can hide the ugly fact that present society is mainly divided into two great antagonistic classes -- into capitalists, the owners of all the means for the employment of labour, on one side; and working men, the owners of nothing but their own working power, on the other. The produce of the labour of the latter class has to be divided between both classes, and it is this division about which the struggle is constantly going on. Each class tries to get as large a share as possible; and it is the most curious aspect of this struggle that the working class, while fighting to obtain a share only of its own produce, is often enough accused of actually robbing the capitalist! But a struggle between two great classes of society necessarily becomes a political struggle. So did the long battle between the middle or capitalist class and the landed aristocracy; so also does the fight between the working class and these same capitalists. In every struggle of class against class, the next end fought for is political power; the ruling class defends its political supremacy, that is to say its safe majority in the Legislature; the inferior class fights for, first a share, then the whole of that power, in order to become enabled to change existing laws in conformity with their own interests and requirements. Thus the working class of Great Britain for years fought ardently and even violently for the People's Charter, which was to give it that political power; it was defeated, but the struggle had made such an impression upon the victorious middle class that this class, since then, was only too glad to buy a prolonged armistice at the price of ever-repeated concessions to the working people. Now, in a political struggle of class against class, organisation is the most important weapon. And in the same measure as the merely political or Chartist Organisation fell to pieces, in the same measure the Trades Unions Organisation grew stronger and stronger, until at present it has reached a degree of strength unequalled by any working-class organisation abroad. A few large Trades Unions, comprising between one and two millions o working men, and backed by the smaller or local Unions, represent a power which has to be taken into account by any Government of the ruling class, be it Whig or Tory. According to the traditions of their origin and development in this country, these powerful organisations have hitherto limited themselves almost strictly to their function of sharing in the regulation of wages and working hours, and of enforcing the repeal of laws openly hostile to the workmen. As stated before. they have done so with quite as much effect as they had a right to expect. But they have attained more than that -- the ruling class, which knows their strength better than they themselves do, has volunteered to them concessions beyond that. Disraeli's Household Suffrage gave the vote to at least the greater portion of the organised working class. Would he have proposed it unless he supposed that these new voters would show a will of their own -- would cease to be led by middle-class Liberal politicians? Would he have been able to carry it if the working people, in the management of their colossal Trade Societies, had not proved themselves fit for administrative and political work? That very measure opened out a new prospect to the working class. It gave them the majority in London and in all manufacturing towns, and thus enabled them to enter into the struggle against capital with new weapons, by sending men of their own class to Parliament. And here, we are sorry to say, the Trades Unions forgot their duty as the advanced guard of the working class. The new weapon has been in their hands for more than ten years, but they scarcely ever unsheathed it. They ought not to forget that they cannot continue to hold the position they now occupy unless they really march in the van of the working class. It is not in the nature of things that the working class of England should possess the power of sending forty or fifty working men to Parliament and yet be satisfied for ever to be represented by capitalists or their clerks, such as lawyers, editors, etc. More than this, there are plenty of symptoms that the working class of this country is awakening to the consciousness that it has for some time been moving in the wrong groove ; that the present movements for higher wages and shorter hours exclusively, keep it in a vicious circle out of which there is no issue; that it is not the lowness of wages which forms the fundamental evil, but the wages system itself. This knowledge once generally spread amongst the working class, the position of Trades Unions must change considerably. They will no longer enjoy the privilege of being the only organisations of the working class. At the side of, or above, the Unions of special trades there must spring up a general Union, a political organisation of the working class as a whole. Thus there are two points which the organised Trades would do well to consider, firstly, that the time is rapidly approaching when the working class of this country will claim, with a voice not to be mistaken, its full share of representation in Parliament. Secondly, that the time also is rapidly approaching when the working class will have understood that the struggle for high wages and short hours, and the whole action of Trades Unions as now carried on, is not an end in itself, but a means, a very necessary and effective means' but only one of several means towards a higher end: the abolition of the wages system altogether. For the full representation of labour in Parliament, as well as for the preparation of the abolition of the wages system organisations will become necessary, not of separate Trades, but of the working class as a body. And the sooner this is done the better. There is no power in the world which could for a day resist the British working class organised as a body. The more advanced section of the workers took part in the activities of radical organisations and clubs, and campaigned for Irish self-determination. In 1879 the Midland Social-Democratic Association was set up in Birmingham, and in 1881 the Labour Emancipation League in London. Of great importance was the Democratic Federation founded in London in June 1881 and in 1884 transformed into the Social-Democratic Federation, which openly recognised Marxist principles.

1881: Trades Unions

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1881/05/28.htm

This debate is a fair specimen of a long series of ever-recurring complaints about the stubbornness with which the stupid foreigner, and even the quite as stupid colonial subject, refuse to recognise the universal blessings of free-trade and its capability of remedying all economic evils. Never has a prophecy broken down so completely as that of the Manchester School -- free-trade, once established in England, would shower such blessings over the country that all other nations must follow the example and throw their ports open to English manufactures. The coaxing voice of the free-trade apostles remained the voice of one crying in the wilderness. Not only did the Continent and America, on the whole, increase their protective duties ; even the British Colonies, as soon as they had become endowed with self-government, followed suit; and no sooner had India been placed under the Crown than a 5 per cent duty on cotton goods was introduced even there, acting as an incentive to native manufactures. Why this should be so is an utter mystery to the Manchester; School. Yet it is plain enough. About the middle of last century England was the principal seat of the cotton manufacture, and therefore the natural place where, with a rapidly rising demand for cotton goods, the machinery was invented which, with the help of the steam engine, revolutionised first the cotton trade, and successively the other textile manufactures. The large and easily accessible coalfields of Great Britain, thanks to steam, became now the basis of the country's prosperity. The extensive deposits of iron ore in close proximity to the coal facilitated the development of the iron trade, which had received a new stimulus by the demand for engines and machinery. Then, in the midst of this revolution of the whole manufacturing system, came the anti-Jacobin and Napoleonic wars which for some twenty-five years drove the ships of almost ail competing nations from the sea, and thus gave to English manufactured goods the practical monopoly of all Transatlantic and some European markets. When in 1815 peace was restored, England stood there with her steam manufactures ready to supply the world, while steam engines were as yet scarcely known in other countries. In manufacturing industry, England was an immense distance in advance of them. But the restoration of peace soon induced other nations to follow in the track of England. Sheltered by the Chinese Wall of her prohibitive tariff, France introduced production by steam. So also did Germany, although her tariff was at that time far more liberal than any other, that of England not excepted. So did other countries. At the same time the British landed aristocracy, to raise their rents, introduced the Corn Laws, thereby raising the price of bread and with it the money rate of wages. Nevertheless the progress of English manufactures went on at a stupendous rate. By 1830 she had laid herself out to become "the workshop of the world". To make her the workshop of the world in reality was the task undertaken by the Anti-Corn Law League. There was no secret made, in those times, of what was aimed at by the repeal of the Corn Laws. To reduce the price of bread, and thereby the money rate of wages, would enable British manufacturers to defy all and every competition with which wicked or ignorant foreigners threatened them. What was more natural than that England, with her great advance in machinery, with her immense merchant navy, her coal and iron, should supply all the world with manufactured articles, and that in return the outer world should supply her with agricultural produce, corn, wine, flax, cotton, coffee, tea, etc.? It was a decree of Providence that it should be so, it was sheer rebellion against God's ordinance to set your face against it. At most France might be allowed to supply England and the rest of the world with such articles of taste and fashion as could not be made by machinery, and were altogether beneath the notice of an enlightened millowner. Then, and then alone, would there be peace on earth and goodwill towards men; then all nations would be bound together by the endearing ties of commerce and mutual profit; then the reign of peace and plenty would be for ever established, and to the working class, to their "hands", they said: "There's a good time coming, boys -- wait a little longer." Of course the "hands" are waiting still. But while the "hands" waited the wicked and ignorant foreigners did not. They did not see the beauty of a system by which the momentary industrial advantages possessed by England should be turned into means to secure to her the monopoly of manufactures all the world over and for ever, and to reduce all other nations to mere agricultural dependencies of England -- in other words, to the very enviable condition of Ireland. They knew that no nation can keep up with others in civilisation if deprived of manufactures, and thereby brought down to be a mere agglomeration of clodhoppers. And therefore, subordinating private commercial profit to national exigency, they protected their nascent manufactures by high tariffs, which seemed to them the only means to protect themselves from being brought down to the economical condition enjoyed by Ireland. We do not mean to say that this was the right thing to do in every case. On the contrary, France would reap immense advantages from a considerable approach towards Free Trade. German manufactures, such as they are, have become what they are under Free Trade, and Bismarck's new Protection tariff will do harm to nobody but the German manufacturers them" selves. But there is one country where a short period of Protection is not only justifiable but a matter of absolute necessity -- America. America is at that point of her development where the introduction of manufactures has become a national necessity, This is best proved by the fact that in the invention of labour-saving machinery it is no longer England which leads, but America. American inventions every day supersede English patents and English machinery. American machines are brought over to England; and this in almost all branches of manufactures Then America possesses a population the most energetic in the world, coalfields against which those of England appear almost as a vanishing quantity, iron and all other metals in plenty. And is it to be supposed that such a country will expose its young and rising manufactures to a long, protracted, competitive struggle with the old-established industry of England, when, by a short term of some twenty years of protection, she can place them at once on a level with any competitor? But, says the Manchester School, America is but robbing herself by her protective system. So is a man robbing himself who pays extra for the express train instead of taking the old Parliamentary train -- fifty miles an hour instead of twelve. There is no mistake about it, the present generation will see American cotton goods compete with English ones in India and China, and gradually gain ground in those two leading markets; American machinery and hardware compete with the English makes in all parts of the world, England included; and the same implacable necessity which removed Flemish manufactures to Holland, Dutch ones to England, will ere long remove the centre of the world's industry from this country to the United States. And in the restricted field which will then remain to England she will find formidable competitors in several Continental nations. The fact cannot be longer shirked that England's industrial monopoly is fast on the wane. If the "enlightened" middle class think it their interest to hush it up, let the working class boldly look it in the face, for it interests them more than even their "betters". These may for a long time yet remain the bankers and money-lenders of the world, as the Venetians and the Dutch in their decay have done before them. But what is to become of the "hands" when England's immense export trade begins to shrink down every year instead of expanding? If the removal of the iron shipbuilding trade from the Thames to the Clyde was sufficient to reduce the whole East-end of London to chronic pauperism, what will the virtual removal of all the staple trades of England across the Atlantic do for England? It will do one great thing: it will break the last link which still binds the English working class to the English middle class. This link was their common working of a national monopoly. That monopoly once destroyed, the British working class will be compelled to take in hand its own interests, its own salvation, and to make an end of the wages system. Let us hope it will not wait until then. The British East India Company, was founded in 1600. It enjoyed a monopoly of trade with the East Indies and played a decisive part in the establishment of the British colonial empire.

1881: The French Commercial Treaty

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1881/06/18.htm

In France they do not know the numerous systems of public voting which are still in use in this country. Instead of having one kind of suffrage and mode of voting for Parliamentary elections, another for municipal, a third for vestry elections and so forth, plain Universal Suffrage and vote by ballot are the rule everywhere. When the Socialist Working Men's Party was formed in France, it was resolved to nominate working men's candidates not only for Parliament, but also for all municipal elections; and, indeed, at the last renewal of Town Councils for France, which took place on January 9 last, the young party was victorious in a great number of manufacturing towns and rural, especially mining, communes. They not only carried individual candidates, they managed in some places to obtain the majority in the councils, and one council, at least, as we shall see, was composed of none but working men. Shortly before the establishment of the Labour Standard, there was a strike of factory operatives in the town of Roubaix, close on the Belgian frontier. The Government at once sent troops to occupy the town, and thereby, under the pretext of maintaining order (which was never menaced), tried to provoke the people on strike to such acts as might serve as a pretext for the interference of the troops. But the people remained quiet, and one of the principal causes which made them resist all provocations was the action of the Town Council. This was composed, in its majority, of working men. The subject of the strike was brought before it, and amply discussed. The result was that the Council not only declared the men on strike to be in the right, but also actually voted the sum of 50,000 francs, or 2,000, in support of the strikers That subsidy could not be paid, as according to French law the prefect of the department has the right to annul any resolutions of Town Councils which he may consider as exceeding their powers. But nevertheless the strong moral support thus given to the strike by the official representation of the township was of the greatest value to the workmen. On June 8 the Mining Company of Commentry, in the centre of France (Department Allier), discharged 152 men who refused to submit to new and more unfavourable terms. This being part of a system employed for some time for the gradual introduction of worse terms of work, the whole of the miners, about 1,600, struck. The Government at once sent the usual troops to overawe or provoke the strikers. But the Town Council here, too, at once took up the cause of the men. In their meeting of June 12 (a Sunday to boot) they passed resolutions to the following effect: -- Here, then, we have a striking proof of the presence of working men, not only in Parliament, but also in municipal and all other local bodies. How differently would many a strike in England terminate if the men had the Town Council of the locality to back them! The English Town Councils and Local Boards, elected to a great extent by working men, consist at present almost exclusively of employers, their direct and indirect agents (lawyers, etc.), and at the best, of shopkeepers. No sooner does a strike or lock-out occur than all the moral and material power of the local authorities is employed in favour of the masters and against the men; even the police, paid out of the pockets of the men, are employed exactly as in France the troops are used, to provoke them into illegal acts and hunt them down. The Poor Law authorities in most cases refuse relief to men who, in their opinion, might work if they liked. And naturally so. In the eyes of this class of men, whom the working people suffer to form the local authorities, a strike is an open rebellion against social order, an outrage against the sacred rights of property. And therefore, in every strike or lock-out all the enormous moral and physical weight of the local authorities is placed in the masters' scale so long as the working class consent to elect masters and masters' representatives to local elective bodies! We hope that the action of the two French Town Councils will open the eyes of many. Shall it be for ever said, and of the English working men too, that "they manage these things better in France"? The English working class, with its old and powerful organisation, its immemorial political liberties, its long experience of political action, has immense advantages over those of any continental country. Yet the Germans could carry twelve working class representatives for Parliament, and they as well as the French have the majority in numerous Town Councils. True, the suffrage in England is restricted; but even now the working class has a majority in all large towns and manufacturing districts. They have only to will it, and that potential majority becomes at once an effective one, a power in the State, a power in all localities where working people are concentrated. And if you once have working men in Parliament, in the Town Councils and Local Boards of Guardians, etc., how long will it be ere you will have also working men magistrates, capable of putting a spoke in the wheel of those Dogberries who now so often ride roughshod over the people? The programme was first published in Le Pr curseur, No. 25, June 19 1880; however, Malon adulterated some of its tenets and "introduced sundry changes for the worse", Engels wrote to Bernstein on October 20 1882. In 1880, the electoral programme was adopted as "the minimum programme" of the French Workers' Party at the Havre Congress. Its first separate edition appeared in Paris in 1883. At the Wyden Congress held on August 22, 1880, Hasselmann was expelled from the party and, correspondingly, from the Parliamentary group. At the supplementary elections the deputy mandate from Hamburg was received by Georg Wilhelm Hartmann.

1881: Two Model Town Councils

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1881/06/25.htm

And yet so it is. The virgin soil of the Western prairie which is now coming into cultivation, not by piecemeal but in thousands of square miles is now beginning to rule the price of wheat, and, consequently, the rent of wheat land. And no old soil can compete with it. It is a wonderful land, level, or slightly undulating, undisturbed by violent upheavals, in exactly the same condition in which it was slowly deposited at the bottom of a Tertiary ocean; free from stones, rocks, trees; fit for immediate cultivation without any preparatory labour. No clearing or draining is required; you pass the plough over it and it is fit to receive the seed, and will bear twenty to thirty crops of wheat in succession and without manuring. It is a soil fit for agriculture on the grandest scale, and on the grandest scale it is worked. The British agriculturist used to pride himself of his large farms as opposed to the small farms of Continental peasant proprietors; but what are the largest farms in the United Kingdom compared to the farms of the American prairie, farms of 40,000 acres and more, worked by regular armies of men, horses, and implements, drilled, commanded, and organised like soldiers? This American revolution in farming, together with the revolutionised means of transport as invented by the Americans, sends over to Europe wheat at such low prices that no European farmer can compete with it at least not while he is expected to pay rent. Look at the year 1879, when this was first felt. The crop was bad in all Western Europe; it was a failure in England. Yet, thanks to American corn, prices remained almost stationary. For the first time the British farmer had a bad crop and low prices of wheat at the same time. Then the farmers began to stir, the landlords felt alarmed. Next year, with a better crop, prices went lower still. The price of corn is now determined by the cost of production in America, plus the cost of transport. And this will be the case more and more every year, in proportion as new prairie-land is put under the plough. The agricultural armies required for that operation we find them ourselves in Europe by sending over emigrants. Now, formerly there was this consolation for the farmer and the landlord, that if corn did not pay meat would. The plough-land was turned into grass-land, and everything was pleasant again. But now that resource is cut off too. American meat and American cattle are sent over in ever-increasing quantities. And not only that. There are at least two great cattle-producing countries which are on the alert for methods permitting them to send over to Europe, and especially to England, their immense excess of meat, now wasted. With the present state of science and the rapid progress made in its application, we may be sure that in a very few, years at the very latest Australian and South American beet and mutton will be brought over in a perfect state of preservation and in enormous quantities. What is then to become of the prosperity of the British farmer, of the long rent-roll of the British landlord? It is all very well to grow gooseberries, strawberries, and so forth that market is well enough supplied as it is. No doubt the British workman could consume a deal more of these delicacies but then first raise his wages. It is scarcely needful to say that the effect of this new American agricultural competition is felt on the Continent too. The small peasant proprietor mostly mortgaged over head and ears and paying interest and law expenses where the English and Irish farmer pays rent, he feels it quite as much. It is a peculiar effect of this American competition that it renders not only large landed property, but also small landed property useless, by rendering both unprofitable. It may be said that this system of land exhaustion, as now practiced in the Far West, cannot go on for ever, and things must come right again. Of course, it cannot last for ever; but there is plenty of unexhausted land yet to carry on the process for another century. Moreover, there are other countries offering similar advantages. There is the whole South Russian steppe, where, indeed, commercial men have bought land and done the same thing. There are the vast pampas of the Argentine Republic, there are others still; all lands equally fit for this modern system of giant farming and cheap production. So that before this thing is exhausted it will have lived long enough to kill all the landlords of Europe, great and small, at least twice over. Well, and the upshot of all this? The upshot will and must be that it will force upon us the nationalisation of the land and its cultivation by co-operative societies under national control. Then, and then alone, it will again pay both the cultivators and the nation to work it, whatever the price of American or any other corn and meat may be. And if the landlords in the meantime, as they seem to be half inclined to do, actually do go to America, we wish them a pleasant journey.

1881: American Food and the Land Question

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1881/07/02.htm

To our assertion that what was aimed at by the repeal of the Corn Laws was to "reduce the price of bread and thereby the money rate of wages", Mr. Noble replies that this was a "Protectionist fallacy" persistently combated by the League, and gives some quotations from Richard Cobden's speeches and an address of the Council of the League to prove it. The writer of the article in question was living at the time in Manchester -- a manufacturer amongst manufacturers. He is, of course, perfectly well aware of what the official doctrine of the League was. To reduce it to its shortest and most generally recognised expression (for there are many varieties) it ran thus: -- The repeal of the duty on corn will increase our trade with foreign countries, will directly increase our imports, in exchange for which foreign customers will buy our manufactures, thus increasing the demand for our manufactured goods; thus the demand for the labour of our industrial working population will increase, and therefore wages must rise. And by dint of repeating this theory day after day and year after year the official representatives of the League, shallow economists as they were, could at last come out with the astounding assertion that wages rose and fell in inverse ratio, not with profits, but with the price of food; that dear bread meant low wages and cheap bread high wages. Thus, the decennial revulsions of trade which have existed before and after the repeal of the Corn duties were, by the mouthpieces of the League, declared to be the simple effects of the Corn Laws, bound to disappear as soon as those hateful laws were removed; that the Corn Laws were the only great obstacle standing between the British manufacturer and the poor foreigners longing for that manufacturer's produce, unclad and shivering for want of British cloth. And thus Cobden could actually advance, in the passage quoted by Mr. Noble, that the depression of trade and the fall in wages from 1839 to 1842 was the consequence of the very high price of corn during these years, when it was nothing else but one of the regular phases of depression of trade, recurring with the greatest regularity, up to now, every ten years; a phase certainly prolonged and aggravated by bad crops and the stupid interference of greedy landlord legislation. Well, this was the official theory of Cobden, who with all his cleverness as an agitator was a poor business man and a shallow economist; he no doubt believed it as faithfully as Mr. Noble believes it to this day. But the bulk of the League was formed of practical men of business, more attentive to business and generally more successful in it than Cobden. And with these matters were quite different. Of course, before strangers and in public meetings, especially before their "hands", the official theory was generally considered "the thing". But business men, when intent upon business, do not generally speak their mind to their customers, and if Mr. Noble should be of a different opinion, he had better keep off the Manchester Exchange. A very little pressing as to what was meant by the way in which wages must rise in consequence of free trade in corn, was sufficient to bring it out that this rise was supposed to affect wages as expressed in commodities, and that it might be quite possible that the money rate of wages would not rise -- but was not that substantially a rise of wages? And when you pressed the subject further it usually came out that the money rate of wages might even fall while the comforts supplied for this reduced sum of money to the working man would still be superior to what he enjoyed at the time. And if you asked a few more close questions as to the way, how the expected immense extension of trade was to be brought about, you would very soon hear that it was this last contingency upon which they mainly relied: a reduction in the money rate of wages combined with a fall in the price of bread, etc., more than compensating for this fall. Moreover, there were plenty to be met who did not even try to disguise their opinion that cheap bread was wanted simply to bring down the money rate of wages, and thus knock foreign competition on the head. And that this, in reality, was the end and aim of the bulk of the manufacturers and merchants forming the great body of the League, it was not so very difficult to make out for any one in the habit of dealing with commercial men, and therefore in the habit of not always taking their word for gospel. This is what we said and we repeat it. Of the official doctrine of the League we did not say a word. It was economically a "fallacy", and practically a mere cloak for interested purposes, though some of the leaders may have repeated it often enough to believe it finally themselves. Very amusing is Mr. Noble's quotation of Cobden's words about the working classes "rubbing their hands with satisfaction" at the prospect of corn at 25s. a quarter. The working classes at that time did not disdain cheap bread; but they were so full of "satisfaction" at the proceedings of Cobden and Co. that for several years past they had made it impossible for the League in the whole of the North to hold a single really public meeting. The writer had the "satisfaction" of being present, in 1843, at the last attempt of the League to hold such a meeting in Salford Town Hall, and of seeing it very nearly broken up by the mere putting of an amendment in favour of the People's Charter. Since then the rule at all League meetings was "admission by ticket", which was far from being accessible to everyone. From that moment "Chartist obstruction" ceased. The working masses had attained their end -- to prove that the League did not, as it pretended, represent them. In conclusion, a few words about the wages theory of the League. The average price of a commodity is equal to its cost of production; the action of supply and demand consists in bringing it back to that standard around which it oscillates. If this be true of all commodities, it is true also of the commodity Labour (or more strictly speaking, Labour-force). Then the rate of wages is determined by the price of those commodities which enter into the habitual and necessary consumption of the labourer. In other words, all other things remaining unchanged, wages rise and fall with the price of the necessaries of life. This is a law of political economy against which all the Perronet Thompsons, Cobdens, and Brights will ever be impotent. But all other things do not always remain unchanged, and therefore the action of this law in practice becomes modified by the concurrent action of other economical laws; it appears darkened, and sometimes to such a degree that you must take some trouble to trace it. This served as a pretext to the vulgarising and vulgar economists dating from the Anti-Corn Law League to pretend, first, that Labour, and then all other commodities, had no real determinable value, but only a fluctuating price, regulated by supply and demand more or less without regard to cost of production, and that to raise prices, and therefore wages, you had nothing to do but increase the demand. And thus you got rid of the unpleasant connection of the rate of wages with the price of food, and could boldly proclaim that in this crude, ridiculous doctrine that dear bread meant low wages and cheap bread high wages. Perhaps Mr. Noble will ask whether wages are not generally as high, or even higher, with to-day's cheap bread than with the dear taxed bread before 1847? That would take a long inquiry to answer. But so much is certain: where a branch of industry has prospered and at the same time the workmen have been strongly organised for defence, their wages have generally not fallen, and sometimes perhaps risen. This merely proves that the people were underpaid before. Where a branch of industry has decayed, or where the workpeople have not been strongly organised in Trades Unions, these wages have invariably fallen, and often to starvation level. Go to the East-end of London and see for yourselves! The People's Charter, which contained the demands of the Chartists, was published in the form of a Parliamentary Bill on May 8, 1838. It contained six points: universal suffrage (for men of 21 and over), annual Parliaments, vote by ballot, equal electoral districts, abolition of the property qualification for MPs and payment of MPs. Petitions urging the adoption of the People's Charter were turned down by Parliament in 1839, 1842 and 1848.

1881: The Wages Theory of the Anti-Corn Law League

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1881/07/09.htm

This is a political position unworthy of the best organised working class of Europe. In other countries the working men have been far more active. Germany has had for more than ten years a Working Men's party (the Social-Democrats), which owns ten seats in Parliament, and whose growth has frightened Bismarck into those infamous measures of repression of which we give an account in another column. Yet in spite of Bismarck, the Working Men's party progresses steadily; only last week it carried sixteen elections for the Mannheim Town Council and one for the Saxon Parliament. In Belgium, Holland, and Italy the example of the Germans has been imitated; in every one of these countries a Working Men's party exists, though the voter's qualification there is too high to give them a chance of sending members to the Legislature at present. In France the Working Men's party is just now in full process of organisation; it has obtained the majority in several Municipal Councils at the last elections, and will undoubtedly carry several seats at the general election for the Chamber next October. Even in America where the passage of the working class to that of farmer, trader, or capitalist, is still comparatively easy, the working men find it necessary to organise themselves as an independent party. Everywhere the labourer struggles for political power, for direct representation of his class in the Legislature -- everywhere but in Great Britain. And yet there never was a more widespread feeling in England than now, that the old parties are doomed, that the old shibboleths have become meaningless, that the old watchwords are exploded, that the old panaceas will not act any longer. Thinking men of all classes begin to see that a new line must be struck out, and that this line can only be in the direction of democracy. But in England, where the industrial and agricultural working class forms the immense majority of the people, democracy means the dominion of the working class, neither more nor less. Let, then, that working class prepare itself for the task in store for it, -- the ruling of this great empire; let them understand the responsibilities which inevitably will fall to their share. And the best way to do this is to use the power already in their hands, the actual majority they possess in every large town in the kingdom, to send to Parliament men of their own order. With the present household suffrage, forty or fifty working men might easily be sent to St. Stephen's, where such an infusion of entirely new blood is very much wanted indeed. With only that number of working men in Parliament, it would be impossible to let the Irish Land Bill become, as is the case at present, more and more an Irish Land Bull, namely, an Irish Landlords' Compensation Act; it would be impossible to resist the demand for a redistribution of seats, for making bribery really punishable, for throwing election expenses, as is the case everywhere but in England, on the public purse, etc. Moreover, in England a real democratic party is impossible unless it be a working men's party. Enlightened men of other classes (where they are not so plentiful as people would make us believe) might join that party and even represent it in Parliament after having given pledges of their sincerity. Such is the case everywhere. In Germany, for instance, the working-men representatives are not in every case actual working men. But no democratic party in England, as well as elsewhere, will be effectively successful unless it has a distinct working-class character. Abandon that, and you have nothing but sects and shams. And this is even truer in England than abroad. Of Radical shams there has been unfortunately enough since the break-up of the first working men's party which the world ever produced -- the Chartist party. Yes, but the Chartists were broken up and attained nothing. Did they, indeed? Of the six points of the People's Charter, two, vote by ballot and no property qualification, are now the law of the land. A third, universal suffrage, is at least approximately carried in the shape of household suffrage; a fourth, equal electoral districts, is distinctly in sight, a promised reform of the present Government. So that the break-down of the Chartist movement has resulted in the realisation of fully one-half of the Chartist programme. And if the mere recollection of a past political organisation of the working class could effect these political reforms, and a series of social reforms besides, what will the actual presence of a working men's political party do, backed by forty or fifty representatives in Parliament? We live in a world where everybody is bound to take care of himself. Yet the English working class allows the landlord, capitalist, and retail trading classes, with their tail of lawyers, newspaper writers, etc., to take care of its interests. No wonder reforms in the interest of the workman come so slow and in such miserable dribbles. The workpeople of England have but to will, and they are the masters to carry every reform, social and political, which their situation requires. Then why not make that effort? In 1881, the Social-Democratic groups in the Netherlands formed the Social-Democratic Union (Sociaal-Demokraatische Bond). In the same year, the politically advanced and class-conscious workers and revolutionary intellectuals formed the Revolutionary-Socialist Party of Romagna (Partito Rivoluzionario di Romagna), which was the first step in the work to found an Italian workers' party.

1881: A Working Men's Party

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1881/07/23.htm

At every general election the German Working Men s party turned up with rapidly-increasing numbers; at the last but one above 500,000; at the last one more than 600,000 votes fell to their candidates. Berlin elected two, Elberfeld-Barmen, one Breslau, Dresden, one each; ten seats were conquered in the face of the coalition of the Government with the whole of the Liberal, Conservative, and Catholic parties, in the face of the outcry created by the two attempts at shooting the Emperor, which all other parties agreed to make the Working Men s party responsible for. Then Bismarck succeeded in passing an Act by which Social-Democracy was outlawed. The Working Men s newspapers more than fifty, were suppressed, their societies and clubs broken up, their funds seized, their meetings dissolved by the police, and, to crown all, it was enacted that whole towns and districts might be proclaimed", just as in Ireland. But what even English Coercion Bills have never ventured upon in Ireland Bismarck did in Germany. In every proclaimed district the police received the right to expel any man whom it might reasonably suspect" of Socialistic propaganda. Berlin was, of course, at once proclaimed, and hundreds (with their families, thousands) of people were expelled. For the Prussian police always expel men with families; the young unmarried men are generally let alone; to them expulsion would be no great punishment, but to the heads of families it means, in most cases, a long career of misery if not absolute ruin. Then Hamburg elected a working man member of Parliament, and was immediately proclaimed. The first batch of men expelled from Hamburg was about a hundred, with families amounting, besides, to more than three hundred. The Working Men s party, within two days, found the means to provide for their travelling expenses and other immediate wants. Now Leipzig has also been proclaimed, and without any other pretext but that otherwise the Government cannot break up the organisation of the party. The expulsions of the very first day number thirty-three, mostly married men with families. Three members of the German Parliament head the list; perhaps Mr. Dillon will send them a letter of congratulation, considering that they are not yet quite so badly off as himself. But this is not all. The Working Men s party once being outlawed in due form, and deprived of all those political rights which other Germans are supposed to enjoy, the police can do with the individual members of that party just as they like. Under the pretext of searching for forbidden publications, their wives and daughters are subjected to the most indecent and brutal treatment. They themselves are arrested whenever it pleases the police, are remanded from week to week, and discharged only after having passed some months in prison. New offences, unknown to the criminal code, are invented by the police, and that code stretched beyond all possibility. And often enough the police finds magistrates and judges corrupt or fanatical enough to aid and abet them; promotion is at this price! What this all comes to the following astounding figures will show. In the year from October, 1879, to October, 1880, there were in Prussia alone imprisoned for high treason, treason felony, insulting the Emperor, etc., not less than 1,108 persons; and for political libels, insulting Bismarck, or defiling the Government, etc., not less than 10,094 persons. Eleven thousand two hundred and two political prisoners, that beats even Mr. Forster s Irish exploits! And what has Bismarck attained with all his coercion? Just as much as Mr. Forster in Ireland. The Social-Democratic party is in as blooming a condition, and possesses as firm an organisation, as the Irish Land League. A few days ago there were elections for the Town Council of Mannheim. The working-class party nominated sixteen candidates, and carried them all by a majority of nearly three to one. Again, Bebel, member of the German Parliament for Dresden, stood for the representation of the Leipzig district in the Saxon Parliament. Bebel is himself a working man (a turner), and one of the best, if not the best speaker in Germany. To frustrate his being elected, the Government expelled all his committee. What was the result? That even with a limited suffrage, Bebel was carried by a strong majority. Thus, Bismarck s coercion avails him nothing; on the contrary, it exasperates the people. Those to whom all legal means of asserting themselves are cut off, will one fine morning take to illegal ones, and no one can blame them. How often have Mr. Gladstone and Mr. Forster proclaimed that doctrine? And how do they act now in Ireland?

1881: Bismarck and the German Working Men's Party

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It might, then, be expected that the workers in cotton and iron should be remarkably well off in England; that, as England commands in the market, trade in these articles should be always good, and that at least in these two branches of industry the millennium of plenty, promised at the time of the Free Trade agitation, should be realised. Alas! we all know that this is far from being the case, and that here, as in other trades, if the condition of the workpeople has not become worse, and in some instances even better, it is due exclusively to their own efforts -- to strong organisation and hard-fought strikes. We know that after a few short years of prosperity about and after 1874 there was a complete collapse of the cotton and iron trades ; factories were closed, furnaces blown out, and where production was continued short time was the rule. Such periods of collapse had been known before; they recur, on an average, once in every ten years; they last their time, to be relieved by a new period of prosperity, and so on. But what distinguishes the present period of depression especially in cotton and iron is this, that it has now for some years outlasted its usual duration. There have been several attempts at a revival, several spurts; but in vain. If the epoch of actual collapse has been overcome, trade remains in a languid state, and the markets continue incapable to absorb the whole production. The cause of this is that with our present system of using machinery to produce not only manufactured goods, but machines themselves, production can be increased with incredible rapidity. There would be no difficulty, if manufacturers were so minded, during the single period of prosperity to increase the plant for spinning and weaving, bleaching and printing cotton, so as to be able to produce fifty per cent more goods, and to double the whole production of pig-iron and iron articles of every description. The actual increase has not come up to that. But still it has been out of all proportion to what it was in former periods of expansion, and the consequence is -- chronic over-production, chronic depression of trade. The masters can afford to look on, at least for a considerable time, but the workpeople have to suffer, for to them it means chronic misery and a constant prospect of the workhouse. This, then, is the outcome of the glorious system of unlimited competition, this the realisation of the millennium promised by the Cobdens, Brights, and Co.! This is what the workpeople have to go through if, as they have done for the last twenty-five years, they leave the management of the economical policy of the empire to their "natural leaders", to those "captains of industry" who, according to Thomas Carlyle, were called upon to command the industrial army of the country. Captains of industry indeed! Louis Napoleon's generals in 1870 were geniuses compared to them. Everyone of these pretended captains of industry fights against every other, acts entirely on his own account, increases his plant irrespective of what his neighbours do, and then at the end they all find, to their great surprise, that overtrading has been the result. They cannot unite to regulate production; they can unite for one purpose only: to keep down the wages of their workpeople. And it thus, by recklessly expanding the productive power of the country far beyond the power of absorption of the markets, they rob their workpeople of the comparative ease which a period of moderate prosperity would give them, and which they are entitled to after the long period of collapse, in order to bring up their incomes to the average standard. Will it not yet be understood that the manufacturers, as a class, have become incapable any longer to direct the great economical interests of the country, nay, even the process of production itself? And is it not an absurdity -- though a fact -- that the greatest enemy to the working people of England is the ever-increasing productivity of their own hands? But there is another fact to be taken into consideration. It is not the English manufacturers alone who increase their productive powers. The same takes place in other countries. Statistics will not allow us to compare separately the cotton and iron industries of the various leading countries. But, taking the whole of the textile, mining, and metal-working industries, we can draw up a comparative table with the materials furnished by the chief of the Prussian Statistical Bureau, Dr. Engel, in his book, "Des Zeitalter des Dampfs" (The Age of Steam, Berlin, 1881). According to his computation, there are employed in the above industries in the countries stated below steam-engines of the following total horse-power (one horse-power equal to a force lifting 75 kilogrammes to the height of one metre in one second), viz: Look, again, at this table, giving the steam horse-power employed in production, exclusive of locomotives and ships' engines: -- This, then, is the position in which twenty-five years of an almost absolute reign of Manchester School doctrines have left the country. We think these results are such as to call for a speedy abdication of the Manchester and Birmingham gentlemen, so as to give the working classes a turn for the next twenty-five years. Surely they could not manage worse. In the USA each state has its own excise system, covering cigarettes, alcohol and petrol. The first excise on whisky was introduced in the USA on March 3, 1791.

1881: Cotton and Iron

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Now, what necessity is there at present for the existence of each of these three classes? The landed aristocracy is, to say the least, economically useless in England, while in Ireland and Scotland it has become a positive nuisance by its depopulating tendencies. To send the people across the ocean or into starvation, and to replace them by sheep or deer -- that is all the merit that the Irish and Scotch landlords can lay claim to. Let the competition of American vegetable and animal food develop a little further, and the English landed aristocracy will do the same, at least those that can afford it having large town estates to fall back upon. Of the rest, American food competition will soon free us. And good riddance -- for their political action, both in the Lords and Commons, is a perfect national nuisance. But how about the capitalist middle class, that enlightened and liberal class which founded the British colonial empire and which established British liberty? The class that reformed Parliament in 1831, repealed the Corn Laws, and reduced tax after tax? The class that created and still directs the giant manufactures, and the immense merchant navy, the ever spreading railway system of England? Surely that class must be at least as necessary as the working class which it directs and leads on from progress to progress. Now the economical function of the capitalist middle class has been, indeed, to create the modern system of steam manufactures and steam communications, and to crush every economical and political obstacle which delayed or hindered the development of that system. No doubt, as long as the capitalist middle class performed this function it was, under the circumstances, a necessary class. But is it still so? Does it continue to fulfil its essential function as the manager and expander of social production for the benefit of society at large? Let us see. To begin with the means of communication, we find the telegraphs in the hands of the Government. The railways and a large part of the sea-going steamships are owned, not by individual capitalists who manage their own business, but by joint-stock companies whose business is managed for them by paid employees, by servants whose position is to all intents and purposes that of superior, better paid workpeople. As to the directors and shareholders, they both know that the less the former interfere with the management, and the latter with the supervision, the better for the concern. A lax and mostly perfunctory supervision is, indeed, the only function left to the owners of the business. Thus we see that in reality the capitalist owners of these immense establishments have no other action left with regard to them, but to cash the half-yearly dividend warrants. The social function of the capitalist here has been transferred to servants paid by wages; but he continues to pocket, in his dividends, the pay for those functions though he has ceased to perform them. But another function is still left to the capitalist, whom the extent of the large undertakings in question has compelled to "retire" from their management. And this function is to speculate with his shares on the Stock Exchange. For want of something better to do, our "retired" or in reality superseded capitalists, gamble to their hearts' content in this temple of mammon. They go there with the deliberate intention to pocket money which they were pretending to earn; though they say, the origin of all property is labour and saving -- the origin perhaps, but certainly not the end. What hypocrisy to forcibly close petty gambling houses, when our capitalist society cannot do without an immense gambling house, where millions after millions are lost and won, for its very centre! Here, indeed, the existence of the "retired" shareholding capitalist becomes not only superfluous, but a perfect nuisance. What is true for railways and steam shipping is becoming more and more true every day for all large manufacturing and trading establishments. "Floating" -- transforming large private concerns into limited companies -- has been the order of the day for the last ten years and more. From the large Manchester warehouses of the City to the ironworks and coalpits of Wales and the North and the factories of Lancashire, everything has been, or is being, floated. In all Oldham there is scarcely a cotton mill left in private hands; nay, even the retail tradesman is more and more superseded by "co-operative stores", the great majority of which are co-operative in name only -- but of that another time. Thus we see that by the very development of the system of capitalists' production the capitalist is superseded quite as much as the handloom-weaver. With this difference, though, that the handloom-weaver is doomed to slow starvation, and the superseded capitalist to slow death from overfeeding. In this they generally are both alike, that neither knows what to do with himself. This, then, is the result: the economical development of our actual society tends more and more to concentrate, to socialise production into immense establishments which cannot any longer be managed by single capitalists. All the trash of "the eye of the master", and the wonders it does, turns into sheer nonsense as soon as an undertaking reaches a certain size. Imagine "the eye of the master" of the London and North Western Railway! But what the master cannot do the workman, the wages-paid servants of the Company, can do, and do it successfully. Thus the capitalist can no longer lay claim to his profits as "wages of supervision", as he supervises nothing. Let us remember that when the defenders of capital drum that hollow phrase into our ears. But we have attempted to show, in our last week's issue, that the capitalist class had also become unable to manage the immense productive system of this country; that they on the one hand expanded production so as to periodically flood all the markets with produce, and on the other became more and more incapable of holding their own against foreign competition. Thus we find that, not only can we manage very well without the interference of the capitalist class in the great industries of the country, but that their interference is becoming more and more a nuisance. Again we say to them, "Stand back! Give the working class the chance of a turn."

1881: Social Classes - Necessary and Superfluous

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Sir Henry Sumner Maine: Lectures on the Early History of Institutions. London 1875. In d. Uebersetzten d. Brehon Laws an assemblage of law tracts, wichtigsten: Senchus Mor (Great Book of the Ancient Law), and the Book of Aicill. Nach Mr. Whitley Stokes das erstere compiled in od. kurz vor 11 Jhdt; d. Buch v. Aicill ein Jhdt fruher. (12) Edmund Spenser: View of the State of Ireland. Sir John Davies. Laws of Wales. Brehons a class of professional Irish Lawyers, whose occupation became hereditary. [De] B[ello] G[allico] Caesar. VI, 13, 14: The learned writer of one of the modern prefaces prefixed to the Third Volume of the Ancient Law contends that the administration of the Brehon system consisted in references to arbitration (p. 38) (See Ancient Laws of Ireland ) Will ein vornehmer Mann seine Schuld (a claim upon him) nicht discharge, Senchus Mor tells you to fast upon him (1.c. Ancient Laws etc. vol. I, p. 113) Dies identisch mit was d. Hindu call sitting dharna (39, 40). Alle Pfaffenautorit t in Irld ging naturlich, nach d. conversion d. Irish Celts ber an d. tribes of the saints (the missionary monastic societies founded on all parts of the island u. d. multitude of bishops dependent on them. D. religious Theil der old Laws daher superseded, ausser so far as the legal rules exactly coincided with the rules of the new Christian code, the law of the letter. (38) The one object of the Brehons was to force disputants to refer their quarrels to a Brehon, or to some person in authority advised by a Brehon, and thus a vast deal of the law tends to run into the Law of Distress, which declares the various methods by which a man can be compelled through seizure of his property to consent to an arbitration. (38, 39) The Brehon appears to have invented (dch hypothetische Conjecturen, i.e. purely hypothetical cases) the facts which he used as the framework for his legal doctrine. His invention necessarily limited by his experience, and hence the cases suggested in the law tracts ... throw light on the society amid which they were composed. (43, 44) The law of nature meint d. ancient law (custom) explained by the Brehons, u. dies bindend as far as it coincided with the law of the letter (i.e. dem Christlichen Kram). (50) The Brehon did claim that St. Patrick and the other great Irish Saints had sanctioned the law which he declared, and that some of them even revised it. (51) Dch d. Churchmen, die mit notions of roman law [rather ditto of canonical law] more or less imbued, kam auch d. r m Einfluss (- so far as it goes -) on Brehon law. (55) Daraus im Interesse d. Kirche Testament derived ( Will ); ebenso conception of Contract (the sacredness of promisesetc. sehr wichtig fur Pfaffen) Eine Unterabtheilg (published) des Senchus Mor, n mlich Corus Bescna chiefly concerned mit Contract u. zeigt sich darin that the material interests of the Church furnished one principal motive for (its) compilation. (56) Nach d. Brehon law giebts 2 Sorten of contract : a valid contract, and an invalid contract. .. Anciently, the power of contract is limited on all sides ... by the rights of family, distant kinsmen, co-villagers, tribe, Chief, and, if you contract (spater mit Christenthum) adversely to the Church, by the rights of the Church. The Corus Bescna is in great part a treatise on these ancient limitations. (57, 58) The Book of Aicill provides for the legitimation not only of the bastard, but of the adulterine bastard, and measures the compensation to be paid to the putative father. The tract on Social Connections appears to assume that the temporary cohabitation of the sexes is part of the accustomed order of society, and on this assumption it minutely regulates the mutual rights of the parties, showing an especial care for the rights of the woman, even to the extent of reserving to her the value of her domestic services during her residence in the common dwelling. (59) Dieser tract on Social Connections notices a first wife. (61) Dies halt Maine f r Kitcheneinfluss, kommt aber berall in higher state of savagery vor, z.B. bei Red Indians. The common view seems to have been that (d. christliche) chastity ... the professional virtue of a special class, (monk, bishop, etc) (61) (Die flgden Extracts zeigen, einerseits dass Herr Maine sich noch nicht aneignen konnte was Morgan noch nicht gedruckt hatte, andrerseits, dass er Sachen die sich u. a. schon bei Niebuhr finden, darzustellen sucht as pointed out by the identical Henry Sumner Maine! -: From the moment when a tribal community settles down finally (dies finally"! absurd, da der tribe, wie wir sehr oft finden, having once settled down, migrates de nouveau u. settles again, either voluntarily, or forced to do so somewhere else) upon a definite space of land, the Land begins to be the base of society in place of the kinship. The change is extremely gradual etc. (72) [Dies zeigt nur, wie wenig er d. point of transition kennt.] Er fuhrt fort: The constitution of the Family through actual blood-relationship is of course an observable fact, but, for all groups of men larger than the Family, the Land on which they live tends to become the bond of Union between them, at the expense of kinship, ever more and more vaguely conceived. (72, 73) [Dies zeigt, wie wenig die Gens a fact observed by the identical Maine is!] Some years ago I pointed out ( Ancient Law, p. 103 sq.) the evidence furnished by the history of International Law that the notion of territorial sovereignty, which is the basis of the international system, and which is inseparably connected with dominion over a definite area of land, very slowly substituted itself for the notion of tribal sovereignty. (73) Nach Herrn Maine, first: Hindoo joint Family, 2nd, Household Community of the Southern Slavonians, 3 d) the true Village Community as found first in Russia and next in India. [Dies first u. next bezieht sich nur auf d. relative periods worin these things dem great Maine bekannt geworden.] (78) Ohne d. collapse der smaller social groups and the decay of the authority which, whether popularly or autocratically governed, they possessed over the men composing them, wie sagt d. wurdige Maine, (we) should never have had several great Conceptions which lie at the base of our stock of thought (86) u. zwar sind these great conception(s): the conception of land as an exchangeable commodity, differing only from others in the limitation of the supply (86, 87), the theory of Sovereignty , or (in other words) of a portion in each community possessing unlimited coercive force over the rest, the theory of Law as exclusively the command of a sovereign One or Number, the ever increasing activity of legislation u. [asinus!] der test of the value of legislation ... viz: the greatest happiness of the greatest number. (87) The form of private ownership in land which grew out of the appropriation of portions of the tribal domain to individual households of tribesmen is plainly recognized by the Brehon lawyers; yet the rights of private owners are limited by the controlling rights of a brotherhood of kinsmen, and the control is in some respects even more stringent than that exercised over separate property by an Indian village community. (89, 90) Dasselbe Wort: Fine or Family (?) is applied to all the subdivisions of the Irish society, von d. Tribe in its largest extension u. all intermediate bodies down to the Family (in the present sense), and even for portions of the Family. (Sullivan, Brehon Lan,. Introduction .) (go) Sept = sub-tribe, or joint Family in d. Brehon tracts. (91) The chief for the time being was, as the Anglo-lrish judges called him in the famous Case of Gavelkind, the caput cognationis. (91) Not only was the Tribe or Sept named after its eponymous ancestor, but the territory which it occupied also derived from him the name which was in commonest use so wie O Brien s Country or Macleod s Country. (l.c.) Von portions des land occupied by fragments of the tribe some are under minor chiefs or flaiths (93) All the unappropriated tribe-lands are in a more especial way the property of the tribe as a whole, and no portion can theoretically the subjected to more than a temporary occupation. (93) Among the holders of tribe-land are groups of men calling themselves tribesmen, bilden in reality associations formed by contract, chiefly for the | purpose of pasturing cattle. (l.c.) Auf dem waste common tribeland not occupied Stucke bestandig brought under tillage or permanent pasture by settlements of tribesmen, and upon it cultivators of servile status are permitted to squat, particularly towards the border. It is the part des territory woruber d. authority des Chief tends steadily to increase, u. here he settles his fuidhir or stranger-tenants, a very important class the outlaws and broken men from other tribes who come to him for protection ... are only connected with their new tribe by their dependence on its chief, and through the responsibility which he incurs for them. (92) Particular families manage to elude the theoretically periodical re-division of the common patrimony of the group; others obtain allotments with its consent as the reward of service or the a<p>panage of office; and there is a constant transfer of lands to the Church, and an intimate intermixture of tribal rights with ecclesiastical rights ... Brehon law shows that by the time it was put into shape, causes etc. tending to result in Several Property ... had largely taken effect. (95) The severance of land from the common territory appears most complete in the case of Chiefs, many of whom have large private estates held under ordinary tenure in addition to the demesne specially attached to their signory. (l.c.) Dieser asinus bildet sich ein dass modern research ... conveys a stronger impression than ever of a wide separation between the Aryan race and races of other stocks (!) but it suggests that many, perhaps most, of the differences in kind alleged to exist between Aryan sub-races are really differences merely in degree of development. (96) Anfang d. XVII Jhdts erkl rten d. Anglo-Irish Judges the English Common Law to be in force throughout Ireland, u. so seit dem lausigen James I all land to descend to the eldest son of the last owner, unless its devolution was otherwise determined by settlement or will. Der Sir John Davis, in seinem report of the case u. d. arguments before the Court, recites that hitherto all land in Ireland had descended under the rule of Tanistry oder those of Gavelkind. Was dieser Davis2 sich einbildet as system of inheritance, called Gavelkind, he (Davis)2 describes so: When a landowning member of an Irish Sept died, its chief made a re-distribution of all the lands of the Sept. He did not divide the estate of the dead man among his children, but used it to increase the allotments of the various households of which the Sept was made up. Aber was diesen English judges nur als systems of succession erscheint, war ancient mode of enjoyment during life . (99) So in the Hindoo Joint Undivided Family the stirpes or stocks, dem European law nur bekannt as branches of inheritors, are actual divisions of the family, and live together in distinct parts of the common dwelling. (Calcutta Review, July 1874, p. 208) (100) Rundale holdings in part of Ireland; jetzt meist common form: arable land held in severalty (dies beschreffit d. Sache falsch!), while pasture u. bog are in common. Aber noch vor 50 Jahren, cases were frequent wo d. arable land divided in farms which shifted among the tenant-families periodically, and sometimes annually. (101) Nach Maine the Irish holdings in rundale are not forms of property, but modes of appropriation , aber d. Bursche selbst bemerkt: archaic kinds of tenancy are constantly evidence of ancient forms of proprietorship.... Superior ownership arises through purchase from small allodial proprietors (?), through colonization of village waste-lands become in time the lord s waste, or (in an earlier stage) through the sinking whole communities of peasants into villeinage, and through a consequent transformation of the legal theory of their rights. Aber selbst wenn a Chief or Lord has come to be recognized as legal owner of the whole tribal domain, or of great portions of it, the accustomed methods of occupation and cultivation are not altered. (102) D. chief Brehon law tract setting forth the mutual rights of the collective tribe and of individual tribesmen or households of tribesmen in respect of tribal property, is called the Corus Besena, printed in the third volume of the official edition. (103) Das was die ganze Sache verdunkelt ist the strong and palpable bias of the compiler towards the interest of the Church; indeed, part of the tract is avowedly devoted to the law of Church property and of the organisation of religious houses. When this writer affirms that, under certain circumstances, a tribesman may grant or contract away tribal land, his ecclesiastical leaning constantly suggests a doubt as to his legal doctrine. (104) In the Germanic countries, their (d. christl. Pfaffen) ecclesiastical societies were among the earliest and largest grantees of public or folk land. (Stubbs: Constitutional History , v. I, p. 104). The Will, the Contract, and the Separate Ownership, were in fact indispensible to the Church as the donee of pious gifts. (1.c.) All the Brehon writers have a bias towards private or several, as distinguished from collective, property. (105) Weiter ber the Tribe or Sept see Ancient Laws of Ireland , II, 283, 289; III, 49-51; II, 283; III, 52, 53, 55. III, 47, 49. III, 17; III, 5. Der collective brotherhood of tribesmen, wie der Agnatic Kindred in Rom, some ultimate right of succession appears to be reserved. (111, 112) The Judgments of Co-Tenancy is a Brehon law tract, noch unpublished (1875), wovon sich aber Herr Maine, der nur d. Uebersetzg kennt, nicht d. Text, so pfiffig war sich vor d. Publication figdes mittheilen zu lassen: D. tract fragt: Whence does Co-Tenancy arise ? Answers: From several heirs and from their increasing on the land ; dann bemerkt der tract: the land is, in the first year, to be tilled by kinsmen just as each pleases; in the second year they are to exchange lots; in the 3d year the boundaries are to be fixed u. the whole process of severance is to be consummated in the 10th year. (112) Maine bemerkt richtig, dass d. Zeitbestinimgen ideales arrangement des Brehon lawgiver, aber d. Inhalt: First a Joint Family (dies statt gens, weil d. Herr Maine d. Joint Family wie sie in Indien existirt f lschlich als urspr ngliche Form betrachtet), composed of several heirs increasing on the land , is found to have made a settlement. In the earliest stage the various households reclaim the land without set rule. (!) Next comes the system of exchanging lots. Finally, the portions of land are enjoyed in severalty. (113) Herr Whitley Stokes hat dem Maine 2 passages occurring in non-legal Irish literature mitgetheilt. The liber Hymnorum (soll v. 11t Jhdt sein) contains folio 5 A: Numerous were the human beings in Ireland at that time (i.e. the time of the sons of Aed Slane A. D. 658-694) and such was their number that they used not to get but thrice 9 ridges for each man in Ireland to wit, 9 of bog, and 9 of smooth (arable), and 9 of wood. (114) Another Irish Msept, believed of the 12. century, the Lebor na Huidre says that there was not ditch, nor fence, nor stonewall round land, till came the period of the sons of Aed Slane, but (only) smooth fields. Because of the abundance of the households in their period, therefore it is that they introduced boundaries in Ireland . (114) Beide schreiben a change from a system of collective to a system of restricted enjoyment zu dem growth of population . The periodical allotment to each household of a definite portion of bogland, wood land, u. arable land gleicht sehr dem apportionment of pasture and wood and arable land still going on under the communal rules of the Swiss Allmenden (l.c.) Herr Maine als blockheaded Englishman geht nicht von gens aus, sondern von Patriarch, der sp ter Chief wird etc. Albernheiten. (116-18). Dies passt namtlich f r d. lteste Form der gens! Dieser Patriarch z.B. bei d. Morganschen Iroquois (wo d. gens in female descent!) | Der Bl dsinn Maine s gipfelt in d. Satz: Thus all the branches of human society may or may not have been developed from joint families [wo er grade die jetzige Hindooform der letzteren im Aug hat, dies sehr sekund ren Character hat, u. deshalb auch ausserhalb d. village communities thront, namentlich in d. St dten!] which arose out of an original patriarchal cell; but, wherever the joint Family is an Institution of the Aryan race (!), we (who?) see it springing from such a cell, and when it dissolves, we see it dissolving into a number of such cells. (118) Property of land has had a twofold (?) origin ... partly from the disentanglement of the individual rights of the kindred or tribesmen from the collective rights of the Family or Tribe ... partly from the growth and transmutation of the Sovereignty of the Tribal Chief. [Also nicht 2 fold origin; sondern nur 2 ramifications of the same source; the tribal property u. tribal collective body, which includes the tribal chief.] .... Beide in most of Western Europe passed through the crucible of feudalism.... The first (the sovereignty of the Chief) re-appeared in some well-marked characteristics of military or knightly tenures ... the other in the principal rules of non-noble holdings, and amongst them of Socage, the distinctive tenure of the free farmer. (120) In sehr oberfl chlicher Weise: The Status of the Chief ... left one bequest in the rule of Primogeniture, which, however, has long lost its most ancient form; ... in the right to receive certain dues and to enforce certain monopolies; and drittens in a specially absolute form of property ... once exclusively enjoyed by the chief (?), and after him by the Lord, in a portion of the tribal territory which formed his own dominion. Andrerseits: Out of tribal ownership in various forms of decay have sprung several systems of succession after death, among them the equal division of the land between the children u. has left another set of traces ... in a number of minute customary rules which govern tillage and occasionally regulate the distribution of the produce. (120, 121) Nach Arthur Young (Travels: 1787, 88, 89, p. 407) more than of France small properties, that is, little farms belonging to those who cultivate them (says A. Young.) Nach Tocqueville ( Ancien R gime ) the proportion was growing, dch d. extravagance der nobles which Court life fostered u. compelled them to sell their domains to peasants in small parcels . (121, 122) The law of equal or nearly equal division after death was the general law of Frace; primogeniture was allzumeist confined to lands held by knightly tenure. In S dfrankreich the custom of equal division verst rkt dch d. identical rule of Roman jurisprudence u. dort d. privileges des eldest son nur gesichert dch Anwendgd. Ausnahmsregeln des Roman law giving the benefit to milites (soldiers on service) when making their wills or regulating their successions, and by laying down that every chevalier, u. every noble of higher degree, was a miles im Sinn der r m. jurisdiction. (122) D. r m. Gesetz 12 Tafeln l sst absolute Freiheit der Verfgg d. testator; gleiche Theilung nur bei intestate (sui heredes), sp ter erst d. Recht d. Kinder etc. Daggen (d. Willk hr d. testator) secured etc. Tocqueville (I, 18) Ancien R gime has explained that the right to receive feudal dues and to enforce petty monopolies made up almost the entire means of living f r d. majority der French nobility. A certain number of nobles had, besides their feudal rights, their terres (domain, belonging to them in absolute property, and sometimes of enormous extent; d. rest lived mainly, not on rent, but on their feudal dues, and eked out a meagre subsistence by serving the king in arms (123, 124) In Folge d. franz sischen Revolution: the landlaw of the people superseded the land law of the nobles; in Engld der | umgekehrte Process: primogeniture, once applying only to knightly holdings, came to apply to the great bulk of English tenures, ausser d. Gavelkind of Kent u. einige andre Lokale. (123, 124) Dieser Change was rapidly proceeding zwischen Zeit of Glanville [whscheinlich 33d year of Henry s reign, hence 1186; Henry II (1154-1189)] u. Bracton [wahrsclich nicht later als 52nd year of Henry III, i.e. 1270; Henry III (1216-1272)]. Glanville schreibt as if the general rule of law caused lands held by free cultivators in socage19 to be divided equally between all the male children at the death of the last owner; Bracton, as if the rule of primogeniture applied universally to military tenures and generally to socage tenures. (125) Optimist Maine findet dass andrerseits the transmutation of customary and copyhold into freehold property ... proceeding for about 40 years under the Conduct of the Copyhold and Enclosure Commissioners u. dies betrachtet dieser comfortable Bursch as the English equivalent of the French Revolution. Risum teneatis! (see d. fellow p. 125) Dieser l cherliche Bursche macht d. r m. Form d. absolute landed property zur English.form of ownership , u. f hrt dann fort: ... to the principle of several and absolute property in land [das berall in occidental Europe mehr existirt als in Engd] I hold this country to be committed ... there can be no material advance in civilisation unless landed property is held by groups at least as small as Families; ... we are indebted to the peculiarly absolute English form of ownership for such an achievement as the cultivation of the soil of North America (126, wo grade alles specifisch English in landed Property vernichtet! O Du Philister) The Norman nobles who first settled in Ireland are well known to have become in time Chieftains of Irish tribes ... it is suggested that they were the first to forget their duties to their tenants and to think of nothing but their privileges. (128) Even according to the (Irish) texts apparently oldest, much of the tribal territory appears to have been permanently alienated to sub-tribes, families, or dependent chiefs ... d. glosses u. commentaries show that, before they were written, this process had gone very far indeed. (129) The power of the Chief grows first through the process anderswo called Commendation, wdch the free tribesman becomes his man , and remains in a state of dependence having various degrees ... ferner dch his increasing authority over the waste lands of the tribal territory u. from the servile or semi-servile colonies he plants there; endlich from the material strength he acquires through the numbers of his immediate retainers u. associates, most of whom stand to him in more or less servile relations. (130) The Manor with its Tenemental lands held by the free tenants of the Lord and with its Domain which was in immediate dependence on him, was the type of all feudal sovereignties in their complete form , whether the ruler acknowledged a superior above him or at most admitted one in the Pope, Emperor, or God himself. (130-31) D. abominable Freeman ( Norman Conquest I, 88) erkl rt sich d. Verwdlg d. tribe chiefs in feudal lords etc leicht, indem er voraussetzt was er entwickeln soll, n mlich dass d. privlged class always formed a distinct class or section of the community, sagt, l.c. the difference between eorl u. ceorl is a primary fact from which we start. (131) D. chief source of nobility seems to have been the respect of the co-villagers or assemblages of kinsmen for the line of descent in which the purest blood of each little society was believed to be preserved. (132) Every chief , says the text, rules over his land, whether it be great or whether it be small. (132) | Aber the Brehon law shows the way in which a common freeman may become a chief u. zugleich ist diese position to which he attains the presidency of a group of dependents (sp ter wden diese Burschen erst Glieder einer besondern Klasse). (133) Wo aristocracy a section of the community from the first besondre Umst nde, die notabene selbst schon derivative sind, n mlich, wo an entire tribal group conquers or imposes its supremacy upon other tribal groups also remaining entire, oder wo an original body of tribesmen, villagers, or citizens, gradually gathers round itself a miscellaneous assemblage of protected dependents. In Scottish Highlands some entire septs or clans stated to have been enslaved to others; u. ebenso fr hest in Ireland met a distinction between free u. rent paying tribes. (133) Im Brehon law a Chief vor allem a rich man (133), n mlich reich nicht in Land, sondern in flocks u. herds, sheep, vor allem Ochsen. D. Opposition zwischen birth u. wealth, besonders wealth other than landed property, ganz modern. See Homer s u. Niebelungen Helden; in sp terer griech. Literatur pride of birth identified mit pride in 7 wealthy ancestors in succession, , in Rom rasch d. Geldaristokratie assimilirt mit Blutaristokratie. (134) Im tract (Brehon Laws): Cain-Aigillne (p. 279) heissts that the head of every tribe should be the man of the tribe who is the most experienced, the most noble, the most wealthy, the most learned, the most truly popular, the most powerful to oppose, the most steadfast to sue for profits and to be sued for losses. Also personal wealth. [Aber Herr Maine, dies only in Status of Upper Barbarism, far from being archaic] the principal condition of the Chief s maintaining his position and authority. (134, 135) Brehon law zeigt dass dch d. acquisition of such wealth the road was always open to chieftainship. Portion of the Danish nobility originally peasants u. in early English laws some traces of a process wdch a Ceorl might become a Thane. (135) Brehon law speaks of the Bo-Aire (the cow-nobleman). Ist simply a peasant, grown rich in cattle, probably through obtaining the use of large portions of tribe-land. (135) D. true nobles the Aires getheilt [von d. Pfaffenjuristen, d. Brehons notabene; dies wie alle alten Pfaffenb cher (Menu f.i.) voller fictions in Interesse d. Chiefs, h heren St nde etc, schliesslich all das wieder in Interesse der Kirche. Ausserdem sind sie wie Juristen aller Sorten bei d. Hand mit fictive classifications.)] Jeder Grad unterschieden von dem anderen dch the amount of wealth possessed by the Chief belonging to it, by the weight attached to his evidence, by the power of binding his tribe by contracts (literally of knotting ), by the dues he receives in kind from his vassals, by his Honor-Price, or special damages incurred by injuring him. At the bottom of the scale is the Aire-desa; u. d. Brehon Law provides dass wenn der Bo-Aire has acquired 2 the wealth of an Aire-desa, and has held it for a certain number of generations, he becomes an Aire-Desa himself. He is an inferior chief says the Senchus Mor whose father was not a chief . (136) Enormous importance of wealth u. specially wealth in cattle reflected in the Brehon tracts. (137) Wahrscheinlich the first aristocracy springing from kingly favour consisted of the Comitatus, or Companions of the King (138) Major Domus bei d. Franken ward K nig; das blood | des Steward (and Great Seneschal) of Scotland runs in the veins of the Kings of England. Noch in England the great officers of the Royal Council u. Household haben Vorrang vor allen Pairs, od. mindest of all Peers of their own degree. Alle diese hohen W rden [dies hat Maurer u. z. Th. schon H llmann lang gewusst vor Maine], wenn nicht marking an office originally clerical, point to an occupation ... at first ... menial. (139) D. Household sprang von very humble beginnings. (139) D. stubbige Stubbs ( Constitutional History ) states that the gesiths of an (English) king were his guard and private council) , wobei er bemerkt, dass the free household servants of a ceorl are also in a certain sense his gesiths . D. Companions des king in the Irish legal literature nicht noble, u. associated mit d. king s body-guard which is essentially servile Wsclich dass in a particular stage of society, der personal service to the Chief or King was berall rendered in expectation of a reward in the shape of a gift of land. D. Companions d. Teutonic Kings shared largely in the Benefices, grants of Roman provincial land fully peopled u. stocked; in ancient Engld selbe class largest grantees (nach Pfaffen s il vous plait) of public land; u. dies part of the secret of the mysterious change wdch a new nobility of Thanes, deriving dignity u. authority from the King, absorbed the older nobility of the Eorls. (141) Aber in countries lying beyond the northern u. western limits of the Roman Empire, or just within them land was plentiful. Es war noch im Mittelalter d. cheapest commodity . D. practical difficulty was not to obtain land, but the instruments for making it productive. (141, 42) D. Chief (Irish) war vor allem reich in flocks u. herds; he was military leader; great part of his wealth was spoil of war u. in his civil capacity he multiplied his kine through his growing power of appropriating the waste for pasture, and dch a system of dispersing his herds among the tribesmen. D. Companion, der followed him to the foray etc auch enriched by his bounty; if already noble, he became greater; if not noble, the way of nobility lay through wealth. (147) (Vergl. Dugmore: Compendium of Kaffir Laws and Customs. ) Whenever legal expression has to be given to the relations of the Comitatus to the Teutonic kings, the portions of the Roman law selected are uniformly those which declare the semi-servile relation of the Client or Freedman to his Patron. Nach d. texts d. Brehon Law a Chief of high degree is always expected to surround himself with unfree dependents u. d. retinue eines King of Erin was to consist not only of free tribesmen but of a bodyguard of men bound to him by servile obligations ... Auch ... wenn d. Comitatus or Companions of the Chief were freemen, nicht nothwdig od. gew hnlich his near kindred. (145) In d. Brehon Laws spielen grosse Rolle horned cattle, i. e. bulls, cows, heifers, and calves; auch horses, sheep, swine, dogs, bees (the latter = the producers of the greatest of primitive luxuries). Vor allem aber kine (cows). Capitale kine reckoned by the head, cattle has given birth to one of the most famous terms of law and one of the most famous terms of political economy, Chattels and Capital. Pecunia. (147) The Primitive Roman law places oxen in highest class of property, mit land u. slaves as items of the Res mancipi. Kine, which the most ancient Sanscrit literature shows to | have been eaten as food, became at some unknown period sacred and their flesh forbidden; two of the chief Things which required a Mancipation at Rome , oxen and landed property, had their counterpart in the sacred bull of Siwa and the sacred land of India. (148) Horned cattle showed their greatest value when groups of men settled on spaces of land and betook themselves to the cultivation of food-grain. (1.c.) Erst f r ihr flesh u. milk valued, schon in very early times a distinct special importance belonged to them as instrument or medium of exchange; bei Homer sind sie a measure of value; traditional story dass d. earliest coined money known at Rome stamped with the figure of an ox; pecus u. pecunia . (149) In Brehon laws figuriren horned cattle als means of exchange; fines, dues, rents u. returns are calculated in live-stock, not exclusively in kine, but nearly so. Best ndig referred to two standards of value, sed , u. cumhal ; cumhal soll originaliter have meant a female slave, aber sed plainly used for an amount or quantity of live stock. Aber, sp ter, cattle haupts chlich valued for their use in tillage, their labour and their manure. Erst nach u. nach as beasts of plough ersetzt dch Pferde in Western Europe (auch hier nicht berall); in still large portions of the world horse noch ausschliesslich employed, wie wohl urspr nglich berall, for war, pleasure, or the chase. (150) Oxen waren so fst einziger Representative of what now called Capital. (1.c.) The same causes which altered the position of the ox and turned him into an animal partially adscriptus glebae, undoubtedly produced also a great extension of slavery ... Enormous importation of slaves into the central territories of the Roman Commonwealth, and the wholesale degradation of the free cultivating communities of Western Europe into assemblages of villeins. (150, 151) D. Schwierigkeit in ancient Ireland not to obtain land, but the means of cultivating it. D. great owners of cattle were the various Chiefs, whose primitive superiority to the other tribesmen in this respect was probably owing to their natural functions as military leaders of the tribe. Andrerseits scheint aus d. Brehon laws zu folgen that the Chiefs pressed by the difficulty of finding sufficient pasture for their herds. Hatten ihrer growing power over the waste land dr particular group wor ber sie pr sidirten, aber die most fruitful portions of the tribal territory whsclich those which the free tribesmen occupied. Hence d. system of giving and receiving stock, to which 2 sub-tracts des Senchus Mor are devoted, the Cain-Saerrath u. d. Cain-Aigillne, the Law of Saer-Slock tenure u. the Law of Daer-Stock Tenure. (152) In Feudalgesellscft everybody has become the subordinate of somebody else higher than himself and yet exalted above him by no great distance. (153) Nach Stubbs (Conslit. History. I, 252) Feudalism has grown up from 2 great sources, the Benefice and the practice of Commendation . (154) Commendation, in particular, went on all over Western Europe. (155) D. Chief (Irish) sei er einer d. many tribal rulers whom the Irish records call kings, or one of those heads of joint families whom the Anglo-Irish lawyers at a later period called the Capita Cognationum, is not owner of the tribal lands. His own land he may have, consisting of private estate or of official domain, or of both, and over the general tribal land he has a general administrative authority, ever growing greater over that portion of it which is unappropriated waste. He is meanwhile the military <leader> of his tribesmen, and probably in that capacity ... has acquired great wealth in cattle. It has somehow become of great importance to him to place out portions of his herds among the tribesmen, and they on their part occasionally find themselves through stress of circumstance in pressing need of cattle for employment in tillage. Thus the Chiefs appear | in the Brehon law as perpetually giving stock and the tribesmen as receiving it. (157) By taking stock the free Irish tribesman becomes the Ceile or Kyle, the vassal or man of his Chief, owing him not only rent but service and homage. The exact effects of commendation are thus produced. (158) Je mehr stock der tribesman accepts from his Chief, desto tiefer der status zu dem er herabsinkt. Hence die 2 classes of Saer und Daer tenants (entspreche<n>d dem status der free und higher base tenants of an English manor). D. Saer Stock tenant erh lt nur limited amount of stock from the Chief, bleibt freeman, retains his tribal rights in their integrity; the normal period of his tenancy was 7 years, and at the end of it he became entitled to the cattle which had been in his possession. In d. Zwischenzeit hatte er the advantage of employing them in tillage, and the Chief erhielt the growth and increase [i.e. the young and the manure] and milk. Zugleich it is expressly laid down dass d. Chief berdem entitled to receive homage and manual labour; manual labour is explained to mean the service of the vassal in reaping the Chief s harvest and in assisting to build his castle or fort; u. it is stated that, in lieu of manual labour, the vassal might be required to follow his Chief to the wars. (158, 159) Daer-stock tenancy gebildet, wenn entweder any large addition to the stock deposited with the Saer-Stock tenant, od. an unusual quantity accepted in the first instance by the tribesman. D. Daer Stock tenant had parted with some portion of his freedom u. his duties invariably referred to as very onerous. D. Stock, den er vom Chief erhielt, bestand aus 2 portions, wovon die eine entsprechend dem Rang des Empf ngers, d. andre der rent in kind to which t<h>e tenant became liable. D. technical standard seines Rangs, war des tenant honor-price , d. h. the fine or damage payable for injuring him, variable mit the dignity of the person injured. Mit Bezug auf die rent heisst s im Brehon Law: The proportionate stock of a calf of the value of a sack with its accompaniments, and refections for three persons in the summer, and work for three days, is three sam-haise heifers or their value (Cain-Aigillne, p. 25), in andern Worten: Deponirt der Chief beim tenant 3 heifers so wird er entitled to the calf, the refections, and the labour. Ferner: The proportionate stock of a dartadh heifer with its accompaniment, is 12 seds explained to mean 12 sam-haisc heifers, or 6 cows, etc etc. Diese rent in kind, od. food rent, hatte in dieser ihrer ltesten Form, nichts zu thun mit der value of the tenant s land, but solely to the value of the Chiefs stock deposited with the tenant; sic entwickelte sich erst sp ter in a rent payable in respect of the tenant s land. Die l stigste imposition des Daer-Stock tenant sind dies refections ; dies war n mlich d. Recht des Chief, der den stock gegeben hatte, to come with a company of a certain number, and feast at the Daer-stock tenant s house, at particular periods, for a fixed number of days. D. Irish chief war wahrscheinlich, sagt Herr Maine, little better housed and almost as poorly furnished out, wie seine tenants, and could not have managed to consume at home the provisions to which his gifts of stock entitled him. The Brehon law defines and limits the practice narrowly on all sides, but its inconvenience u. abuse manifest; from it doubtless descended those oppressions which revolted such English observers of Ireland as Spenser and Davies19 (!), the coin and livery , and cosherings of the Irish Chiefs which they [these self~ righteous English canaille!] denounce with such indignant emphasis (!). Der w rdige Maine, vergessend die Rundreisen d. englischen K nige u. ihrer H flinge (see Anderson u. Macpherson) (vgl. auch Maurer) hat d. Frechheit zu vermuthen: Perhaps there was no Irish usage which seemed to Englishmen (!) so amply to justify ... the entire judicial or | legislative abolition of Irish customs (!) (159-161) Nach d. Brehon lawyers the relation out of which Daer-stock tenancy and its peculiar obligations arose, were not perpetual. After food-rent and service had been rendered for 7 years [Zeit die Jacob zu dienen hatte?l, if the Chief died, the tenant became entitled to the stock; wenn andrerseits der tenant starb, waren seine heirs theilweis, obgleich nicht ganz, relieved from their obligation. Wahrscheinlich d. Daer-stock tenancy, beginning in the necessities of the tenant, was often from the same cause rendered practically permanent. (162) The Heriot of English Copyhold tenure, the best beast taken by the Lord on the death of a base tenant, has been explained as an acknowledgment of the Lord s ownership of the cattle with which he anciently stocked the lands of his villeins, just as the Heriot of the military tenant is believed to have had its origin in a deposit of arms. Adam Smith recognized the great antiquity of the Metayer tenancy, wovon er noch in seiner Zeit found in Scotland one variety, the steelbone . (162) In einer der prefaces der official translation der Brehon laws Vergleichg gemacht zwischen Metayer tenancy u. the Saer u. Daer-stock tenancy of ancient Irish law. Die differences aber: In Metayage giebt landlord land u. stock, der tenant nur Arbeit u. skill; in Saer u. Daer stock tenancy the land belonged to the tenant. Ferner: d. ancient Irish relation produced nicht allein a contractual liability, sondern a status; the tenant had his social u. tribal position distinctly altered by accepting stock. [Wie leicht in ancient times mere contractual liability umschl gt, oder kaum zu ndern ist von status, Beweis z.B. Russld wo pers nlicher Dienst direct in Sklaverei umschl gt u. selbst freiwillige Feldarbeit etc nur mit M he von selbem Umschlag zu sch tzen. Sieh dar ber d. Weitere in d. russ. Ouellen.] In Ireland the acceptance of stock not always voluntary; a tribesman in one stage of Irish custom at all events was bound to receive stock from his own King ... Dies the Chief of his tribe in its largest extension. In eingen cases the Tribe wzu der intending tenant geh rte had in some cases a veto on his adoption of the new position. Um d. Tribe opportunity to geben to interpose whenever it had legal power to do so, the acceptance of stock had to be open and public, and the consequences of effecting it surreptitiously are elaborately set forth by the law. Hence one of the rules: no man should leave a rent on his land which he did not find there. (163, 164) Geh rten der Chief der den stock gab u. der Ceile der ihn accepted zum selben Tribe, so relation geschaffen verschieden von d. tribal connection u. much more to the advantage of the chief. Aber dieser Chief war nicht immer der Chief of the tribe<s>man s own Sept or Tribe. Brehon law sucht Schwierigkeiten in d. Weg zu legen wo attempt dies vassalage Verh ltniss zu etabliren zwischen a tribesman and a strange Chief. Aber abundant admission that dies vorkam. jeder nobleman assumed to be as a rule rich in stock, u. having the Zweck to disperse his herds by the practice of giving stock. Der enriched peasant, der Bo-aire, had Ceiles who accepted stock from him. Hence the new groups formed in this way were manchmal ganz distinct von den old groups composed of the Chief and his Clan. Auch die new relation nicht confined auf Aires, or noblemen, u. Ceiles (i.e. free but non noble tribesmen). The Bo-aire certainly and apparently the higher Chiefs also, accepted stock on occasion from chieftains more exalted than themselves, and in the end to give stock came to mean the same thing wie anderswo Commendation .... By fiction the Brehon Law represents the King of Ireland as accepting stock from the Emperor. Es sagt: When the King of Erin is without opposition (wovon the explanation runs: when he holds the ports of Dublin, | Waterford and Limerick, which were usually in the hands of the Danes he receives stock from the King of the Romans . (Senchus Mor.33 II, 225). The commentary goes on to say, that sometimes it is by the successor of Patrick [dies statt Pope ] that the stock is given to the King of Erin . [164-166] This natural growth of feudalism was not, as some eminent recent writers have supposed, entirely distinct from the process by which the authority of the Chief or Lord over the Tribe or Village was extended, but rather formed part of it. While the unappropriated waste lands were falling into his domain, the villagers or tribesmen were coming through natural (?) agencies under his personal power. The law-tracts (Brehon) give a picture of an aristocracy of wealth in its most primitive form; cf. ber d. Gallic Celts Caesar B. G.3 I. 4, u. VI. 13. In ancient world finden wir sehr early plebejan classes deeply indebted to aristocratic orders. (167) Athenian commonalty the bondslaves through debts of the Eupatrids; so the Roman Commons in money bondage to the Patricians. (167, 168) In very ancient times land was a drug, while capital was extremely perishable, added to with the greatest difficulty, and lodged in very few hands ... The ownership of the instruments of tillage other than the land itself was thus, in early agricultural communities, a power of the first order ... it may be believed (!) that a stock of the primitive capital larger than usual was very generally obtained by plunder ... mostly daher in the hands of noble classes whose occupation was war and who at all events had a monopoly of the profits of office. The advance of capital at usurious interest, and the helpless degradation of the borrowers, natural results of such economical conditions. [168, 169] D. Brehon writers der Cain-Saerrath u. Cain-Aigillne, dch their precise u. detailed statements, plainly intend to introduce certainty and equity into a naturally oppressive system. Eric-fines , or pecuniary composition for violent crime. By this customary law, the sept or family to which the perpetrator of a crime belonged etc had to pay in cattle (sp ter Geld) dies fine. Feodum, Feud, Fief, von Vieh, cattle. Ebenso Pecunia u. Pecus. Wie d. Roman lawyers tell that pecunia became the most comprehensive term for all a man s property, so feodum originally meaning cattle . [171, 172] Nach Dr. Sullivan feodum Celtic Sprachursprung; he connects it with fuidhir. N mlich d. territory jedes Irish tribe seems to have had settled on it, neben den Saer und Daer Ceiles, certain classes of persons deren status nearer to slavery than to that of the Saer u. Daer tribesmen. Diese classes genannt Sencleithes, Botbachs und Fuidhirs; diese 2 letzten classes wieder subdivided in Saer u. Daer Bothachs und Saer u. Daer Fuidhirs. Ersichtlich aus d. tracts u. namentlich dem noch unpublicirten Corus Fine , dass d. servile dependents, gleich den freemen des territory, had a family or Tribal organisation; and indeed all fragments of a society like that of ancient Ireland take more or less the shape of the prevailing model. D. position d. classes, obscurely indicated in Domesday u. other English records as Cotarii und Bordarii whclich sehr hnlich denen der Sencleithes u. Bothachs; in beiden F llen had these servile orders whhsclich an origin distinct from that of the dominant race, and belonged to the older or aboriginal inhabitants of the country. Ein Theil der families or subtribes formed out of them were certainly in a condition of special servitude to the Chief or dependence on him; these either engaged in cultivating his immediate domain-land and herding his cattle, or were planted by him in separate settlements on the waste land of the tribe; rente or service which they paid scheint von Willk hr des Chief abh ngig gewesen zu sein. [172, 173] | D. wichtigste Theil dieser Klassen der settled by the Chief on the unappropriated tribal lands. Diese Fuidhirs u. ausserdem strangers or fugitives from other territories, in fact men who had broken the original tribal bond which gave them a place in the community. Aus Brehon law sichtbar, dass these Klasse zahlreich; spricht diverses reprises von the desertion of their lands by families or portions of families. Unter gewissen Umst nden wden the rupture of the tribal bond u. d. Flucht deren who break it als eventualities von d. Gesetz behandelt. D. Verantwortlichkeit von tribes, subtribes, u. families for crimes ihrer Glieder u. even to some extent of civil obligation derselben might be prevented by compelling or inducing d member of the group to withdraw from its circle; and the Book of Aicill gives the legal procedure which is to be observed in the expulsion, the tribe paying certain fines to the Chief and the Church and proclaiming the fugitive ... Result probably to fill the country with broken men u. diese could find a home and protection by becoming Fuidhir tenants; alles tending to disturb the Ireland der Brehon Laws tended to multiply this particular class. [173, 174] D. Fuidhir tenant exclusive<ly a> dependent of the Chief u. nur dch letzteren connected mit d. Tribe; Chief wde auch responsible f r sie; sie kultivirten sein Land; sie daher the first tenants at will known to Ireland. The three reins , says the Senchus Mor are the rackrent from a person of a strange tribe [dies person undoubtedly the Fuidhir], a fair rent from one of the Tribe, and the stipulated rent which is paid equally by the tribe and the strange tribe . In einer der glosses, was rackrent bersetzt ist, verglichen to the milk of a cow which is compelled to give milk every month to the end of the year . [174, 175] Andrerseits hatte Chief grosses Interesse to encourage these Fuidhir tenants. Heisst in one of the tracts: We brings in Fuidhirs to increase his wealth . D. interests really injured were those of the tribe ... which suffered as a body by the curtailment of the waste land availableforpasture. Vgl. Hunter s Orissa wo shown wie d. hereditary peasantry of Orissa besch digt dch d. broken migratory husbandmen etc. (Sieh Orissa, I, 57, 58) [175-177] Cf. Edmund Spenser (writing not later than 1596) u.** F r d. comfortable Maine d. Irish Tenant question was settled only the other day . (178) Mit seinem gew hnlichen Optimismus d. Sache settled dch d. Act of 1870 (!) **Sir John Davis2, writing before 1613. The general bias der writers der Brehon Tracts rather towards the exaggeration of the privileges of the Chiefs than towards overstatement of the immunities of tribesmen. The power of the Irish Chiefs u. their severity to their tenants in the 16th century being admitted, have been accounted for by the Norman nobles the Fitzgeralds, Burkes, Barrys becoming gradually clothed with Irish chieftainship had first abused it u. thus set an evil example to all the Chiefs in Ireland. Better Theory of Dr. Sullivan (in his Introduction, p. cxxvi) wonach dies r gime determined by the steady multiplication of Fuidhir tenants . (182) Und causes at work, powerfully u. for long periods of time, to increase the numbers of this class: Danish piracies, intestine feuds, Anglo-Norman attempts at conquest, the existence of the Pale, u. the policy directed from the Pale of playing off against one another the Cliefs beyond its borders. Dch dies civil war etc tribes far u. wide broken up, dies implies a multitude of broken men. (18 3) Dann wie in Orissa die immigrated cultivators at the disposal of the Zeminders make greatly rise for d. ancient tenantry the standard of rent u. d. exactions d. landlords selber Einfluss d. Fuidhir tenants in Ireland; altered seriously for the worse the | portion of the tenants by Saer Stock u. by Daer Stock Tenure. [183, 184] Spenser: View of the State of Ireland . In d. brigens sonst kritisch nicht erw hnenswerthen: History of Ireland, Ancient and Modern (Dublin 1867) von Martin Haverty, wd bemerkt: tanaisteacht (or tanistry), a law of succession, bezog sich auf transmission of titles, offices, and authority. Says Professor Curry: There was no invariable rule of succession ... but according to the general tenor of our ancient accounts the eldest son succeeded the father to the exclusion of all collateral claimants, unless it happened that he was disqualified etc. The eldest son, being thus recognised and the presumptive heir and successor to the dignity, was denominated tanaiste, that is, minor or second, while all the other sons or persons that were eligible in case of his failure, were simply called righdhambna, i.e. king-material, or king-makings. This was the origin of tanaiste, a successor, and Holnais Flacht, successorship. The tanaiste had a separate establishment, as well as distinct privileges and liabilities. He was inferior to the king or chief, but above all the other dignitaries of the State.... Tanistry, in the Anglo-Norman sense, was not an original, essential element of the law of succession, but a condition that might be adopted or abandoned at any time by the parties concerned; and it does not appear that it was at any time universal in Erin, although it prevailed in many parts of it.... Alternate tanaisteacht did not involve any disturbance of property, or of the people, but only affected the position of the person himself, whether king, chief, or professor of any of the liberal arts, as the case might be; ... it was often set aside by force. [Prof. Curry in: Introduction, etc to the battle of Magh Leana , printed for the Celtic Society, Dublin, 1855; quoted in Haverty, Hist. of Irld, p. 49, wo es weiter heisst: The primitive intention was that the inheritance should descend to the oldest and most worthy man of the same name and blood, but practically this was giving it to the strongest, and family feuds and intestine wars were the inevitable consequence. (Haverty, p. 49)] By gavelkind (or, gavail-kinne) [common also to the Britons, Anglo-Saxons, Francs, etc] the property was divided equally between all the sons, whether legitimate or otherwise ... ; but in addition to his own equal share, which the eldest son obtained in common with his brothers, he received the dwelling house and other buildings, which would been received by the father or kenfin [Dies Wort keitfin oder Caen-fine was (nach Prof. Curry) only applied to the heads of minor families, and never to any kind of chieftains], if the division was made, as it frequently was, in his own life-time. This extra share was given to the eldest brother as head of the family, and in consideration of certain liabilities which he incurred for the security of the family in general. If there were no sons, the property was divided equally among the next male heirs of the deceased, [Nach Curry: in default of any male issue daughters were allowed a life interest in property.] whether uncles, brothers, nephews, or cousins; but the female line was excluded from the inheritance. Sometimes a repartition of the lands of a whole tribe, or family of several branches, became necessary, owing to the extinction of some of the branches; but it does not appear that any such confusion or injustice resulted from the law, as is represented by Sir John Davis and by other English lawyers who have adopted his account of it. (p. 50. He quotes: Dissertation upon the Laws of the Ancient Irish, written by Dr. O Brien, author of the Dictionary, but published anonymously by Vallencey in the 3d number of the Collectanea de Reb. Hib. ) The Tenure of land in Ireland was essentially a tribe or family right all the members of a tribe or family in Ireland had an equal right to their proportionate share of the land occupied by the whole. The equality of title and blood thus enjoyed by all must have created a sense of individual self-respect and mutual dependence, that could not have existed under the Germanic and Anglo-Norman system of vassalage. | The tenures of whole tribes were of course frequently disturbed by war; and whenever a tribe was driven or emigrated into a district where it had no hereditary claim, if it obtained land it was on the payment of a relit to the king of the district; these rents being in some instances so heavy as to compel the strangers to seek for a home elsewhere. (l.c. p. 50) (cf. ib. p. 2 8 Nte, ein (angeblich) Beispiel aus d. Zeit der Queen Mab!) D. H nde v. Engl ndern man kennt d. Humanit t dieser Bestien aus d. Zeiten Henry s VIII, Elizabeth s u. James I! machten gross Geschrei ber Irish compositio od. eric ; vergessend dass sich selbiges findet in Laws of Athlestan, Leges Wallicae (Howell Ddla s) etc. see l.c. p. 51, u. daselbst Nte .) Fosterage prevailed, up to a comparatively recent period; Egl. gvt. machte oft stringent laws daggen, to prevent the intimate friendships which sprung up between the Anglo-Irish families and their mere Irish fosterers. By the statute of Kilkenny, 40 Ed. III (a. d. 1367) wden Fosterage and gossipred [gossipred or compaternity, by the canon law, is a spiritual affinity, and the juror that was gossip to either of the parties, might, in former times, have been challenged as not indifferent. [Davies on Ireland, bei Dr. Johnson Diet. sub voce: gossipred.)] as well as intermarriages, with the native Irish, declared to be treason. Says Giraldus Cainbrensis (Top. Hib. Dist. 3, Ch. 23) if any love or faith is to be found among them (the Irish), you must look for it among the fosterers and their foster-children . Staniburst, De reb. bib. p. 49, says, the Irish loved and confided in their foster-brothers more than their brothers by blood: Singula illis credunt; in eorum spe requiescunt; omnium conciliorum sunt maxime consoci. Collactanei etiam eos fidelissime et amantissime observant . See also Harris s Ware v. II, p. 72 (p. 51, 52 l. c.) Eh wir ftfahren mit dem Maine, zun chst zu bemerken class 4 Juli 1605 der elende Jacob I [der zur Zeit der Elizabeth, before his accession den Katholikenfteund gespielt u., wie Dr. Anderson: Royal Genealogies, p. 786 sagt, assisted the Irish privately more than Spain did publicly ] issued a proclamation, formally promulgating f r Irland the Act of Uniformity (2 Eliz.) and commanding the Papist clergy to depart from the realm. Im selben Jahr the ancient Irish customs of tanistry u. gavelkind were abolished by a judgment of the Court of King s Bench, and the inheritance of property was subjected to the rules of English law. (D. lumpacii affirmed the illegality of the native Irish tenures of land; declared the English common law to be in force in Ireland, u. von da the eldest son succeeded, as heir-at-law, both to lands which were attached to a Signory and to estates which had been divided according to the peculiar Irish custom of gavelkind. Maine. D. lausige Sir John Davis was King James Attorney-General for Ireland u. f r diesen Posten war nat rlich entsprechender Lump gew hlt -ein ebenso vorurtheilsfreier u. uninteressirter Patron wie der Elizabeths Arschkissende Poet Spencer ( State of Ireland ). His remedy for the ills of Ireland, the employment of large masses of troops to tread down all that standeth before them in foot, and lay on the ground all the stiffnecked people of that land, u. zwar sollte that war nicht nur im Sommer, sondern auch im Winter geff hrt werden, u. f hrt dann fort: the end will be very short u. describes in proof what he himself had witnessed in the late wars of Munster etc. See d. weiteren Cannibalismus dieses Poeten bei Haverty, l.c. p. 428 Nte.) D. beswusste Zweck d. James was looting , was d. Bursche Colonisation nannte. Vertrebg u. Unterjochung d. Irish, u. confiscation ihres Lands u. Habe, alles das unter d. Pr text von Anti-Popery. 1607 O Neill u. O Donnell, noch in possession of vast tracts of country, the last great Irish chieftains, crushed. 1608 d. Chiefs im Norden, Sir Cahir O Doherty etc crushed (ihr Revolt). Nun 6 counties of Ulster Trone, Derry, Donegal, Fermahagh, Armagh u. Cavan confiscated to the Crown u. parcelled out among adventurers from England and Scotland. Dazu benutzt Sir Arthur Chichester (Bacon s plan gefiel nicht dem beastly fool James II), the lord deputy, der zum Dank erhielt the wide lands of Sir Cahir O Doherty for his share in the wholesale spoliation. (see O Donovan, Four Masters . Die reichen Spiessb rger der London City were the largest participators in the plunder. They obtained 209,800 acres and rebuilt the city (i.e. Derry) since then called Londonderry. Nach d. plan finally | adopted for the plantation of Ulster the lots into which the lands were divided were classified into those containing 2000 acres, which were reserved for rich undertakers and the great servitors of the crown; those containing 1500 acres, which were allotted to servitors of the crown in Ireland, with permission to take either English or Irish tenants; and, thirdly, those containing 1000 acres, to be distributed with still less restriction. The exclusion of the ancient inhabitants, and the proscription of the Catholic religion, were the fundamental principles to be acted on as far as possible in this settlement. Cox says that in the instructions, printed for the direction of the settlers, it was especially mentioned that they should not suffer any laborer, that would not take the oath of supremacy, to dwell upon their land . (p. 497-500 l. c.) Irish Parlement berufen angeblich f r Protestant Ascendancy , aber namentlich auch um Geld f r James I zu pressen (whose insatiable rapacity u. stete Geldnoth notorious. (p. 501-503 l.c.) Da der Raub vermittelst der plantation so gut gelungen, suchte James I Sache jetzt auf andre Theile Irlands auszudehnen; appointed commission of inquiry to scrutinize the titles and determine the rights of all the lands in Leinster; commissioners worked so rapidly, that in a little time land to the extent of 385,000 acres placed at James s disposal [dieser silly, pedantic fool , der British Solomon lauded by Hume] for distribution. (Weiteres dar ber p. 501-505 l.c.) See Leland. Der puritanisch thuende ruffian Arthur Chichester [der f r jede neue infamy additional grant of Irish lands erhielt u. d. Title: Baron of Belfast, hatte 1616 sein Werk gethan u. withdrew from the Irish gvnment] laid down as the punishment of jurors who would not find for the king on sufficient evidence the Star Chamber; sometimes they were pillor<i>ed with loss of ears, and bored through the tongue, and sometimes marked on the forehead with a hot iron etc. (Commons Journal. v. I, p. 307.) (l.c. p. 5 0 5. nte ) D. flgde Passus in einem d. famous (why not infamous ?) cases in which the Anglo-Irish judges affirmed the illegality of the native Irish tenures of land: Before the establishment of the (English) common law, all the possessions within the Irish territories ran either in course of Tanistry or in course of Gavelkind. Every Signory or Chiefry with the portion of land which passed <with> it went without partition to the Tanist, who always came in by election or with the strong hand, and not by descent; but all inferior tenanties were partible between males in Gavelkind . (Sir J. Davis Reports; Le Cas de Gavelkind , Hil. 3, Jac. I, before all the Judges.) (p. 185) [Dass Tanistry (see d. vorigen Ausz. aus Haverty) eine ltere Form (archaische) der Primogenitur, ist keine Entdeckg d. Herrn Maine, sondern wie d. Ausz ge aus Haverty zeigen war von Dr. O Brien, Prof. Curry etc lang vorher als fact angenommen. Es beruht einfach d<arau>f, dass d. Chief, sei es der gens, sei es d. Tribe, theoretisch gew hlt, praktisch vererbbar in d. Familie (u. f r tribe, rather die gens) der der defunct Chief angeh rt; meist ltester Sohn, relativ Onkel (modificirt dch descent linie); ist bereits eignes head verbden mit d. function, so geht dies nat rlich mit d. Function.] Von Gavelkind sagt Sir John Davis: By the Irish custom of Gavelkind, the inferior tenanties were partible among all the males of the Sept, both Bastards and Legitimate; and, after partition made, if any one of the Sept had died, his portion was not divided among his sonnes, but the Chief of the Sept made a new partition of all the lands belonging to that Sept, and gave everyone his part according to his antiquity. [D. Irish Sept = Gens.] Skene citirt observation eines engl. Engineer officer in d. Highlands abt 1730: They (the Highlanders) are divided into tribes or clans under chiefs or chieftains, and each clan is again divided into branches from the stock, who have chieftains over them. They are subdivided into smaller branches of 50 or 60 men, who deduce their original from their | particular chieftain. (Skene: Highlanders I, p. 156) Was Davis describes passirt which in a Hindoo Joint Family in case of death of one of its members. Dort n mlich, all the property being brought into the common chest or purse , the lapse of any one life would have the effect, potentially if not actually, of distributing the dead man s share among all the kindred united in the family group. And if, on a dissolution of the Joint family, the distribution of its effects were not per capita but per stirpes, this would correspond to Davis s Chief giving to each man according to his antiquity. [p. 187, 188] Gavelkind entspringt aus d. gleichen od. period. Theilung d. Lands in rural commune; zuletzt the descendants (aber vorher dies auch schon bei Lebzeit) of the latest holder take his property, to the exclusion of everybody else u. d. rights of the portion of the community outside the family dwindle to a veto on sales, or to a right of controlling the modes of civilation. Das was in Davis s Report (sich oben) in Widerspruch scheint mit d. Brehon Laws, u. a. mit Corus Bescna (which deals with rights over tribal lands) ist dass er ausser rule of Tanistry nur die of Gavelkind kennt, whd in Brehon Laws andre (nicht tribal oder gentilician) property excluding the Sept. Dr. Sullivan in Introduc. (Breh. Laws p. CLXX) says: According to the Irish custom, property descended at first only to the male heirs of the body, each son receiving an equal share.... Ultimately, however, daughters appear to have become entitled to inherit all, if there were no sons. (Dies analog dem Gavelkind of Kent.) Corus Bescna implies that under certain circumstances land might be permanently alienated, at all events to the Church. Ist m glich, dass in certain time the Irish Gavelkind (in distinct sense d. Vertheilung unter Sept d. Landes d. defunct), the modern Gavelkind known to Kent, and many forms of succession intermediate between the two, co-existed in Ireland. The Brehon writers als lawyers u. friends of the Church [ Comfortable Maine adds in his usual Pecksniff unctuosity: and (it may be) as well wishers to their country !] sehr biassed f r descent of property in individual families. Best ndig kam vor in Irland u. schott. Highlands dass a Chief, ausser domain appertaining to his office, had a great estate held under what the English lawyers deemed the inferior tenure. D. Beispiele on record wo 2 grosse Irish chiefs distributed such estates among their kindred. Im 14 Jhdt Connor More O Brien assigned the bulk of the estate to the various families of the Sept formed by his own relatives (also Gens), behielt sich nur of a 3d = 1/6 vor, u. dies 1/6 divided er unter his 3 sons, reserving only a rent to himself. Am Ende d. 15 Jhdts Donogh O Brien, son of Brien Duff, son of Connor, King of Thomond, divided all his land unter seine 11 sons, reservirte f r sich nur mansion u. the demesne in his vicinity. Diese 2 cases getrennt dch a century. Im ersten Fall d. land had remained in a state of indivision whd several generations; in 2ten had been periodically divided. Der Connor More O Brien distributed the inheritance of a Sept; Donogh O Brien that of a family. (Vallancey: Collectanea de Rebus Hibernicis, I, 264, 265. Cf. Haverty. Maine exploits former Irish writers without naming them.) Connor More O Brien scheint (!) to have paid regard to the various stirpes or stocks, worm d. gens sich branched out; entsprechend was Davis sagt dass d. Chief divided a lapsed share between the members of a sept according to their antiquity . In d. most archaic form der Joint Family (soll heissen Gens) u. d. institution which grew out of it, the Village Community, these distributions per capita, sp ter distribution per stirpes, wo careful attention is paid to the lines into which the descendants of the ancestor of the joint-family (read: gens) have separated, and separate rights are reserved to them. Finally, the stocks themselves escape from the sort of shell constituted by the Joint Family (gens); each man s share of the property, now periodically divided, (diesen Uebergang d. period. gleichen Theilung erkl rt Maine nicht) is distributed among his direct descendants at his death. At this point, property in its modern form has been established; but the Joint Family has not wholly ceased to influence successions. [Keineswegs ist ddch property in its modern form established; see Russian communes f. i.] Fehlen direct descendants, it is even now the rules of the Joint Family which determine the taking of its inheritance. Collateral successions, when distant, follow the more primitive form per capita; when they are those of the nearer kindred ... per stirpes. [194-96] | D. Theilung bei Lebzeiten, das sich bei beiden Chiefs findet, auch in Hindoo Joint-Family; auch Laertes in Odyssee, the Old Chief, wenn krackschelig, parts with his power u. retains but part of the property he has administered; daggen d. poorer freeman wd einer der senior pensioners des tribe so often referred to in the tracts (Brehon). [Es ist modernes Vorurtheil, d. Theilung post mortem, hervorgegangen aus d. testamentarischen Erbseft, als etwas Specifisches zu betrachten. D. Eigenthum an Land z.B., common selbst nach Verwandlg in privates Familieneigthm, n mlich common property d. family, worin jeder seinen ideellen Antheil hat, bleibt so nach Tod, sei es dass d. Familie zusammenbleibt, sei es dass sie faktisch theilt; folgt daher dass d. Theilung, wenn der Chief d. family (od. wie bei Hindoo joint-family der gew hlte od. erbliche Repr sentant der family dazu gezwungen wd dch d. co-parceners) will, bei seinen Lebzeiten stattfindet. D. ganz falsche Vorstellung des Maine, der d. Privatfamilie, wenn in Indien auch in d. Form, worin sie dort existirt, u. zwar in d. St dten mehr als auf d. Land, u. bei d. Grundrentbesitzern mehr als bei d. wirklichen arbeitenden Gliedern einer village community als d. Basis betrachtet, woraus sich Sept u. Clan entwickeln etc, zeigt sich auch in flgder Phrase: Nachdem er gesagt, dass d. power of distributing inheritances vested in the Celtic Chiefs essentially dieselbe Institution sei, die dem Hindoo father reserved ist dch die Mitakshara , f hrt er fort: It is part of the prerogative (eselhafter Ausdruck f r die gens u. Tribe verh ltnisse) belonging to the representative of the purest blood in the joint family; but in proportion as the Joint Family, Sept, or Clan becomes more artificial, the power of distribution tends more and more to look like mere administrative authority . [196, 197] D. Sache ist grad umgekehrt. F r Maine, der sich d. English Private family after all nicht aus d. Kopf schlagen kann, erscheint diese ganz nat rliche function des Chief of gens, weiter of Tribe, nat rlich grade weil er ihr Chief ist (u. theoretisch immer gew hlter ) als artificial u. mere administrative authority , whd d. Willk hr d. modernen pater familias grade artificial ist, wie d. Privatfamily selbst, vom archaischen Standpunkt.] In einigen systems of Hindoo law, hat der Vater, der bei Lebzeiten d. Eigenthum vertheilt, d. Recht to retain a double share u. nach einigen Hindoo customs, nimmt der lteste Sohn, wenn d. patrimony theil end mit seinen Br dern, 2 gr sseren Antheil als d. anderen. Aehnlich the birthright of the Hebrew patriarchal history. Dies nicht zu verwechseln mit Recht of the rule of Primogeniture. [Sieh oben Haverty, zum Beweis, dass d. irischen Vorg nger des Herrn Maine dies lange vor iihm constatirt hatten, wo sie diese Ungleichheit bei Gavelkind sehr genau scheiden von Tanistry u. auf Pflichlen d. testen Sohns etc reduciren.] Er sucht sich dann the double share plausible zu machen [sic sei reward or security for impartial distribution (!)] u. bemerkt das sei oft coupled with the right to take exclusively such things deemed incapable of division, the family house, f.i., and certain utensils. Statt d. ltesten Sohns dies Privileg manchmal dem j ngsten Sohn zufallend. (197) Primogenitur unbekarint Griechen n. R mern u. Semiten (Juden u. a. auch). Aber wir finden als familiar fact dass d. letzten K nigs tester Sohn ihm folgt; d. griech. Philosophen speculiren auch dass in lteren states of society, smaller groups of men, families u. villages, governed by eldest son after eldest son. (198) Auch beim Einfall d. Teutonic Barbars in West Europa Primogenitur nicht d. gew hnliche Regel der Nachfolge. D. Allodial Property d. Teutonic freemen theoretisch d. share he had got bei original Erobrungssettlement d. tribe etc. wenn getheilt, gleichgetheilt zwischen S hnen od. auch zwischen S hnen u. T chtern. Doch erscheint erst mit diesen Barbaren Primogenitur rasch ausgebreitet ber Westeuropa. Und nun findet Maine neue Schwierigkeit, die jedoch nur aus seiner Unbekanntsc<ha>ft mit Wesen der gens herstammt, n mlich dass statt ltesten Sohns the eldest male relative of the deceased eintritt (dies bei Vorherrschen d. gens d. Normale, da der eldest male relative wo female descent also superseded n her dem Vater des deceased als der son des deceased) oder dass neither the succession of the eldest son nor that of the eldest relative could take effect without election or confirmation by the members of the aggregate group to which they belong. [Dies ist noch normaler als alles andre; da d. Chief immer theoretisch elective bleibt, only selbstverst ndlich, within the gens resp. within the tribe.] Um sich letzteren Punkt | klar zu machen, pfl ckt Herr Maine wieder in seiner beliebten Hindoo joint Family, wo nach Tod d. Familienhaupts, wenn d. Familie separates, gleiche Theilung stattfindet; wenn nicht, election, meist ltester Sohn; wenn dieser als improper set aside, nicht sein Sohn, sondern meist d. brother of deceased manager gew hlt; so sort of mixture of election and doubtful succession, was auch gefunden wird in the early examples of European primogeniture. So d. Tribe Chief gew hlt from the Chieftain s family as representing the purest49 blood of the entire brotherhood . (Bl dsinn, wenn von wirklich primitive communities Rede. See f.i. Red Indian Iroquois. Umgekehrt, weil meist d. Wahl traditionell in derselben, od. gewissen gentes ftf hrt, u. dann wieder in einer bestimmten Familie derselben gens, mag diese sp ter, unter changed circumstances als representing the purest49 blood gelten.) u. instances of the choice being systematically made from 2 families in succession. Ist auch eine Fiktion d. Herrn Maine, dass der war chief ursr nglich der Tribe chief ist. Dieser wde umgekehrt nach seinen individual capacities gew hlt. Spencer, aus dem Maine flgde Stelle citirt, ist authority good enough for stating the facts he saw, but their origin cannot be elucidated from Spenser s plausible reasons for the facts observed. Folgendes d. Stelle aus Spenser: It is a custom among all the Irish that presently after the death of any of their chief lords or captains, they do presently assemble themselves to a place generally appointed and known to them to choose another in his stead, where they do nominate and elect or the most part, not the eldest son, nor any of the children of the lord deceased, but the next to him of blood that is eldest and worthiest, as commonly the next brother if he have any, or the next cousin ... as any is elder in that kindred or sept; and then, next to him, they choose the next of the blood to be Tanaist, who shall succeed him in the said Capraincy, if he live thereunto .... For when their Captain dieth, if the Signory should descend to his child, and he perhaps an infant, another might peradventure step in between or thrust him out by strong Hand, being then unable to defend his right and to withstand the force of a forreiner; and therefore they do appoint the eldest of the kin to have the Signory, for that commonly he is a man of stronger year<s> and better experience to maintain the inheritance and to defend the country... And to this end the Tanaist is always ready known, if it should happen to the Captain suddenly to die, or to be slain in battle, or to be out of the country, to defend and keep it from all such dangers. (Spenser: View of the State of Ireland , bei Maine, [p. 201, 202] [Maine, der gar nicht erw hnt (cp. oben Haverty) was d. Irisch writers gesagt, giebt als seine Entdekkung: Primogeniture, considered as a rule of succession to property, appears to me a product of tribal leadership in its decay. Glanville (unter Henry II, whslich 1186) writes mit Bezug auf English military tenures: When anyone dies, leaving a younger son and a grandson, the child of his eldest son, a great doubt exists as to which of the two the law prefers in the succession to the other, whether the son or the grandson. Some think the younger son has more right to the inheritance than the grandson ... but others incline to think that the grandson might51 be preferred to his uncle. (Glanville, VII. 7) Ebenso disputes among Highland families about the title to the chieftaincy of particular clans. [l.c. 203] Maine versteht d. ganzen case nicht; meint d. Onkel z.B. gew hlt, weil mehr wehrhaft; daggen sobald times had become friedlicher unter central authority of a king the value of strategical capacity in the humbler chiefs would diminish, and in the smaller brotherhoods the respect for purity of blood would have unchecked play . [Dies reiner Bl dsinn. D. Sach ist allm lig Ueberwigen (zusammenh ngend mit Entwicklg v. Privatgdeigenthum) der Einzelfamilie ber d. Gens. Des Vaters Bruder n her dem ihnen beiden gemeinscftlichen Stammhaunt, als irgendeiner der S hne des Vaters; also der Onkel der S hne n her als einer von diesen selbst. Nachdem schon mit Bezug auf d. Familie d. Kinder d. Vaters theilen, u. d. gens nur noch wenig od. gar nicht an d. Erbscft betheiligt, kann f r ffentliche Funktionen52b, also gens chief, tribe chief, etc noch d. alte gens rule vorwiegend bleiben; nothwendig entsteht aber struggle zwischen beiden.] Dieselbe Streitfrage arose zwischen d. descendants of daughters in d. controversy zwischen Bruce u. Baliol ber Krone von Schottland. (Edward I liess f r Baliol entscheiden, danach d. descendants of an elder child must be exhausted before those of the younger had a title.) Sobald d. lteste Soht statt d. Onkel folgte to the humbler chieftaincies he doubtless also obtained that portion of land attached to the Signory which went without partition to the Tanaist. So the demesne , as it was afterwards called, assumed more and more the character of mere property descending according to the rule of primogeniture . [p. 204] | Nach u. nach dann this principle of primogeniture extended from the demesne to all the estates of the holder of the Signory, however acquired, and ultimately determined the law of succession for the privileged classes throughout feudalised Europe. [204, 5] French Parage under which the near kinsmen of the eldest son still took an interest in the family property, but held it of him as his Peers. Unter act of the 12th year of Elizabeth (1570) the Lord Deputy was empowered to take surrenders and regrant estates to the Irishry. The Irish Lords , says Davis, made surrenders of entire counties and obtained grants of the whole again to themselves only, and none other, and all in demesne. In passing of which grants, there was no care taken of the inferior septs of people .... So that upon every such surrender or grant, there was but one freeholder made in a whole country, which was the lord himself; all the rest were [made dch Elizabeth s Act] but tenants at will, or rather tenants in villeinage. (bei Maine [p. 207]) In Brehon Laws (Book of Aicill, namentlich Third Vol.) Irish family getheilt in Ceilfine, Deirbhfine, Iarfine u. Indfine (wovon d. 3 letzten ubersetzt: the True, the After u. d. End Families). D. Editor d. Third Volume (Brehon Laws, wovon d. Book of Aicill) sagt: Within the Family, 17 members were organised in 4 divisions, of which the junior class, known as the Geilfine division, consisted of 5 persons; d. Deirbhfine 2nd in order, Iarfine 3d in order, and the Indfine the senior of all consisted respectively of 4 persons. The whole organisation consisted, and could only consist, of 17 members. [(3 4 + 5.)] If any person was born into the Geilfine division, its eldest member was promoted into the Deirbhfine, the eldest member of the Deirbhfine passed into the Iarfine, the eldest member of the Iarfine moved into the Indfine, and the eldest member of the Indfine passed out of the organisation altogether. It would appear that this transition from a lower to a higher grade took place upon the introduction of new members, not upon the death of the seniors. (citirt bei Maine, ) Nach Maine (Bei diesem Bursch n thig d. Irl nder zu vergleichen): any member of the Joint family, or Sept might be selected as the starting <point>, and become a root from which sprung as many of these groups of 17 men as he had sons. Sobald einer dieser S hne 4 Kinder hat, ist a full Geilfine sub-group formed of 5 persons; wd ein neues male Kind (Sohn) zugeboren diesem Sohn or to any of his male descendants, so d. lteste Glied der Geilfine sub-group provided always he were not the person from whom it had sprung sent into the Deirbhfine. A succession of such births completed the Deirbhfine Division, and went on to form the Iarfine and the In<d>fine, the After and the End Families. D. 5te Person in d. Geilfine division soll sein the parent von dem d. 16 descendants spring; er scheint to be referred to in the tracts as the Geilfine Chief. The Geilfine group is several times stated by the Brehon lawyers to be at once the highest and the youngest. Whitley Stokes told dem Maine, dass Geilfine = hand-family; n mlich Gil sei = hand (also the rendering of O Curry) and sei in fact = ; u. hand in several Aryan languages = power, namtlich f r family or patriarchal power; so, in Greek, u. , for the person under the hand; latin. herus (master) von an old word, cognate to ; ebenso lat. manus, in manu etc, in Celtic Gilla (a servant, bei Walter Scott Gillie ) [216, 217] Hence der gewaltige Gedanke des Maine, dass hinter dieser Irish distribution der Family d. Patria Potestas u. founded (d. Eintheilung) on the order of emancipation von Paternal authority. The Geilfine, Hand family, consists of father u. 4 natural or adoptive sons immediately under his power; d. other groups of emancipated descendants diminishing in dignity in propertion to their distance from the group which ... constitutes the true or representative | family. Aehnlich in Roman family, wo die enumerated members der family underwent a capitis deminutio. The Irish division of the Family seems only to have been wichtig mit Bezug auf law of succession after death. Aber dies rule in all societies. When the ancient constitution of the Family has ceased to affect anything else, it affects inheritance. D. authors der Brehon law tracts oft compare the Geilfine Division der family <mit> der human hand. Dr. Suffivan says: as they represented the roots of the spreading branches of the Family, they were called the cuic merane fine or the five fingers of the Fine . [p. 220] Patria potestas referred to in the Irish tracts as the father s power of judgment, proof, and witness over his sons. (l.c.) See Tylor ber Finger-Counting (in Primitive Culture . Weil menschliche Hand 5 Finger z hlt, 5 a primitive natural maximum number. Early English Township represented by the Reeve and the 4 men; the Indian punchayet. Borough English , unter which law the youngest son and not the eldest succeeds to the burgage-tenements of his father. Blackstone, um dies zu erkl ren, citirt von Duhalde that the custom of descent to the yougest son prevails among the Tartars; sobld d. lteren sons f hig to lead a pastoral life, verliessen sie den father to migrate with a certain allotment of cattle , and go to seek a new habitation. D. younges<t>, who continues longest with his father, is naturally the heir of his house, the rest being already provided for. In d. Leges Wallicae, diese Gewohnheit for all Welsh cultivating villeins: Cum fratres inter se dividunt hereditatem, junior debet habere tygdyn, i.e., aedificia patris sui, et octo acras de terra, si habuerint. (L. Wall. v. II, p. 780), ausserdem certain ustensils; the other sons are to divide what remains. D. youngest, remaining under patria polestas, preferred to the others. (l.c.) Primogeniture ... comes ... from the Chief (of clan); Borough English wie Geilfine dagegen von ancient conception of family as linked with patria potestas. (l.c.) D. Irish word Fine in the Brehon Laws used for d. family in present sense, for d. Sept, for Tribe etc. Irish family liess Adoption zu; the Sept admitted strangers on stated conditions, the Fine Taccair; d. Tribe included refugees from other tribes, die nur im Zusarnmenhang mit ihm dch Chief. (231, 232) In Dr. Sullivan s introduction he traces the origin of Guilds to the <grazing partnerships> common among the ancient Irish; the same words used to describe bodies of co-partners, formed by contract, and bodies of co-heirs or co-parceners formed by common descent. Tribe of Saints or Verwandtscftsideen applied to monastic houses with its monks and bishops, ebenso to the collective assemblage of religious houses etc. [p. 236, sq.] The abbot of the parent house and all the abbots of the minor houses are the combarbas od. co-heirs of the saint. (1.c.) An entire sub-tract in the Senchus Mor devoted to the Law of Fosterage, setting out with the greatest minuteness the rights and duties attaching to all parties when the children of another family were received for nurture and education. [241 sq]. This classed with Gossipred , religious Verwcltscft. [p. 242] [The same mother s milk given to children of different origin. Dies reminds one d. Mutterrecht und the rules flowing from it; but Maine noch unbekannt hiermit, it seems.] Literary Fosterage. [p. 242 sq.] D. Brehon lawyers selbst sind betrachtet by the English writers who have noticed them as a caste. Nach evidence d. Irish records jedoch anyone who went through a particular training might become a Brehon. Zur Zeit wo Ireland began to be examined by English observers, the art and knowledge der Brehon had become hereditary in certain families attached to or dependent on the Chiefs of particular tribes. Dieser selbe change has obviously occurred with a vast number of trades and professions in India, jetzt popularly called castes. Mit a native Indian schwer zu verstehen why z.B. a son should not succeed to the learning of a father, and consequently his office and duties. In d. States von Engl. Indien governed by native princes, it is still praktisch allgemeine rule that office is hereditary. Aber dies erkl rt nicht the growth of those castes which are definite sections of great populations. Nur eine einzige dieser castes really survives in India, that of the Brahmins u. it is strongly suspected that the whole literary theory of Caste, which is of Brahmin origin, is based on the existence of the Brahmin caste alone. Bei d. Irish gesehn wie all sorts of groups of men considered as connected through blood relationship ; so associations of kinsmen shading off into assemblages of partners and guild-brothers-; foster parentage, spiritual parentage, and preceptorship | (Teacher and pupil) taking their hue from natural paternity ecclesiastical organisation blending with tribal organisation. Gr ster Theil des Senchus Mor the largest Brehon law-tract handelt v. Distress. Es handelt sich hier um Procedur, die bei d. Rechtsanf ngen d. wichtigste. In Anfang d. Book IV des 1816 von Niebuhr disinterred manuscript of Gajus fragmentary u. imperfect account of the old Legis actions. Actio generally = Handlung, Vollbringung, That. (Cic. N. D. Deos spoliat motu et actione divina. actio vitae, id. Off. I, 5 (= vital action; ferner actiones = public functions or duties, wie actio consularis; dann: negotiation, deliberation wie: discessu consulum actio de pace sublata est etc; political measures or proceedings, addresses of the magistrates to the People. Nun kommen wir aber zum sense worin legis action: an action, suit, process with a defining genitive: action furti action for theft; auch mit de: actio de repetundis action (prosecution for refunding money extorted by magistrates). actionem alicui intendere, actionem instituere (bring an action agst somebody). Multis actiones (processes, suits) et res (the property in suit) peribant. Liv.) Daher allgemein: a legal formula or form of process (procedure) inde illa action: ope consilioque tuo, furturn aio factum esse. actiones Manilianae, forms relative to purchase and sale.) Dare alicui actionem , Permission to bring an action which was the office of the Pr tor. Rem agere ex jure, lege, causa etc to bring an action, to manage a cause or suit. Lege, respective legem agere, to proceed according to law, mode of executing law, to execute a sentence. Lege egit in hereditatem paternam ex heres filius. Cic. de Orat. I, 38) Bentham unterscheidet zwischen Substantive Law, the law declaring rights and duties, and Adjective Law, the rules wonach that law is administered. In lteren Zeiten rights and duties <were> rather the adjective of procedure als umgekehrt. Difficulty in such times not in conceiving what a man was entitled to, but in obtaining it; so that the method, violent or legal, by which an end was obtained, was of more consequence than the nature of the end itself.... D. wichtigste sehr lange Zeit the remedies . D. first dieser alten (Roman) actiones ist die: Legis Actio Sacramenti, the undoubted parent of all the Roman actions u. daher of most of the civil remedies now in use in the world. [sacra mentum in law: the sum which the parties to a suit at first deposited with the tresviri capitals, but for which they subsequently gave security to the praetor, so called because the sum deposited by the losing party was used for religious purposes, esp. for the sacra publica; or rather, perhaps, because the money was deposited in a sacred place. Festus. ea pecunia, quae in judicium venit in litibus, sacramentum a sacro. Qui petebat et qui infitiabatur, de aliis rebus item utrique quingenos aeris ad pontem deponebant, de aliis rebus item certo alio ligitimo numero assum; qui judicio vicerat, suum sacramentum c sacro auferebat, victi ad aerarium redibat. Varro.] Diese Actio sacramenti is a dramatisation of the Origin of Justice; 2 Bewaffnete M nner ringen mit einander, Pr tor geht vorbei, interposes to stop the contest; d. disputants state him their case, agree that he shall arbitrate; arrangirt dass der loser, ausser resigning the subject of the quarrel shall pay a sum of money to the umpire (the Pr tor )[p. 253] (Dies scheint rather Dramatisation of how law disputes were becoming a source of fees profit to lawyers! u. dies nennt Herr Maine, als a lawyer, the Origin Justice !) In dieser dramatisation the claimant holds a wand in his hand, der nach Gajus a spear repr sentirt, the emblem of the strong man armed, served as the symbol of property held absolutely and agst the world (rather the symbol of Gewalt als origin of Roman u. other property!) in Roman u. several Western societies. Quarrel between plaintiff u. defendant [assertions u. reassertions formal dialogue dabei] was a mere pretence among the Romans, long remained a reality in other societies u. survived in the Wager of Battle, der als English Institution erst finally abolished in our father s day . The disputants staked a sum of money the Sacramentum on the merits of their quarrel, and the stake went into the public exchequer. The money thus wagered, das erscheint in a large number of archaic legal systems, is the earliest representative of Court Fees.... [D. Legis Actio Sacramenti so conducted, u. dies wieder showing the intimate nature of the Lawyer dass d. Lex, d. geschriebne Recht, aber auch literally nicht d. Geist, sondern | der Buchstabe d. Gesetzes, d. Formel d. Wichtigste] So sagt Gajus: if you sued by Legis Actio for injury to your vines, and called them vines, you would fail; you must call them trees, because the Text of the 12 Tables speaks only of Trees. Ebenso enth lt d. alte collection of Teutonic legal formulas the Malberg Gloss provisions von genau derselben Natur. If you sue for a bull, you will miscarry if you describe him as a bull; you must give him his ancient juridical designation of leader of the herd . You must call the fore-finger the arrow finger, the goat the browser upon leeks . [255, 256] Flgt bei Gajus the Condictio [in Digests: demand for restitution]; er sagt sie sei gegr ndet, soll aber nur regulated wden sein dch 2 Roman Statutes of the 6th Century B.C., the Lex Silia u. the Lex Calpurnia; becam Namen von a notice die der Kl ger dem Beklagten gab in 30 Tagen vor Pr tor zu erscheinen, damit ein judex oder referee might be nominated. [condicere, to speak with, agree upon, decide, appoint, ansagen. condicere tempus et locum co undi . condicere rem , demand restitution, pecuniam alicui Ulp. I. Nach d. condictio the parties entered into sponsio u. restipulatio . Sponsio, a solemn promise or engagement, guarantee, security. sponsio appellatur omnis stipulatio promissioque. Dig. 50, 16, 7 .61 non foedere pax Caudina sed per sponsionem (by giving surety) facta est. (Liv.) Speciell in civil Suits, ein Agreement between 2 parties in a suit, dass der der den Process verliert should pay a certain sum to him who gains it. Sponsionem facere . (Cic.) Endlich: a sum of money deposited according to agreement, a stake (Einsatz beim Spiel, bei Wette, that which is laid down, as the amount of a wager etc.) Restipulatio. A counter-engagement or <counter->obligation (Cic.) restipulor to stipulate or engage in return.] Nachdem diese condictio gegeben, the parties entered into a sponsio and restipulatio , i.e. laid a formal wager (distinct from the so called Sacramentum) on the justice of their respective contentions. D. sum so staked always = of the amount in dispute, went in the end to the successful litigant, and not, like Sacramentum, to the State. [Hat ausserdem d. innern ironischen Sinne, dass die Parteien d. Processes dasselbe unsichre Hazardspiel treiben wie beim Wetten, ddch dies ein d. r m. jurisprudenz unbewusster Witz!] Gajus proceeds von der Condictio zur Manus Injectio u. Pignoris Capio, actiones legis die nichts mit modernem Begriff von actio gemein haben. Manus injectio ausdr cklich stated to have been originally the Roman mode of execution against the person of a judgment debtor; war the instrument der Cruelties prakticirt dch r m. Aristokratie on their defaulting plebejan debtors, gab so impetus to series of popular movements affecting the whole history of Roman commonwealth. D. Pignoris Capio war zuerst ein v llig extrajudicial proceeding. D. Person die es anwandte seized (beschlagnamte) in certain cases the goods of a fellow citizen, agst whom he had a claim, but against whom he had not instituted a suit. Dies zuerst beschr nkt these power of seizure auf soldiers against public officers bound to supply them with pay, horse, or forage; ditto auf seller of a beast for sacrifice against a defaulting purchaser; sp ter extended to demands for overdue arrears of public revenue. Etwas Achnliches in Plato s Legees, auch als remedy for breach of public duties connected with military service or religious observance. (Dies dem Maine verrathen von Post.). Gajus sagt dass d. Pignoris Capio could be resorted to in the absence of the Pr tor and generally of the person under liability, and also that it might be carried out even when the Courts were not sitting. [256-59] The Legis actio sacramenti assumes that the quarrel is at once referred to a present arbitrator; the Condictio, dass d. Referenz to the decision of an arbitrator nach 30 days; aber meantime the parties have entered into a separate wager on the merits of their dispute. Noch zu Cicero s Zeit, als condictio eine der most important Roman actions geworden, an independent penalty attached to the suitor in dieser Klage. Glaubt dass die Pignoris Capio, obgleich dies schon veraltet zur Zeit d. 12 Tables, taking forcible possession der moveable property des adversary And detain it till he submits. So in English Law Power of Distraint or Distress (womit connected als Remedy d. socalled Replevint) z.B. heut zu Tag landlord s right to seize the goods of his tenants for unpaid rent, and the right of the lawful possessor of land to take and impound stray beasts which are damaging his crops or soil. [261, 262] Im letztren Fall cattle kept bis satisfaction made for the injury. (l.c.) Aelter als Roman Conquest in Engnd the practice of Distress, of taking names, word erhalten im law-term withernam. [262, 63] Zur Zeit v. Henry III confined to certain specific claims u. wrongs. Damals: Person seizes the goods (almost always cattle) | der Person von der er sich benachtheiligt glaubt; treibt d. beasts to a pound (von angels< chsisch> pyndan), an enclosed piece of land reserved for the purpose, and generally open to the sky ... eine d. ltesten Institutionen Englands; the Village-Pound far older than the King s Bench, and probably than the Kingdom. While the cattle were on their way to the pound the owner had a limited right of rescue which the law recognised, but which he ran great risk in exercising. Once lodged within the enclosure, the impounded beasts, when the pound was uncovered, had to be fed by the owner and not by the distrainor; this rule only altered in the present reign. Wenn d. Eigner d. cattle altogether denied the distrainor s right to distrain, or refuse to release the cattle, on security being tendered to him, dann d. cattle owner might apply to the King s Chancery for a writ commanding the Sheriff to make replevin , or he might verbally complain himself to the Sheriff, who would then proceed at once to replevy . Repl vin (to), Spenser, to repl vy , replegio Law Latin, of re u. plevir or plegir, fr. to give a pledge; bdtet nach Johnson: to take back or set at liberty, upon security, anything seized; er citirt aus Hudibras: In d. action of Replevin, wenn d. Sache vor Gerichtshof kam, der owner des distrained cattle war der Kl ger u. der Distrainor was the defendant. Taking in withernam of Old English Law means, wenn d. distrainor dem Sheriff d. distrained cattle nicht seizen wollte od. es in distance out of his jurisdiction removed, so erhob dieser wegen Brechen of King s Peace, hue u. cry wider ihn u. seized von des distrainor s cattle double the value of the beasts which were not forthcoming; letztres taking in withernam . (l.c.) Dies seizure, rescue u. counterseizure urspr nglich disorderly proceeding which the law steps in to regulate. (l.c.) In d. Form of impounding, wo d. person distrained must feed the cattle (als Zeichen of deren continued ownership), Verbot f r distrainor to work them. Distress becomes a semi-orderly contrivance for extorting satisfaction. Blackstone hat bemerkt, that the modified exemption of certain classes of goods from distraint z.B. plough-oxen u. instruments of trade, urspr nglich nicht intended als kindness to owner, sondern weil ohne d. instruments of tillage or handicraft, the debtor could never pay his debt. (l.c ) D letzte u. auch historisch letzt entwickelte incident des proceeding ist: the King steps in, dch his deputy, den Sheriff; selbst wenn dieser obtains his view, he can do nothing unless the cattle owner is prepared with security that he will try the question between himself u. den distrainor in a Court of Justice; dann erst steps in the judicial Power of the Commonwealth; its jurisdiction acquired through the act of the Sheriff in restoring the cattle upon pledge given. D. distrainor has lost his material security, the cattle; the owner of the cattle has become personally bound; so both placed under a compulsion which drives them in the end to a judicial arbitration. [D. ganze Proceeding implies dass d. Power of State i.e. Court of Justice noch nicht so firmly settled, class people de prime abord submit to its judicial authority.] Fast alle Leges Barbarorum refer to Pignoratio od. distraint of goods. D. Lex Visigothorum verbietet es ausdr cklich; d. Lex Lombardorum, permits it after simple demand of payment. D. Salic Law nach d. neusten deutschen Autorit ten redigirt zwischen Tacitus Zeit u. d. Zeit d, Invasion des Roman Empire dch d. Franken, enth lt sehr genaue Bestimmungen die zuerst fully interpreted by Sohm. In diesem System Distress not yet a judicial remedy; ist noch an extrajudicial mode of redress, but it has been incorporated with a regular and highly complex procedure. Eine succession of notices to be given in solemn form dch d. complainant der Person ber die sich der would be dist<r>ainor beklagt u. whose property he proposes to seize. Er kann nicht saisiren bevor er jene person vor d. Volksgericht geladen u. bevor d. Popular Officer dieses Gerichts, der Thunginus, pronuncirt hat eine Formel licensing distraint. Dann erst kann er distress auf seinen Gegner machen. Entsprechend eine Ordon<n>anz von Canut that no man is to take names unless he has demanded 3 times in the Hundred; erh lt er d. 3t mal keine justice, so geht er zum Shire-gemot; d. Shire appoints him a 4th time, u. when that fails, he may take the distress. [269, 270] D. fragment of the system which has survived in the English Common Law (and it is to this that it probably owes its survival) was from the first pre-eminently a remedy by which the lord compelled his tenants to render him their services. Was archaischer im engl. Gesetz als in den leges barbarorum: notice of the intention to distrain was never in England essential to the legality of distress, obgleich d. Statute-law renders it it necessary to make a sale of the distrained property legal; ebenso im ltesten state d. Common Law, obgleich distraint sometimes followed a proceeding in the lord s Court, yet it did not necessarily presuppose or require it. [270-71] D. Frankish procedure was completely at the disposal of the complainant. | it is a procedure regulating extrajudicial redress. Beobachtet der complainant the proper forms, so ist the part of the Court in licensing seizure purely passive .... When the defendant submitted or was unsuccessful in attacking the proceedings of the other side, he paid not only the original debt but various additional penalties entailed by neglect to comply with previous notices to discharge it. Dies founded on the assumption that plaintiffs are always in the right u. defendants always in the wrong, whd the modern principle compels the complainant to establish at all events a prima facie case. Fr her the man most likely to be in the right the man who faced the manifold risks attending the effort to obtain redress, to complain to the Popular Assembly, to cry for justice to the king sitting in the gate.... In einem Fall, wo King Kl ger, d. Presumption dass Kl ger in the right lang aufrecht erhalten in engl. Recht u. hence the obstinate dislike of (Engl.) lawyers to allowing prisoners to be defended by Counsel. [271-73] Galus sagt v. d. Legis Actiones im allgemeinen dass sie in discredit fielen, weil wegen der excessive subtlety der ancient lawyers things came to such a pass that he who committed the smallest error failed altogether. Ebenso Blackstone remarks on English Law of Distress: The many particulars which attend the taking of a distress used formerly to make it a hazardous kind of proceeding; for, if any one irregularity was committed, it vitiated the whole. [Diese excessive technicality of ancient law zeigt Jurisprudenz as feather of the same bird, als d. religi sen Formalit ten z.B. bei Augur s etc, od. d. Hokus Pokus des medicine man der savages!] Nach Sohm the power of seizing a man s property extrajudicially in satisfaction of your demand mit grossen risks verbunden; ging der complainant who sought to distress nicht dch alle acts u. words required by the law with the most rigorous accuracy so, besides failing in his object, incurred a variety of penalties, which could be just as harshly exacted as his own original demand. [273, 74] Ha<u>ptsache bei d. Barbaren to compel the appearance of the defendant and his submission to jurisdiction, was damals noch keineswegs selbstverst ndlich. In d. Fr nkischen Gesetz, wenn in gewissen cases auch selbe von Anfang an bis judgment judicially tried, so noch nicht the judgment by its own force operative. Hat der defendant ausdr cklick erkl rt to obey it, the Court or royal deputy, on being properly summoned, will execute it; but if no such promise has been made, the plaintiff has no remedy except an application to the King in person. Sp ter sobald d. Franks settled in Roman Empire, the royal deputy will execute the judgment ohne promise des defendant to submit. In England dieser change u. d. Macht der Courts greatly due to the development of royal justice at the expense of popular justice. Doch savoured Engl. judicial proceedings noch long of the old practices. Hence on the smallest provocation the King constantly took the lands of the defendant into his hands or seized his goods, simply to compel or perfect his submission to the royal jurisdiction. [See bei Walter Scott, dass ein Mann wegen Schulden eingesperrt wird wegen d. Fiction seiner contempt of the King.] D. survival of distress in Engld den Herrn landlords zu lieb. The modern dem Urspr nglichen ganz wiedersprechde theory of distress: ist that a landlord is allowed to distrain because x by the nature of the case he is always compelled to give his tenant credit, and that he can distrain without notice because every man is supposed to know when his rent is due. Urspr nglich distress treated as willful breach of the peace; ausser wo it was connived at so far as it served to compel the submission of defendants to the jurisdiction of courts. Ueber H lfte d. Senchus Mor taken up with Lair of Distress. Senchus Mor pretends to be the Code of Irish Law prepared unter the influence of St. Patrick upon the introduction of Christianity in Ireland. Er gleicht sehr d. Teutonic Laws u. English Common Law. Putting in a pound kommt noch darin von d. Speciality drin: If the defendant or debtor were a person of chieftain grade, it was necessary not only to give notice, but also to fast upon him. The fasting upon him consisted in going to his residence and waiting there a certain time without | food. If the plaintiff did not within a certain time receive satisfaction for his claim, or a pledge therefore, he forthwith, accompanied by a law-agent, witnesses, and others, seized his distress etc. [p. 280-81]. Cf. Senchus Mor. 1st vol. remarks of the Editor.) Erlaubte d. Schuldner nicht his cattle to go to pound u. gab er sufficient pledge (e.g. his son, or some article of value, to the creditor, that he would within a certain time try the right to the distress by law, the creditor was bound to receive such pledge. If he did not go to law, as he so undertook, the pledge became forfeited for the original debt. [p. 282]. [Noch heut zu Tag bei distress in Oudh d. creditor landlord takes ausser cattle (dies vor allem etc) auc<h> Personen als Sklaven. See The Garden of India von Irwin.] [Im Wesentlichen d. Irische law hier mehr identisch mit d. Leges Barbarorum als mit d. Englischen.] The distress of the Senchus Mor is not, like the Distress of the English Common Law, a remedy confined in the main to demands of the lord on his tenants; as in the Salic u. andren Leges Barbarorum it extends to breaches of contract u., so far as the Brehon law is already known, it would appear to be the universal method of prosecuting claims of all kinds. [p. 283] The Irish stay of proceedings (Dithim) entspricht einigen provisions in d. leges barbarorum. In einigen derselben when a person s property is about to be seized he makes a mimic resistance; im Salic law he protests against the injustice of the attempt; im Ripuarian law he goes through the formality of standing at his door with a drawn sword. Thereupon the seizure is interrupted u. opportunity given for enquiring into the regularity of the proceedings etc. Mit d. English law hat d. Irische speciell gemein was ganz absent from the Teutonic procedures the impounding , the taking in withernam u. namtlich dass nicht required assistance od. permission from any Court of Justice. Dies nur im Lombardic law (unter den leges barbarorum) (l.c.) Ferner u. dies in England erst dch Statute Law eingef hrt im Brehon Law the seizure of cattle nicht nur als a method of satisfaction, sondern it provides for their forfeiture in discharge of the demand for which they are taken. Sohm sucht zu beweisen dass d. Fr kischen Volksgerichte nicht ihre eignen Dekrete exequirten; versprach der defendant to submit to an award, the local deputy of the King might be required to enforce it, aber, when no such promise, the plaintiff was forced to petition the King in person u. in d. lteren Zeiten, vor full development der kgl. Gewalt, Courts of justice existed less for the purpose of doing right generally than for the purpose of supplying an alternative to the violent redress of wrong.... The Norse literature (see Mr. Dasent) shows that perpetual fighting and perpetual litigation may go on side by side, and that a highly technical procedure may be scrupulously followed at a time when homicide is an everyday occurrence.... Contention in Court takes the place of contention in arms, but only gradually takes its place.... In our day, when a wild province is annexed to the British Indian Empire, there is ... a rush of suitors to the Courts which are immediately established.... The men who can no longer fight go to law instead ... Hasty appeals to a judge succeed hurried quarrels, and hereditary law-suits take the place of ancestral blood-feuds. [288, 289] Im Allgem. probable that, in proportion as Courts grow stronger, they first take under their control the barbarous (aber d. Sache bleibt ja, auf das legale bersetzt) practice of making reprisals on a wrongdoer by seizing his property, and ultimately they absorb it into their own procedure. D. Irish Law of Distress offenbar in Zeit wo action of Courts of justice feeble and intermittent. Statt dieser d. law agent (Brehon lawyer) d. grosse Rolle spielend. (l.c.) The Irish used the remedy of distress, because they knew no other remedy, u. d. Hunde von Engl ndern made it a capital felony (mit Todesstrafe) in an Irishman to follow the only law with which he | was acquainted. (294 Cp. Spenser. View of the State of Ireland. ) Nay, those very subtleties of Old English Law which, as Blackstone says, made the taking of distress a hazardous sort of proceeding to the civil distrainor, might bring an Irishman to the gallows, if in conscientiously attempting to carry out the foreign law he fell into the smallest mistake. (l.c. Also gehangen, wenn er seinem native law nach handelte, ditto gehangen wenn er sich dem aufgezwungnen englischen zu adoptiren suchte!) Mit Bezug auf d. fasting upon the debtor heisst es in Senchus Mor: Notice precedes every distress in the case of the inferior grades except it be by persons of distinction or upon persons of distinction. Fasting precedes distress in their case. He who does not give a pledge to fasting is an evader of all; he who disregards all things shall not be paid by God or Man. Dies, wie Whitley Stokes zuerst pointed out, diffused over the whole East, entspricht dem Hindoo sitting dharna . (Cf. Strange: Hindoo Law.) Heute noch sehr striking examples davon in Persien, wo a man intending to enforce payment of a demand by fasting begins by solving some barley at his debtor s door and sitting down in the middle. (l.c.) D. Wort dharna soll exact equivalent sein von Roman capio , and meaning detention or arrest . Soll VIII, 49 bei Manu vorkommen. (l.e.) Im Vyavahara-Mayukha, Brihaspiti is cited as enumerating, among the lawful modes of compulsion by which the debtor can be made to pay, confining his wife, his son, or his cattle, or watching constantly at his door. See Lord Teigmouth s description (in Forbes Oriental Memoirs II, 25) d. form dieses watching constantly at the door in British India vor Ende d. 18. Jhdts.) In einem Law of Alfred heissts: Let the man who knows his foe to be homesitting fight not before he have demanded justice of him. If he have power to beset his foe and besiege him in his house, let him keep there for 7 days but not attack him if he will remain indoors. If then, after seven days, he be willing to surrender and give up his weapons, let him be kept safe for thirty days, and let notice be given to his kinsmen and friends. But if the plaintiff have no power of his own, let him ride to the Ealdorman, and, if the Ealdorman will not aid him, let him ride to the King before he fights. Schliesslich kommt dann a provision that if the man who is homesitting be realy shut up in his house with the complainant s wife, daughter, or sister, he may be attacked and killed without ceremony. (Dies letztere auch in 324. Code P nal des Herrn Napoleon .... ) The Anglo-Saxon rule is to be enforced by the civil power, the Ealdorman or the King; the Hindoo Brahminical rule by the fear of punishment in another world. [303, 4] Sitting dharna placed under the ban of the Brit, law, still common in the Native Indian States, u. dort hpts chlich an expedient resorted to by soldiers to obtain arrears of pay, wie pignoris capio beim Gajus surviving in 2 cases, wovon einer the default of a military paymaster. [304, 5] In Lecture XI The Early History of the Settled Property of Married Women hat comfortable Maine noch keine Bekanntscft mit Mutterrecht (Bachofen etc.) gemacht, hatte auch Morgan s Buch noch nich<t> f r elegante Verm blg seinerseits. A man of continuous servile occupation in a Roman household wde dch Usucapio (was sp ter Prescriptio) a slave of the paterfamilias. Sp ter d. ordinary Roman marriage a voluntary conjugal society, terminable at the pleasure of either side by divorce. Nach dem Ancient Irish Law women had some power of dealing with their own property without the consent of their husbands, and this was one of the institutions expressly declared by the [English blockbeaded] Judges to be illegal at the beginning of thee 17th century. Die Brahminical Indian Lawyers haben ganz | ausgearbeitet (u. dies beginnt fast with Manu) the doctrine of Spiritual Benefit , as they call it. Inasmuch as the condition of the dead could be ameliorated by proper expiatory rites, the property descending or devolving on a man came to be regarded by them partly as a fund for paying the expenses of the ceremonial by which the soul of the person from whom the inheritance came could be redeemed from suffering or degradation, and partly as a reward for the proper performance of the sacrifices. [332, 333] Ebenso Catholic Church: the first and best destination of a dead man s goods to purchase masses for his soul, u. out of these views grew the whole testamentary and intestate jurisdiction of the Ecclesiastical Courts. Im Mitakshara heissts: The wealth of a regenerate man is designed for religious uses, and a woman s succession to such property is unfit because she is not competent to the performance of religious rites. [332, 33] D. Gunst der indischen Gesetzgebung f r d. Frauen, die sich bis jetzt in dem Stridhan (settled property of a married woman), incapable of alienation by her husband, u. ebenso darin verspricht, dass d. Habe der Frau auf d. T chter od. die female members ihrer family bergeht (cf. Strange: Hindoo Law ) etc alles dies von Herrn Maine nicht richtig gedeutet, weil ilim alle Einsicht in gens u. daher auch urspr ngliche Vererbung in female, nicht male, line of descent abgeht. Der Esel sagt selbst mit welchen gef rbten Brillen er sieht: Among the Aryan [the devil take this Aryan cant!] sub-races, the Hindoos may be as confidently asserted as the Romans to have had their society organized as a collection of patriarchally governed families. [Aus Niebuhr konnte er schon wissen, dass d. r m. family noch eingeh llt in der gens, selbst nachdem sie in ihrer specif. Form mit d. patria potestas ausgebildet.] If, then, (a nice If only resting upon Maine s own confident assertion ) then, (dies then Pecksnifflan), at any early period, [Maine transports his patriarchal Roman family into the very beginning of things] the married woman had among the Hindoos her property altogether enfranchised from her husband s control [ enfranchised , that is to say, from Maine s confident assertion ], it is not easy to give a reason why the obligations of the family despotism [a principal pet-doctrine of blockheaded John Bull to read in original despotism ] were relaxed in this one particular. Maine citirt folgende Stelle aus d. treatise Mitakshara u. zwar Stelle schon citirt von Sir Thomas Strange Hindu Law (see Daselbst t. I, p. 26-32) in Strange s Buch (obgleich schon 1830 publicirt citirbar als 2nd edit. seines Werks: Elements of Hindu Law , enth lt viel vollst ndigere Quellenangaben u. Auseinandersetzg ber diesen Punkt. Man ersieht ferner aus dem was Strange aus d. Quellen angiebt, das schon im Mitakshara, nicht zu sprechen von sp teren Hindu juristischen Commentaren, ihr Verfasser den Ursprung der Stridhana nicht mehr versteht u. sich selbe ganz so falsch rationalistisch plausibel zu machen sucht, wie etwa d. r m. Juristen aus Cicero s Zeit ihnen unverst ndliche altr mische (f r sie archaische ) Rechtsgebr uche od. Formeln. Eine solche rationalistische Erkl rung ist es z.B., wenn in Mitakshara d. fee der Braut what is given her in her bridal procession, upon the final ceremony, when the marriage already contracted and solemnized, is about to be consummated, the bride having hitherto remained with her mother (Strange, t. I, p. 29); Strange bemerkt of this domi-ductio, this bringing of the bride home, which, with the Hindoo, is a consequence only of the antecedent contract, that, among the Romans, it was an ingredient wanting to its completion; till when, the bride was a sponsa only; becoming uxor statim atque ducta est, quarrivis nondum in cubiculum mariti venerit ; und f hrt Strange fort: The fee of a Hindu wife has moreover this anomaly attending it, | that, upon her death, it descends in a course of inheritance peculiar to herself. Diese anomaly ist nur fragmentarisches, auf bestimmten Theil d. Verm gens reducirte, survival d. alten normalen rule, die gegr ndet auf descent der gens in der female line, der primitiven. So verh lt es sich allzuerst mit den Anomalien in Recht etc. (In d. Sprache d. Ausnahmen auch allzuerst Ueberbleibsel d. lteren, ursphinglicheren) D. alte Norm erscheint in ver nderten relativ modernen Zustand als Anomalie , als unverst ndliche Ausnahme. S mtliche indische Rechtsquellen u. Commentare verfasst, nachdem d. descent in female line schon seit lange bergegangen in descent in male line. (Aus Strange ferner ersichtbar, dass in verschiednen Theilen Indiens d. Anomalie mehr od. minder vollst ndiges Ueberbleibsel.) Die von Maine citirte Stelle aus Mitakshara lautet: That which is given (to the wife) by the father, the mother, the husband, or a brother, at the time of the wedding, before the nuptial fire. Aber d. compiler of the Mitakshara adds a proposition not found elsewhere: also property which she may have acquired by inheritance, purchase, partition, seizure, or finding, is denominated by Manu and the others woman s property. (Mit. XI. 2) [p. 322] Hier ber heftige controversies unter d. Brahminical commentators. U. a. erkl rt sich d. pfiffige Maine d. Sache wie folgt: Unter d. Aryan Communities findet man the earliest traces of the separate property of women in the widely diffused ancient institution known as Bride-Price. Part of this price, which was paid by the bridegroom either at the wedding or the day after it, went to the bride s father as compensation (!) for the Patriarchal or Family authority which was transferred to the husband, but another part went to the bride herself and was generally enjoyed by her separately find kept apart from her husband s property. It further appears that under a certain number of Aryan customs the proprietary rights of other kinds which women slowly acquired were assimilated to their rights in their portion of the Bride-Price, probably (!) as being the only existing type of women s property. (324) Richtig dagegen was Maine sagt: There are in fact clear indications of a sustained general effort on the part of the Brahminical writers on mixed law and religion, to limit the privileges of women which they seem to have found recognized by older authorities. . In Rom selbst die Stellung d. patria potestas vis- -vis der Frau exaggerated in opposition to the old contrary tradition.) D. Sauerei der Brahminen gipfelt in d. Suttee or widow burning. Dass diese practice malus usus , nicht law sagt schon Strange, da sich bei Manu u. other high authorities nichts davon finde; dieser as the condition on which the widow may aspire to Heaven have simply required that she should, on the decease of her husband, live a life of seclusion, privation, and decency. (Post, p. 245) Im Shaster auch noch d. suttee (Strange l.c. p. 241) nur recommended. Aber sich oben, wic d. Brahminen selbst d. Sache erkl ren ( property designed for religious uses ) u. d. Interesse der Burschen, denen sie d. Nachlassenseft zuw lzen (die daf r have to pay the expenses of the ceremonial). Strange spricht ausdr cklich of designing Brahmins u. interested relatives [l.c. p. 239] N mlich: the wife surviving her husband, succeeds as heir to him, in default of male issue. (Strange, t. I, p. 236) Ausserdem her claim to be maintained by his (the defunct husband s) representatives. (l.c. p. 246) Mit Ausnahme der Stridhana , die sie in her own right besitzt, geht das was sie von ihrerem husband ererbt, (sofern dieser kein male issue hatte) ber to her husband s heirs, not the immediate ones merely, but the whole living at the time. (p. 247) Hier d. Sache klar: d. suttee einfacher religi ser Mord, um d. Erbscft theils f r religi se Feierlichkeiten (f r d. Verstorbnen) in H nde d. Brahmanen (geistlichen) zu bringen, theils der dch d. brahmin. Gesetzgbg an Beerbung d. Witwe interessirten gens, nearer family des husband. Hence d. violence u. infamies, meist von Seiten der connexions to bring the widow to Flammentod. (239, 240 Strange, t. I) Herr Maine selbst f gt dem, was man schon bei Strange findet nichts zu. Und selbst | wenn er generalisirt, dass: The Hindoo laws, religious and civil, have for centuries been undergoing transmutation, development, and, in some [! Maine always mild when speaking of clergy and lawyers! and higher class people generally!] points, depravation at the hands of successive Brahminical expositors. So weiss dies Strange auch, setzt aber hinzu, dass d. Kirchenpfaffen es anderswo nicht besser machten! Das ganze Primitive fasst d. englische Philister Maine auf as the despotism of groups over the members composing them [p. 327]! Damals hatte Bentham n mlich in d. Urzeiten noch nicht die nach Maine merkw rdig die Neuzeit repr sentirende Formel u. Treibwerk d. modernen Gesetzgebg erfunden: The greatest happiness of the greatest number . O Du Pecksniff! Wir haben gesehn, dass wenn der Mann ohne issue stirbt, the widow comes in for her life (diese Herabsetzung auf tenure for life auch erst sp ter, wie genaue Musterung des von Strange angef hrten Quellen zeigt) before the collateral relatives (of her husband, not her own, was Maine zu sagen vergisst; ihre eignen Verwandten hatten beim suttee bloss d. Interesse, dass sie sich religi s bew hrte). At the present moment, marriages among the upper classes of Hindoo being very commonly infertile, a very considerable portion of the wealthiest Indian province (Bengal) is in the hands of widows as tenants for life. But it was exactly in Bengal proper that the English, on entering India, found the Suttee not merely an occasional, but a constant and almost universal practice with the wealthier classes. [Strange, dessen Buch 45 jahr lter als das des Maine, u. der Chief Justice of Madras gewesen war, u. 1,798 entered upon the administration of justice, at the Presidency of Madras (l.c. Preface VIII) wie er selbst uns in Vorrede seines Buchs erz hlt, sagt daggen mit Bezug nat rlich auf d. Pr sidentschft v. Madras: It (the custom of Suttee) is confined pretty much to the lower classes, a proof that it has no deeper root in the religion, than it has in the law of the country. T. I, p. 240] and, as a rule, it was only the childless widow, and never the widow with minor children, who burnt herself on her husband s funeral pyre. There is no question that there was the closest connection between the law and the religious custom, and the widow was made to sacrifice herself in order that her tenancy for life might be got out of the way. The anxiety of her family [Umgekehrt: of her husband s family, die erbte; nur die weiblichen Glieder ihrer family waren interessirt in her Stridhana; im brigen konnte ihre family nur dch religi sen Fanatismus u. Einfluss der Brahminen interessirt sein] that the rite should be performed, which seemed so striking to the first English observers of the practice, was, in fact, explained by the coarsest motives; but the Brahmins [ausser d. ecclesiastical Brahmins could, namentlich in d. higher classes, d. Verwandtscft d. Mannes musste es gross<t>entheils aus weltlichen Brahminen bestehen!] who exhorted her to the sacrifice were undoubtedly (! naiver Maine!) influenced by a purely professional dislike to her enjoyment of property. The ancient [i.e. dies auch modificirtes survival vorn Archaischen] rule of the civil law, which made her tenant for life, could not be got rid of, but it was combated by the modern institution which made it her duty to devote herself to a frightful death. (335, 336) Obgleich Suttee eine Neuerung, v. d. Brahminen eingef hrt, hindert dies nicht, dass in d. Brahminenk pfen d. Neuerung selbst wieder auf Reminiscenz auf lterer Barbarei (Begraben d. Mannes mit seinem Eigenthum) beruhte! Namentlich in Pfaffenk pfen revive d. ur ltesten Greuel aber ihrer Naiven Urspr nglichkeit beraubt. | Wenn Herr Maine sagt: There can be no serious question that, in its ultimate result, the disruption of the Roman Empire was very unfavourable to the personal and proprietary liberty of women , so dies verdammt cum grano salis zu nehmen. Er sagt: The place of women under the new system (d. Barbaren) when fully organised (d.h. nach Entwicklg d. Feudalwesens) was worse than it was under Roman law, and would have been very greatly worse but for the efforts of the Church so dies abgeschmackt, considering dass d. Church den divorce (r m.) aufhob od. so viel als m glich erschwerte u. berhaupt d. Ehe, obgleich sacrament, als S nde behandelte. Mit Bezug auf proprietary right hatte d. G terschleichde Kirche allerdings Interesse den Weibern einiges zu sichern (umgekehrtes Interesse wie die Brahminen!) Herr Maine in Lecture XII theilt d. erstaunten Europa mit, dass England d. Privileg d. s. dort19 g. Analytical Jurists besitzt, wovon d. bedeutendsten Jeremy Bentham u. John Austin. Austin s: Province of Jurisprudence Determined has long been one of the higher classbooks in this University. (345) (andre lectures des Kerl more recently given to the world.) Seine Vorg nger Bentham u. Hobbes. Folgendes d. grosse Entdeckung selbigen John Austin s: If (says the immense John Austin) a determinate human superior, not in the habit of obedience to a like superior, receive habitual obedience from the bulk of a given society, that determinate superior is Sovereign in that society, and the society, including the superior, is a society political and independent. To that superior the other members of the society are subject; or on that determinate superior the other members of the society are dependent. The position of its other members towards that determinate superior is a state of subjection or a state of dependence. The mutual relation which subsists between that superior and them, may be styled the relation of Sovereign and Subject, or the Relation of Sovereignty and Subjection (citirt bei Maine [p. 348, 349]) D. determinate human superior so der Sovereign is an individual or a collegiate Sovereign (diese Phrase f r single person or group auch eine Erfindg d. Austin) (349) Herr Maine erkl rt d. Aussichten d. Austin weiter dahin: If the community be violently or voluntarily divided into a number of separate fragments, then, as soon as each fragment has settled down (perhaps after an interval of anarchy) into a state of equilibrium, the Sovereign will exist and will be discoverable in each of the now independent portions. [349, 350] Das gemeinsame Charaktermal aller shapes of dr Sove<r>eignty whether the Sovereign a person or a combination of persons ist, dass er has* the possession of irresistible force, not necessarily exerted but capable of being exerted. Ist d. Sovereign a single person, so nennt ihn Austin a Monarch; if a small group Oligarchy; if a group of considerable dimensions, an Aristocracy; if very large and numerous, a Democracy. Austin hates the name of Limited Monarchy , in his days more fashionable than now, u. d. Government of Great Britain he classes with Aristocracies. Was alle forms of Sovereignty gemein haben is the power (but not necessarily the will) to put compulsion without limit on suijects or fellow-subjects. (350) Wo kein solcher sovereign erkennbar Anarchie. The question of determining his (the Sovereign s) character [in a given society] is always a question of fact ... never a question of law or morals. (l.c.) D. Sovereign must be a determinate human superior. Besteht er aus mehren Personen, so he must be a number of persons capable of acting in a corporate or collegiate capacity ... since the Sovereign must effect his exertions of power, must issue | his orders, by a definite exercise of his will. The possession of physical power unentbehrliches Merkmal. The bulk of the society must obey the superior who is to be called Sovereign. Not the whole of the Society, for in that case sovereignty would be impossible, but the bulk, the large majority, must obey. The Sovereign must receive an habitual obedience from the bulk of the community. Ferneres characteristic desselben: is immunity from the control of every other human superior. (l.c.) [Dies d. Grundtext nach, wie Maine selbst zugiebt, v. Austin, wie so weit damit identisch, von Bentham aus Hobbes (Leviathan: Ch. De Cive, first published in Latin, in the Elementa Philosophiae)] Aber sagt Maine: Hobbes Object war politisch; das des Austin strictly scientific (355) [Scientific! doch nur in d. Bdtg, dies dies Wort im Kopf of blockheadish British lawyers haben kann, wo altmodische Classification, Definition etc als scientific gilt. Vgl. brigens I) Machiavelli u. 2) Liuguet.] Ferner: Hobbes will origin of Staat (Government u. Sovereignty) ergr nden; dies Problem existirt f r lawyer Austin nicht; f r ihn dies fact gewissermassen a priori vorhanden. Dies sagt Maine [p. 356]. D. ungl ckliche Maine selbst hat keine Ahnung davon, dass da wo Staaten existiren (after the primitive Communities etc) i.e. eine politisch organisirte Gesellschaft, der Staat keineswegs d. Prinz ist; er scheint nur so. Herr Maine bemerkt ber Austin s Ausgabe der Hobbes schen force theory: If all the members of the community had equal physical strength and were unarmed, the power would be a mere result from the superiority of numbers; but, as a matter of fact, various causes, of which much the most important have been the superior physical strength and the superior armanents of portions of the community have conferred on numerical minorities the power of applying irresistible pressure to the individuals who make up the community as a whole. Die assertion which the great Analytical Jurists (Bentham u. Austin) cannot be charged with making, but which some of their disciples go very near to hazarding, that the Sovereign person or group actually wields the stored-up force of society by an uncontrolled exercise of will, is certainly never in accordance with fact. The vast mass of infuences, which we may call for shortness moral, [dies moral zeigt wie wenig Maine von der Sache versteht; so weit these influences (economical before everything else) moral modus of existence besitzen, ist dies immer ein abgeleiteter, secund rer modus u. nie das prius] perpetually shapes, limits, or forbids the actual direction of the forces of society by its Sovereign. (359) The Austinian view of Sovereignty really is that it is the result of Abstraction [Maine ignores das viel Tiefere: dass d. scheinbare supreme selbst ndige Existenz des Staats selbst nur scheinbar u. dass er in allen seinen Formen eine exerescence of society is; wie seine Erscheinung selbst erst auf einer gewissen Stufe der gesellschaftlichen Entwicklung vork mmt, so verschwindet sie wieder, sobld d. Gesellscft eine bisher noch nicht erreichte Stufe erreicht hat. Erst Losreissung der Individualit t von d. urspr nglich nicht despotischen Fesseln (wie blockhead Maine es versteht), sondern befriedige den u. gem thlichen Banden der Gruppe, der primitiven Gemeinwesen, damit d. einseitige Herausarbeitung der Individualit t. Was aber die wahre Natur der letzteren zeigt sich erst wenn wir d. Inhalt d. Interessen dieser letzteren analysiren. Wir finden dann, dass diese Interessen selbst wieder gewissen gesellscftlichen Gruppen gemeinsame u. sie charakterisirende Interessen, Klasseninteressen etc sind, also diese Individualit t selbst Klassen- etc Individualit t ist u. diese in letzter Instanz haben alle konomische Bedingungen zur Basis. Auf diesen als Basen baut sich der Staat auf u. setzt sie voraus.] It is arrived at by throwing aside all the characteristics and attributes of Government and (!) Society except one, and by connecting all forms of political superiority together through their common possession of force. [Das ist nicht der Grundfehler; dieser | ist, dass d. political superiority, whatever its peculiar shape, and whatever the ensemble of its elements, is taken als etwas ber d. Gesellschaft stehendes, auf sich selbst beruhendes.] The elements neglected in the process are always important, sometimes of extreme importance, for they consist of all the elements controlling human action exceptforce directly applied or directly apprehended. [Z.B. die bessere Bewaffnung ist schon ein direct auf Fortschritt in d. Productionsmitteln (diese fallen z.B. bei Jagd u. Fischfang direct zusammen mit Zerst rungsmitteln, Kriegsmitteln) ber hendes Element.] but the operation of throwing them aside for purposes of classification is ... perfectly legitimate. (359) We reject in the process of abstraction by which the conception of Sovereignty is reached ... the entire history of each community ... the mode in which the result has been arrived at. Seine flache Kritik, die er unter zum Theil richtig klingender Phraseologie verbirgt, windet sich ab erstens in folgender Phrase: It is its history (des Gemeinwesens), the entire mass of its historical antecedents, which in each community determines how the Sovereign shall exercise or forbear from exercising his irresistible coercive power, [p. 360] aber these ganze Geschichte 1 st sich bei Maine in socalled moral elements auf, denn er f hrt wieder, als either Jurist od. Ideolog unmittelbar fort: All that constitutes this the whole enormous aggregate of opinions, sentiments, beliefs, superstitions, and prejudices of all kinds, hereditary and acquired, some produced by institutions and some by the constitution of human nature is rejected by the Analytical Jurists. And thus it is that, so far as the restrictions contained in their definition of Sovereignty are concerned, the Queen and Parliament of our own country might direct all weakly children to be put <to> death or establish a system of lettres de cachet (p. 360) (such as the English now have established by their coercion bill in Irld. Dies geschrieben Juni 1881) [Gutes Beispiel d. halbverr ckte Iwan IV. Whd w tliend gegen Bojaren u. auch gegen rabble in Moskau, sucht er, u. muss er, sich halten als Vertreter d. Bauerninteressen.] Daggen werden d. assertions des Austin self evident propositions , sobld man weiss dass in his system the determination of Sovereignty ought to precede the determination of Law , it being once understood that the Austinian conception of Sovereignty has been reached through mentally uniting all forms of Government in a group by conceiving them to be stripped of every attribute except coercive force , and (hier zeigt sich wieder der Eselsfuss) when it is steadily born<e> in mind that the deductions from an abstract principle are never from the nature of the case completely exemplified in facts. Weitere Dogmen des Austin: Jurisprudence is the science of Positive Law. Positive Laws are Commands, addressed by Sovereigns to their Subjects, imposing a Duty, or condition of obligedness, or obligation, on those Subjects, and threatening a Sanction, or Penalty, in the event of disobedience to Command. A Right is the faculty or power conferred by the Sovereign on certain members of the community to draw down the sanction on a fellow-subject violating a Duty. Alle diese kindischen Trivialit ten H chste Obrigkeit ist wer d. Macht hat zu zwingen, Positive Gesetze sind Befehle der Obrigkeit an ihre Unterthanen; sie legt dadurch diesen Unterthanen Verpflichtungen auf, u. dies ist Pflicht, u. droht mit Strafe f r Ungehorsam gegen d. Befehl; Recht ist die Macht welche d. Obrigkeit gewissen Gliedern der Gesellscft bertr gt, pflichtwidrig handelnde Gesellscftsglieder zu strafen dies Kindische, u. viel mehr kann selbst ein Hobbes aus der blossen obrigkeitlichen Gewaltstheorie nicht herausklauben dies von John Austin ernsthaft doctrinair gepredigte nennt Maine eine Procedur der analytischen Juristen, die closely analog sei mit der in Mathematik u. d. Politischen Oekonomie befolgten u. strictly scientifick ! | Alles dreht sich hier nur um d. formelle Seite, die nat rlich f r einen Juristen berall d. Hauptsache. Sovereigntey, for the purposes of Austin s system, has no attribute but force, and consequently the view here taken of law , obligation , u. right is a view of them regarded exclusively as products of coercive force. The sanction (penalty) thus becomes the primary and most important member of series of notions and gives its colour to all the others . Niemand, sagt Maine, wd es schwer finden dies zuzugeben ( allowing ) that laws have the character given to them by Austin, so far as such laws have proceeded from format Legislatures. (l.c. ) Aber manche Personen protestiren dagegen. Z.B. with regard to the customary law of all countries which have not included their law in Codes, and specially the English Common Law. (l.c.) The way in which Hobbes and he (Austin, the great Pompejus!) bring such bodies of rules as the Common Law under their system by insisting on a maxim which is of vital importance to it: Whatever the Sovereign permits, he commands [p. 363] Until customs are enforced by Courts of Justice, they are merely positive morality , rules enforced by opinion, but, as soon as Courts of Justice enforced them, they become commands of the Sovereign, conveyed through the Judges who are his delegates or deputies. [Hier Austin ohne es zu wissen (sieh oben Sohm p. 155-59) hat als engl. Jurist d. engl. fact in Knochen, dass d. norm nn. K nige in Englel dch ihre norm nn. courts of justice erzwungen (Aenderungen in Rechtsverh ltnissen), die sie auf legislativem Weg nicht h tten erzwingen k nnen] D. Herr Maine erkl rt dies weiter: They command (d. Sovereigns) what they permit, because, being by the assumption possessed of uncollfrollable force, they could innovate without limit at any moment. The Common Law consists of their commands because they can repeal or alter or re-state it at pleasure. Law is (by Austin) regarded as regulated force. Der comfortable Maine glaubt: The one doctrine of this school of jurists which is repugnant to laywers would lose its air of paradox if an assumption were made which, in itself theoretically unobjectionable (!), manifestly approximates to practical truth as the course of history proceeds the assumption that what the Sovereign might (!) alter, but does not alter, he commands. Dies d. Mainesche Ausgabe von Hobbes u. his little man Austin. Dies blosse scholastische Spielerei. D. Frage ist what he might alter . Nehmen wir selbst etwas juristisch Formelles. Laws , ohne abgeschafft zu werden, fallen in desuetude . Da positive laws commands des sovereign, so bleibben sie sein command, so lange sie existiren. Da he not alters them he might do so, because the fact of their falling into desuetude proves, that the social state has outgrown them; shall we now say, that he commands them, because he does not abrogate them, though he might do so, as Maine s panacea runs; or shall we say, that he commands them to fall into desuetude , because he does not enforce them? In that case he commands that his positive commands shall not be obeyed, i.e. executed, which shows that his command is a very imaginary, fictive sort of command. Austin s own ethical creed ... was Utilitarianism in its earlier shape. . Benthamism ganz w rdig des Maines) The 2nd, 3d, and 4th Lectures (of Austin) are occupied with an attempt to identify the law of God and the law of Nature (so far as these last words can be allowed to have any meaning) with the rules required by the theory of utility .... The identification ... is quite gratuitous and valueless for any purpose (369) The jurist, properly so called, has nothing to do with any ideal standard of law or morals. ([p. 370]. Very true this! as little as theology has!) Lecture XIII. Sovereignty and Empire. (Dies letzte Lecture des Maine schen Buchs) The word law has come down in close association with two notions, the notion of order and the notion of force . | The principal writings of Austin are not much more than 40 years old. From the point of view of the jurist, law is only associated with order through the necessary condition of every true law that it must prescribe a class of acts or omissions, or a number of acts or admissions determined generally; the law which prescribes a single act not being a true law, but being distinguished as an occasional or particular command. Law, thus defined and limited, is the subject-matter of Jurisprudence as conceived by the Analytical Jurists. Austin in his treatise examines a number of existing governments or (as he would say) forms of political superiority and inferiority, for the purpose of determining the exact seat of sovereignty in each of them. [375, 376] Austin recognizes the existence of communities, or aggregates of men, in which no dissection could disclose a person or group answering to his definition of a Sovereign. D abord, er, wie Hobbes (whose little man he is) fully allows that there is a state of anarchy. Wherever such a state is found, the question of Sovereignty is being actively fought out, u. er giebt als Beispiel that which was never absent from Hobbes s mind, the struggle zwischen Charles I u. his Parliament. An acute critic of Hobbes u. Austin, der gewaltige Fitzjames Stephen, insists that there is a condition of dormant anarchy, z.B. United States (d. Beispiel v. Maine before the War of Secession. (377) Dies alles most characteristic of acute English jurists! Grausser Maine seinerseits declares ... there may be deliberate abstinence from fighting out a question known to be undecided, and I (Maine him. selber!) see no objection to call<ing> the temporary equilibrium thus produced a state of dormant anarchy. [p. 377] Austin further admits the theoretical possibility of a state of nature; giebt ihm nicht d. Wichtigkeit wie Hobbes u. andre, aber allows his existence, wherever a number of men, or of groups not numerous enough to be political, have not as yet been brought under any common or habitually acting community. Austin sagt, p. 237, Ist vol., 3d ed.: Let us suppose that a single family of savages lives in absolute estrangement from every other community. And let us suppose that the father, the chief of this isolated family, receives habitual obedience from the mother and children. Now, since it is not a limb of another and larger community, the society formed by the parents and children, is clearly an independent society, and, since the rest of its members habitually obey its chief, this independent society would form a society political, in case the number of its members were not extremely minute. But since the number of its members is extremely minute, it would, I believe, be esteemed a society in a state of nature ; that is, a society consisting of persons not in a state of subjection. Without an application of the terms, which would somewhat smack of the ridiculous, we could hardly style the society a society political and independent, the imperative father and chief a monarch or sovereign, or the obedient mother and children subjects. (Sehr tiefe!) Dies so far Wasser auf d. M hle Maine s, since, wie er sagt, the form of authority about which it is made, the authority of the Patriarch or Paterfamilias over his family, is, at least according to one (Maine s u. consorts) modern theory, the element or germ out of which all permanent power of man over man has been gradually developed . Aber nun kommt Maine mit schwerem Gesch tz . D. Punjaub, after passing dch every conceivable phase of anarchy and dormant anarchy, fell, about 25 Jahre vor seiner Annexation, under the tolerably | consolidated dominion of a half military, half religious oligarchy, known as the Sikhs, sie selbst reduced to subjection by a single chieftain belonging to their order, Runjeet Singh. Dieser allgewaltiger Despot. He took, as his revenue, a prodigious share of the produce of the soil. He harried villages which recalcitrated at his exactions, and he executed great numbers of men. He levied great armies; he had all material of power, and exercised it in various ways. But he never made a law. The rules which regulated the life of his subjects were derived from their immemorial usages, and these rules were administered by domestic tribunals, in families or village-communities. (380, 381) Runjeet Singh never did or could (!) have dreamed of changing the civil rules under which his subjects lived. Probably he was as strong a believer in the independent obligatory force of such rules as the elders themselves who applied them. An Eastern or Indian theorist in law, to whom the assertion was made that Runjeet Singh commanded these rules, would etc feel it etc absurd etc. Dieser state d. Punjab under Runjeet Singh may be taken as the type of all Oriental communities in their native state during their rare intervals of peace and order. They have ever been despotisms etc. D. commands der despots at their head, harsh and cruel as they might be, implicitly obeyed. But then these commands, save in so far as they served to organise administrative machinery for the collection of revenue, have not been true laws; were of the class called by Austin occasional or particular commands. The truth is that the one solvent of local and domestic usage ... has been not the command of the Sovereign but the supposed command of the Deity. In India, the influence of the Brahminical treatises on mixed law and religion in sapping the old customary law of the country has always been great, and in some particulars it has become greater under English rule. [382, 383] D. Assyrian, Babylonian, Median u. Persian Empires, for occasional wars of conquest, levied vast armies from populations spread over immense areas; verlangten absolute obedience to their occasional commands, punished disobedience with the utmost cruelty; dethroned petty kings, transplanted whole communities etc. Aber mit all dem interfered but little with the every day religious or civil life of the groups to which their subjects belonged. The royal statute and firm decree preserved to us as a sample of law of the Medes and Persians which altereth not , ist kein law in modernem Sinn, sondern a particular command , a sudden, spasmodic, and temporary interference with ancient multifarious usage left in general undisturbed. Selbst d. Athenian empire, so weit es nicht Attica betraf, sondern d. subject cities u. islands, was clearly a tax-taking Empire wie die Asiatischen, nicht a legislating Empire. [384, 385] A new order of legislation introduced into the world dch d. empire of the Romans. Nach d. Burschen Maine d. origin of the political communities called States is that they were formed by the coalescence of groups, the original group having been in no case smaller than the patriarchal family. (Again!) Aber dies coalescence was soon arrested. In a later stage, political communities ... often of very great territorial extent, are constructed by one community conquering another or one chieftain, at the head of a siugle community or tribe, subjugating great masses of population. But ... the separate local life of the small societies included in these great States was not extinguished or even much enfeebled. [386, 387] | The complete trituration in modern societies of the groups which once lived with an independent life has proceeded concurrently with much greater activiy in legislation. If the powers of the Village Council (sp ter Athenian Ekklesia etc.) must be described by modern names, that which lies most in the background is legislative power; that which i<s> most distinctly conceived is judicial powers. The laws obeyed are regarded as having always existed, and usages really new are confounded with the really old. (388, 389) The village communities of the Aryan (! again this nonsense!) race do not therefore exercise true legislative power so long as they remain under primitive influences. Nor again is legislative power exercised in any intelligible sense of the word by the Sovereigns of those great States, now confined to the East, which preserve the primitive local groups most nearly intact. Legislation, as we conceive it, and the break up of local life appear to have universally gone on together. The Roman Empire was the source of the influences which have led, immediately or ultimately, to the formation of highly-centralised, actively legislating, States. It was the first great dominion which did not merely tax, but legislated also. The process was spread over many centuries .... Its commencement and completion, I should place ... roughly at the issue of the first Edictum Provinciale, and at the Extension of the Roinall citizenship to all subjects of the Empire. But, in the result, a vast and miscellaneous mass of customary law was broken up and replaced by new institutions .... it (the Roman Empire) devoured, brake in pieces, and stamped the residue with its feet. [390, 391] Dann wirkte d. Roman Empire u. sein law auf d. neuen dch d. Barbaren gegr ndeten Reiche etc. Customary law ... is not obeyed, as enacted law is obeyed. When it obtains over small areas and in small natural groups, the penal sanctions on which it depends are partly opinion, partly superstition, but to a far greater extent an instinct almost as blind and unconscious as that which produces some of the movements of our bodies. The actual constraint which is required to secure conformity with usage is inconceivably small. When, however, the rules which have to be obeyed once emanate from an authority external to the small natural group and forming no part of it, they wear a character wholly unlike that of a customary rule. They lose the assistance of superstition (par exemple Christian Religion. Roman Church?), probably that of opinion, certainly that of spontaneous impulse. The force at the back of law comes therefore to be purely coercive force to a degree quite unknown in societies of the more primitive type. Moreover, in many communities, this force has to act at a very great distance from the bulk of the persons exposed to it, and thus the Sovereign who wields it has to deal with great classes of acts and with great classes of persons, rather than with isolated acts and with individuals. Daher d. indifferency, inexorableness, u. generality ihrer laws . [392, 393] Their generality (of the Laws) and their dependence on the coercive force of a Sovereign are the result of the great territorial area of modern States, of the comminution of the sub-groups which compose them, and above all of the Roman Commonwealth etc. We have heard of a village Hampden, but a village Hobbes is inconceivable. Fl chtet v. England wegen civil disturbance; a<u>f continent sah d. Bur<s>che governments rapidly centralising (i.e. was Maine zu tief zu sagen: Richelieu, Mazarin etc), local privileges u. jurisdictions in | extreme decay, the old historical bodies, such as the French Parliaments, tending for the time to become furnaces of anarchy, the only hope discoverable in kingly power. These were among the palpable fruits of the wars which ended in the Peace of Westphalia. The old multiform local activity of feudal or quasi-feudal society was everywhere enfeebled or destroyed. (Dagegen hingegen Locke Holland vor Augen, ebso wie Petty). Was dahingegen d. graussen Bentham betrifft, was hatte er hinter sich: (Franz s. Revol. u. Napoleon). A Sovereign who was a democrat commenced, and a Sovereign who was a despot completed, the Codification of the laws of France. There had never before in the modern world been so striking an exemplification of the proposition that, what the Sovereign permits, he commands, because he could at any time substitute an express command for his tacit permission, nor so impressive a lesson in the far-reaching and on the whole most beneficial results (!) which might be expected from the increased activity of Sovereigns in legislation proper.

Marx's Ethnographical Notebooks

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... Even though the Katheder-Socialists persistently call upon us proletarian Socialists to tell them how we can prevent overpopulation and the consequent threat to the existence of the new social order, I see no reason at all why I should do them the favour. I consider it a sheer waste of time to dispel all the scruples and doubts of these people which arise from their muddled superwisdom, or even to refute, for instance, the awful twaddle which Sch ffle alone has compiled in his numerous big volumes. It would require a fair-sized book merely to correct all the passages set in inverted commas which these gentlemen have misquoted from Capital. They should first learn to read and to copy before demanding that one should answer their questions... There is of course the abstract possibility that the human population will become so numerous that its further increase will have to be checked. If it should become necessary for communist society to regulate the production of men, just as it will have already regulated the production of things, then it, and it alone, will be able to do this without difficulties. It seems to me that it should not be too difficult for such a society to achieve in a planned way what has already come about naturally, without planning, in France and Lower Austria. In any case it will be for those people to decide if, when and what they want to do about it, and what means to employ. I don t feel qualified to offer them any advice or counsel in this matter. They will presumably be at least as clever as we are. Incidentally, I wrote as early as 1844 (Deutsch-Franz sische Jahrb cher, page 109): This is enough for now, the other points we can discuss when we meet...

Letters: Karl Marx and Frederick Engels, Selected Correspondence 1881

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I am very anxious to see your polemics with the Slovo. As soon as I shall sail in more quiet waters I shall enter more fully upon your Esquisse [sketch]. For the present I cannot omit one observation. The soil being exhausted and getting not the elements by artificial and vegetable and animal manure, etc. to supply its wants, will, with the changing favour of the seasons, of circumstances independent of human influence still continue to yield harvests of very different amounts, though, summing up a period of years, as for instance, from 1870-80, the stagnant character of the production presents itself in the most striking character. Under such circumstances the favourable climatic conditions pave the way to a famine year by quickly consuming and setting free the mineral fertilisers still potent on the soil, while vice-versa, a famine-year, and still more a series of bad years following it, allow the soil-inherent minerals to accumulate anew, and to work efficiently with returning favour of the climatic conditions. Such a process goes, of course, everywhere on, but elsewhere it is checked by the modifying intervention of the agriculturist himself. It becomes the only regulating factor where man has ceased to be a power for want of means. So we have 1870 as an excellent harvest in your country, but that year is a climax year, and as such immediately followed by a very bad one; the year 1871, the very bad harvest, must be considered as the starting point for a new little cycle, till we come to the new climax year 1874, which is immediately followed by the famine year 1875; then the upwards movement begins again, ending in the still worse famine year 1880. The summing up of the years during the whole period proves that the average annual production remained the same and that the mere natural factors have alone produced the changes, comparing the single years and the smaller cycles of years. I wrote you some time ago, that if the great industrial and commercial crisis England has passed through, went over without the culminating financial crash at London, this exceptional phenomenon was only due to French money. This is now seen and acknowledged even by English routiniers. Thus the Statist (January 19, 1881) says: The money market has only be[en] so easy as it has been during the past years through an accident. The Bank of France in the early autumn permitted its stock of gold bullion to fall from 30 millions to 22 millions .... Last autumn undoubtedly there was a very narrow escape. (!) The English railway system rolls on the same inclined plane as the European Public Debt system. The ruling magnates amongst the different railway-nets directors contract not only progressively new loans in order to enlarge their network, i.e., the territory, where they rule as absolute monarchs, but they enlarge their respective networks in order to have new pretexts for engaging in new loans which enable them to pay the interest due to the holders of obligations, preferential shares, etc., and also from time to time to throw a sop to the much ill-used common shareholders in the shape of somewhat increased dividends. This pleasant method must one day or another terminate in an ugly catastrophe. In the United States the railway kings have become the butt of attacks, not only, as before this, on the part of the farmers and other industrial entrepreneurs of the West, but also on the part of the grand representative of commerce the New York Chamber of Commerce. The Octopodus railway king and financial swindler Gould has, on his side, told the New York commercial magnates: You now attack the railways, because you think them most vulnerable considering their present unpopularity; but take heed: after the railways every sort of corporation (means in the Yankee dialect joint stock company) will have its turn; then, later on, all forms of associated capital; finally all forms of capital; you are thus paving the way to Communism whose tendencies are already more and more spreading among the people. M. Gould a le flair bon. In India serious complications, if not a general outbreak, is in store for the British government. What the English take from them annually in the form of rent, dividends for railways useless to the Hindus; pensions for military and civil service men, for Afghanistan and other wars, etc., etc. what they take from them without any equivalent and quite apart from what they appropriate to themselves annually within India, speaking only of the value of the commodities the Indians have gratuitously and annually to send over to England it amounts to more than the total sum of income of the sixty millions of agricultural and industrial labourers of India! This is a bleeding process, with a vengeance! The famine years are pressing each other and in dimensions till now not yet suspected in Europe! There is an actual conspiracy going on wherein Hindus and Mussulmans co-operate; the British government is aware that something is brewing, but this shallow people (I mean the governmental men), stultified by their own parliamentary ways of talking and thinking, do not even desire to see clear, to realise the whole extent of the imminent danger! To delude others and by deluding them to delude yourself this is: parliamentary wisdom in a nutshell! Tant mieux!

Letters: Marx-Engels Correspondence 1881

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1881/letters/81_02_19.htm

Perhaps you will point to the Paris Commune; but apart from the fact that this was merely the rising of a town under exceptional conditions, the majority of the Commune was in no sense socialist, nor could it be. With a small amount of sound common sense, however, they could have reached a compromise with Versailles useful to the whole mass of the people -- the only thing that could be reached at the time. The appropriation of the Bank of France alone would have been enough to dissolve all the pretensions of the Versailles people in terror, etc., etc. The general demands of the French bourgeoisie laid down before 1789 were roughly just the same, mutatis mutandis [with corresponding alterations] as the first immediate demands of the proletariat are pretty uniformly to-day in all countries with capitalist production. But had any eighteenth-century Frenchman the faintest idea a priori beforehand of the way in which the demands of the French bourgeoisie would be accomplished? The doctrinaire and necessarily fantastic anticipations of the programme of action for a revolution of the future only divert us from the struggle of the present. The dream that the end of the world was at hand inspired the early Christians in their struggle with the Roman Empire and gave them confidence in victory. Scientific insight into the inevitable disintegration of the dominant order of society continually proceeding before our eyes, and the ever-growing passion into which the masses are scourged by the old ghosts of government--while at the same time the positive development of the means of production advances with gigantic strides--all this is a sufficient guarantee that with the moment of the outbreak of a real proletarian revolution there will also be given the conditions (though these are certain not to be idyllic) of its next immediate modus operandi [form of action]. It is my conviction that the critical juncture for a new International Workingmen's Association has not yet arrived and for this reason I regard all workers' congresses, particularly socialist congresses, in so far as they are not related to the immediate given conditions in this or that particular nation, as not merely useless but harmful. They will always fade away in innumerable stale generalised banalities.

Letters: Marx-Engels Correspondence 1881

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Well may the illustrious Regnard recommend his factum to your charity. This Jacobin defending English respectable Protestantism and English vulgar Liberalism with the historical appareil of that same vulgar Liberalism is indeed an object of deepest charity. But to his facts The facts are these. Ulster having been taken from its Irish owners who at that time 1600-1610 held the land in common, and handed over to Scotch Protestant military colonists, these colonists did not feel safe in their possessions in the troublous times after 1640. The Puritan English government officials in Dublin spread the rumour that a Scotch Army of Covenanters was to land in Ulster and exterminate all Irish and Catholics. Sir W. Parsons, one of the two Chief Justices of Ireland, said that in a 12-month there would not be a Catholic left in Ireland. It was under these menaces, repeated in the English Parliament, that the Irish of Ulster rose on 23rd Oct. 1641. But no massacre took place. All contemporaneous sources ascribe to the Irish merely the intention of general massacre, and even the two Protestant Chief Justices[A] (proclam. 8th Febr. 1642) declare that the chief part of their plot, and amongst them a general massacre, had been disappointed. The English and Scotch, however, 4th May 1642, threw Irish women naked into the river (Newry) and massacred Irishmen. (Prendergast, Cromwellian Settlement of Ireland, 1865.) The whole Protestant reformation, as is well known to most students of history save Regnard, apart from its dogmatical squabbles and quibbles, was a vast plan for a confiscation of land. First the land was taken from the Church. Then the Catholics, in countries where Protestantism was in power, were declared rebels and their land confiscated. Now in Ireland the case was peculiar. The whole agrarian history of Ireland is a series of confiscations of Irish land to be handed over to English settlers. These settlers, in a very few generations, under the charm of Celtic society, turned more Irish than the aborigines. Then a new confiscation and new colonisation took place, and so in infinitum. In the 17th century, the whole of Ireland except the newly Scotchified North, was ripe for a fresh confiscation. So much so, that when the British (Puritan) Parliament accorded to Charles I an army for the reduction of Ireland, it resolved that the money for this armament should be raised upon the security of 2,500,000 acres to be confiscated in Ireland. And the adventurers who advanced the money should also appoint the officers of that army. The land was to be divided amongst those adventurers: so that 1,000 acres should be given them, if in Ulster for 200 advanced, in Connaught for 300, in Munster for 450, in Leinster for 600. And if the people rose against this beneficent plan they are Vend ens! If Regnard should ever sit in a National Convention, he may take a leaf out of the proceedings of the Long Parliament, and combat a possible Vend e with these means. The abolition of the penal laws! Why the greater part of them were repealed, not in 1793 but in 1778, when England was threatened by the rise of the American Republic, and the second repeal, 1793, was when the French Republic arose threatening and England required all the soldiers she could get to fight it! The Grant to Maynooth by Pitt. This pittance was soon repealed by the Tories and only renewed by Sir R. Peel in 1845. But not a word about the other cadeau que faisait l Irlande ce grand homme (c est la premi re fois qu il trouve gr ce devant les yeux d un Jacobin[B]), that other dotation not only consid rable but actually lavish the 3 Million by which the Union of Ireland with England was bought. The parliamentary documents will show that the one item of the purchase money of rotten and nomination boroughs alone cost no less a sum than 1,245,000. (O Connell memoir on Ireland addressed to the Queen.) Lord Derby instituted le syst me des coles nationales. Very true but why did he? Consult Fitzgibbon, Ireland in 1868[C], the work of a staunch Protestant and Tory, or else the Official Report of Commissioners on Education in Ireland 1826. The Irish, neglected by the English government, had taken the education of their children into their own hands. At the time when English fathers and mothers insisted upon their right to send their children to the factory to earn money instead of to the school to learn, at that time in Ireland the peasants vied with each other in forming schools of their own. The schoolmaster was an ambulant teacher, spending a couple of months at each village. A cottage was found for him, each child paid him 2d. a week and a few sods of turf in winter. The schools were kept, on fine days in summer, in the fields, near a hedge, and then known by the name of hedge-schools. There were also ambulant scholars, who with their books under the arm, wandered from school to school, receiving lodging and food from the peasants without difficulty. In 1812 there were 4,600 such hedge-schools in Ireland and that year s report of the Commissioners says that such education was leading to evil rather than good, that such education the people are actually obtaining for themselves, and though we consider it practicable to correct it, to check its progress appears impossible: it may be improved but it cannot be impeded. So then, these truly national schools did not suit English purposes. To suppress them, the sham national schools were established. They are so little secular that the reading-book consists of extracts both from the Cath. and Prot. Bibles, agreed upon by the Cath. and Prot. Archbishops of Dublin. Compare with these Irish peasants the English who howl at compulsory school-attendance to this day!

Letters: Marx-Engels Correspondence 1881. Ireland

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A nervous disease that I have been suffering from periodically for the last ten years has prevented me from replying earlier to your letter of 16 February. To my regret I am unable to give you a conclusive reply, intended for publication, to the question which you did me the honour to ask. Already several months ago I promised the St Petersburg Committee to write a paper on the same subject. I hope however that a few lines will suffice to remove all doubt in your mind about the misunderstanding concerning my so-called theory. In analysing the genesis of capitalist production I say: Hence the historical inevitability of this process is expressly limited to the countries of Western Europe. The reason for this limitation is indicated in the following passage of Chapter XXXII: In this development in Western Europe it is a question of the transformation of one form of private property into another form of private property. In case of the Russian peasants one would on the contrary have to transform their common property into private property. Thus the analysis given in Capital does not provide any arguments for or against the viability of the village community, but the special research into this subject which I conducted, and for which I obtained the material from original sources, has convinced me that this community is the fulcrum of Russia s social revival, but in order that it might function in this way one would first have to eliminate the destructive influences which assail it from every quarter and then to ensure the conditions normal for spontaneous development. I have the honour to remain, yours very sincerely

Letters: Karl Marx and Frederick Engels, Selected Correspondence 1881

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... It is simply a falsification perpetrated by the Manchester bourgeoisie in their own interests that they call socialism every interference by the state in free competition protective tariffs, guilds, tobacco monopoly, nationalisation of certain branches of industry, the Overseas Trade Society, and the royal porcelain factory. We should criticise this but not believe it. If we do the latter and develop a theory on the basis of this belief our theory will collapse together with its premises upon simple proof that this alleged socialism is nothing but, on the one hand, feudal reaction and, on the other, a pretext for squeezing out money, with the secondary object of turning as many proletarians as possible into civil servants and pensioners dependent upon the state, thus organising alongside of the disciplined army of soldiers and civil servants an army of workers as well. Compulsory voting brought about by superiors in the state apparatus instead of by factory overseers a fine sort of socialism! But that s where people get if they believe the bourgeoisie what it does not believe itself but only pretends to believe: that the state means socialism...

Letters: Marx-Engels Correspondence 1881. Ireland

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1881/letters/81_03_12.htm

With great regret we have to inform you that we are not able to attend your meeting. When the Commune of Paris succumbed to the atrocious massacre organised by the defenders of Order , the victors little thought that ten years would not elapse before an event would happen in distant Petersburg which, maybe after long and violent struggles, must ultimately and certainly lead to the establishment of a Russian Commune; That the King of Prussia who had prepared the Commune by besieging Paris and thus compelling the ruling bourgeoisie to arm the people that that same King of Prussia, ten years after, besieged in his own capital by Socialists, would only be able to maintain his throne by declaring the state of siege in his capital Berlin. On the other hand, the Continental governments who after the fall of the Commune by their persecutions compelled the International Working Men s Association to give up its formal, external organisation these governments who believed they could crush the great international labour movement by decrees and special laws little did they think that ten years later that same international labour movement, more powerful than ever, would embrace the working classes not only of Europe but of America also; that the common struggle for common interests against a common enemy would bind them together into a new and greater spontaneous International, outgrowing more and more all external forms of association. Thus the Commune which the powers of the old world believed to be exterminated, lives stronger than ever, and thus we may join you in the cry: Vive la Commune!

Letters: Karl Marx and Frederick Engels, Selected Correspondence 1881

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1881/letters/81_03_21.htm

One comfort is that you have good living-quarters, suitable for the children; otherwise everything seems rather worse than in London except of course the climate, the beneficial effect of which, on asthma too, you will by and by discover. I have got another new doctor for mother, recommended to me by Professor Lankester Dr. Donkin; he seems a bright and intelligent man but for mother s trouble one man really seems to me as good, and perhaps better, than another man. However, the change of medical advisers is a distraction for her and for the first period which does not as a rule last long she is full of praise for the new sculapius. Longuet s eyeglasses turned up directly after you left, they were in fact reposing in your bedroom. Hirsch has been selected to bring them across, but this gossipmonger seems unable to tear himself away from London at a time when there is a lot to pry out. The great Most affair alone is an inexhaustible spring of fresh (if by no means joyously sparkling) water for this Hirsch. He is threatening now not to leave until April 18. And then he has found a companion in Kautsky at whom he scowled so darkly; Engels too has taken a much milder view of this Kauz since he has proved himself a very talented drinker. When this charmer first appeared at my place I mean little Kauz the first question which escaped me was: are you like your mother? Not in the very least, he assured me, and I silently congratulated his mother. He is a mediocrity with a small-minded outlook, superwise (only 26), very conceited, industrious in a certain sort of way, he busies himself a lot with statistics but does not read anything very clever out of them, belongs by nature to the tribe of the philistines but is otherwise a decent fellow in his own way. I turn him over to friend Engels as much as possible. The day before yesterday the Dogberry Club was here; yesterday, in addition to the two Maitland girls and for a moment Lankester and Dr. Donkin an invasion from Hyndman and spouse, who both have too much staying power. I don t dislike the wife, for she has a brusque, unconventional and decided way of thinking and speaking, but it is funny to see how admiringly her eyes fasten upon the lips of her self-satisfied garrulous husband. Mother was so tired (it was nearly 10.30 p.m.) that she withdrew. But she was amused by some byplay. For Tussy has discovered a new Wunderkind among the Dogberries, a certain Radford; this youth is already a barrister at law, but despises the jus [law] and is working in the same line as Waldhorn. He looks well, a cross between Irving and the late Lassalle (though he has nothing in common with the cynically oily, obtrusive, ducal manners of the latter) an intelligent and somewhat promising boy. Well this is the point of the story Dolly Maitland pays fearful court to him so that mother and Tussy are signalling to each other all through supper. Finally Mr. Maitland arrived as well, fairly sober, and also had a wordy duel with his instructive table companion Hyndman about Gladstone, in whom the spiritualist Maitland believes. I rather annoyed by a bad throat felt glad when the whole lot vanished. It is a strange thing that one cannot well live altogether without company, and that when you get it, you try hard to rid yourself of itself. Hartmann is working hard as a common workman in Woolwich; the difficulty of talking to him in any language at all increases. The Russian refugees in Geneva are demanding that he should repudiate Rochefort, and publicly. This he will not and cannot do, and it is also impossible, if only on account of the exaggerated letter which the Petersburg Committee wrote to Rochefort and which he on his side published in the Intransigeant. The Genevans have in fact long been trying to persuade Europe that it is really they who direct the movement in Russia; now when this lie, spread by themselves, is seized upon by Bismarck and Co. and becomes dangerous to them, they declare the opposite and vainly attempt to convince the world of their innocence. Actually they are mere doctrinaires, confused anarchist socialists, and their influence upon the Russian theatre of war is zero. Have you been following the trial of the assassins in Petersburg? They are sterling people through and through, sans pose melodramatique [no melodramatic pose], simple, businesslike, heroic. Shouting and doing are irreconcilable opposites. The Petersburg Executive Committee, which acts so energetically, issues manifestos of refined moderation. It is far removed from the schoolboy way in which Most and other childish whimperers preach tyrannicide as a theory and panacea (that was done by such innocent Englishmen as Disraeli, [Waiter] Savage Lander, Macaulay and Stanfield the friend of Mazzini); on the contrary they try to teach Europe that their modus operandi [method of action] is a specifically Russian and historically inevitable method about which there is no more reason to moralise for or against than there is about the earthquake in Chios. This affair was the occasion of a fine row in the House of Commons. (You know that to please Bismarck and Gortchakov these miserable Gladstonians have embarked on an attack upon the freedom of the press in England, in the person of the wretched Most, an attack in which they are scarcely likely to succeed.) Lord Churchill (a cheeky Tory youngster of the Marlborough family) questioned Sir Charles Dilke and Brassey, both understrappers in the Cabinet, regarding financial subsidies to the Freiheit. These were flatly denied and Churchill was obliged to name his authority. He then named the inevitable Mr. Maltman Barry! I am enclosing you a cutting about this affair from the Weekly Despatch (Dilke s paper, edited by the philosophical Radical, Ashton Dilke, brother of the great Dilke ) and a statement by Maltman Barry in the Daily News. Dilke is obviously lying; a miserable creature, this swaggerer who has nominated himself as the future President of the British Republic and who, for fear of losing his job, allows Bismarck to dictate to him which papers he is to favour with 1 and which not. If it were only known as well that immediately after Hartmann s arrival in London Ashton Dilke invited him to a luncheon! But Hartmann refused; he would not allow himself to be exhibited. About the Comtist renegade Maxse, by the way. Justice does him far too much honour and handles him with kid gloves. To this strange clique of English Liberals and their even worse sub-species the so-called Radicals it really seems a crime that, contrary to all tradition and in breach of agreement, Justice fails to treat these shams and humbugs in the traditional manner and to maintain the legend about them current in the Continental liberal press! When one considers the utterly shameless way in which the London press attacks the Socialist Party in every European country and how difficult it is, supposing one ever regards it as worth the trouble, to answer a word, to get even a few lines of reply into that press then it is really going rather far to recognise the principle that if a Parisian paper entangles itself in a criticism of the great Gladstone, that arch hypocrite and casuist of an antiquated school, it is then obliged to put whole columns at the disposal of Herr Maxse and his prose in order that he may repay Gladstone in kind for the advancement received from him. Assuming that the policy of Gladstone (the Coercion and Arms Acts man) with regard to Ireland were as correct as it is false, would this be a reason for talking about the generosity or magnanimity of this man? As if there were any question of this sort of thing between England and Ireland! It should really be explained to Maxse that Pecksniffian phrases of this kind have the rights of citizenship in London but not in Paris! Let Longuet read Parnell s speech in Cork in to-day s Times; there he will find the heart of what there is to be said about Gladstone s new Land Act; and here it should not be overlooked that by his shameful preliminary measures (including the annulment of freedom of speech for members of the House of Commons) Gladstone prepared the conditions under which the evictions in Ireland are now proceeding on a mass scale, while the Act is mere shadow boxing, since the Lords who get everything they want from Gladstone and no longer need to tremble at the Land League will doubtless either reject it or else castrate it so much that the Irish themselves will eventually vote against it.

Letters: Marx-Engels Correspondence 1881

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1881/letters/81_04_11.htm

It is a very fine trick of Gladstone only the stupid party does not understand it to offer at a moment when landed property in Ireland (as in England) will be depreciated by the import of corn and cattle from the U.St. to offer them at that very moment the public Exchequer where they can sell that property at a price it does no longer possess! The real intricacies of the Irish land problem which indeed are not especially Irish are so great that the only true way to solve it would be to give the Irish Home Rule and thus force them to solve it themselves. But John Bull is too stupid to understand this.

Letters: Marx-Engels Correspondence 1881. Ireland

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1881/letters/81_04_29.htm

Dear Mr. Swinton: I need hardly recommend you the bearer of these lines, my excellent friend Mr. Hartmann. I send you through him a photogram of mine; it is rather bad, but the only one left to me. As to the book of Mr. Henry George, I consider it as a last attempt to save the capitalistic regime. Of course, this is not the meaning of the author, but the older disciples of Ricardo the radical ones fancied already that by the public appropriation of the rent of land everything would be righted. I have referred to this doctrine in the Mis re de la Philosophie (published in 1847, against Proudhon). Mrs. Marx sends you her best compliments. Unfortunately her illness assumes more and more a fatal character. Believe me, dear Sir, The Viereck was so stultified at his arrival in the U.S. that he confounded my friend Engels with myself, and transformed my compliments to you in those of Engels; he did the same with regard to another American friend of mind by whose letter I was informed of the quid pro quo.

Letters: Letters of Marx and Engels from Science and Society

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1881/letters/81_06_02.htm

... Before your copy of Henry George arrived I had already received two others, one from Swinton and one from Willard Brown; I therefore gave one to Engels and one to Lafargue. Today I must confine myself to a very brief formulation of my opinion of the book. Theoretically the man [Henry George] is utterly backward! He understands nothing about the nature of surplus value and so wanders about in speculations which follow the English model but have now been superseded even among the English, about the different portions of surplus value to which independent existence is attributed--about the relations of profit, rent, interest, etc. His fundamental dogma is that everything would be all right if ground rent were paid to the state. (You will find payment of this kind among the transitional measures included in The Communist Manifesto too.) This idea originally belonged to the bourgeois economists; it was first put forward (apart from a similar demand at the end of the eighteenth century) by the earliest radical followers of Ricardo, soon after his death. I said of it in 1847, in my work against Proudhon: We can understand that economists like Mill (the elder, not his son John Stuart, who also repeats this in a somewhat modified form) Cherbuliez, Hilditch and others have demanded that rent should be paid to the state in order that it may serve as a substitute for taxes. This is a frank expression of the hatred which the industrial capitalist dedicates to the landed proprietor, who seems to him a useless and superfluous element in the general total of bourgeois production. We ourselves, as I have already mentioned, adopted this appropriation of ground rent by the state among numerous other transitional measures, which, as we also remarked in the Manifesto, are and must be contradictory in themselves. But the first person to turn this desideratum [requirement] of the radical English bourgeois economists into a socialist panacea, to declare this procedure to be the solution of the antagonisms involved in the present method of production, was Colins, a former old Hussar officer of Napoleon s, born in Belgium, who in the latter days of Guizot and the first of Napoleon the Less, favoured the world from Paris with some fat volumes about this discovery of his. Like another discovery he made, namely, that while there is no God there is an immortal human soul and that animals have no feelings. For if they had feelings, that is souls, we should be cannibals and a realm of righteousness could never be founded upon earth. His anti-landownership theory together with his theory of the soul, etc., have been preached every month for years in the Parisian Philosophie de l Avenir [Philosophy of the Future] by his few remaining followers, mostly Belgians. They call themselves rational collectivists and have praised Henry George. After them and besides them, among other people, the Prussian banker and former lottery owner Samten from East Prussia, a shallow-brained fellow, has eked out this socialism into a thick volume. All these socialists since Colins have this much in common that they leave wage labour and therefore capitalist production in existence and try to bamboozle themselves or the world into believing that if ground rent were transformed into a state tax all the evils of capitalist production would disappear of themselves. The whole thing is therefore simply an attempt, decked out with socialism, to save capitalist domination and indeed to establish it afresh on an even wider basis than its present one. This cloven hoof (at the same time ass s hoof) is also unmistakably revealed in the declamations of Henry George. And it is the more unpardonable in him because he ought to have put the question to himself in just the opposite way: How did it happen that in the United States, where, relatively, that is in comparison with civilised Europe, the land was accessible to the great mass of the people and to a certain degree (again relatively) still is, capitalist economy and the corresponding enslavement of the working class have developed more rapidly and shamelessly than in any other country! On the other hand George s book, like the sensation it has made with you, is significant because it is a first, if unsuccessful, attempt at emancipation from the orthodox political economy. H. George does not seem, for the rest, to know anything about the history of the early American anti-renters,** who were rather practical men than theoretical. Otherwise he is a talented writer (with a talent for Yankee advertisement too) as his article on California in the Atlantic proves, for instance. He also has the repulsive presumption and arrogance which is displayed by all panacea-mongers without exception.

Letters: Marx-Engels Correspondence 1881

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1881/letters/81_06_20.htm

Yesterday I found the courage at last to study your mathematical manuscripts even without reference books, and I was pleased to find that I did not need them. I compliment you on your work. The thing is as clear as daylight, so that we cannot wonder enough at the way the mathematicians insist on mystifying it. But this comes from the one-sided way these gentlemen think. To put dy/dx = 0/0, firmly and point-blank, does not enter their skulls. And yet it is clear that dy/dx can only be the pure expression of a completed process if the last trace of the quanta x and y has disappeared, leaving the expression of the preceding process of their change without any quantity. You need not fear that any mathematician has preceded you here. This kind of differentiation is indeed much simpler than all others, so that just now I applied it myself to derive a formula I had suddenly lost, confirming it afterwards in the usual way. The procedure must have made the greatest sensation, especially, as is clearly proved, since the usual method of neglecting dxdy etc. is positively false. And that is the special beauty of it: only if dy/dx = 0/0 is the mathematical operation absolutely correct. So old Hegel guessed quite correctly when he said that differentiation had for its basic condition that the variables must be raised to different powers, and at least one of them to at least the second, or power. Now we also know why. If we say that in y = f(x) the x and y are variables, then this claim has no further consequences, as long as we do not move on, and x and y are still, pro tempore, in fact constants. Only when they really change, i.e. inside the function, do they indeed become variables, and only then can the relation still hidden in the original equation reveal itself not the relation of the two magnitudes but of their variability. The first derivative Dy/Dx shows this relation as it happens in the course of real change, i.e. in each given change; the completed derivative dy/dx shows it in its generality, pure, and hence we can come from dy/dx to each Dy/Dx, while the latter itself only covers the special case. However, to pass from the special case to the general relationship, the special case must be abolished (aufgehoben) as such. Hence, after the function has passed through the process from x to x with all its consequences, x can be allowed calmly to become x again; it is no longer the old x, which was variable in name only; it has passed through actual change, and the result of the change remains, even if we again abolish (aufheben) it. At last we see clearly what mathematicians have claimed for a long time, without being able to present rational grounds, that the differential-quotient is the original, the differentials dx and dy are derived: the derivation of the formulae demands that both so-called irrational factors stand at the same time on one side of the equation, and only if you put the equation back into this its first form dy/dx = f'(x) , as you can see, are you free of the irrationals and instead have their rational expression. The thing has taken such a hold of me that it not only goes round my head all day, but last week in a dream I gave a chap my shirt buttons to differentiate, and he ran off with them.

Letters: Marx-Engels Correspondence 1881

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1881/letters/81_08_10a.htm

... But it is true that Guesde came over when it was a question of framing the draft programme of the French Workers Party. Its preamble was dictated to him word for word by Marx in the presence of Lafargue and myself right here in my room: the worker is free only when he is the owner of his instruments of labour this can be the case either in individual or in collective form; the individual form of ownership is made obsolete by the economic development, and more so with every day; hence there remains only that of collective ownership, etc a masterpiece of cogent argumentation rarely encountered, clearly and succinctly written for the masses; I myself was astonished by this concise formulation. The rest of the programme s contents was then discussed; here and there we put something in or took something out. But how little Guesde was the mouthpiece of Marx appears from Guesde s insistence on putting in his foolish minimum wage demand, and since not we but the French must take the responsibility for this we finally let him have his way although he admitted that theoretically it was nonsense. Brousse was in London at that time and would gladly have participated. But Guesde was pressed for time and he thought, not without justification, that Brousse would start long-winded discussions about misunderstood anarchist phrases. Guesde therefore insisted that Brousse should not be present at this meeting. That was his business. But Brousse never forgave him that and his intrigues against Guesde date from that time. The French afterwards discussed this programme and adopted it with a few amendments, of which those introduced by Malon were by no means improvements. Besides I wrote two articles for galit , no 2 on Le socialisme de M Bismarck and there you have the sum total, as far as I know, of our active participation in the French movement. But what is most vexing to the petty grumblers who are nobodies but would like to be somebodies is this: By theoretical and practical achievements Marx has gained for himself such a position that the best people in all the working-class movements in many countries have full confidence in him. At critical junctures they turn to him for advice and then usually find that his counsel is the best. This position he holds in Germany, in France, in Russia, not to mention the smaller countries. It is therefore not a case of Marx forcing his opinion, and still less his will, on people but of the people themselves coming to him. And it is upon this that Marx s specific influence, so extremely important for the movement, reposes. Malon also wanted to come here, but he sought to obtain a special invitation from Marx through Lafargue, which of course he did not get. One would gladly have negotiated with him as with anyone else, but invite him why? Who had ever been thus invited? Marx and in the second place I have adopted the same attitude towards the French as towards the other national movements. We maintain constant contact with them in so far as it is worth our while and there is the opportunity to do so. But any attempt to influence these people against their will would only do harm; it would destroy the old confidence dating back to the time of the International. We really have had too much experience of revolutionary matters for that...

Letters: Karl Marx and Frederick Engels, Selected Correspondence 1881

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1881/letters/81_10_25.htm

Before this, in the beginning of June, there was published by a certain Hyndman (who had before intruded himself into my house) a little book: England for All. It pretends to be written as an expos of the programme of the Democratic Federation a recently formed association of different English and Scotch radical societies, half bourgeois, half proletaires. The chapters on Labour and Capital are only literal extracts from, or circumlocutions of, the Capital, but the fellow does neither quote the book, nor its author, but to shield himself from exposure remarks at the end of his preface: For the ideas and much of the matter contained in Chapters II and III, I am indebted to the work of a great thinker and original writer, etc., etc. Vis- -vis myself, the fellow wrote stupid letters of excuse, for instance, that the English don't like to be taught by foreigners, that my name was so much detested, etc. With all that, his little book so far as it pilfers the Capital makes good propaganda, although the man is a weak vessel, and very far from having even the patience the first condition of learning anything of studying a matter thoroughly. All those amiable middle-class writers if not specialists have an itching to make money or name or political capital immediately out of any new thoughts they may have got at by any favourable windfall. Many evenings this fellow has pilfered from me, in order to take me out and to learn in the easiest way. Lastly there was published on the first December last (I shall send you a copy of it) in the monthly review, Modern Thought, an article: Leaders of Modern Thought"; No. XXIII Karl Marx. By Ernest Belfort Bax. Now this is the first English publication of the kind which is pervaded by a real enthusiasm for the new ideas themselves and boldly stands up against Brit. Philistinism. That does not prevent that the biographical notices the author gives of me are mostly wrong, etc. In the exposition of my economic principles and in his translations (i.e., quotations of the Capital) much is wrong and confused, but with all that the appearance of this article, announced in large letters by placards on the walls of West End London, has produced a great sensation. What was most important for me, I received the said number of Modern Thought already on the 30th of November, so that my dear wife had the last days of her life still cheered up. You know the passionate interest she took in all such affairs.

Letters: Marx-Engels Correspondence 1881

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1881/letters/81_12_15.htm

The major part of this volume has been translated from Karl Marx, Mathematicheskie Rokopsii, edited by Professor S.A. Yanovskaya, Moscow 1968 (referred to in this volume as Yanovskaya, 1968). This contained the first publication of Marx s mathematical writings in their original form, alognside Russian translation. (Russian translation of parts of these manuscripts had appeared in 1933.) We have included the first English translation of Part I of the Russian edition, comprimising the more or less finished manuscripts left by Marx on the differential calculus, and earlier draft of these. We have not translated Part II of the 1968 volume, which consisted of extracts from and comments on the mathematical books which Marx had studied. Professor Yanavoskaya, who had worked on these manuscripts since 1930, died just before the book appeared. We include a translation of her preface, together with six Appendices, and Notes to Part I. In addition, we include the following: The Material from Yanovskaya 1968 has been translated by C. Aronson and M. Meo, who are also responsible for translating the review by E. Kol man. The letters between Marx and Engels, and the article by Yanovskaya and Kol man, are translated by R. A. Archer.

Marx's Mathematical Manuscripts 1881

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1881/mathematical-manuscripts/ch01.html

Engels, in his introduction to the second edition of Anti-D hring, revealed that among the manuscripts which he inherited from Marx were some of mathematical content, to which Engels attached great importance and intended to publish later. Photocopies of theses manuscripts (nearly 1000 sheets) are kept in the archives of the Marx-Lenin Institute of the Central Committee of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union. In 1933, fifty years after the death of Marx, parts of these manuscripts, including Marx s reflections on the essentials of the differential calculus, which he had summarised for Engels in 1881 in two manuscripts accompanied by preparatory material, were published in Russian translation, the first in the journal Under the Banner of Marxism (1933, no. 1, pp.15-73) and the second in the collection Marxism and Science (1933, pp.5-61). However, even these parts of the mathematical manuscripts have not been published in the original languages until now. In the present edition all of the mathematical manuscripts of Marx having a more or less finished character or containing his own observations on the concepts of the calculus or other mathematical questions are published in full. Marx s mathematical manuscripts are of several varieties; some of them represent his own work in the differential calculus, its nature and history, while others contain outlines and annotations of books which Marx used. This volume is divided, accordingly, into two parts. Marx s original works appear in the first part, while in the second are found full expository outlines and passages of mathematical content.* Both Marx s own writings and his observations located in the surveys are published in the original language and in Russian translation. Although Marx s own work, naturally, is separated from the outlines and long passages quoting the works of others, a full understanding of Marx s thought requires frequent acquaintance with his surveys of the literature. Only from the entire book, therefore, can a true presentation of the contents of Marx s mathematicla writings be made complete. Marx developed his interest in mathematics in connection with his work on Capital. In his letter to Engels dated January 11, 1858, Marx writes: Traces of Marx s first studies in mathematics are scattered in passages in his first notebooks on political economy. Some algebraic expositions had already appeared in notebooks, principally those dated 1846. It does not follow, however, that they could not have been done on loose notebook sheets at a much later time. Some sketches of elementary geometry and several algebraic expositions on series and logarithms can be found in notebooks containing preparatory material for Critique of Political Economy dating from April-June 1858. In this period, however, the mathematical ideas of Marx proceeded only by fits and starts, mostly when he was not occupied with anything else. Thus on November 23, 1860 Marx wrote to Engels: For me to write is almost out of the question . Mathematics is the single subject for which I still have the necessary quietness of mind . (Marx-Engels, Works, Vol.30, Berlin, 1964, p.113) In spite of this he invariably went on with his mathematical ideas, and already on July 6 1863 he wrote to Engels: Also, in the appendix to an unpreserved letter from the end of 1865 or beginning of 1866 Marx explained to Engels the essentials of the differential calculus in an example of the problem of the tangent to the parabola. However, he was still concerned first of all with the basics of mathematics in their connection with political economy. Thus in 1869, in relation to his studies of questions of the circulation of capital and the role of promissory notes in inter-governmental calculations, Marx familiarised himself with the long course of commercial arithmetic, Feller and Odermann, which he outlined in detail (cf.mss.2388 and 2400). It was characteristic of Marx s survey techniques that, coming across some question of which he did not already feel himselft in command, Marx was not content until he had mastered it completely, down to its foundations. Every time Feller and Odermann used some mathematical technique, Marx considered it necessary to re-commit it to memory, even if it was known to him. In his surveys of commercial arithmetic - these and also much later ones, cf.mss.3881,3888,3981 - are found insertions, moreover, of purely mathematical content in which Marx advanced even further into fields of higher mathematics. In the 1870s, starting in 1878, Marx s thoughts on mathematics acquired a more systematic character. Concerning this period Engels in the introduction to the second edition of Capital: At the same time the problems of applying mathematics to political economy continued to interest Marx. Thus in a letter to Engels of May 31, 1873 Marx wrote: Thus it is clear that Marx was consciously leading up to the possibility of applying mathematics to political economy. Given the full text of all Marx s mathematical manuscripts in the second part of our book, it still does not fully answer the question of what impelled Marx to proceed to the differential calculus from the study of algebra and commercial arithmetic. Indeed the mathematical manuscripts of Marx begin precisely in this period when Marx was concerned with elementary mathematics only in connection with problems arising from his study of differential calculus. His studies of trigonometry and the conic sections are found exactly in this context, which he suggested to Engels to be indispensable. In differential calculus, however, there were difficulties, especially in its fundamentals - the methodological basis on which it was built. Much light was thrown on this condition in Engels s Anti-D hring. Naturally Marx was not reconciled to this. To use his own words, we may say that here, as everywhere it was important for him to tear off the veil of mystery in science . (see p.109) This was of the more importance, since the procedure of going from elementary mathematics to the mathematics of a variable quantity must be of an essentially dialectical character, and Marx and Engels considered themselves obliged to show how to reconcile the materialist dialectic not only with the social sciences, but also with the natural sciences and mathematics. The examination by dialectical means of mathematics of variable quantities may be accomplished only by fully investigating that which constitutes a veil surrounded already in our time by quantities, which are used for calculating the infinitely small - the differentials and infinitely small quantities of various orders . (Marx-Engels, Works, Vol.20, Berlin, 1962, p.30) Marx placed before himself exactly this problem, the elucidation of the dialectic of symbolic calculation, operating on values of the differential. Marx thought about mathematics independently. The only person to whom he turned was his friend Samuel Moore, whose understanding of mathematics was at times rather limited. Moore could not render any essential help to Marx. Moreover, as can be observed in remarks that Moore made concerning the 1881 manuscripts (which Marx sent Engels) containing Marx s expository ideas on the derivation and meaning of the symbolic differential calculus, Moore simply did not understand these ideas. (cf. Marx s letter to Engels, this volume p.xxx) Marx studied textbooks of differential calculus. He oriented himself with books used at courses in Cambridge University, where in the 17th century Newton held a chair of higher mathematics, the traditions of which were kept by the English up to Marx s day. Indeed, there was a sharp struggle in the 20s and 30s of the last century between young English scholars, grouped about the Analytical Society of mathematicians, and the opposing established and obsolete traditions, converted into untouchable clerical dogma, represented by Newton. The latter applied the synthetic methods of his Principia with the stipulation that each problem had to be solved from the beginning without converting it into a more general problem which could then be solved with the apparatus of calculus. In this regard, the facts are sufficiently clear that Marx began studying differential calculus with the work of the French abbot Sauri, Cours complet de math matiques (1778), based on the methods of Leibnitz and written in his notation, and that he turned next to the De analyse per aequationes numero terminorum infinitas of. Newton (cf.ms.2763). Marx was so taken with Sauri s use of the Leibnitzian algorithmic methods of differentiation that he sent an explanation of it (with application to the problem of the tangent to the parabola) in a special appendix to one of his letters to Engels. Marx, however, did not limit himself to Sauri s Cours. The next text to which he turned was the English, translation of a modern (1827) French textbook, J.-L. Boucharlat s El ments de calcul diff rentiel et du calcul int gral. Written in an ecletic spirit, in combined the ideas of d Alembert and Lagrange. It went through eight editions in France alone and was translated into foreign languages (including Russian); the textbook, however, did not satisfy Marx, and he next turned to a series of monographs and survey-course books. Besides the classic works of Euler and MacLaurin (who popularised Newton) there were the university textbooks of Lacroix, Hind, Hemming, and others. Marx made scattered outlines and notations from all these books. In these volumes Marx was interested primarily in the viewpoint of Lagrange, who attempted to cope with the characteristic difficulties of differential calculus and ways of converting calculus into an algebraic form, i.e., without starting from the extremely vague Newtonian concepts of infinitely small and limit . A detailed acquaintance with the ideas of Lagrange convinced Marx, however, that theses methods of solving the difficulties connected with the symbolic apparatus of differential calculus were insufficient. Marx then began to work out his own methods of explaining the nature of the calculus. Possibly the arrangement of Marx s mathematical writings as is done in the second half of the volume permits a clarification of the way in which Marx came onto these methods. We see, for example, beginning with the attempt to correct Lagrange s outlook how Marx again turned to algebra with a complete understanding of the algebraic roots of the differential calculus. Naturally, his primary interest here was in the theorem of the multiple roots of an algebraic equation, the finding of which was closely connected with the successive differentiations of equations. This question was especially treated by Marx in the series of manuscripts 3932, 3933, appearing here under the titles Algebra I and Algebra II . Marx paid special attention to the important theorems of Taylor and MacLaurin. Thus arrived his manuscripts 3933, 4000, and 4001, which are impossible to regard simply as outlines and the texts of which are, therefore, given in full. Generally speaking in the outlines Marx began more and more to use his own notation. In a number of places he used special notation for the concept of function and in places dy/dx for 0/0. These symbols are met passim a number of other manuscripts (cf. 2763, 3888, 3932, 4302). Convinced that the pure algebraic method of Lagrange did not solve the difficulties of the foundations of the differential calculus and already having his own ideas on the nature and methods of the calculus, Marx once again began to collect textual material on the various ways of differentiating (cf. Mss. 4038 and 4040). Only after reading the expositions suggesting (for certain classes of functions) the methods of algebraically differentiating, only after constructing sketches of the basic ideas did he express his point of view. These are exhibited here in the manuscripts and variants published in the first part of this volume. We now proceed to the contents of these manuscripts. In the 1870s, from which date the overwhelming majority of Marx s mathematical works, contemporary classical analysis and characteristic theories of the real numbers and limits were established on the European continent (principally in the works of Weierstrass, Dedeking and Cantor). This more precise work was unknown in the English universities at that time. Not without reason did the well-known English mathematician Hardy comment in his Course of Pure Mathematics, written significantly later (1917): It [this book] was written when analysis was neglected in Cambridge, and with an emphasis and enthusiasm which seem rather ridiculous now. If I were to rewrite it now I should not write (to use Prof. Littlewood s simile) like a missionary talking to cannibals , (preface to the 1937 edition). Hardy had to note as a special achievement the fact that in monographs in analysis even in England there is now [i.e., in 1937] no lack . It is not surprising therefore that Marx in his mathematical manuscripts may have been cut off from the more contemporary problems in mathematical analysis which were created at that time on the Continent. Nonetheless his ideas on the nature of symbolic differential calculus afford interest even now. Differential calculus is characterised by its symbols and terminology, such notions as differential and infinitely small of different orders, such symbols as dx, dy, d y, d y ... dy/dx , d y/dx , d y/dx and others. In the middle of the last century many of the instructional books used by Marx associated these concepts and symbols with special methods of constructing quantities different from the usual mathematical numbers and functions. Indeed, mathematical analysis was obliged to operate with these special quantities. This is not true at the present time: there are no special symbols in contemporary analysis; yet the symbols and terminology have been preserved, and even appear to be quite suitable. How? How can this happen, if the corresponding concepts have no meaning? The mathematical manuscripts of Karl Marx provide the best answer to this question. Indeed, such an answer which permits the understanding of the essence of all symbolic calculus, whose general theory was only recently constructed in contemporary mathematical logic. The heart of the matter is the operational role of symbols in the calculus. For example, if one particular method of calculation is to be employed repeatedly for the solution of a range of problems then the special symbol appropriately chosen for this method briefly designates its generation, or as Marx calls it, its strategy of action . That symbol, which comes to stand for the process itself, as distinct from the symbolic designation introduced for the process, Marx called real . Why then introduce an appropriately chosen new symbol for this? Marx s answer consists in that this gives us the opportunity not to execute the entire process anew each time, but rather, using the fact of previously having executed it in several cases, to reduce the procedure in more complicated cases to the procedure of the more simple ones. For this it is only necessary, once the regularities of the particular method are well-known, to represent several general rules of operation with new symbols selected to accomplish this reduction. And with this step we obtain a calculus, operating with the new symbols, on its, as Marx called it, own ground . And Marx thoroughly clarifies, by means of the dialectic of the inverted method , this transition to the symbolic calculus. The rules of calculus allow us on the other hand not to cross over from the real process to the symbolic one but to look for the real process corresponding to the symbol, to make of the symbol an operator - the above-mentioned strategy of action . Marx did all this in his two fundamental works written in 1881 and sent to Engels: On the concept of the derived function (see p.3) and On the differential (p.15). In the first work Marx considers the real method, for several types of functions, to find the derived functions and differentials, and introduces appropriate symbols for this method (he calls it algebraic differentiation). In the second work he obtains the inverted method and transfers to the own ground of differential calculus, employing for this aim first of all the theorem on the derivative of a product which permits the derivative of a product to be expressed as the sum of the derivatives of its factors. Employing his own words, thus the symbolic differential coefficient becomes the autonomous starting point whose real equivalent is first to be found... Thereby, however,the differential calculus appears as a specific type of calculus which already operates independently on its own ground (Boden). For its starting points du/dx, dz/dx, belong only to it and are mathematical quantities characteristic of it. (pp.20-21). For this they are suddenly transformed into operational symbols (Operationssymbole), into symbols of the process which must be carried out... to find their derivatives . Originally having arisen as the symbolic expression of the derivative and thus already finished, the symbolic differential coefficient now plays the role of the symbol of that operation of differentiation which is yet to be completed. (pp.20-21). In the teachings of Marx there were not yet the rigorous definitions of the fundamental concepts of mathematical analysis characteristic of contemporary mathematics. At first glance the content of his manuscripts appear therefore to be archaic, not up to the requirements, say, of Lagrange, at the end of the 18th century. In actuality, the fundamental principle characteristic of the manuscripts of Marx has essential significance even in the present day. Marx was not acquainted with contemporary rigorous definitional concepts of real number, limit and continuity. But he obviously would not have been satisfied with the definitions, even if he had known them. The fact is Marx uses the real method of the search for the derivative function, that is the algorithm, first, to answer the question whether there exists a derivative for a given function, and second, to find it, if it exists. As is well known, the concept of limit is not an algorithmic concept, and therefore such problems are only solvable for certain classes of functions. One class of functions, the class of algebraic functions, that is, functions composed of variables raised to any power, is represented by Marx as the object of algebraic differentiation. In fact, Marx only deals with this sort of function. Nowadays the class of functions for which it is possible to answer both questions posed above has been significantly broadened, and operations may be performed on all those which satisfy the contemporary standards of rigour and precision. From the Marxian point of view, then, it is essential that transformations of limits were regarded in the light of their effective operation, or in other words, that mathematical analysis has been built on the basis of the theory of algorithms, which we have described here. We are certainly well acquainted with Engels s statement in the Dialectics of Nature that the turning point in mathematics was Descartes introduction of variable quantities. Thanks to this movement came into mathematics and with it the dialectic and thanks to this rapidly became necessary differential and integral calculus, which arose simultaneously and which generally and on the whole were completed and not invented by Newton and Leibnitz (Dialectics of Nature p.258). But what is this variable quantity ? What is a variable in mathematics in general? The eminent English philosopher Bertrand Russel says on this point, This, naturally, is one of the most difficult concepts to understand, and the mathematician Karl Menger counts up to six completely different meanings of this concept. To elucidate the concept of variables - in other words, of functions - and that of variables in mathematics in general, the mathematical manuscripts of Marx now represent objects of essential importance. Marx directly posed to himself the question of the various meanings of the concepts of function: the functions of x and functions in x - and he especially dwelt on how to represent the mathematical operation of change of variables, in what consists this change. On this question of the means of representation of the change of variables Marx placed special emphasis, so much so that one talks characteristically of the algebraic method of differentiation, which he introduced. The fact is, Marx strenuously objected to the representation of any change in the value of the variable as the increase (or decrease) of previously prepared values of the increment (its absolute value). It seems a sufficient idealisation of the real change of the value of some quantity or other, to make the assertion that we can precisely ascertain all the values which this quantity receives in the course of the change. Since in actuality all such values can be found only approximately, those assumptions on which the differential calculus is based must be such that one does not need information about the entirety of values of any such variable for the complete expression of the derivative function f (x) from the given f(x), but that it be sufficient to have the expression f(x). For this it is only required to know that the value of the variable x changes actually in such a way that in a selected (no matter how small) neighbourhood of each value of the variable x (within the given range of its value) there exists a value x1, different from x, but no more than that. x1 therefore remains just exactly as indefinite as x is. (p.88) It stands to reason from this, that when x is change into x1, thereby generating the difference x1 - x, designated as x, then the resulting x1 becomes equal to x + x. Marx emphasised at this point that this occurs only as a result of the change of the value x into the value x1 and does not precede this change, and that to represent this x1 as known as the fixed expression x + x carries with it a distorted assumption about the representation of movement (and of all sorts of change in general). Distorted because in this case here, although in x + x, x is equally as indeterminate in quantity as the undetermined variable x itself; x Is determined separetely from x, a distinct quantity, like the fruit of the mother s womb, with which she is pregnant. (p.87) In connection with this Marx now begins his determination of the derived function f (x) from the function f(x) with the change of x into x1. As a result of this f(x) is changed into f(x1), and there arise both differences x1 - x and f(x1) - f(x), the first of which is obviously different from zero as long as x1 x. Here the increased x, is distinguished as x1, from itself, before it grows, namely from x, but x1 does not appear as an x increased by x, so x1 therefore remains just exactly as indefinite as x is. (p.88) The real mystery of differential calculus, according to Marx, consists in that in order to evaluate the derived function at the point x(at which the derivative exists) it is not only necessary to go into the neighbourhood of the point, to the point x1 different from x, and to form the ratio of the differences f(x1) - f(x) and x1 - x that is, the expression (f(x1) - f(x))/(x1 - x), but also to return again to the point x; and to return not without a detour, with special features relating to the concrete evaluation of the function f(x), since simply setting x1 = x in the expression (f(x1) - f(x))/(x1 - x) turns it into (f(x) - f(x))/(x - x), that is, into 0/0, or in other words into meaninglessness. This character of the evaluation of the derivative, in which is formed the non-zero difference x1 - x and the subsequent - after the construction of the ratio (f(x1) - f(x))/(x1 - x) - dialectical removal of this difference, is still preserved in the present-day evaluation of the derivative where the removal of the difference x1 - x takes place with the help of the limit transition from x1 to x. In his work Appendix to the manuscript On the history of the differential calculus , Analysis of the Method of d Alembert Marx also spoke of the derivative essentially as the limit of the value of the ratio (f(x1) - f(x))/(x1 - x), although he denoted it with other terms. In fact the confusion surrounding the terms limit and limit value , concerning which Marx observed, the concept of value at the limit is easily misunderstood and is constantly misunderstood , prompted him to replace the term limit with the absolute minimal expression in the determination of the derivative. But he did not insist on this replacement, however, foreseeing that the more precise definition of the concept of limit, with which he familiarised himself in Lacroix s long Trait du calcul diff rentiel et du calcul int gral - a text which satisfied Marx significantly more than others - could result further on in the introduction of unnecessary new terms. In fact Marx wrote of the concept of limit, this category which Lacroix in particular analytically broadened, only becomes important as a substitute for the category minimal expression . (see p.68). Thus Marx clarified the essentials of the dialectic connected with the evaluation of the derivative even in contemporary mathematical analysis. This dialectic, not a formal contradiction, makes as will be shown below, the differential calculus of Newton and Leibnitz appear mystical . To see this it is only necessary to recall that Marx by no means totally denied the representation of any change in the value of the variable as the addition of some increment already having a value. On the contrary, when one speaks of the evaluation of the result of the already introduced change, one is induced to speak equally of the increase of the value of the variable (for example, of the dependence of the increase of the function on the increase in the independent variable), and the point of view of the sum x1 = x + x or x1 = x + h, as Marx calls it, becomes fully justified. To this transition from the algebraic method to the differential one Marx specially devoted himself in his last work Taylor s Theorem , which unfortunately remains unfinished and is therefore only partially reproduced in the first part of the present book. (A very detailed description of this manuscript of Marx, with almost all of the text, appears in the second part of the book, [Yanovskaya, 1968 pp.498-562]). Here Marx emphasises that, while in the algebraic method x1 - x consists solely for us as the form of a difference, and not as some x1 - x = h and therefore not as the sum x1 = x + h, in the transition to the differential method we may view h as an increment (positive or negative) of x. This we have a right to do, since x1 - x = x and this same x can serve, after our way, as simply the symbol or sign of the differences of the x s, that is of x1 - x, and also equally well as the quantity of the difference x1 - x, as indeterminate as x1 - x and changed with their changing. Thus x1 - x = x or = the indeterminate quantity h. From this it follows that x1 = x + h and f(x1) or y1 is transformed into f(x + h). (Yanovskaya, 1968 p.522) In this way it would be unfair to represent the viewpoint of Marx as requiring the rejection of all other methods employed in differential calculus. If these methods are successful Marx sets himself the task of clarifying the secret of their success. And after this is shown to him, that is, after the examined method has demonstrated its validity and the conditions for its use are fulfilled, Marx considers a transition to this method not only fully justified but even appropriate. Following his 1881 manuscript containing the fundamental results of his thoughts on the essence of differential calculus, Marx chose to send Engels a third work, concerned with the history of the method of differential calculus. At first, he wanted to depict this history with concrete examples of the various methods of showing the theorems on the derivation of the derivative, but then he relinquished this resolve and passed on to the general characteristics of the fundamental periods in the history of the methods of differential calculus. This third work was not fully put into shape by Marx. There remain only the indications that he had decided to write about it and sketches of the manuscript, form which we know how Marx constructed and undertook the plan of his historical essay on this theme. This rough copy is published in full in the first part of this book (see pp.73-106). All of Marx s indications that there should be introduced into the text this or that page from other manuscripts are here followed in full. The manuscript gives us the possibility to explicate Marx s viewpoint on the history of the fundamental methods of differential calculus. The characteristic features of the methods of Newton and Leibnitz revealed, according to Marx, the fact that their creators did not see the algebraic kernel of differential calculus: they began immediately with their operational formulae, the origins and the meaning of which remained therefore misunderstood and even mysterious, so that the calculus stood out as a characteristic manner of calculation different from the usual algebra (p.84), as a discovery, a completely special discipline of mathematics as different from the usual algebra as Heaven is wide (p.113). To the question, By what means... was the starting point chosen for the differential symbols as operational formulae Marx answers, either through covertly or through overtly metaphysical assumptions, which themselves lead once more to metaphysical, unmathematical consequences, and so it is at that point that the violent suppression is made certain, the derivation is made to start its way, and indeed quantities made to proceed from themselves. (p.64) Elsewhere Marx writes concerning the methods of Newton and Leibnitz: x1 = + x from the beginning changes into x1 = x + dx ... where dx is assumed by a metaphysical explanation. First, it exists, then it is explained. From the arbitrary assumption the consequence follows that ... terms ... must be juggled away, in order to obtain the correct result. (p.91) In other words, so long as the meaning of introduction into mathematics of the differential symbols remains unexplained - more than that, generally false, since the differentials dx, dy are identified simply with the increments x, y - then the means of their removal appear unjustified, obtained by a forcible , juggling suppression. We have to devise certain metaphysical, actually infinitely small quantities, which are to be treated simultaneously both as the usual different-from-zero (nowadays called Archimedean ) quantities and as quantities which vanish (transmute into zero) in comparison with the finite or infinitely small quantities of a lower order (that is, as non-Archimedean quantities); or, simply put, as both zero and non-zero at the same time. Therefore nothing more remains, writes Marx in this connection, than to imagine the increments h of the variable to be infinitely small increments and to give them as such independent existence, in the symbols x., y. etc, or dx, dy [etc] for example. But infinitely small quantities are quantities, just like those which are infinitely large (the word infinitely [small] only means in fact indefinitely small); the dy, dx ... therefore also take part in the calculation just like ordinary algebraic quantities, and in the equation (y + k) - y or k = 2xdx + dxdx the dxdx has the same right to existence as 2xdx does. .. the reasoning is therefore most peculiar by which it is forcibly suppressed . (p.83) The presence of these actually infinitely small, that is, formally contradictory, items which are not introduced by means of operations of mathematically grounded consistency but are hypothesised on the basis of metaphysical explanations and are removed by means of tricks gives the calculus of Newton and Leibnitz, according to Marx, a mystical quality, despite the many advantages they bring to it, thanks to which it begins immediately with operating formulae. At the same time Marx rated very highly the historical significance of the methods of Newton and Leibnitz. Therefore, he writes, mathematicians really believed in the mysterious character of the newly-discovered means of calculation which led to the correct (and, particularly in the geometric application, surprising) result by means of a positively false mathematical procedure. In this manner they became themselves mystified, rated the new discovery all the more highly, enraged all the more greatly the crowd of old orthodox mathematicians, and elicited the shrieks of hostility which echoed even in the world of non-specialists and which were necessary for the blazing of this new path. (p.94) The next stage in the development of the methods of differential calculus, according to Marx, was the rational differential calculus of d Alembert and Euler. The mathematically incorrect methods of Newton and Leibnitz are here corrected, but the starting point remains the same. d Alembert starts directly from the point de d part of Newton and Leibnitz, x1 = x + dx. But he immediately makes the fundamental correction: x1 = x + x, that is x and an undefined, but prima facie finite increment*2 which he calls h. The transformation of this h or x into dx ... is the final result of the development, or at the least just before the gate swings shut, while in the mystics and the initiators of the calculus as its starting point. (p.94) And Marx emphasised that with this the removal of the differential symbols from the final result proceeds then by means of correct mathematical operation. They are thus now discarded without sleight of hand. (p.96) Marx therefore rated highly the historical significance of d Alembert s method. d Alembert stripped the mystical veil from the differential calculus, and took an enormous step forward, he writes (p.97). However, so long as d Alembert s starting point remains the representation of the variable x as the sum x + an existing element, independent of the variable x, the increment x - then d Alembert has not yet discovered the true dialectic process of differentiation. And Marx makes the critical observation regarding d Alembert: d Alembert begins with (x + dx) but corrects the expression to (x + x), alias (x + h); a development now becomes necessary in which x or h is transformed into dx, but all of that development really proceeds. (p.128) As is well known, in order to obtain the result dy/dx from the ratio of finity differences y/ x, d Alembert resorted to the limit process . In the textbooks which Marx utilised, this passage to the limit foreshadowed the expansion of the expression f(x + h) into all the powers of h, in which revealed in the coefficient of h raised to the first power was the already contained derivative f (x). The problem therefore became that of liberating the derivative from the factor h and the other terms in the series. This was done naturally, so to speak, by simply defining the derivative as the coeficient of h raised to the first power in the expansion of f(x + h) into a series of powers of h. Indeed, in the first method 1), as well as the rational one 2), the real coefficient sought is fabricated ready-made by means of the binomial theorem; it is found at once in the second term of the series expansion, the term which therefore is necessarily combined with h . All the rest of the differential process then, whether in 1) or in 2), is a luxury. We therefore throw the needless ballast overboard. (p.98) The same thing was done by Lagrange, the founder of the next stage in the development of the differential calculus: pure algebraic calculus, in Marx s periodisation. At first Marx liked very much Lagrange s method, a theory of the derived function which gave a new foundation to the differential calculus . Taylor s theorem, with which was usually obtained the expansion of f(x + h) into a series of powers of h, and which historically arose as the crowning construction of the entire differential calculus, with this method was turned into the starting point of differential calculus, connecting it immediately with the mathematics preceding calculus (yet not employing its specific symbols). Marx noted with respect to this, the real and therefore the simplest interconnection of the new with the old is discovered as soon as the new gains its final form, and one may say, the differential calculus gained this relation through the theorems of Talyor and MacLaurin.*3 Therefore the thought first occurred to Lagrange to return the differential calculus to a firm algebraic foundation. (p.113) Marx found at once, however, that Lagrange did not make use of this insight. As is well known, Lagrange tried to show that generally speaking - that is, with the exception of several special cases in which differential calculus is inapplicable - the expression f(x + h) is expandable into the series f(x) + ph + qh + rh + ..., But Lagrange s proof of this theorem - in fact without much precise mathematic meaning - did not arise naturally. This leap from ordinary algebra, and besides by means of ordinary functions representing movement and change in general is as a fait accompli, it is not proved and is prima facie in contradiction to all the laws of conventional algebra ... (p.177), writes Marx about this proof of Lagrange s. And Marx concludes with respect to the initial equation of Lagrange, that not only is it not proved, but also that the derivation of this equation from algebra therefore appears to rest on a deception (p.117). In the concluding part of the manuscript the method of Lagrange appears as the completion of the method initiated by Newton and Leibnitz and corrected by d Alembert; as the algebraicisation based on Taylor by means of the method of formulae. In just such a manner Fichte followed Kant, Schelling Fichte, Hegel Schelling, and neither Fichte nor Schelling nor Hegel investigated the general foundations of Kant, of idealism in general: for otherwise they would not have been able to develop it further. (p.119) We can see that in a historical sketch Marx gives us a graphic example of what in his opinion should be the application of the method of dialectical materialism in such a science as the history of mathematics. Completion of the present edition of Mathematical Manuscripts of Karl Marx required a great deal of preparation. The text of the manuscripts was translated in full; they were arranged chronologically; excerpts and summaries were separated from Marx s own statements; on the basis of analysis of their mathematical content the manuscripts were collected into units which can be read as a whole (in fact, many of the manuscripts do not make up notebooks, but are rather of separate sheets of paper in no sort of order). In the vast majority of cases it is known from which source Marx drew his excerpts, or which he summarised. By comparison with the original works all of Marx s own comments have been identified in the summaries; all of Marx s independent work and notes have been translated into Russian. The task of separating the personal opinions of Marx from his summaries and excerpts involved a series of difficulties. Marx wrote his summaries for his own benefit, in order to have at hand the material he needed. As always, he made use of a large collection of the most varied sources, but if he did not consider the account worth special attention, if it was, for example, a contemporary textbook compiled and widely distributed in England, then Marx very frequently did not accompany his excerpts with an indication of from where they were drawn. The task is complicated still further by the fact that the majority of the books which Marx utilised are now bibliographical rarities. In the final analysis all this work could only be completed at first hand in England, where, in order to resolve this problem, were studied and investigated in detail the stocks of the extant literature in these libraries: the British Museum, London and Cambridge universities, University College London, Trinity and St. James s Colleges in Cambridge, the Royal Society in London, and finally the private libraries of the eminent 19th century Englishmen de Morgan and Graves. Inquiries were made in other libraries as well, such as that of St. Catherine s College. For those manuscripts which by nature were prepared from German sources, the German historian of mathematics Wussing, at the request of the Institute, investigated the bibliographical resources of the German Democratic Republic. Photocopies of several missing pages of the manuscripts were kindly provided by the Institute of Social History in Amsterdam, where the originals of the mathematical manuscripts of K. Marx are preserved. Since the manuscripts are of the nature of rough drafts, one encounters omissions and even errors in the copied excerpts. The corresponding insertions or corrections are enclosed in square brackets. As a result the square brackets of Marx himself are indicated with double square brackets. Words which Marx abbreviated are written out in full, but the text Is basically unchanged. In places obsolete orthography is even preserved. The primary language of the manuscripts is German. If a reference in the manuscripts is in French or English, Marx sometimes writes his comments in French or English. In such cases Marx s text turns out to be so mixed that it becomes hard to say in what particular language the manuscript is written. The dating of the manuscripts also entailed great difficulties. A detailed description of these difficulties is presented in the catalogue of manuscripts. This last lists the archival number of the manuscript, its assigned title, and the characteristics of either its sources or its content. Where the title or subtitle is Marx own it is written in quotation marks in the original language and in Russian translation. In the first part of the book the titles not originating with Marx are marked with an asterisk. The inventory of the manuscripts is given in the sequence of the arrangement of the archival sheets. Marx s own enumeration, by number of letters, is given in the inventory together with the indication of the archival sheets. An indication of the archival sheets on which they are found accompanies the published texts. All the manuscripts stem from fond 1, . opuscule 1. The language of Marx s mathematical manuscripts in many cases departs from our usual contemporary language, and in order to understand his thought it is necessary to refer to the sources he used, to make clear the meaning of his terms. In order not to interrupt Marx s text, we place such explanations in the notes at the end of the book. Then, where more detailed information about the subject-matter of the sources consulted by Marx is found necessary, it is given in the Appendix. All such notes and references are of a purely informational character. In Marx s text are a great number of underlinings, by means of which he emphasised the points of particular importance to him. All these underlinings are indicated by means of italics. The book was prepared by S.A. Yanovskaya, professor of the M.V. Lomonosov Moscow Government University, to whom also are due the Preface, the Inventory of mathematical manuscripts (compiled with the assistance of A.Z. Rybkin), the Appendices and the Notes. Professor K.A. Rybnikov took part in the editing of the book, performing among other tasks the greater part of the work of researching the sources used by K. Marx in this work on the Mathematical Manuscripts . In the preparation of the present edition the comments and advice of Academicians A.N. Kolmogorov and I.G. Petrovskii were carefully considered. A.Z. Rybkin, chief editor for the physical-mathematical section of Nauka Press, and O.K. Senekina, of the Institute for Marxism-Leninism of the Central Committee of the Communist Party of the Soviet Union, directed all the work of editing the book, preparing it for publication and proof-reading it. The book includes an index of references quoted and consulted, as well as an index of names. References in Marx s text are denoted in the indices by means of italics.

Marx's Mathematical Manuscripts 1881

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1881/mathematical-manuscripts/ch02.html

Let the independent variable x increase to x1; then the dependent variable y increases to y1.2 here in I) we consider the simplest possible case, where x appears only to the first power. y1 = ax1 and y1 - y = a(x1 - x) Now allow the differential operation to occur, that is, we let x1 take on the value of x. Then x1 = x; x1 - x = 0 , a(x1 - x) = a 0 = 0 . Furthermore, since y, only becomes y1 because x increases to x1, we have at the same time y1 = y ; y1 - y = 0 . y1 - y = a(x1 - x) First making the differentiation and then removing it therefore leads literally to nothing. The whole difficulty in understanding the differential operation (as in the negation of the negation generally) lies precisely in seeing how it differs from such a simple procedure and therefore leads to real results. If we divide both a(x1 - x) and the left side of the corresponding equation by the factor x1 - x, we then obtain (y1 - y)/(x1 - x) = a . Since y is the dependent variable, it cannot carry out any independent motion at all, y1 therefore cannot equal y and y1 - y = 0 without x1 first having become equal to x. On the other hand we have seen that x1 cannot become equal to x in the function a(x1 - x) without making the latter = 0. The factor x1 - x was thus necessarily a finite difference3 when both sides of the equation were divided by it. At the moment of the construction of the ratio (y1 - y)/(x1 - x) (y1 - y)/(x1 - x) (y1 - y)/(x1 - x) = y/ x (y1 - y)/(x1 - x) or4 y/ x = a , Since a is a constant, no change may take place in it; hence none can occur on the right-hand side of the equation, which has been reduced to a. Under such circumstances the differential process takes place on the left-hand side (y1 - y)/(x1 - x) or y/ x , If in the denominator of this ratio x1 decreases so that it approaches x, the limit of its decrease is reached as soon as it becomes x. Here the difference becomes x1 - x1 = x - x = 0 and therefore also y1 - y = y - y = 0. In this manner we obtain 0/0 = a . dy/dx = a . The closely-held belief of some rationalising mathematicians that dy and dx are quantitatively actually only infinitely small, only approaching 0/0, is a chimera, which will be shown even more palpably under II). As for the characteristic mentioned above of the case in question, the limit value (Grenzwert) of the finite differences is therefore also at the same time the limit value of the differentials. 2) A second example of the same case is y = x y1 = x1 ; y1 - y = x1 - x ; (y1 - y)/(x1 - x) or y/ x = 1 ; 0/0 or dy/dx = 1 . When in y = f(x) , the function [of] x appears on the right-hand side of the equation in its developed algebraic expression,6 we call this expression the original function of x, its first modification obtained by means of differentiation the preliminary derived function of x and its final form obtained by means of the process of differentiation the derived function of x.7 1) y = ax + bx + cx - e . If x increases to x1, then y1 = ax1 + bx + cx1 - e , y1 - y = a(x1 - x ) + b(x1 - x ) + c(x1 - x) = a(x1 - x) (x1 + x1x + x ) + b(x1 - x) (x1 + x) + c(x1 - x) . Therefore (y1 - y)/(x1 - x) or y/ x = a(x1 + x1x + x ) + b(x1 + x) + c . a(x1 + x1x + x ) + b(x1 + x) + c [and it] is here the the limit value (Grenzwert) of the ratios of the finite differences; that is, however small these differences may become, the value of y/ x is given by that derivative . But this is not the same case as that under I) with the limit value of the ratios of the differentials.* When the variable x1 is decreased in the function a(x1 + x1x + x ) + b(x1 + x) + c 3ax + 2bx + c . It Is here shown in a striking manner: First: in order to obtain the derivative , x1 must be set = x; therefore in the strict mathematical sense x1 - x = 0, with no subterfuge about merely approaching infinitely [closely]. Second: Although we set x1 = x and therefore x1 - x = 0, nonetheless nothing symbolic appears in the derivative .*2 The quantity x1, although originally obtained from the variation of x, does not disappear; it is only reduced to its minimum limit value = x. It remains in the original functions of x as a newly introduced element which, by means of its combinations partly with itself and partly with the x of the original function, finally produces the derivative , that is, the preliminary derivative reduced to its absolute minimum quantity. The reduction of x1 to x within the first (preliminary) derived function changes the left-hand side [from] y/ x to 0/0 or dy/dx, thus: 0/0 or dy/dx = 3ax + 2bx + c , The transcendental or symbolic mistake which appears only on the left-hand side has perhaps already lost its terror since it now appears only as the expression of a process which has established its real content on the right-hand side of the equation. In the derivative 3ax + 2bx + c The symbols d y/dx , d y/dx , etc., only display the genealogical register of the derivatives with respect to the original given function of x. They are mysterious only so long as one treats them as the starting point of the exercise, instead of a merely the expression of the successively derived functions of x. For it indeed appears miraculous that a ratio of vanished quantities should pass through a new hight degree of disappearance, while there is nothing wonderful in the fact that 3x , for example, can pass through the process of differentiation as well as its mother x . One could just as well begin with 3x as with the original function of x. But nota bene. The starting point of the process of differentiation actually is y/ x only in equations as [above] under I), where x appears only to the first power. Then, however, as was shown under I), the result [is]: y/ x = a = dy/dx . Here therefore as a matter of fact no new limit value is found from the process of differentiation which y/ x passes through; [a result] which remains possible only so long as the preliminary derivative includes the variable x, so long, therefore, as dy/dx remains the symbol of a real process.*3 Of course, it is in no sense an obstacle, that in the differential calculus the symbols dy/dx, d y/dx , etc., and their combinations also appear on the right-hand side of the equation. For one knowns as well that such purely symbolic equations only indicate the operations which are then to be applied to the real function of variables. 2) y = axm . As x becomes x1, then y1 = ax1m and = a(x1 - x) (x1m-1 + x1m-2x + (x1m-3x + etc. up to the term x1m-mxm-1). Therefore + x1m-mxm-1). We now apply the process of differentiation to this preliminary derivative , so that x1 = x or x1 - x = 0 x1m-1 is change into xm-1; x1m-2x into xm-2x = xm-2+1 = xm-1 ; x1m-3x into xm-3x = xm-3+2 = xm-1 , x1m-mxm-1 into xm-mxm-1 = x0+m-1 = xm-1 . We thus obtain the function xm-1m times, and the derivative is therefore maxm-1. Due to the equivalence of x1 = x within the preliminary derivative ,*4 on the left-hand side y/ x is changed to 0/0 or dy/dx; therefore dy/dx = maxm-1 . All of the operations of the differential calculus could be treated in this manner, which would however be a damned useless mass of details. Nonetheless here is another example; since up to now the difference x1 - x appeared only once in the function of x and therefore disappeared from the right-hand side by means of the formation of (y1 - y)/(x1 - x) or y/ x . This [is] not the case in the following: 3) y = ax ; Let x become x1. Then y1 = ax1 y1 - y = ax1 - ax = ax(ax1-x - 1) . ax1 - x = {1 + (a - 1)}x1-x , and Therefore = ax {(x1 - x)(a - 1) + ((x1 - x) (x1 - x - 1) (a - 1) )/1 2 + ((x1 - x)(x1 - x - 1) (x1 - x - 2) (a - 1) )/1 2 3 + etc.} ax {(a - 1) + ((x1 - x - 1) (a - 1) )/1 2 + ((x1 - x - 1) (x1 - x - 2) (a - 1) )/1 2 3 + etc.}. Now as x1 = x and thus x1 - x = 0, we obtain for the derivative : ax {(a - 1) - (a - 1) /2 + (a - 1) /3 - etc.}. Thus dy/dx = ax {(a - 1) - (a - 1) /2 + (a - 1) /3 - etc.} If we designate the sum of the constants in parentheses A, then dy/dx = Aax ; but this A = Napierian logarithm of the number*5 a, so that: dy/dx, or, when we replace y by its value: daxx>/dx = log a ax , dax = log a axdx . Supplementary10 We have considered 1) cases in which the factor (x1 - x) [occurs] only once in [the expression which leads to] the preliminary derivative - i.e. [in] the equation of finite differences11 - so that by means of the division of both sides by x1 - x in the formation of (y1 - y)/(x1 - x) or y/ x 2) ( in the example d(ax)) cases in which factors of (x1 - x) remain after the formation of y/ x.12 3) Yet to be considered is the case where the factor x1 - x is not directly obtained from the first difference equation ([which leads to] the preliminary derivative ). y = sqrt{a + x }, y1 = sqrt{a + x1 }, y1 - y = sqrt{a +x1 } - sqrt{a + x }; (y1 - y)/(x1 - x) (or y/ x) = (sqrt{a + x1 } - sqrt{a + x })/(x1 - x) . In order to rationalise the numerator, [both] numerator and denominator are multiplied by sqrt{a + x1 } + sqrt{a + x }, and we obtain: y/ x = (a + x1 - (a + x ))/((x1 - x)(sqrt{a + x1 } + sqrt{a + x }) = (x1 - x )/((x1 - x)(sqrt{a + x1 } + sqrt{a + x })) y/ x = (x1 + x)/(sqrt{a + x1 } + sqrt{a + x }) Now when x1 becomes = x, or x1 - x = 0, then dy/dx = 2x/(2 sqrt{a + x }) = x/sqrt{a + x } dy or d sqrt{a + x } = xdx/sqrt{a + x } .

Marx's Mathematical Manuscripts 1881

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1881/mathematical-manuscripts/ch03.html

1) Let f(x) or y = uz be a function to be differentiated; u and z are both functions dependent on the independent variable x. They are independent variables with respect to the function y, which depends on them, and thus on x. y1 = u1z1, y1 - y = u1z1 - uz = z1(u1 - u) + u(z1 - z), (y1 - y)/(x1 - x) or y/ x = z1 (u1 - u)/(x1 - x) + u (z1 - z)/(x1 - x) = (z1 u)/( x) + (u z)/( x) .* Now on the right-hand side let x1 = x, so that x1 - x = 0, likewise u1 - u = 0, z1 - z = 0; so that the factor z1 in z1 (u1 - u)/(x1 - x) also goes to z; finally on the left-hand side y1 - y = 0. Therefore: A) dy/dx = z du/dx + u dz/dx . Which equation, when all its terms are multiplied by the common denominator dx, becomes B) dy or d(uz) = z du + u dz. 14 2) Consider for the time being the first equation A): dy/dx = z du/dx + u dz/dx . In equations with only one variable dependent on x, the final result has always been dy/dx = f (x) , and f (x), the first derived function*2 of f(x), has been free15 of all symbolic expressions, for example, mxm-1 when xm is the original function of the independent variable x. As a direct result of the process of differentiation which f(x) had to pass through in order to be transformed into f (x), its shadow image (Doppelg nger) 0/0 or dy/dx appeared as the symbolic equivalent on the left-hand side opposite f (x), the real differential coefficient.16 Alternately 0/0 or dy/dx found its real equivalent in f (x). In equation A) by contrast, f (x), the first derivative of uz, itself includes symbolic differential coefficients, which are therefore present on both sides while on neither is there a real value. Since, however, uz has been handled in the same manner as the earlier functions of x with only one independent variable, this contrast is obviously a result of the peculiar character of the beginning function itself, namely uz. A more complete treatment of this is found under 3). For the moment, it remains to be seen whether there are any twists in the derivation of equation A). On the right-hand side (u1 - u)/(x1 - x) or u/ x and (z1 - z)/(x1 - x) or z/ x If we place the primitive problematic form of du/dx, dz/dx on the right-hand side it becomes: z 0/0 + u 0/0. If we then multiply z and u by the numerators of the 0/0 accompanying them, we obtain: 0/0 + 0/0; and since the variables z and u themselves become = 0,17 as are their derivatives as well, so that [we obtain] finally: 0/0 = 0 and not z du/dx + u dz/dx . This procedure, however, is mathematically false. Let us take, for example (u1 - u)/(x1 - x) = u/ x ; Therefore what arises opposite the variables u and z is not 0 but (0/0), whose numerator in this form remains inseparable from its denominator. Consequently as a multiplier 0/0 then could nullify its coefficients only when and so far as 0/0 = 0. Even in the usual algebra it would be false, in the case where a product P m/n takes the form P 0/0 , to conclude immediately that it must be = 0 , although it may be set always = 0 here, since we can begin18 the nullification arbitrarily with numerator or denominator. For example, P (x - a )/(x - a). Let [because x = a] x be set = a , so that x - a = 0; we then obtain: P 0/0 = 0/0, and the last [term] may be set = 0, since 0/0 can just as readily be 0 as any other number. By contrast, let us reduce x - a to its factors, so that we obtain P.((x - a)(x + a))/(x - a) = P(x + a), and since x = a,19 = 2Pa . In our case, however, where the origin of 0/0, 0/0 is known to be the differential expression of z/ x, u/ x respectively, the two deserve, as above, the uniform (die Uniform) dz/dx , du/dx . 3) In the equations, such as y = xm, y = ax etc., which have been treated previously, an original function of x stands opposite a y dependent on it. In y = uz, both sides contain dependent [variables] . While here y depends directly on u and z, so in turn u and z [depend] as well on x. This specific character of the original function uz necessarily stamps on its derivatives as well. That u is a function of x, and z another function of x is represented by: u = f(x), u1 - u = f(x1) - f(x) , z = (x); z1 - z = (x1) - (x) . But neither the beginning equation for f(x) nor for (x) leads to an original function of x, that is, a definite value*3 in x. Consequently u and z figure as mere names, as symbols of functions of x; therefore as well only the general forms of this ratio of dependence (Abh ngigkeitsverh ltnis) : (u1 - u)/(x1 - x) = (f(x1) - f(x))/(x1 - x) , (z1 - z)/(x1 - x) = ( (x1) - (x))/(x1 - x) du/dx = df(x)/dx , dz/dx = d (x)/dx , and the symbolic differential coefficients du/dx , dz/dx become as such incorporated into the derivatives . In equations with only one dependent variable, dy/dx has no other content at all than du/dx , dz/dx have here. It is also merely the symbolic differential expression of (y1 - y)/(x1 - x) = (f(x1) - f(x))/(x1 - x).20 Although the nature of du/dx , dz/dx - that is, of symbolic coefficients in general - is in no way altered when they appear within the derivative itself, and so on the right-hand side of the differential equation as well, nonetheless their role and the character of the equation are thereby altered. Let us represent the original function of uz, in combination, by f(x), and their first derivative by f (x), dy/dx = z du/dx + u dz/dx dy/dx = f (x) . We have obtained this very general form for equations with only one dependent variable. In both cases the beginning forms of dy/dx arose from the process of taking the derivative (Ableitungsprozesse), which transforms f(x) into f (x). So soon, therefore, as f(x) becomes f (x), dy/dx stands opposite the latter as its own symbolic expression, as its shadow image (Dopelg nger) or symbolic equivalent. In both cases, therefore, dy/dx plays the same role. It is otherwise with du/dx , dz/dx. Together with the other elements of f (x), into which they are incorporated, in dy/dx they meet with their symbolic expression or their symbolic equivalent, but they themselves do not stand opposite the f (x), (x) whose symbolic shadow images they would be in turn. They are brought into the world unilaterally, shadow figures lacking the body which cast them, symbolic differential coefficients without the real differential coefficients, that is, without the corresponding equivalent derivative . Thus the symbolic differential coefficient becomes the autonomous starting point whose real equivalent is first to be found. The initiative is thus shifted from the right-hand pole, the algebraic, to the left-hand one, the symbolic. Thereby, however, the differential calculus also appears as a specific type of calculation which already operates independently on its own ground (Boden). For its starting points du/dx , dz/dx belong only to it and are mathematical quantities characteristic of it. And this inversion of the method arose as a result of the algebraic differentiation of uz. The algebraic method therefore inverts itself into its exact opposite, the differential method.*4 Now, what are the corresponding derivatives of the symbolic differential coefficients du/dx , dz/dx ? The beginning equation y = uz provides no data for the resolution of this question. This last [question] may still be answered if one substitutes arbitrary original functions of x for u and z. For example, u = x4 ; z = x + ax . Thereby, however, the symbolic differential coefficients du/dx , dz/dx are suddenly transformed into operational symbols (Operationssymbole), into symbols of the process which must be carried out with x4 and x + ax in order to find their derivatives . Originally having arisen as the symbolic expression of the derivative and thus already finished, the symbolic differential coefficient now plays the rolw of the symbol of the operation of differentiation which is yet to be completed. At the same time the equation dy/dx = z du/dx + u dz/dx , I remark further that*5 from the early part of the 18th century right down to the present day, the general task of the differential calculus has usually been formulated as follows: to find the real equivalent of the symbolic differential coefficient. 4) A) dy/dx = z du/dx + u dz/dx . This is obviously not the simplest expression of equation A), since all its terms have the denominator dx in common. Let this be struck out, and then: B) d(uz) or dy = z du + u dz . Any trace in B) of its origin in A) has disappeared. It is therefore equally as valid when u and z depend on x as when they depend only reciprocally on one another, without any relation to x at all.21 From the beginning it has been a symbolic equation and from the beginning could have served as a symbolic operational equation. In the present case it means, that when For our purpose, namely the further investigation of the differential of y in general, form B) nonetheless will not do. We therefore set: u = x4, z = x + ax . du = 4x dx, dz = (3x + 2ax)dx , A) dy/dx = (x + ax )(4x dx)/dx + x4(3x +2ax)dx/dx ; and then dy/dx = (x + ax )4x + x4(3x + 2ax) ; dy = {(x + ax )4x + x4(3x + 2ax)}dx . dy = f (x)dx . We have already obtained the same result from an arbitrary equation with only one variable. For example: y = xm, dy/dx = mxm-1 = f (x) , dy = f (x)dx . In general we have if y = f(x), whether this function of x is now an original function in x or contains a dependent variable, then always dy = df(x) and df(x) = f (x)dx, and so: B) dy = f (x)dx is the most generally valid form of the differential of y. This would be demonstrable immediately also if given f(x) were f(x, z), that is a function of two mutually independent variables. For our purposes, however, this would be superfluous. 1) The differential dy = f (x)dx dy/dx = f (x) In dy/dx = 0/0 the numerator and denominator are inseparably bound; in dy = f (x)dx they are apparently separated, so that one is forced to the conclusion that it is only a disguised expression for 0 = f (x) 0 or 0 = 0 , A French mathematician of the first third of the 19th century, who is clear in a completely different manner than the well-known [to you] elegant Frenchman,22 has drawn a connection between the differential method and Lagrange s algebraic method: - Boucharlat says: If for example dy/dx = 3x , then dy/dx alias 0/0, or rather its value 3x , is the differential coefficient of the function y. Since dy/dx is thus the symbol which represents the value 3x , dx must always stay (stehn)*6 under dy, but in order to facilitate algebraic operation we treat dy/dx as an ordinary fraction and dy/dx = 3x as an ordinary equation. By removing the denominator from the equation one obtains the result dy = 3x dx, Thus in order to facilitate algebraic operation , one introduces a demonstrably false formula which one baptises the differential . In fact the situation is now so nasty. In 0*7/0 the numerator is inseparable from the denominator, but why? Because both only express a ratio if they are not separated, something like (dans l esp ce) the ratio24 reduced to its absolute minimum: (y1 - y)/(x1 - x) = (f(x1) - f(x))/(x1 - x) , As soon, however, as x1 - x = 0 achieves in dx a form which is manifested without modification as the vanished difference in the independent variable x, so that dy as well is a vanished difference in the function of x or in the dependent [variable] y, then the separation of the denominator from the numerator becomes a completely permissible operation. Wherever dx stands now, such a change of position leaves the ratio of dy to dx undisturbed, dy = f (x)dx thus appears to us to be an alternative form of dy/dx = f (x) 2) The differential dy = f (x)dx arose from A) by means of a direct algebraic derivation (see I,4), while the algebraic derivation of equation A) had already shown that the differential symbol, somewhat like (dans l esp ce) the symbolic differential coefficient which originally emerged as a purely symbolic expression of the algebraically performed process of differentiation, necessarily inverts into an independent starting point, into a symbol of an operation yet to be performed, into an operational symbol, and thus the symbolic equations which have emerged along the algebraic route also invert into symbolic operational equations (Operationsgleichungen). We are thus doubly correct in treating the differential y = f (x)dx as a symbolic operational equation. So we now know a priori, that if y = f(x) [then] dy = df(x) , dy/dx = f (x) . As well, however, from the first moment that the differential functions as the starting point of the calculus, the inversion of the algebraic method of differentiation is complete, and the differential calculus itself therefore appears, a unique, specific method of calculating with variable quantities. In order to make this more graphic I will combine at once all the algebraic methods which I have used, while setting simply f(x) in place of a fixed algebraic expression in x, and the preliminary derivative (see the first manuscript*8) will be designated as f (x) to distinguish from the definitive derivative , f (x). Then, if f(x) = y, f(x1) = y1 , f(x1) - f(x) = y1 - y or y , f (x) (x1 - x) = y1 - y or y. The preliminary derivative must contain expressions in x1 and x exactly like the factor (x1 - x) with the single exception when f(x) is an original function to the first power: f (x) = (y1 - y)/(x1 - x) or y/ x . We now substitute into f (x) x1 = x so that x1 - x = 0 , f (x) = 0/0 or dy/dx and finally f (x)dx = dy or dy = f (x)dx The differential of y is therefore the conclusion of an algebraic development; it becomes the starting point for differential calculus operating on its own ground. dy, the differential26 of y - considered in isolation, that is, without its [real] equivalent - here immediately plays the same role as y in the algebraic method; and the differential of x, dx, the same role as x does there. If we had, in y/ x = f (x) I) y = f (x) x . On the other hand, beginning with the differential calculus as a separate, complete type of calculating - and this point of departure has been itself derived algebraically - we start immediately with the differential expression of I), namely: II) dy = f (x)dx . 3) Since the symbolic differential equation (Gleichung des Differentials) arises simply by the algebraic handling of the most elementary functions with only one independent variable, it appears that the inversion of the method (Umschlag in der Methode) could have been developed in a much more simple manner than happened with the example y = uz . The most elementary functions are those of the first degree; they are: a) y = x, which leads to the differential coefficient dy/dx = 1, so that the differential is dy = dx. b) y = x ab; it leads to the differential coefficient dy/dx = 1, so that again the differential is dy = dx. c) y = ax; it leads to the differential coefficient dy/dx = a, so that the differential is dy = adx. Let us take the simplest case of all (under a)). Then: y = x, y1 = x1 ; y = uz . y1 - y or y = x1 - x or x . I) (y1 - y)/(x1 - x) or y/ x = 1. Thus also y = x. In y/ x x1 is now set = x, or x1 - x = 0, and thus: II) 0/0 or dy/dx = 1; so that dy = dx. Right at the start, as soon, as we obtain I) y/ x = 1, we are forced to operate further on the left-hand side, since on the right-hand side is the constant, 1. And therein the inversion of the method, which throws the initiative from the right-hand side to the left-hand side, once and for all from the group up proves to be in fact the first word of the algebraic method itself. Let s look at the matter more closely. The real result was: I) y/ x = 1. II) 0/0 or dy/dx = 1. Since both I) and II) lead to the same result we may choose between them. The setting of x1 - x = 0 appears in any case to be a superfluous and therefore an arbitrary operation. Further: we operate from here on in II) on the left-hand side, since on the right-hand side ain t no way , so that we obtain: 0/0 or d y/dx = 0 . The final conclusion would be that 0/0 = 0, so that the method is erroneous with which 0/0 was obtained. At the first use*9 it leads to nothing new, and at the second to exactly nothing.27 Finally: we know from algebra that if the second sides of two equations are identical, so also must the first sides be. It therefore follows that: dy/dx = y/ x . For its part the differential dy = dx has no meaning, or more correctly only as much meaning as we have discovered for both differentials in the analysis of dy/dx. Were we to accept the interpretation just given,28 we could then perform miraculous operations with the differential, such as for example showing the role of adx in the determination of the subtangent of the parabola, which by no means requires that the nature of dx and dy really be understood. 4) Before I proceed to section III, which sketches the historical path of development of the differential calculus on an extremely condensed scale, here is one more example of the algebraic method applied previously. In order graphically to distinguish it I will place the given function on the left-hand side, which will always be the side of the initiative, since we always write from left to right, so that the general equation is: xm + Pxm-1 + etc. + Tx + U = 0 , 0 = xm + Pxm-1 + etc. + Tx + U . If the function y and the independent variable x are divided into two equations, of which the first expresses y as a function of the variable u, while on the other hand the second expresses u as a function of x, then both symbolic differential coefficients in combination are to be found.29 Assuming: 1) 3u = y , 3u1 = y1 , then 2) x + ax = u ; x1 + ax1 = u1 . We deal with equation 1) for the present: 3u1 - 3u = y1 - y , 3(u1 - u ) = y1 - y , 3(u1 - u) (u1 + u) = y1 - y , 3(u1 + u) = (y1 - y)/(u1 - u) or y/ u . On the left-hand side u1 is now set = u, so that u1 - u = 0, then: 3(u + u) = dy/du , 3(2u) = dy/du , 6u = dy/du . We now substitute for u its value x + ax , so that: 3) 6(x + ax ) = dy/du . Now applying ourselves to equation 2): x1 + ax1 - x - ax = u1 - u , (x1 - x ) + a(x1 - x ) = u1 - u , (x1 - x) (x1 + x1x + x ) + a(x1 - x) (x1 + x) = u1 - u , (x1 + x1x + x ) + a(x1 + x) = (u1 - u)/(x1 - x) or u/ x . We set x1 = x on the left-hand side, so that x1 - x = 0 . (x + xx + x ) + a(x + x) = du/dx . 4) 3x + 2ax = du/dx . We now multiply equations 3) and 4) together, so that: 5) 6(x + ax ) (3x + 2ax) = dy/du du/dx = dy/dx .30 Thus, by algebraic means the operational formula: dy/dx = dy/du du/dx , The above example shows that it is not witchcraft to transform a development demonstrated from given functions into a completely general form. Assume: so that therefore From the difference under 1) comes: (y1 - y)/(u1 - u) = (f(u1) - f(u))/(u1 - u) ; dy/du = df(u)/du , dy/du = f (u)du/du ; 3) dy/du = f (u) . From the difference under 2) follows: (u1 - u)/(x1 - x) = ( (x1) - (x))/(x1 - x) , du/dx = d (x)/dx , du/dx = (x)dx/dx , 4) du/dx = (x) . We multiply equation 3) by 4), so that: 5) dy/du du/dx or dy/dx31 = f (u) (x) Q.E.D. N. III. The conclusion of this second instalment will follow, as soon as I consult John Landen at the Museum.32

Marx's Mathematical Manuscripts 1881

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1881/mathematical-manuscripts/ch04.html

As soon as we reach the differentiation of f(u,z)[=uz], where the variables u and z are both functions of x, we obtain - in contrast to the earlier cases which had only one dependent variable, namely, y - differential expressions on both sides, as follows: in the first instance dy/dx = z du/dx + u dz/dx ; in the second, reduced form dy = z du + u dz , At the same time, however, as soon as we have achieved this result and we therefore already operate on the ground (Boden) of differential calculus, we can reverse [the process]; if, for example, we have xm = f(x) = y dy = mxm-1dx dy/dx = mxm-1. Thus here we begin with the symbol; it no longer figures as the result of a derivation from the function [of] x; rather instead as already a symbolic expression35 which indicates which operations to perform upon f(x) in order to obtain the real value of dy/dx, i.e. f (x). In the first case 0/0 or dy/dx is obtained as the symbolic equivalent of f (x); and this is necessarily first, in order to reveal the origin of dy/dx; in the second case f (x) is obtained as the real value of the symbol dy/dx. But then, where the symbols dy/dx, d y/dx become the operational formulae (Operationsformeln) of differential calculus,36 they may as such formulae also appear on the right-hand side of the equation, as was already the case in the simplest example dy = f (x)dx. If such an equation in its final form does not immediately give us, as in this case, dy/dx = f (x), etc., then this is proof that it is an equation which simply expresses symbolically which operations are to be performed in application to defined (bestimmtem) functions. And this is the case - and the simplest possible case - immediately in d(uz), where u and z are both variables while both are also functions of the same third variable, i.e. of x.37 Given to be differentiated f(x) or y = uz, where u and z are both variables dependent on x. Then y1 = u1z1 y1 - y = u1z1 - uz . (y1 - y)/(x1 - x) = u1z1/(x1 - x) - uz/(x1 - x) y/ x = (u1z1 - uz)/(x1 - x) . u1z1 - uz = z1(u1 - u) + u(z1 - z) , z1u1 - z1u + uz1 - uz = z1u1 - uz . Therefore: (u1z1 - uz)/(x1 - x) = z1 (u1 - u)/(x1 - x) + u (z1 - z)/(x1 - x) . If now on both sides x1 - x becomes = 0, or x1 = x, then we would have u1 - u = 0, so that u1 = u, and z1 - z = 0, so that z1 = z; we therefore obtain dy/dx = z du/dx + u dz/dx d(uz) or dy = z du + u dz . At this point one may note in this differentiation of uz - in distinction to our earlier cases, where we had only one dependent variable tat here we immediately find differential symbols on both sides of the equation, namely: in the first instance dy/dx = z du/dx + u dz/dx ; in the second d(uz) or dy = z du + u dz It has been shown how, in functions with only one independent variable, from one function of x, for example f(x) = xm, a second function of x, f (x), or, in the given case mxm-1 may be derived by means of actual differentiation and subsequent cancellation alone, and at the same time how from this process the symbolic equivalent 0/0 = dy/dx for the derived function originates on the left-hand side of the equation. Further: the substitution 0/0 = dy/dx here was not only permissible but mathematically necessary. Since 0/0 in its own primitive form may have any magnitude at all, for 0/0 = X always gives 0 = 0. Here, however, 0/0 appears as the symbolic equivalent of a completely defined real value, as above, for example, mxm-1, and is itself only the result of the operations whereby this value was derived from xm; as such a result it is firmly fixed (festgehalten) in the form dy/dx. Here, therefore, where dy/dx ( = 0/0 ) is established in its origin, f (x) is by no means found by using the symbol dy/dx; rather instead of the already derived function of x. Once we have obtained this result, however, we can proceed in reverse. Given an f(x), e.g. xm, to differentiate, we then first look for the value of dy and find dy = mxm-1dx, so that dy/dx = mxm-1. Here the symbolic expression appears (figuriert) as the point of departure. [We] are thus (so) already operating on the ground of differential calculus; that is, dy/dx etc. already perform as formulae which indicate which known differential operations to apply to the function of x. In the first case dy/dx ( = 0/0 ) was obtained as the symbolic equivalent of f (x), in the second f (x) was sought and obtained as the real value of the symbols dy/dx , d y/dx , etc. These symbols having already served as operational formulae (Operationsformeln) of differential calculus, they may then also appear on the right-hand side of the equation, as already happened in the simplest case, dy = f (x)dx. If such an equation in its final form is not immediately reducible, as in the case mentioned, to dy/dx = f (x), that is to a real value, then that is proof that it is an equation which merely expresses symbolically which operations to use as soon as defined functions are treated in place of their undefined [symbols]. The simplest case where this comes in is d(uz), where u and z are both variables, but both at the same time are functions of the same 3rd variable, e.g. of x. If we have here obtained by means of the process of differentiation (Differenzierungsprozessi) (see the beginning of this in Book I, repeated on p.10 of this book*) dy/dx = x du/dx + u dz/dx , From the equation dy/dx = z du/dx + u dz/dx d(uz) or dy = z du + u dz . The simplest possible case would be, for example, u = ax, z = bx . d(uz) or dy = bx adx + ax bdx . We divide both sides by dx, so that: dy/dx = abx + bax = 2abx d y/dx = ab + ba = 2ab . If we take, however, the product from the veryh beginning, y or uz = ax bx = abx , uz or y = abx , dy/dx = 2abx , d y/dx = 2ab . As soon as we obtain a formula such as, for example, [w =] z du/dx , it is clear that the equation, what we might call *2 a general operational equation, [is] a symbolic expression of the differential operation to be performed. If for example we take [the] expression y dx/dy, where y is the ordinate and x the abscissa, then this is the general symbolic expression for the subtangent of an arbitrary curve (exactly as d(uz) = z du + u dz is the same for differentiation of the product of two variables which themselves depend on a third). So long, however, as we leave the expression as it is leads to nothing further, although we have the meaningful representation for dx, that it is the differential of the abscissa, and for dy, that it is the differential of the ordinate. In order to obtain any positive result we must first take the equation of a definite curve, which gives us a definite value for y in x and therefore for dx as well, such as, for example, y = ax, the equation of the usual parabola; and then by means of differentiation we obtain 2ydy = adx; hence dx = 2ydy/a . If we substitute this definite value for dx into the general formula for the subtangent, y dx/dy, we then obtain (y 2ydy/a)/dy = y 2ydy/ady = 2y /a , = 2ax/a = 2x , The difficulty becomes evident if we then substitute the original form 0/0 for dy/dx etc. dy/dx = z du/dx + u dz/dx 0/0 = z 0/0 + u 0/0 , 1) Even in the first exposition with one independent variable, we first obtain 0/0 or dy/dx = f (x) ; so that dy = f (x)dx . dy/dx = 0/0, dy = 0 and dx = 0, so that 0 = 0 . Although we again substitute for dy/dx its indefinite expression 0/0 we nonetheless commit here a positive mistake, for 0/0 is only found here as the symbolic equivalent of the real value f (x), and as such is fixed in the expression dy/dx ,and thus in dy = f (x)dx as well. 2) (u1 - u)/(x1 - x) becomes du/dx or 0/0 , because the variable x becomes = x1, for (u1 - u)/(x1 - x) ; we know however in general that 0/0 can have any value, and that in a specific case it has the specific value (Spezialwert) which appears as soon as a defined function of x enters for u; we are thus not only correct in substituting du/dx for 0/0 , but rather we must do it, since du/dx as well as dz/dx appear here only as symbols for the differential operations to be performed. So long as we stop with the result dy/dx = z du/dx + u dz/dx , dy = z dy + u dz , 3) In the usual algebra 0/0 can appear as the form for expressions which have a real value, even though 0/0 can be a symbol for any quantity. For example, given (x - a )/(x - a), we set x = a so that x - a = 0 and x = a , and therefore x - a = 0. We thus obtain (x - a )/(x - a) = 0/0 ; If we resolve x - a into its factors, then it = (x + a) (x - a) ; so that (x - a )/(x - a) = (x + a) (x - a)/(x - a) = x + a ; If we had the term P(x - a) in an ordinary algebraic equation, then if x = a, so that x - a = 0, then necessarily P(x - a) = P 0 = 0; just as under the same assumptions P(x - a ) = 0. The decomposition of x - a into its factors (x + a) (x - a) would change none of this, for P(x + a) (x - a) = P(x + a) 0 = 0 . By no means, however, does it therefore follow that if the term P (0/0) had been developed by setting x = a, its value must necessarily be = 0. 0/0 may have any value because 0/0 = X always leads to: 0 = X 0 = 0; but just because 0/0 may have any value it need not necessarily have the value 0, and if we are acquainted with its origin we are also able to discover a real value hidden behind it. So for example P (x - a )/(x - a) , if x = a, x - a = 0 and so as well x = a , x - a = 0; thus P.(x -a )/(x - a) = P 0/0 . Although we have obtained this result in a mathematically completely correct manner, it would nonetheless be mathematically false, however, to conclude without further ado that P 0/0 = 0, because such an assumption would imply that 0/0 may necessarily have no value other than 0, so that P 0/0 = P 0 . It would be more relevant to investigate whether any other result arises from resolving x - a into its factors (x + a) (x - a); in fact, this transforms the expression to P (x + a) (x - a)/(x - a) = P (x + a) 1, Thus it is in the equation which we obtain: d(uz)/dx or dy/dx = zdu/dx + udz/dx . The equation therefore only has the value of a general equation which indicates by means of symbols which operations to perform as soon as u and z are given respectively, as dependent variables, two defined functions of x. Only when [we] have defined functions of [x] for u and z may du/dx ( = 0/0 ) and dz/dx ( = 0/0 ) and therefore dy/dx ( = 0/0 ) as well become 0, so that the value 0/0 = 0 cannot be presumed but on the contrary must have arisen from the defined functional equation itself. Let, for example, u = x + ax ; then (0/0) = du/dx = 3x + 2ax , (0/0)1 = d u/dx = 6x + 2a , (0/0)2 = d u/dx = 6 , (0/0)3 = d4u/dx4 = 0 , The long and the short of the story is that here by means of differentiation itself we obtain the differential coefficients in their symbolic form as a result, as the value of [dy/dx in] the differential equation, namely in the equation d(uz)/dx or dy/dx z du/dx + u dz/dx . We now know, however, that u = a defined function of x, say f(x). Therefore (u1 - u)/(x1 - x) , in its differential symbol du/dx, is equal to f (x), the first derived function of f(x). Just so z = (x), say, and so similarly dz/dx = (x), ditto - of (x). The original function itself, however, provides us neither with u nor with z in any defined function of x, such as, for example u = xm, z = sqrt{x} It provides us u and z only as general expressions for any 2 arbitrary functions of x whose product is to be differentiated. The equation states that, if a product, represented by uz, of any two functions of x is to be differentiated, one is first to find the real value corresponding to the symbolic differential coefficient du/dx, that is the first derived function say of f(x), and to multiply this value by (x) = z; then similarly to find the real value of dz/dx and multiply [it] by f(x) = u; and finally to add the two products thus obtained. The operations of differential calculus are here already assumed to be well-known. The equation is thus only a symbolic indication of the operations to be performed, and at the same time the symbolic differential coefficients, du/dx, dz/dx here stand for symbols of differential operations still to be completed in any concrete case, which they themselves were originally derived as symbolic formulae for already completed differential operations. As soon as they have taken on (angenommen) this character, they may themselves become the contents of differential equation, as, for example, in Taylor s Theorem: y1 = y + (dy/dx) h + etc. But then these are also only general, symbolic operational equations. In this case of the differentiation of uz, the interest lies in the fact that it is the simplest case in which - in distinction to the development of those cases where the independent variable x has only one dependent variable y - differential symbols due to the application of the original method itself are placed as well on the right-hand side of the equation (its developed expression), so that at the same time they enter as operational symbols and as such became the contents of the equation itself. This role, in which they indicate operations to be performed and therefore serve as the point of departure, is their characteristic role in a differential calculus already operating (sich bewegenden) on its own ground, but it is certain (sicher) that no mathematician has taken account of this inversion, this reversal of roles, still less has it been necessary to demonstrate it using a totally elementary differential equation. It has only been mentioned as a matter of fact that, while the discoverers of the differential calculus and the major part of their followers make the differential symbol the point of departure for calculus, Lagrange in reverse makes the algebraic derivation40 of actual (wirklichen) functions of the independent variable the point of departure, and the differential symbols into merely symbolic expression of already derived functions. If we once more return to d(uz), we obtained next as the result (Produkt) of setting x1 - x = 0, as the result of the differential operation itself: dy/dx = z du/dx + u dz/dx . Since there is a common denominator here, we thus obtain as a reduced expression dy = z du + u dz . dy/dx =f (x) dy = f (x)dx dy = zdu + udz u = f(x), z = (x) du = f (x)dx dz = (x)dx Therefore: dy = (x)f (x)dx + f(x) (x)dx dy/dx = (x)f (x) + f(x) (x) . In the first case therefore first the differential coefficient dy/dx = f (x) dy = f (x)dx . In the second case first the differential dy and then the differential coefficient dy/dx. In the first case, where the differential symbols themselves first originate from the operations performed with f(x), first the derived function, the true (wirkliche) differential coefficient, must be found, to which dy/dx stands opposite (gegen bertrete) as its symbolic expression; and only after it has been found can the differential (das Differential) dy = f (x)dx be derived. It is turned round (umgenkehrt) in dy = zdu + udz . Since du, dz appear here as operational symbols and clearly indicate operations which we already know, from differential calculus, how to carry out, therefore we must first, in order to find the real value of dy/dx, in every concrete case substitute for u its value in x, and for z ditto - its value in x - in order to find dy = (x)f (x)dx + f(x) (x)dx; dy/dx (x)f (x) + f(x) (x) . What is true for du/dx , dz/dx , dy/dx ,d y/dx etc. is true for all complicated formulae where differential symbols themselves appear within general symbolic operational equations.

Marx's Mathematical Manuscripts 1881

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1881/mathematical-manuscripts/ch05.html

We start with the algebraic derivation of f (x), in order to establish in this way at the same time its symbolic differential expressions 0/0 or dy/dx, and thus also discover its meaning. We must then turn int round, starting with symbolic differential coefficients du/dx , dz/dx as given forms in order to find their respective corresponding real equivalents f (x), (x). And indeed, these different ways of treating the differential calculus, setting out from opposite poles - and two different historical schools - here do not arise from changes in our subjective methods,, but from the nature of the function uz to be dealt with. We deal with it, as with functions of x with a singe dependent variable, by starting with the right-hand pole and operating algebraically with it. I do not believe any mathematician has proved or rather even noticed this necessary reversal from the first method of algebraic derivation (historically the second) whether for so elementary a function as uz or any other. They were too absorbed with the material of the calculus for this. Indeed, we find that in the equation 0/0 or dy/dx = z du/dx + u dz/dx The symbolic differential coefficients thus themselves become already the object or content of the differential operation, instead of as before featuring as its purely symbolic result (als symbolisches Resultat derselben). With these two points, first, that the symbolic differential coefficients as well as the variables become substantial elements of the derivation, become objects of differential operations (Differentialoperationen), second, that the question has changed about, from finding the symbolic expression for the real differential coefficient f (x), to finding the real differential coefficient for its symbolic expression - with both these points the third is given, that instead of appearing as the symbolic result of the previous operation of differentiation on the real function of x, the symbolic differential expressions now conversely (umgekehrt) play the role of symbols which indicate operations of differentiation yet to be performed on the real function of x; that they thus become operational symbols. In our case, where dy/dx = z du/dx + u dz/dx , y = xm , u = sqrt{x}, z = x + 2ax . c) The equation found is not only a symbolic operational equation (Operationsgleichung), but also simply a preparatory symbolic operational equation. Since in [I)] dy/dx = z du/dx + u dz/dx , II) dy or d(uz) = zdu + udz . Straight away this equation says that when a product of two arbitrary variables (and this is generalisable in further applications to the product of an arbitrary number of variables) is to be differentiated, each of two factors is to be multiplied by the differential of the other factor and the two products so obtained are to be added. The first operational equation dy/dx = z du/dx + u dz/dx And here it may be remarked that the process of the original algebraic derivation is again turned its opposite. We first obtained there y = y1 - y dy/dx = f (x) , dy = f (x)dx . The above equation,* however, gives us the differentials dy, du, dz as points of departure (Ausgangspunkte). Thus, were in fact arbitrary defined functions of x to be substituted for u and z, designated only as u = f(x) and z = (x) , The result of this differentiation has the general form: df(x) = f (x)dx d (x) = (x)dx . So that dy = (x)f (x)dx + f(x) (x)dx . dy/dx = (x)f (x) + f(x) (x) . Here, where the differential already plays the role of a ready-made operational symbol, we therefore derive the differential coefficient from it; while on the contrary in the original algebraic development the differential was derived from the equation for the differential coefficient. Let us take the differential itself, as we have developed it in its simplest form, namely, from the function of the first degree: y = ax, dy/dx = a ; dy = adx . The equation of this differential appears to be much more meaningful than that of the differential coefficient, 0/0 or dy/dx = a , Since dy = 0 and dx = 0, dy = adx is identical to 0 = 0. Yet, we are completely correct to use dy and dx for the vanished - but fixed, by means of these symbols, in their disappearance - differences, y1 - y and x1 - x. As long as we stay with the expression dy = adx dy = f (x)dx , dy/dx = f (x) , Thus for example in y = ax d(y ) = d(ax) , 2ydy = adx . The last equation of differentials provides us with two equations of differential coefficients, namely: dy/dx = a/2y and dx/dx = 2y/a . But 2ydy = adx also provides us immediately with the value 2ydy/a for dx, which for instance substitutes into the general formula for the subtangent y dx/dy and finally helps to establish 2x, double the abscissa, as the value of the subtangent of the usual parabola. We now want to take an example in which these symbolic expressions first serve the calculus as ready-made (fertige) operational formulae, so that the real value of the symbolic coefficient is also found and then the reversed elementary algebraic exposition may be followed. 1) The dependent function y and the independent variable x are not united in a single equation, but in such a manner that y appears in a first equation as a direct function of the variable u, and then u in a second equation as a direct function of the variable x. The task: to find the real value of the symbolic differential coefficient, dy/dx . Let a) y = f(u), b) u = (x) . Next, 1) y = f(u) gives: dy/du = df(u)/du = f (u)du/du = f (u) . 2) du/dx = d (x)/dx = (x)dx/dx = (x) . So that dy/du du/dx = f (u) (x) . dy/du du/dx = dy/dx . dy/dx = f (u) (x) . Example. If a) y = 3u , b) u = x + ax , then by the formula dy/du = d(3u )/du = 6u ( = f (u)) ; dy/dx = 6(x + ax ) ( =f (u)) . du/dx = 3x + 2ax (= (x)) . dy/du du/dx or dy/dx = 6(x + ax ) (3x + 2ax) ( =f (u) (x)) . 2) We now take the equations contained in the last example as the starting equations (Ausgangsgleichungen), in order to develop them this time in the first, algebraic, method. a) y = 3u , b) u = x + ax . Since y = 3u , [then] y1 = 3u1 , and y1 - y = 3(u1 - u ) = 3(u1 - u) (u1 + u) . (y1 - y)/(u1 - u) = 3(u1 +u) . If now u1 - u becomes = 0, then u1 = u, and 3(u1 + u) is thus transformed to 3(u + u) = 6u. We substitute for u its value in equation b), so that dy/du = 6(x + ax ) . u = x + ax , [then] u1 = x1 + ax1 ; u1 - u = (x1 + ax1 ) - (x + ax ) = (x1 - x ) + a(x1 - x ) , u1 - u = (x1 - x) (x1 + x1x + x ) + a(x1 - x) (x1 + x) ; (u1 - u)/(x1 - x) = (x1 + x1x + x ) + a(x1 + x) . If now x1 - x becomes = 0 then x1 = x, so that x1 + x1x + x = 3x a(x1 + x) = 2ax . du/dx = 3x + 2ax . If we now multiply both equations together, we then obtain on the right-hand side 6(x + ax ) (3x + 2ax) , dy/du du/dx = dy/dx , In order to bring out the difference in the derivations more clearly, we shall place the defined functions of the variables on the left-hand side and the functions dependent on them on the right-hand side, since one is accustomed, following the general equations in which only 0 stands on the right hand, to thinking that the initiative is on the left-hand side. Thus: a) 3u = y ; b) x + ax = u . 3u = y , 3u1 = y1 , 3(u1 - u ) = y1 - y 3(u1 - u) (u1 + u) = y1 - y , 3(u1 + u) = (y1 - y)/(u1 - u) . If now u1 becomes = u, so that u1 - u = 0, [we] then obtain 3(u + u) or 6u = dy/du . If we substitute in 6u its value from equation b), then 6(x + ax ) = dy/du . Furthermore, if x + ax = u , x1 + ax1 = u1 x1 + ax1 - x - ax = u1 - u ; (x1 - x ) + a(x1 - x ) = u1 - u . (x1 - x) (x1 + x1x + x ) + a(x1 - x) (x1 + x) = u1 - u . (x1 + x1x + x ) + a(x1 + x) = (u1 - u)/(x1 - x) ; 3x + 2ax = du/dx . If we multiply the 2 derived functions together, then 6(x + ax ) (3x + 2ax) = dy/dx , dy/du du/dx = dy/dx = 6(x + ax ) (3x + ax) . It is self-evident that due to its details and the frequently difficult division of the first difference, f(x1) - f(x) , into terms which each contain the factor x1 - x, the latter method is not comparable to the historically older one as a means of calculation. On the other hand one begins this last method with dy, dx and dy/dx as given operational formulae, while one sees them arise in the first one, and in a purely algebraic manner as well. And I maintain nothing more. And there in the [historically] first method, how has the point of departure of the differential symbols as operational formulae been obtained? Either through covertly or through overtly metaphysical assumptions, which themselves lead once more to metaphysical, unmathematical consequences, and so it is at that point that the violent suppression is made certain, the derivation is made to start its way, and indeed quantities made to proceed from themselves. And now, in order to give an historical example of beginning from the two opposing poles, I will compare the solution of the case of d(uz) developed above by Newton and Leibnitz on the one hand, to that by Lagrange on the other hand. 1) Newton. We are first told that when the variable quantities increase x., y. etc. designate the velocities of their fluxions, alias of the increase, respectively, of x, y etc. Since furthermore the numerical sizes of all possible quantities may be represented by means of straight lines, the momenta or infinite small quanta which are produced are equal to the product of the velocities x., y. etc. with the infinitely small time intervals during which they occur, thus = u. , x. and y. .42

Marx's Mathematical Manuscripts 1881

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1881/mathematical-manuscripts/ch06.html

If we now consider the differential of y in its general form, dy = f (x)dx, then we already have before us a purely symbolic operational equation, even in the case where f (x) from the very beginning is a constant, as in dy = d(ax) = adx. This child of 0/0 or dy/dx = f (x) looks suspiciously like its mother. For in dy/dx = 0/0 numerator and denominator are inseparably bound together; in dy = f (x)dx they are obviously separated, so that one is forced to the conclusion: dy = f (x)dx is only a masked expression for 0 = f (x) 0, thus 0 = 0 with which nothing s to be done ( nichts zu wolle ). Looking more closely, analysts in our century, such as, for example, the Frenchman Boucharlat, smell a rat here too. He says:* In dy/dx = 3x , for example, 0/0 alias dy/dx, or even more its value 3x , is the differential coefficient of the function y. Since dy/dx is thus the symbol which represents the limit 3x , dx must always stand under dy but, in order to facilitate algebraic operation we treat dy/dx as an ordinary fraction and dy/dx = 3x as an ordinary equation, and thus by removing the denominator dx from the equation obtain the result dy = 3x dx, which expression is called the differential of y. 43 In order to facilitate algebraic operation , we thus introduce a false formula. In fact the thing (Sache) doesn t behave that way. In 0/0 (usually written (0/0)), the ratio of the minimal expression (Minimalausdrucks) of y1 - y, or of f(x1) - f(x), or of the increment of f(x), to the minimal expression of x1 - x, or to the increment of the independent variable quantity x, possesses a form in which the numerator is inseparable from the denominator. But why? In order to retain 0/0 as the ratio of vanished differences. As soon, however, as x1 - x = 0 obtains in dx a form which manifests it as the vanished difference of x, and thus y1 - y = 0 appears as dy as well, the separation of numerator and denominator becomes a completely permissible operation. Where dx now stands its relationship with dy remains undisturbed by this change of position. dy = df(x), and thus = f (x)dx, is only another expression for dy/dx [ = f (x) ], which must lead to the conclusion that f (x) is obtained independently. How useful this formula dy = df(x) immediately becomes as an operational formula (Operationsformel), however, is shown, for example, by: y = ax , d(y ) = d(ax) , 2ydy = adx ; y = ax, [thus] = 2ax/a = 2x ; However, if dy = df(x) serves as the first point of departure (Ausgangspunkt), which only later is developed into dy/dx itself, then, for this differential of dy to have any meaning at all, these differentials dy, dx must be assumed to be symbols with a defined meaning. Had such assumptions not originated from mathematical metaphysics but instead been derived quite directly from a function of the first degree, such as y = ax, then, as seen earlier, this leads to (y1 - y)/(x1 - x) = a, which is transformed to dy/dx = a. From here as well, however, nothing certain is to be got a priori. For since y/ x is just as much = a as dy/dx = a, and the, x, y, although finite differences or increments, are yet finite differences or increments of unlimited capacity to contract (Kontraktionsf higkeit), one then may just as well represent dx, dy as infinitely small quantities capable of arbitrarily approaching 0, as if they originate from actually setting the equality x1 - x = 0, and thus as well y1 - y = 0. The result remains identical on the right-hand side in both cases, because there in itself there is no x1 at all to set = x, and thus as well no x1 - x = 0. This substitution = 0 on the other side consequently appears just as arbitrary an hypothesis as the assumptions that dx, dy are arbitrarily small quantities. Under (sub) IV) I will briefly indicate the historical development through the example of d(uz), but yet prior to that will give an example under (sub) III)44 which is treated the first time on the ground of symbolic calculus, with a ready-made operational formula (fertigen Operationsformel), and is demonstrated a second time algebraically. Enough (soviel) has been shown under (sub) II), so that the latter method alone, by means of its application to so elementary a function as the product of two variables, using its own results, necessarily leads to starting points (die Ausgangspunkte) which are the opposite pole as far as operating method goes. To (ad) IV. Finally (following Lagrange) it is to be noted that the limit or the limit value, which is already occasionally found in Newton for the differential coefficients and which he still derives from purely geometric considerations (Vorstellungen), still to this day always plays a predominant role, whether the symbolic expressions appear (figurieren) as the limit of f (x) or conversely f (x) appears as the limit of the symbol or the two appear together as limits. This category, which Lacroix in particular analytically broadened, only becomes important as a substitute for the category minimal expression , whether it is of the derivative as opposed to the preliminary derivative , or of the ratio (y1 - y)/(x1 - x), when the application of calculus to curves is treated. It is more representable (vorstellbarer) geometrically and is already found therefore among the old geometricians. Some contemporaries (Modernen) still hide behind the statement that the differentials and differential coefficients merely express very approximate values.45

Marx's Mathematical Manuscripts 1881

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A) Supplement on the differentiation of uz.47 1) For me the essential thing in the last manuscript on the development of d(uz) was the proof, referring to the equation A) dy/dx = z du/dx + u dz/dx , The form of equation A) lends itself all the more readily to this purpose since it allows a comparison between the du/dx, dz/dx, produced within the derivative f (x), and the dy/dx, which is the symbolic differential coefficient of f (x) and therefore comprises its symbolic equivalent, standing opposite on the left-hand side. Confronting the character of du/dx, dz/dx, as operational formulae, I have been content with the hint that for any symbolic differential coefficient an arbitrary derivative may be found as its real value if one substitutes some f(x), 3x for example, for u and some (x), x + ax for example, for z. I however could also have indicated the geometric applicability of each operational formula, since for example, the general formula for the subtangent of a curve = y dx/dy, which has a form generally identical to z du/dx, u dz/dx, for they are all products of a variable and a symbolic differential coefficient. Finally, it could have been noted that y = uz [is] the simplest elementary function (y here = y1, and uz is the simplest form of the second power) with which our theme could have been developed. A) Differentiation of u/z.48 3) Since d(u/z) is the inverse of d(uz), where one has multiplication the other division, one may use the algebraically obtained operational formula d(uz) = z du + u dz a) y = u/z , b) u = yz . yz = (u/z) z = u . We have thus simply formally concealed u in a product of two factors. Nonetheless, the task is thereby in fact already solved, since the problem has been transformed from the differentiation of a fraction to the differentiation of a product, for which we have the magic formula in our pocket. According to this formula: c) du = z dy + y dz . We see immediately that the first term of the second side, namely z dy, must remain sitting in peace at its post until the crack of doom (genau vor Torschluss), since the task consists precisely in finding the differential of y( = u/z ), and thus its expression in differentials of u and z. For this reason, on the other hand, y dz is to be removed to the left-hand side. Therefore: d) du = y dz = z dy . We now substitute the value of y, namely u/z, into y dz, so that du - (u/z) dz = z dy ; (z du - u dz)/z = z dy . (z du - u dz)/z = dy = d(u/z) . ____________

Marx's Mathematical Manuscripts 1881

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Newton, born 1642, 1729. Philosophiae naturalis principia mathematica , pub. 1687. L. I. Lemma XI, Schol. Lib. II. L. II. Lemma II, from Proposition VII.51 Analysis per quantitatum series, fluxiones etc. , composed 1665, publ. 1771.52 2) Leibnitz. 3) Taylor (J. Brook), born 1685, 1731, published 1715-17: Methodus incrementorum etc. 4) MacLaurin (Colin), born 1698, 1746. 5) John Landen . 6) D Alembert, born 1717, 1783. Trait des fluides , 1744.53 7) Euler (L onard), [born] 1707, 1783. Introduction l analyse de l infini , Lausanne, 1748. Institutions du calcul diff rentiel , 1755 (p.I, c.III).54 8) Lagrange, born 1736. Th orie des fonctions analytiques (1797 and 1813) (see Introduction). 9) Poisson (Denis, Sim on), born 1781, 1840. 10) Laplace (P. Simon, marquis de), born 1749, 1827. 11) Moigno s, Le ons de Calcul Diff rentiel et de calcul int gral .55

Marx's Mathematical Manuscripts 1881

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Newton: born 1642, 1727 (85 years old). Philosophiae naturalis principia mathematica (first published 1687; c.f. Lemma I and Lemma XI, Schol.) Then in particular: Analysis per quantitatum series fluxiones etc., first published 1711, but composed in 1665, while Leibnitz first made the same discovery in 1676. Leibnitz: born 1646, 1716 (70 years old). Lagrange: born 1736, during the Empire (Napolean I); he is the discoverer of the method of variations. Th orie des fonctions analytiques (1797 and 1813). D Alembert: born 1717, 1783 (66 years old). Trait des fluides, 1744. 1) Newton. The velocities or fluxions, of for example the variables x, y etc. are denoted by x.,y. Etc. For example if u and x are connected quantities (fluents) generated by continuous movement, then u. and x. denote their rates of increase, and therefore u./x. the ratio of the rates at which their increments are generated. Since the numerical quantities of all possible magnitudes may be represented by straight lines, and the moments or infinitely small portions of the quantities generated = products of their velocities and the infinitely small time intervals during which these velocities exist,56 so then [we have] denoting these infinitely small time intervals, and the moments of x and y represented by x. and y., respectively. For example: y = uz; [with] y., z., u. denoting the velocities at which y, z, u respectively [are] increasing, then the moments of y., z., u. are y., z., u., and we obtain y = uz , y + y. = (u + u.) (z + z.) = uz + u z. + z u. + u.z. ; y. = u z. + z u. + u.z. . Since is infinitesimal, it disappears by itself and even more as the product u.z. altogether, since it is not that of the infinitely small period of time , but rather its 2nd power. We thus obtain y. = u.z + z.u , 2) Leibnitz. The differential of uz is to be found. u becomes u + du, z becomes z + dz; so that uz + d(uz) = (u + du) (z + dz) = uz + udz +zdu + dudz . If from this the given quantity uz is subtracted, then there remains udz + zdu + dudz as the increment; dudz, the product d un infiniment petit du par un autre infiniment petit dz, (of an infinitely small du times another infinitely small dz)* is an infinitesimal of the second order and disappears before the infinitesimal udz and zdu of the first order; therefore d(uz) udz + zdu .58 [3)] D Alembert. Puts the problem is general terms thus: y = f(x) , y1 = f(x + h) ; ____________ Newton and Leibnitz, like the majority of the successors from the beginning performed operations on the ground of the differential calculus, and therefore valued differential expressions from the beginning as operational formulae whose real equivalent is to be found. All of their intelligence was concentrated on that. If the independent variable x goes to x1, then the dependent variable goes to y1 x1 - x, however, is necessarily equal to some difference, let us say, = h. This is contained in the very concept of variables. In no way, however, does it follow from this that this difference, which = dx, is a vanished [quantity], so that in fact it = 0. It may represent a finite difference as well. If, however, we suppose from the very beginning that x, when it increases, goes to x + x. (the which Newton uses serves no purpose in his analysis of the fundamental functions and so may be suppressed60), or, with Leibnitz, goes to x + dx, then differential expressions immediately become operational symbols (Operationssymbole) without their algebraic origin being evident. To 15*2 (Newton). Let us take Newton s beginning equation for the product uz that is to be differentiated; then: y = uz , y + y. = (u + u. ) (z + z. ) . If we toss out the , as he does himself if you please, after he develops the first differential equation, we then obtain: y + y. = (u + u.) (z + z.) , y + y. = uz + u.z + z.u + z.u. , y + y. - uz = u.z + z.u + u.z. . So that, since uz = y, y. = u.z + z.u + u.z. . Now, whence arises the term to be forcibly suppressed, u.z.? Quite simply from the fact that the differentials y. of y, u. of u, and z. of z have from the very beginning been imparted by definition*3 a separate, independent existence from the variable quantities from which they arose, without having been derived in any mathematical way at all. On the one hand one sees what usefulness this presumed existence of dy, dx or y., x. has, since from the very beginning, as soon as the variables increase I have only to substitute in the algebraic function the binomials y + y., x + x. etc. and then may must manipulate (man vrieren) these themselves as ordinary algebraic quantities. I obtain, for example, if I have y = ax: y + y. = ax + ax. ; y - ax + y. = ax. ; y. = ax. . I have therewith immediately obtained the result: the differential of the dependent variable is equal to the increment of ax, namely ax.; it is equal to the real value a derived from ax*4 (that this is a constant quantity here is accidental and does nothing to alter the generality of the result, since it is due to the circumstance that the variable x appears here to the first power). If I generalise this result,61 then I know y = f(x), for this means that y is the variable dependent on x. If I call the quantity derived from f(x), i.e. the real element of the increment, f (x), then the general result is: y. = f (x)x. . I thus know from the very beginning that the equivalent of the differential of the dependent variable y is equal to the first derived function of the independent variable, multiplied by its differential, that is dx or x. . So then, generally expressed, if y = f(x) dy = f (x)dx But y. = ax. Gives me immediately y./x. = a, and in general: y./x. = f (x) . I have thus found for the differential and the differential coefficients two fully-developed operational formulae which form the basis of all of differential calculus. And furthermore, put in general terms, I have obtained, by means of assuming dx, dy etc. or x., y. etc. to be independent, insulated increments of x and y, the enormous advantage, distinctive to the differential calculus, that all functions of the variables are expressed from the very beginning in differential forms. Were I thus to develop the essential functions of the variables in this manner, such as ax, ax b, xy, x/y, xn, ax, log x, as well as the elementary trigonometric functions then the determination of dy, dy/dx would thus become completely tamed, like the multiplication table in arithmetic. If we now look, however, on the reverse side we find immediately that the entire original operation is mathematically false. Let us take a perfectly simple example: y = x . If x increases then it contains an indeterminate increment h, and the variable y dependent on it has an indeterminate increment k, and we obtain y + k = (x + h) = x + 2hx + h , y + k - x or y + k - y = 2hx + h ; (y + k) - y or k = 2hx + h ; k/h = 2x + h . 2x + h = 2x + 0 = 2x . On the other side, however, k/h goes to k/0 . Since, however, y only went to y + k because x went to x + h, and then y + k goes back to y when h goes to 0, therefore when x + h goes back to x + 0, to x. So then k also goes to 0 and k/0 = 0/0, which may be expressed as dy/dx or y./x.. We thus obtain: 0/0 or y./x. = 2x . If on the other hand we [substitute h = 0] in y + k - x = 2hx + h or (y + k) - y = 2xh + h In no way do we obtain what Newton makes of it: k = 2xdx + dxdx y. = 2xx. + x.x. ; Since Newton, however, does not immediately determine the increments of the variables x, y, etc by means of mathematical derivation, but instead immediately stamps x., y., etc on to the differentials, they cannot be set = 0; for otherwise, were the result 0, which is algebraically expressed as setting this increment from the very beginning = 0, it would follow from that, just as above in the equation (y + k) - y = 2xh + h , (y1 - y)/h = 2x + h . dy/dx = 2x dy = 2xdx Therefore nothing more remains than to imagine the increments h of the variable to be infinitely small increments and to give them as such independent existence, in the symbols x., y. etc. or dx, dy [etc.] for example. But infinitely small quantities are quantities just like those which are infinitely large (the word infinitely (unendlich) [small] only means in fact indefinitely (unbestimmt) small); the dy, dx etc. or y., x. [etc.] therefore also take part in the calculation just like ordinary algebraic quantities, and in the equation above (y + k) - y or k = 2xdx + dxdx But (Oder), if in y. = u.z + z.u + u.z. But then in walks the still greater miracle that by this method you don t obtain an approximate value at all, but rather the unique exact value (even when as above it is only symbolically correct) of the derived function, such as in the example y. = 2xx. +x.x. . y. = 2xx. y./x. = 2x , But the miracle is no miracle. It would only be a miracle if no exact result emerged through the forcible suppression of x.x.. That is to say, one suppresses merely a computational mistake which nevertheless is an unavoidable consequence of a method which brings in the undefined increment of the variable, i.e. h, immediately as the differential dx or x., a completed operational symbol, and thereby also produces from the very beginning in the differential calculus a characteristic manner of calculation different from the usual algebra. ___________ The general direction of the algebraic method which we have applied may be expressed as follows: Given f(x), first develop the preliminary derivative , which we would like to call f1(x): 1) f1(x) = y/ x or y/ x = f1(x) . From this equation it follows y = f1(x) x . f(x) = f1(x) x (since y = f(x), [thus] y = f(x) ) . By means of setting x1 - x = 0, so that y1 - y = 0 as well, we obtain [2)] dy/dx = f (x) . dy = f (x)dx ; df(x) = f (x)dx When we have once developed 1) f(x) = f1(x)dx 2) df(x) = f (x)dx [____________] 1) If we have x going to x1, then A) x1 - x = x ; Aa) x = x1 - x ; a) x1 - x = x ; The difference may therefore be expressed in two ways: directly as the difference between the increased variable and its state before the increase, and this is its negative expression ; positively as the increment,*5 as a result : as the increment of x to the state in which it has not yet grown, and this is the positive expression. We shall see how this double formulation plays a role in the history of differential calculus. b) x1 = x + x . x1 is the increased x itself; its growth is not separated from it; x1 is the completely indeterminate form of its growth. This formula distinguishes the increased x, namely x1, from its original form prior to the increase, from x, but it does not distinguish x from its own increment. The relationship between x1 and x may therefore only be expressed negatively, as a difference, as x1 - x. In contrast, in x1 = x + x 1) The difference is expressed positively as an increment of x. 2) Its increase is therefore not expressed as a difference, but instead as the sum of itself in its original state + its increment. 3) Technically x is expelled from its monomial into a binomial, and wherever x appears to any power in the original function a binomial compose of itself and its increment enter for the increased x; the binomial (x+h)m in general for xm. The development of the increase of x is therefore in fact a simple application of the binomial theorem. Since x enter as the first and x as the second term of this binomial - which is given by their very relationship, since x must be [there] before the formation of its increment x - by means of the binomial, in the event only the functions of x will be derived, while x figures next to it as a factor raised to increasing powers; indeed, x to the first power must [appear], so that x1 is a factor of the second term of the resulting series, of the first function, that is, of x1 derived, using the binomial theorem. This shows up perfectly when x is given to the second power. x goes to (x + h) , which is nothing more than the multiplication of x + x by itself, [and which] leads to x + 2x x + x : that is, the first term must be the original function of x and the first derived function of x , namely x here, comprises the second term together with the factor x1, which entered into the first term only as the factor x = 1. So then, the derivative is not found by means of differentiation but rather by means of the application of the binomial theorem, therefore multiplication; and this because the increased variable x1 takes part from the very beginning as a binomial, x + x. 4) Although x in x + x is just as indefinite, so far as its magnitude goes, as the indefinite variable x itself, x is defined as a distinct quantity separate from x like a fruit beside the mother who had previously borne her (als Frucht neben ihrer Mutter, bevor diese geschwangert war). x + x not only expresses in an indefinite way the fact that x has increased as a variable; rather, it [also] expresses by how much it has grown, namely, by x. 5) x never appears as x1; the whole development centres around the increment x as soon as the derivative has been found by means of the binomial theorem, by means, that is, of substituting x + x for x in a definite way (in bestimmten Grad). On the left-hand side, however, if in (y1 - y)/ x, the x becomes = 0, it finally appears as x1 - x again, so that: (y1 - y)/ x = (y1 - y)/(x1 - x) .*6 The positive side, where x1 - x = 0 takes place, namely x1 becoming = x, can therefore never enter into the development, since x1 as such never enters into the side of the resultant series (Entwicklungsreihe); the real mystery of the differential calculus makes itself evident as never before. 6) If y = f(x) and y1 = f(x + x), then we can say that in using this method the development of y1 solves the problem of finding the derivative. c) x + x = x1 (so that y + y = y1 as well). x here may only appear in the form x = x1 - x, therefore in the negative form of the difference between x1 and x, and not in the positive form of the increment of x, as in x1 = x + x. 1) Here the increased x is distinguished as x1 from itself, before it grows, namely from x; but x1 does not appear as an x increased by x, so x1 therefore remains just exactly as indefinite as x is. 2) Furthermore: however x enters into any original function, so x1 does as the increased variable in the original function now altered by the increase. For example, if x takes part in the function x , so does x1 in the function x1 . Whereas previously, by means of substituting (x + x) wherever x appeared in the original function, the derivative had been provided ready-made by the use of the binomial, leaving it burdened with the factor x and the first of other terms in x burdened with x etc., so no there is just as little which can be derived directly from the immediate form of the monomial - x1 - as could be got from x . It does provide, however, the difference x1 - x . We know from algebra that all differences of the form x - a are divisible by x - a ; the given case, therefore, is divisible by x1 - x. In therefore dividing x1 - x by x1 - x (instead of, [as] previously, multiplying the term (x + x) by itself to the degree specified by the function), we obtain an expression of the form (x1 - x)P, wherein nothing is affected whether the original function of x contains many terms (and so contains x to various powers) or as in our example is of a single term. This x1 - x passes by division to denominator of y1 - y on the left-hand side and thus produces (y1 - y)/(x1 - x) there, the ratio of the difference of the function to the difference of the independent variable x in its abstract difference-formula (Differenzform). The development of the difference between the function expressed in x1 and that expressed in x into terms, all of which have x1 - x as a factor, may well require algebraic manipulation (Man ver) to a greater or lesser degree, and thus may not always shed as much light as the form x1 - x . This has no effect on the method. When by is nature the original function does not allow the direct development into (x1 - x)P, as was the case with f(x) = uz (two variables both dependent on x), (x1 - x) appears [in] the factor 1/(x1 - x). Furthermore, after the removal of x1 - x to the left hand side by means of dividing both sides by it, x1 - x still continues to exist in P itself (as, for example, in the derivation from y = ax, where we find (y1 - y)/(x1 - x) = (a^{x}){(a - 1) + ((x1 - x) - 1)/1 2 + etc.}, = (a^{x}){(a - 1) - (a - 1) /2 + (a - 1) /3 - etc.} ; ___________ The first finite difference, x1 - x , where y = x and y1 = x1 , has therefore been evolved to y1 - y = (x1 - x)P , (y1 - y)/(x1 - x) = P . ____________

Marx's Mathematical Manuscripts 1881

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1) Mystical Differential Calculus. x1 = x + x from the beginning changes into x1 = x + dx or x + x., where dx is assumed by metaphysical explanation. First it exists, and then it is explained. Then, however, y1 = y + dy or y1 = y + y.. From the arbitrary assumption the consequence follows that in the expansion of the binomial x + x or x + x., the terms in x and x which are obtained in addition to the first derivative, for instance, must be juggled away in order to obtain the correct result etc. etc. Since the real foundation of the differential calculus proceeds from this last result, namely from the differentials which anticipate and are not derived but instead are assumed by explanation, then dy/dx or y./x. as well, the symbolic differential coefficient, is anticipated by this explanation. If the increment of x = x and the increment of the variable dependent on it = y, then it is self-evident (versteht sich von selbst) that y/ x represents the ratio of the increments of x and y. This implies, however, that x figures in the denominator, that is the increase of the independent variable is in the denominator instead of the numerator, not the reverse; while the final result of the development of the differential form, namely the differential, is also given in the very beginning by the assumed differentials.* If I assume the simplest possible (allereinfachste) ratio of the dependent variable y to the independent variable x, then y = x. Then I know that dy = dx or y. = x.. Since, however, I seek the derivative of the independent [variable] x, which here = x., I therefore have to divide64 both sides by x. or dx, so that: dy/dx or y./x. = 1. Beginning, however, with functions of x in the second degree, the derivative is found immediately by means of the binomial theorem [which provides an expansion] where it appears ready made (fix und fertig) in the second term combined with dx or x.; that is with the increment of the first degree + the terms to be juggled away. The sleight of hand (Eskamotage), however, is unwittingly mathematically correct, because it only juggles away errors of calculation arising from the original sleight-of-hand in the very beginning. x1 = x + x is to be changed to x1 = x + dx or x + x. , The only question which still could be raised: why the mysterious suppression of the terms standing in the way? That specifically assumes that one knows they stand in the way and do not truly belong to the derivative. The answer is very simple: this is found purely by experiment. Not only have the true derivatives been known for a long time, both of many more complicated functions of x as well as of their analytic forms as equations of curves, etc., but they have also been discovered by means of the most decisive experiment possible, namely by the treatment of the simplest algebraic function of second degree for example: y = x y + dy = (x + dx) = x + 2xdx + dx , y + y. = ( x + x.) = x + 2xx. +x. . If we subtract the original function, x (y = x ), from both sides, then: dy = 2xdx + dx y. = 2xx. + x.x. ; dy = 2xdx, y. = 2xx. , dy/dx = 2x , y./x. = 2x . We know, however, that the first term out of (x + a) is x ; the second 2xa ; if I divide this expression by a, as above 2xdx by dx or 2xx. by x., we then obtain 2x as the first derivative of x , namely the increase in x,65 which the binomial has added to x . Therefore the dx or x.x. had to be suppressed in order to find the derivative; completely neglecting the fact that nothing could begin with dx or x.x.*2 in themselves. In the experimental method, therefore, once comes - right at the second step - necessarily to the insight that dx or x.x. has to be juggled away, not only to obtain the true result but any result at all. Secondly, however, we had in 2xdx + dx or 2xx. + x.x. the true mathematical expression (second and third terms) of the binomial (x + dx) or (x + x.) . That this mathematically correct result rests on the mathematically basically false assumption that x1 - x = x is from the beginning x1 - x = dx or x., was not known.66 In other words, instead of using sleight of hand, one obtained the same result by means of an algebraic operation of the simplest kind and presented it to the mathematical world. Therefore: mathematicians (man ... selbst) really believed in the mysterious character of the newly-discovered means of calculation which led to the correct (and, particularly in the geometric application, surprising) result by means of a positively false mathematical procedure. In this manner they became themselves mystified, rated the new discovery all the more highly, enraged all the more greatly the crowd of old orthodox mathematicians, and elicited the shrieks of hostility which echoed even in the world of non-specialists and which were necessary for the blazing of this new path. 2) Rational Differential Calculus. D Alembert starts directly from the point de d part (sic) of Newton and Leibnitz: x1 = x + dx. But the immediately makes the fundamental correction: x1 = x + x, that is, x and an undefined but prima facie finite increment which he calls h. The transformation of this h or x into dx (he uses the Leibnitz notation, like all Frenchmen) is first found as the final result of the development or at least just before the gate swings shut (vor Toresschluss), while in the mystics and the initiators of the calculus it appears as the starting point (d Alembert himself begins with the symbolic side,*3 but first transforms it symbolically). By this means he immediately succeeds in two ways.67 a) The ratio of differences (f(x + h) - f(x))/h = (f(x + h) - f(x))/(x1 - x) 1) [the difference] f(x + h) - f(x), corresponding to the given algebraic function in x, stands out as soon as you replace x itself with its increment x + h in the original function in x, for example, in x . This form ( = y1 - y, if y = f(x)) is that of the difference of the function, whose transformation into a ratio of the increment of the function to the increment of the independent variable now requires a development, so that it plays a real role instead of a merely nominal one, as it does with the mystics; for, if I have in these authors f(x) = x , f(x + h) = (x + h) = x + 3x h + 3xh + h , f(x + h) - f(x) = x + 3x h + 3xh + h - x , In d Alembert it is necessary to hold fast to this difference because the steps of the development (Entwicklungsbewegungen) are to be executed upon it. In place of the positive expression of the difference, namely the increment, the negative expression of the increment, namely the difference, and thus f(x + h) - f(x), therefore comes to the fore on the left-hand side. And this emphasis on the difference instead of the increment ( fluxion in Newton) is foreshadowed at least in the dy of Leibnitzian notation as opposed to the Newtonian y.. 2) f(x + h) - f(x) = 3x h + 3xh + h . When both sides have been divided by h, we obtain (f(x + h) - f(x))/h = 3x + 3xh + h . (f(x + h) - f(x))/h = ((x + h) - f(x))/(x1 - x) 3) Now when in (f(x + h) - f(x))/h = (f(x + h) - f(x))/(x1 - x) 4) 0/0 or dy/dx = 3x = f (x) . Just as with the mystics, this already existed as given, as soon as x became x + h, for (x + h) in place of x produces x + 3x h + etc., where 3x already appears in the second term of the series as the coefficient of h to the first power. The derivation is therefore essentially [the] same as in Leibnitz and Newton, but the ready-made derivative 3x is separated in a strictly algebraic manner from its other companions. It is no development but rather a separation of the f (x) - here 3x - from its factor h and from the neighbouring terms marching in closed ranks in the series. What has on the other hand really been developed is the left-hand, symbolic side, namely dx, dy, and their ratio, the symbolic differential coefficient dy/dx = 0/0 (rather the inverse 0/0 = dy/dx), which in turn once more generates certain metaphysical shudderings, although the symbol has been mathematically derived. D Alembert stripped the mystical veil from the differential calculus and took an enormous step forward. Although his Trait des fluides appeared in 1744 (see p.15*4), the Leibnitzian method continued to prevail for years in France. It is hardly necessary to remark that Newton prevailed in England until the first decades of the 19th century. But here as in France earlier d Alembert s foundation has been dominant until today, with some modifications. 3) Purely Algebraic Differential Calculus. Lagrange, Th orie des fonctions analytiques (1797 and 1813). Just as under I) and 2), the first starting point is the increased x; if y or f(x) = etc., xm + mxm-1h + etc., a) When x + h replaces x in a given original function of x, f(x + h) is related to the series expansion (Entwicklungsreihe) opposite it in exactly the same way that the undeveloped general expression in algebra, in particular the binomial, is related to its corresponding series expansion, as (x + h) , for example in (x + h) = x + 3x h + etc., a/(a - x) = 1 + x/a + x /a + x /a + etc., sin(x + h) = sin x cos h + cos x sin h D Alembert merely algebraicised (x + dx) or (x + x.) into (x + h), and thus f(x + h) from y + dy, y + y. into f(x + h). But Lagrange reduces the entire expression (Gesamtausdruck) to a purely algebraic character, since he places it, as a general underdeveloped expression, opposite the series expansion to be derived from it. b) In the first method 1), as well as the rational one 2), the real coefficient sought is is fabricated ready-made by means of the binomial theorem; it is found at once in the second term of the series expansion, the term which therefore is necessarily combined with h . All the rest of the differential process then, whether in 1) or in 2), is a luxury. We therefore throw the needless ballast overboard. From the binomial expansion we know once and for all that the first real coefficient is the factor of h , the second that of h , and so on. The real differential coefficients are nothing other than those of the binomially developed series of derived functions of the original function in x (and the introduction of this category of derived function one of the most important). As for the separate differential forms, we know that x is transformed into dx, y into dy, and that the symbolic figure of dy/dx represents the first derivative, the symbolic figure d y/dx represents the second derivative, the coefficient of (1/2) h , etc. We may thus allow the symmetry of half of our purely algebraically obtained result to appear at the same time in these its differential equivalent quantities (Differential quivalenten) - a matter of nomenclature alone, all that remains from differential calculus proper. The whole problem is then resolved into finding (algebraic) methods of developing all kinds of functions of x + h in integral ascending powers of h, which in many cases cannot be effected without great prolixity of operation .68 Until this point there is nothing in Lagrange which could not be a direct result of d Alembert s method (since this includes also the entire development of the mystics, only corrected). c) While the development, therefore, of y1 or f(x + h) = etc. steps into the place of the differential calculus up to now [and thereby, in fact, clarifies the mystery of the methods proceeding form y + dy or y + y., x + dx or x + x. , Here Lagrange takes as his immediate starting point for the algebraicisation of the differential calculus the theorem of Taylor outlived by Newton and the Newtonians69 which in fact is the most general, comprehensive theorem and at the same time operational formula of differential calculus, namely the series expansion, expressed in symbolic differential coefficients, of y1 or f(x + h), viz: = y ( or f(x)) + (dy/dx) h + (d y/dx ) h / + (d y/dx ) h / + (d y/dx ) h / + etc. d) Investigation of Taylor s and MacLaurin s theorem to be added here.70 e) Lagrange s algebraic expansion of f(x + h) into a equivalent series, which Taylor s dy/dx etc. replaces, and it may only still be the symbolic differential expression of the algebraically derived functions of x. (This is to be continued from here on.71)

Marx's Mathematical Manuscripts 1881

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c) Continuation of [p.] 25* We have x1 - x = x from the beginning for the expression of the difference x1 - x; the difference exists here only in its form as a difference (as, if y is dependent on x, y1 - y is written for the most part). Since we set x1 - x = x, we already give the difference an expression different from itself. We express, if only in indeterminate form, the value of this difference as a quantity distinct from the difference itself. For example, 4 - 2 is the pure expression of the difference between 4 and 2; but 4 - 2 = 2 is the difference expressed in 2 (on the right-hand side): a) in positive form, so no longer as the difference; b) the subtraction is completed, the difference is calculated, and 4 - 2 = 2 gives me 4 = 2 + 2. The second 2 appears here in the positive form if the increment of the original 2. Therefore in a form directly opposite to the difference form (einer der Differenzform entgegengesetzten Form). Just as a - b = c, a = b + c, where c appears as the increment of b, so in x1 - x = x, x1 = x + x, where x enters immediately as the increment of x. The simple original setting x1 - x = x = anything therefore puts in place of the difference form another form, indeed that of a sum, x1 = x + x, and at the same time simply expresses the difference x1 - x as the equivalent of the value of this difference, the quantity x. It s just the same in x1 - x = x, x1 - x = x. We have the difference form again here on the left-hand side, but this time as the difference between the increased x1 and its own increment, standing independent next to it. The difference between it and the increment of x( = x) is a difference which now already expresses a defined, if also indeterminate, value of x. If however one leaves the mystical differential calculus, where x1 - x enters immediately as x1 - x = dx, and one first of all*2 corrects dx to x, then one begins from x1 - x = x ; thus from x1 = x + x; but this in turn may then be turned round to x + x = x1 , so that the increase of x again attains the undefined form x1, and as such enters directly into the calculus. This is the starting point of our applied algebraic method. d) From this simple distinction of form there immediately results a fundamental difference in the treatment of the calculus which we demonstrate it detail (see the enclosed loose sheets)72 in the analysis of d Alembert s method. Here we have only to remark in general: 1) If the difference x1 - x (and thus y1 - y) enters immediately as its opposite, as the sum x1 = x + x with its value therefore immediately in the positive form of the increment x, then, if x is replaced by x + x everywhere in the original function in x, a binomial of definite degree is developed and the development of x1 is resolved into an application of the binomial theorem. The binomial theorem is nothing but the general expression which results from a binomial of the first degree multiplied by itself m times. Multiplication therefore becomes the method of development of x1 [or] (x + x) if from the beginning we interpret the difference as its opposite, as a sum. 2) Since in the general form x1 = x + x the difference x1 - x, in its positive form x, in the form, that is of the increment, is the last or second term of the expression, thus x becomes the first and x the second term of the original function in x when this is presented as a function in x + x. We know from the binomial theorem, however, that the second term only appears next to the first term as a factor raised to increasing power, as a multiplier, so that the factor of the first expression in x (which is determined by the degree of the binomial) is ( x)0 = 1, the multiplier of the second term is ( x)1, that of the third is ( x) , etc. The difference, in the positive form of the increment, therefore only comes in as a multiplier, and then for the first time, really (since( x)0 = 1), as the multiplier of the second term of the expanded binomial (x + x)m. 3) If on the other hand we consider the development of the function in x itself, the binomial theorem then gives us for this first term, here x, the series of its derived functions. For example, if we have (x + h)4, where h is the known quantity in the binomial and x the unknown, we then have x4 + 4x h + etc. f(x + x) = (x + x)4 = x4 + 4x x + etc. 4) Furthermore: the second term of the binomial expansion, 4x h, provides us immediately ready-made (fix und fertig) with the first derived function of x4, namely 4x . Thus this derivation has been obtained by the expansion of f(x + x) = (x + x)4 ; It is thus the binomial expansion of f(x + x), or y1, which f(x) has become by its increase, which gives us the first derivative, the coefficient of h (in the binomial series); and indeed right at the beginning of the binomial expansion, in its second term. The derivative is thus in no way obtained by differentiation but instead simply by the expansion of f(x + h) or y1 into a defined expression obtained by simple multiplication. The crucial point (Angelpunkt) of this method is thus the development from the undefined expression y1 or f(x + h) to defined binomial form, but using not at all the development of x1 - x and therefore as well of y1 - y or f(x + h) - f(x) as differences. 5) The only difference equation which comes out in this method is the one which we obtain immediately: f(x + x) = (x + x)4 = x4 + 4x x + 6x x + 4x x + x4, x4 + 4x x + 6x x + 4x x + x4 , 4x x + 6x x + 4x x + x4 , y or f(x) = x4 . So that Newton also writes immediately: dy, to him y. = 4x x. + etc. 6) The entire remaining development now consists of the fact that we have to liberate the ready-made derivative 4x from its factor x and from its neighbouring terms, to prise it loose from its surroundings. So this is no method of development, but rather a method of separation. e) The differentiation of f(x) (as [a] general expression) Let us note first of all (d abord) that the concept of the derived function , for the successive real equivalents of the symbolic differential coefficients, which was completely unknown to the original discoverers of differential calculus and their first disciples, was in fact first introduced by Lagrange. To the former the dependent variable, y for example, appears only as a function of x, corresponding completely to the original algebraic meaning of function, first applied to the so-called indeterminate equations where there are more unknowns than equations, where therefore y, for example, takes on different values as different values are assumed for x. With Lagrange, however, the original function is the defined expression of x which is to be differentiated; so if y or f(x) = x4, the x4 is the original function, 4x is the first derivative, etc. In order to lessen the confusion, then the dependent y or f(x) is to be called the function of x in contrast to the original function in the Lagrangian sense, the original function in x, corresponding to the derived functions in x. In the algebraic method, where we first develop f1, the preliminary derivative or [the ratio of] finite differences, and where we first develop from it the definitive derivative, f , we know from the very beginning: f(x) = y, so that a) f(x) = y, and therefore turned round y = f(x). What is developed next is just f(x), the value of the finite difference of f(x). We find f1(x) = y/ x, so that y/ x = f1(x) . y = f1(x) x , f(x)= f1(x) x . df(x) = f (x)dx , In the usual method dy or df(x) = f (x)dx

Marx's Mathematical Manuscripts 1881

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Newton s discovery of the binomial (in his application, also of the polynomial) theorem revolutionised the whole of algebra, since it made possible for the first time a general theory of equations. The binomial theorem, however - and this the mathematicians have definitely recognised, particularly since Lagrange - is also the primary basis (Hauptbasis) for differential calculus. Even a superficial glance shows that outside the circular functions, whose development comes from trigonometry, all differentials of monomials such as xm, ax, log x, etc. can be developed from the binomial theorem alone.74 It is indeed the fashion of textbooks (Lehrbuchsmode) nowadays to prove both that the binomial theorem can be derived from Taylor s and MacLaurin s theorems and the converse.75 Nonetheless nowhere - not even in Lagrange, whose theory of derived functions gave differential calculus a new foundation (Basis) - has the connection between the binomial theorem and these two theorems been established in all its original simplicity, and it is important here as everywhere, for science to strip away the veil of obscurity. Taylor s theorem, historically prior to that of MacLaurin s, provides - under certain assumptions - for any function of x which increases by a positive or negative increment h,76 therefore in general for f(x h), a series symbolic expressions indicating by what series of differential operations f(x h) is to be developed. The subject at hand is thus the development of an arbitrary function of x, as soon as it varies. MacLaurin on the other hand - also under certain assumptions - provides the general development of any function of x itself, also in a series of symbolic expressions which indicate how such functions, whose solution is often very difficult and complicated algebraically, can be found easily by means of differential calculus. The development of an arbitrary function of x, however, means nothing other than the development of the constant functions combined with [power of] the independent variable x,77 for the development of the variable itself should be identical to its variation, and thus to the object of Taylor s theorem. Both theorems are grand generalisations in which the differential symbols themselves become the contents of the equation. In place of the real successive derived functions of x only the derivatives are represented, in the form of their symbolic equivalents, which indicate just so many strategies of operations to be performed, independently of the form of the function of f(x + h). And so two formulae are obtained which with certain restrictions are applicable to all specific functions of x or x + h. Taylor s Formula: = y + (dy/dx) h + (d y/dx ) (h /1 2) + (d y/dx ) (h /1 2 3) + (d y/dx ) (h /1 2 3 4) + etc. MacLaurin s Formula: = (y) + (dy/dx) (x/1) + (d y/dx ) (x /1 2) + (d y/dx ) (x /1 2 3) + (d y/dx ) (x /1 2 3 4) + etc . The mere appearance here shows what one might call, both historically and theoretically, the arithmetic of differential calculus , that is, the development of its fundamental operations is already assumed to be well-known and available. This should not be forgotten in the following, where I assume this acquaintance. MacLaurin s theorem may be treated as a special case of Taylor s theorem. With Taylor we have y = f(x) , y1 = f(x + h) = f(x) or y + (dy/dx) h + (1/2) (d y/dx ) h + etc. + [1/1 2 3... n](dny/dxn) hn + etc. If we set x = 0 in f(x + h) and on the right-hand side as well, in y or f(x) and in its symbolic derived functions of the form dy/dx, d y/dx etc., so that they consist simply of the development of the constant elements of x,78 then: f(h) = (y) (dy/dx) h + (d y/dx ) (h /1 2) + (d y/dx ) (h /1 2 3) + etc. We therefore can replace h with x on both sides and then obtain: f(x) = (y) or f(0) + (dy/dx) x + (d y/dx ) (x /1 2) + etc. + (dny/dxn) (xn/1 2 3... n) + etc. f(x) = f(0) + f (0) x + f (0) x /1 2 + f (0) x /1 2 3 + etc. (c + 0)m = f(0) = cm , m(c + 0)m-1x = mcm-1x = f (0)x etc. In the following, where we come to Lagrange, I will no longer consider MacLaurin s theorem as merely a special case of Taylor s. Let it only be noted here that it has its so-called failures * just like Taylor s theorem. The failures all originate in the former in the irrational nature of the constant function, in the latter in that of the variable.79 It may now be asked: Did not Newton merely give the result to the world, as he does, for example, in the most difficult cases in the Arithmetica Universalis, having already developed in complete silence Taylor s and MacLaurin s theorems for his private use from the binomial theorem, which he discovered? This may be answered with absolute certainty in the negative: he was not one to leave to his students the credit (Aneignung) for such a discovery. In fact he was still too absorbed in working out the differential operations themselves, operations which are already assumed to be given and well-known in Taylor and MacLaurin. Besides, Newton, as his first elementary formulae of calculus show, obviously arrived at them at first from mechanical points of departure, not those of pure analysis. As for Taylor and MacLaurin on the other hand, they work and operate from the very beginning on the ground of differential calculus itself and thus had no reason (Anlass) to look for its simplest possible algebraic starting-point, all the less so since the quarrel between the Newtonians and Leibnitzians revolved about the defined, already completed forms of the calculus as a newly discovered, completely separate discipline of mathematics, as different from the usual algebra as Heaven is wide (von der gew hnlichen Algebra himmelweit verschiednen). The relationship of their respective starting equations to the binomial theorem was understood for itself, but no more than, for example, it is understood by itself in the differentiation of xy or (x/y) that these are expressions obtained by means of ordinary algebra. The real and therefore the simplest relation of the new with the old is discovered as soon as the new gains its final form, and one may say the differential calculus gained this relation through the theorems of Taylor and MacLaurin. Therefore the thought first occurred to Lagrange to return the differential calculus to a firm algebraic foundation (auf strikt algebraische Basis). Perhaps his forerunner in this was John Landen, an English mathematician from the middle of the 18th century, in his Residual Analysis. Indeed, I must look for this book in the [British] Museum before I can make a judgement on it. Lagrange proceeds from the algebraic basis (Begr ndung) of Taylor s theorem, and thus from the most general formula of differential calculus. It is only too noticeable with respect to Taylor s beginning equation: y1 or f(x + h) = y or f(x) + Ah + Bh + Ch + etc. 1) This series is in no way proved; f(x + h) is no binomial of a defined degree; f(x + h) is much more the undefined general expression of any function [of the variable] x which increases by a positive or negative increment h; f(x + h) therefore includes functions of x of any defined degree but at the same time excludes any defined degree to the series expansion itself. Taylor himself therefore puts + etc. on the end of the series. However, that the series expansion which is valid for defined functions of x containing an increment - whether they are capable of representation now in a finite equation80 or an infinite series - is no longer applicable to the undefined general f(x) and therefore equally well to the undefined general f(x1) or f(x + h), must first be proved. 2) The equation is translated into the language of differentials by virtue of the fact that it is twice differentiated, that is, y1 once with respect to h as variable and x constant, but then again with respect to x as variable and h constant. In this manner two equations are produced whose first sides are identical while their second sides are different in form. In order, however, to be able to equate the undefined coefficients (which are all functions of x) of these two sides, it is also necessary to assume both that the individual coefficients A, B, etc., are undefined, to be sure, but finite quantities, and that their accompanying factors h increase in whole and positive powers.81 If it is assumed - which is not the case - that Taylor had proved everything for f(x + h) as long as the x in f(x) remains general, then for that very reason it would not be valid at all as soon as the functions of x took on definite, particular values. This could be on the contrary irreconcilable with the treatment, by means of its series, y1 = y + (dy/dx) h (d y/dx ) h + etc. In one word, the conditions or assumptions which are involved in Taylor s unproven beginning equation are naturally found also in the theorem derived from it: y1 = y + (dy/dx) h + (d y/dx ) h + etc. Lagrange provided an algebraic foundation for the beginning equation (begr ndet die Ausgangsgleichung algebraisch) and at the same time showed by means of the development itself which particular cases, due to their general character, that is, contradicting the general, undefined character of the function of x, are excluded. H) 1) Lagrange s great service is not only to have provided a foundation in pure algebraic analysis for the Taylor theorem and differential calculus in general, but also and in particular to have introduced the concept of the derived function, which all of his successors have in fact used, more or less, although without mentioning it. But he was not satisfied with that. He provides the purely algebraic development of all possible functions of (x + h) with increasing whole positive powers of h and then attributes to it the given name (Taufname) of the differential calculus. All the conveniences and condensations (Taylor s theorem, etc.) which differentials calculus affords itself are thereby forfeited, and very often replaced by algebraic operations of much more far-reaching and complicated nature. 2) As far as pure analysis is concerned Lagrange in fact becomes free from all of what to him appears to be metaphysical transcendence in Newton s fluxions, Leibnitz s infinitesimals of different order, the limit value theorem of vanishing quantities, the replacement of 0/0 ( = dy/dx ) as a symbol for the differential coefficient, etc. Still, this does not prevent him from constantly needing one or another of these metaphysical representations himself in the application of his theories and curves etc.

Marx's Mathematical Manuscripts 1881

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If therefore in Taylor s theorem82 1) we adopt the idea from a specific form of the binomial theorem in which it is assumed that in (x + h)m m is a whole positive power and thus also that the factors appear as h = h0, h , h , h , etc., that is, that h [is raised to a] whole, increasing, positive power, then 2) just as in the algebraic binomial theorem of the general form, the derived functions of x are defined and thereby finite functions in x. At this point, however, yet a third condition comes in. The derived functions of x can only be = 0, = + , = - , just as h[k] can only be = h-1 or hm/n (for example h1/2) when the variable x takes on particular values, x = a, for example.83 Summed up in general: Taylor s theorem is in general only applicable to the development of functions of x in which x becomes = x + h or is increased from x to x1 if 1) the independent variable x retains the general, undefined form x; 2) the original function in x itself is capable of development by means of differentiation into a series of defined and thereby finite, derived functions in x, with corresponding factors of h with increasing, positive and integral exponents, so with h , h , h , etc. All these conditions, however, are only another expression for the fact that this theorem is the binomial theorem with whole and positive exponents, translated into differential language. Where these conditions are not fulfilled, where Taylor s theorem is not applicable, that is, there enter what are called in differential calculus the failures * of this theorem. The biggest failure of Taylor s theorem, however, does not consist of these particular failures of application but rather the general failure, that y = f(x) [and] y1 = f(x + h) , This leap from ordinary algebra, and besides by means of ordinary algebra, into the algebra of variables is assumed as un fait accompli, it is not proved and is prima facie in contradiction to all the laws of conventional algebra, where y = f(x), y1 = f(x + h) could never have this meaning. In other words, the starting equation y1 or f(x + h) = y or f(x) + Ah + Bh + Ch + Dh4 + Eh5 + etc. Yet now if in fact Taylor s theorem - whose failures in application hardly come into consideration, since as a matter of fact they are restricted to functions of x with which differentiation gives no result85 and are thus in general inaccessible to treatment by the differential calculus - has proved to be in practice the most comprehensive, most general and most successful operational formula (Operationsformel) of all differential calculus; then this is only the crowning of the edifice of the Newtonian school, to which he belonged, and of the Newton-Leibnitz period of development of differential calculus in general, which from the very beginning drew correct results from false premises. The algebraic proof of Taylor s theorem has now been given by Lagrange, and it in general provides the foundation (Basis) of his algebraic method of differential calculus. On the subject itself I will go into greater detail in the eventual historical part of this manuscript.86 As a lusus historiae [an aside in the story] let it be noted here that Lagrange in no way goes back to the unknown foundation for Taylor - to the binomial theorem, the binomial theorem in the most elementary form, too, where it consists of only two quantities, (x + a) or here, (x + h), and has a positive exponent. Much less does he go back further and ask himself, why the binomial theorem of Newton, translated into differential form and at the same time freed of its algebraic conditions by means of a powerful blow (Gewaltstreich), appears as the comprehensive, overall operational formula of the calculus he founded? The answer was simple: because from the very beginning Newton sets x1 - x = dx, so that x1 = x + dx. The development of the difference is thus at once transformed into the development of a sum in the binomial (x + dx) - whence we disregard completely that it had to have been set x1 - x = x or = x + h). Taylor only developed this fundamental basis to its most general and comprehensive form, which only became possible once all the fundamental operations of differential calculus had been discovered; for what sense had his dy/dx, d y/dx , etc. unless one could already develop the corresponding dy/dx, d y/dx , etc. for all essential functions in x? Lagrange, conversely, bases himself directly on Taylor s theorem (schliesst sich direkt an Taylor s Theorem an), from a standpoint, naturally, where on the one hand the successors of the Newton-Leibnitz epoch already provide him with the corrected version of x1 - x = dx, so that as well y1 - y = f(x + h) - f(x), while on the other hand he produced, right in the algebraicisation of Taylor s formula his own theory of the derived function. [In just such a manner Fichte followed Kant, Schelling Fichte, and Hegel Schelling, and neither Fichte nor Schelling nor Hegel investigated the generl foundation of Kant, of idealism in general: for otherwise they would not have been able to develop it further].

Marx's Mathematical Manuscripts 1881

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1881/mathematical-manuscripts/ch14.html

I) x ; a) (x + h) = x + 3hx + 3h x + h ; b) (x + h) - x = 3x h + 3xh + h ; c) ((x + h) - x )/h = 3x + 3xh + h . If h becomes = 0, then and the right-hand side = 3x , so that dy/dx = 3x . y = x ; y1 = x1 ; y1 - y = x1 - x = (x1 - x) (x1 + x1x + x ) ; y1 - y)/(x1 - x) or = dy/dx = x + xx + x ; dy/dx = 3x . ___________ II) Let us set x1 - x = h. Then: 1) (x1 - x) (x1 + x1x + x ) = h(x1 + x1x + x ) ; (y1 - y)/h = x1 + x1x + x . In 1) the coefficient of h is not the completed derivative, like f above, but rather f ; the division of both sides by h, therefore, also leads not to dy/dx, but rather y/h or y/ x = x1 + x1x + x If we begin on the other side in I c), namely in (f(x + h) - f(x))/h or (y1 - y)/h = 3x + 3xh + h , 3x thus becomes a value which the series constantly approaches, without ever reaching it, and thus, even more, without ever being able to exceed it. In this sense 3x becomes the limit value89 of the series 3x + 3xh + h . On the other side the quantity (y1 - y)/h (or (y1 - y)/(x1 - x)) also decreases all the more, the more its denominator h decreases.90 Since, however, (y1 - y)/h is the equivalent of 3x + 3xh + h the limit value of the series is also the ratio s own limit value in the same sens that it is the limit value of the equivalents series. However, as soon as we set h = 0, the terms on the right-hand side vanish, making 3x the limit of its value; now 3x is the first derivative of x and so = f (x). As f (x) it indicates that an f (x) is also derivable from it (in the given case it = 6x) etc., and thus that the increment f (x) or 3x is not = the sum of the increments which can be developed from f(x) = x . Were f(x) itself an infinite series, so naturally the series of increments which can be developed from it would be infinite as well. In this sense, however, the developed series of increments becomes, as soon as I break it off, the limit value of the development, where limit value here is in the usual algebraic or arithmetic meaning, just as the developed part of an endless decimal fraction becomes the limit of its possible development, a limit which is satisfactory on practical or theoretical grounds. This has absolutely nothing in common with the limit value in the first sense. Here in the second sense the limit value may be arbitrarily increased, while there it may be only decreased. Furthermore (y1 - y)/h = (y1 - y)/(x1 - x) , so long as h is only decreased, only approaches the expression 0/0; this is a limit which it may never attain and still less exceed, and thus far 0/0 may be considered its limit value.91 As soon, however, as (y1 - y)/h is transformed to 0/0 = dy/dx, the latter has ceased to be the limit value of (y1 - y)/h, since the latter has itself disappeared into its limit.92 With respect to its earlier form, (y1 - y)/h or (y1 - y)/(x1 - x), we may only say that 0/0 is its absolute minimal expression which, treated in isolation, is no expression of value (Wertausdruck); but 0/0 (or dy/dx) now has 3x opposite it as its real equivalent, that is f (x). And so in the equation 0/0 ( or dy/dx) = f (x) The concept of the limit value may therefore be interpreted wrongly, and is constantly interpreted wrongly (missdeutet). It is applied in differential equations93 as a means of preparing the way for setting x1 - x or h = 0 and of bringing the latter closer to its presentation: - a childishness which has its origin in the first mystical and mystifying methods of calculus. In the application of differential equations to curves, etc., it really serves to make things more apparent geometrically. ___________

Marx's Mathematical Manuscripts 1881

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1881/mathematical-manuscripts/ch15.html

Let us compare d Alembert s method to the algebraic one.94 I) f(x) or y = x ; a) f(x + h) or y1 = (x + h) = x + 3x h + 3xh + h ; b) f(x + h) - f(x) or y1 - y = 3x h + 3xh + h ; c) (f(x + h) - f(x))/h or (y1 - y)/h = 3x + 3xh + h ; d) 0/0 or dy/dx = 3x = f (x) . II) f(x) or y = x ; a) f(x1) or y1 = x1 ; b) f(x1) - f(x) or y1 - y = x1 - x = (x1 - x)(x1 + x1x + x ) ; c) (f(x1) - f(x))/(x1 - x) or (y1 - y)/(x1 - x) = x1 + x1x + x . d) 0/0 or dy/dx = (x + xx + x ) = 3x . It is the same in both so far: if the independent variable x increases, so does the dependent [variable] y. Everything depends on how the increase of x is expressed. If x becomes x1, then x1 - x = x = h (an undefined, infinitely contractible but always finite difference).95 If x or h is the increment by which x has increased, then: a) x1 = x + x, but also in reverse b) x + x or x + h = x1. The differential calculus begins historically with a); with the fact, that is, that the difference x or the increment h (one expresses the same thing as the other: the first negatively as the difference x, the second positively as the increment h) exists independently next to the quantity x, whose increment it is and thus which it expresses as increased, but increased by h. It thereby achieves the advantage from the very beginning, that the original function of the variable corresponding to this general expression, as soon as it increases, is expressed in a binomial of a defined degree, and therefore from the very beginning the binomial theorem is applicable to it. Already, in fact, we have a binomial on the general, the left-hand, side, namely x + x [, such that f(x + x)] or y1 = etc. The mystical differential calculus immediately transforms: (x + x) into (x + dx) or according to Newton, x + x..96 Thereby we have also immediately obtained on the right-hand, the algebraic, side a binomial in x + dx or x + x. which may be treated as an ordinary binomial. The transformation from x to dx or x. is assumed a prori rather than rejected on mathematical grounds, so that later the mystical suppression of terms of the developed binomial becomes possible. D Alembert begins with (x + dx) but corrects the expression to (x + x), alias (x + h); a development now becomes necessary in which x or h is transformed into dx, but all of that development really proceeds (das ist auch alle Entwicklung, die wirklich vorgeht). Whether it begin falsely with (x + dx) or correctly with (x + h), this undefined binomial placed in the given algebraic function of x transforms into a binomial of a defined degree - such as (x + h) now appears in Ia) instead of x - and even into a binomial in which in the first case dx, in the other case h appears as its last term, and also in the expansion as well as merely a factor to which the functions derived from the binomial are externally attached (behaftet). Therefore we find right in Ia) the complete first derivative of x , namely 3x , as the coefficient in the second term of the series, attached to h. 3x = f (x) remains unchanged from now on. It is itself derived by means of no sort of process of differentiation at all but rather provided from the very beginning by means of the binomial theorem, indeed because from the very beginning we have represented the increased x as a binomial, x + x = x + h , In IIa) in contrast, the increased x1 enters the algebraic function in exactly the same form as x originally entered it; x becomes x1 . The derivative f (x) can only be obtained at the end by means of two successive differentiations, and those of quite distinct character indeed. In equation Ib) the difference f(x + h) - f (x) or y1 - y now prepares the arrival of the symbolic differential coefficient; in real terms, however, all that changes is that it moves out of second rank into the first rank of the series and therefore makes possible its liberation from h. In IIb) we obtain the expression of differences on both sides; it has been so developed on the algebraic side that (x1 - x) appears as a factor beside a derived function in x and x1 which was obtained by means of the division of x1 - x by x1 - x. Only the existence of the difference x1 - x made possible its separation into two factors. Since x1 - x = h , In Ic), f (x) is now freed of its factor h; we thus obtain on the left-hand side (y1 - y)/h or (f(x + h) - f(x))/h, thus a still finite expression of the differential coefficient. On the other side, however, we have reached the point where, when we set h = 0 in (f(x + h) - f(x))/h, and this transforms into 0/0 = dy/dx , we obtain on one side in Id) the symbolic differential coefficient and on the other f (x), which appeared complete already in Ia) but now has been freed of its neighbouring terms and stands alone on the right-hand side. Positive development only proceeds on the left-hand side, since here the symbolic differential coefficient is produced. On the right-hand side the development consists only of freeing f(x) = 3x , already found in Ia) by means of the binomial, from its original impediment. The transformation of h into 0 or x1 - x = 0 has only this negative meaning on the right-hand side. In IIc), by contrast, a preliminary derivative is only obtained by dividing both sides by x1 - x ( = x). Finally, in IId) the definitive derivative is obtained by the positive setting of x1 = x. This x1 = x means, however, setting at the same time x1 - x = 0, and therefore transforms the finite ratio (y1 - y)/(x1 - x) on the left-hand side to 0/0 or dy/dx . In I) the derivative is no more found by setting x1 - x = 0 or h = 0 than it is in the mystical differential method. In both cases the neighbouring terms of the f (x) which appeared complete from the very beginning have been tossed aside, now in a mathematically correct manner, there by means of a coup d etat.

Marx's Mathematical Manuscripts 1881

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1881/mathematical-manuscripts/ch16.html

Let us now develop according to d Alembert s method: a) f(u)98 or y = 3u ; b) f(x) or u = x + ax . y = 3u , (1) f(u) = 3u . (1a) f(u + h) = 3(u + h) , f(u + h) - f(u) = 3(u + h) - 3u = 3u + 6uh + 3h - 3u = 6uh + 3h (2) (f(u + h) - f(u))/h = 6u + 3h . f (u) = 6u, already given complete in (2), is freed of its factor h by means of division. (f(u + 0) - f(u))/0 = 6u , (y1 - y)/(u1 - u) , alias 0/0 = dy/dx = 6u . dy/du = 6(x + ax ) . Since y in a) is differentiated with respect to u, thus (u1 - u) = h or h = (u1 - u) , And so: dy/du = 6(x + ax ) . [We now develop b) in the same manner, so that] f(x + h) = (x + h) + a(x + h) , f(x + h) - f(x) = (x + h) + a(x + h) - x - ax = x + 3x h + 3xh + h + ax + 2axh + ah { - x || - ax = (3x + 2ax)h + (3x + a)h + h , (f(x + h) - f(x))/h = 3x + 2ax + (3x + a)h + h . If we now set h = 0, on the second side: 0/0 or du/dx = 3x + 2ax . The derived function is already contained complete however, in f(x + h) = (x + h) + a(x + h) , x + 3x h + 3xh + h + ax + 2axh + ah . x + ax + (3x + 2ax)h + (3x + a)h + h . The rest of the procedures serve only to liberate the f (x) thus given from the very beginning from its own coefficient h and from all other terms. The equation (f(x + h) - f(x))/h = etc. provides two things: first, it makes it possible to obtain the numerator on the first side as the difference of f(x), presently = f(x); on the second side, however, it provides the algebraic opportunity to extract the original function given in x, x + ax , from the product of (x + h) + a(x + h) etc. ___________ So we continue. We have obtained for a): dy/du = 6(x + ax ) , du/dx = 3x + 2ax . We multiply dy/du by du/dx, so that dy/du du/dx = dy/dx , dy/dx = 6(x + ax )(3x + 2ax) y = f(u); dy/du = df(u)/du, u = f(x); du/dx = df(x)/dx , dy/du du/dx or dy/dx = df(u)/du df(x)/dx If we now substitute h = u1 - u into equation a) and h = x1 - x into equation b), things are so arranged that: y or f(u) = 3u , f(u + (u1 - u)) = 3(u + (u1 - u)) , = 3u + 6u(u1 - u) + 3(u1 - u) , f(u + (u1 - u)) - f(u) = 3u + 6u(u1 - u) + 3(u1 - u)(u1 - u) - 3u , f(u + (u1 - u)) - f(u) = 6u(u1 - u) + 3(u1 - u) , (f(u + (u1 - u)) - f(u))/(u1 - u) = 6u + 3(u1 - u) . dy/du = 6u + 0 = 6u . ____________ This shows that when f(u) from the very beginning becomes f(u + (u1 - u)), then its increment appears as the positive second term of a defined binomial on the second side, and this second term, which is multiplied by (u1 - u) or h by the binomial theorem, immediately becomes the coefficient to be found. If the second term is polynomial, as it is in x + ax , which becomes (x + h) + a(x + h) , (x + (x1 - x)) + a(x + (x1 - x)) , This result shows: 1) that when in d Alembert s development x1 - x = h is put in reverse h = x1 - x, thereby absolutely nothing is changed in the method itself, rather the method simply brings out more clearly how to obtain the binomial by means of f(x + h) or f(x + (x1 - x)) for the algebraic expression on the other side in place of the original function, in place of 3u for example in the given case. The second term which one finds in that manner attached to h or (x1 - x) is the complete first derived function. The problem now consists of freeing it of h or x1 - x, which is easily done. There the derived function is complete; it is therefore not found by setting x1 - x = 0, but rather freed of its factor (x1 - x) and accessories. Just as it is found by simple multiplication (the binomial development) as the second term [with] x1 - x, so it is finally freed of the latter by means of division of both sides by x1 - x. The crucial procedure (Mittelprozedur), however, consists of the development of the equation f(x + h) - f(x) or f(x + (x1 - x)) - f(x) = [...]. Therefore what happens, for example, in (x + h) + a(x + h) - x - ax , The first differentiation on the second side is nothing but the simple subtraction of the original function from its increased expression, which thus gives us the increment by which it has increased and whose first term, multiplied by h, is already the complete derived function. The other terms can only contain h etc. or (x1 - x) etc. as coefficients; they are reduced by one power with the first division of both sides by x1 - x, while the first term emerges without any h. 2) The difference from the method of f(x1) - f(x) = etc. lies in the fact that, when we have for example f(x) or u = x + ax , f(x1) or u1 = x1 + ax1 , f(x1) - f(x) or u1 - u = x1 + ax1 - (x + ax ) . Here by no means is it a matter of extracting the original function again, since x1 + ax1 does not contain x and ax in any form. On the contrary, this first difference equation provides us with an opportunity for development (Entwicklungsmoment), namely the transformation of both of the two original terms into differences of [power of] x1 and x. Namely, = (x1 - x ) + a(x1 - x ) . It is now clear that when we again resolve both of these two terms into factors of x1 - x, we obtain functions in x1 and x as coefficients of x1 - x, namely: f(x1) - f(x) or u1 - u = (x1 - x) (x +x1x + x ) + a(x1 - x) (x1 + x) . (f(x1) - f(x))/(x1 - x) or (u1 - u)/(x1 - x) = (x1 + x1x + x ) + a(x1 + x) . Thus can finally obtain the first derived function in x only when we set x1 = x, so that x1 - x = 0, and then x1 = x , x1x = x , x(x1 + x1x + x ) = 3x and x1 + x = x + x = 2x ; a(2x) = 2xa . df(x)/dx = du/dx = 0/0 . Thus the derived function is here only obtained by setting x1 = x, so that x1 - x = 0. x1 = x provides the final positive result in the real function of x. But x1 = x also leads to x1 - x = 0 and therefore at the same time, beside this positive result, to the symbolic 0/0 or dy/dx on the other side. We could have said from the very beginning: we have to obtain a derivative in x, and x in the end. This can only be transformed into the derivative in x when x1 is set = x; but setting x1 = x is the same as setting x1 - x = 0, which nullification is positively expressed by the formula x1 = x which is necessary for the transformation of the derivative to a function of x, while its negative form, x1 - x = 0, must provide us with the symbol. 3) Even if this treatment of x, where an increment (x1 - x = x, for example, or h) is not independently introduced next to it, was already well-known, something which is very probable and of which I shall convince myself by consulting J[ohn] Landen at the [British] Museum, still its essential difference cannot have been grasped. What distinguishes this method from Lagrange, however, is that it really differentiates, so that the differential expression also originates on the symbolic side, while with him the derivation does not represent the differentiation algebraically, but instead derives the functions algebraically directly from the binomial and simply accepts their differential form by symmetry , since it is known from differential calculus that the first derived function = dy/dx, the second = d y/dx ;, etc.

Marx's Mathematical Manuscripts 1881

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1881/mathematical-manuscripts/ch17.html

In order to give the reader accustomed to the contemporary use in mathematics of the term limit a correct understanding of Marx s critical remarks concerning this concept and of Marx s interpretation of it, we give first of all the definition of limit (and clarifying examples) and the ways of using the word limit contained in the courses of Hind and Boucharlat which Marx possessed and studied critically. Hind s course-book follows d Alembert, which is to say that the derivative was defined in it by means of the concept of limit. The introductory chapter of the book was therefore entitled The method of limits . However, neither in this chapter nor in the rest of the textbook was there a definition of limit . There were only definitions of the limits of a variable in the restricted sense of the exact upper or lower bounds to the multiplicity of its value. (This multiplicity might include, in particular, an infinitely large value of the variable, designated by the symbol . But there were no precisely defined correct operations with this symbol: there was no concept of absolute value, no + and - ; it was considered simply self-evident, that for any 0, + = , that for any finite a (that is, distinct from 0, as well as from ) a = and a/ = 0. ) This concept of the limit of a function - a concept which of course can only be surmised from the examples - was introduced in the introductory chapter, implicitly, by means, as might be anticipated, of identifying this limit (at the point coinciding with the exact upper or lower bounds of the given multiplicity of the values of the argument) with one of the limits (with the exact upper or with the exact lower bound) of the corresponding multiplicity of values of the function. Since only monotonic or piecewise monotonic functions are examined in this book, such a limit appears in practice to be with the (one-sided) limit in the more usual sense of the word, in which Hind actually uses the concept of limit in all the remaining parts of the book. It turned out, however, that the introduction of this concept, which was supposed to improve the method of infinitely small quantities, did not consciously attain that goal and was generally unwarranted. Actually, Hind might have replaced the evaluation of the one-sided limit of a piecewise monotonic function f(x), defined on the interval (a, b) by the solution of the following two problems as x moves to + a: 1. To find a certain number such that for a < x < the functions is monotonic (in the broad sense, i.e., non-decreasing or non-increasing; for demonstration we will assume the function is here monotonically non-decreasing); 2. To evaluate the point at the (by our assumption lower) boundary of the possible values of the function on the interval (a, ), that is, for a < x < . Clearly, this will be the desired lim x + a f(x). But Hind did not proceed in this manner. Following Newton (see the appendix On the lemmas of Newton cited by Marx ) he considered the limit simply the last value of the function of the last value of the independent variable. In other words he looked at lim x +a f(x) as the point of the lower boundary of the values of the function not on the interval a < x < but on the segment a x . He assumed the last value f(a) to be already defined; but in that case all of the above procedure loses meaning, since may take the value a, and to find the lower boundary of all possible values of the function, consisting now of only the one f(a), now becomes that same f(a). This was just what Marx wanted to say, apparently, when he noted, obviously having in mind Hind s determination, that it is meaningless to treat 3x as the limit value of the function 3x has h goes to zero, later terming such treatment a well-worn tautology (see pp.124-6 and notes 90-92); where he calls generally childish and the origin of the first mystical and mystifying method of calculus (see p.126) the actual approach to the limit, the assumption, that the limit value of the function is formed as its last value at the last value of the argument. This circumstance, that the actual approach to the limit by no means resolves the difficulties surrounding infinitely small quantities, becomes particularly evident in the case when the last value of the independent variable is infinity . So, in particular, if we consider the sequence {an}, then the limit must be that member of the series for which n = ; so we regard a limit as the end (the last term) of an infinite (that is, without an end) series of terms. It is hardly surprising that this concept of the actual limit should be no clearer than the concept of infinitely small quantities which Marx called mystical . As is well known, the definition of the limit of a function, not requiring the carrying-out of an infinite number of steps and permitting an exact formulation in terms of only finite variables and parameters, gained currency is mathematics only after the time of Cauchy, that is, in the 70s of the last century. But even at this time the authors of many widely-distributed textbooks did not clearly understand that the limit was not be interpreted actually; that even in cases where the function is continuous at the point a, that is, the limit of the function f(x) as x a is equal to f(a), nevertheless it must be shown equal to f(a) on the condition that, no matter how closely x approaches a, it never reaches it. With regard to Marx s mathematical manuscripts it is essential for us to note, that if the value f(a) is undefined but the limit f(x) exists as x a (corresponding to x over the interval (a - k, a + k)) then we may simply predefine the function of f(x) at the point a, f(a), as that limit, by definition. Such predefinition of the value of the functions is also a predefinition of continuity. The limit of the function f(x) as x a would in this case be the value of the already well-defined function with x = a. This however does not mean that one may treat the value f(a) as the determination of the known single-valued function f(x), but on the contrary only as a quantity at the end of an infinite progression no matter how closely x approaches a. Indeed, Marx himself obviously had such a predefinition of continuity in mind when he called the limit of the expression y/ x as x 0, the absolute minimal expression of he ratio (see, for example, p.125); by this he graphically had in mind the limit of this ratio as x 0 under the condition that there exists a certain number , such that for 0 < x < as x decreases so does the ratio y/ x. By means of this definition of a function Lacroix works out the example he gives (see below p.153). But even so far in the construction of mathematical analysis as Lacroix had gone beyond the metaphysical principle of continuity of Leibnitz, which he regarded as a self-evident axiom, nonetheless he did not consider any other definition of function generally possible. Regarding the fact that Marx quite obviously allowed other means of definition of the ratio y/ x as y = x = 0, see p.18 and note 18. We now give some of Hind s own words which may be necessary in reading Marx s manuscripts and from which follow the conclusions set out above. In his introductory chapter On the method of limits Hind begins with definition number one, to wit: With the definition there follows a series of examples, in which, however, not once is brought into clear view nor once is demonstrated that the limit spoken of by the author actually fulfils the requirements formulated in Definition One. The first of these examples is the following: Already the first example plunges the student into confusion. How can the quantity ax be made to differ from the value by finite quantities, a magnitude from which it may be made to differ by quantities less than any that can be expressed in finite terms ? Indeed, following Hind, when x assumes a finite value the difference - ax is equal to infinity, but when x = , then ax = , and the difference - is undefined. In the second example (it is necessary to consider, naturally, the values In these conditions of x and a respectively) the lower and upper limits of the expression ax + b are found, appropriately enough, at b and infinity. In the third example the lower limit of the fraction (ax + b)/(bx + a), that is, b/a is found by simple substitution of 0 in the place of x in the expression, and the upper limit, a/b, by the substitution of in place of x in the equivalent fraction (a + (b/x))/(b + (a/x)). An explanation of under what conditions the values given to a and b respectively appeared actually in the lower and upper limits does not accompany the example. There is not even a hint of the question of whether if the values are tested they will satisfy the adduced definition of limits (to check, for example, that we are looking at monotonic functions). The reader is thus pre- prepared to find a limit to a function through the direct substitution into its expression (or into its re-arranged expression in those cases where the immediately given continuous expression is devoid of any meaning) of the limit value of the independent variable. The fourth and the sixth examples, exactly those examples which typify point two of the introductory chapter - in which proceeds the gradual transition from the concept of inferior and superior limits of the function tot he more conventional concept of limit and in which is revealed the actual character of limit according to Hind - we reproduce here in full. From them it will become sufficiently clear what a jumbled character is attributed to any general account of the concept of limit by this author: a + a/x + a/x + etc. , (a(1/xn - 1))/(1/x - 1) = (ax(1 - 1/xn))/(x - 1) ; Here one no longer speaks of one of the limits of the sequence nor any more about the superior of the limits, as would naturally follow from Definition One, but simply of the limit in the usual sense. The word limit or limits occurs here only in the verbal formulation of the theorem, but recalling that formulation we see that one surmises that the requirement is to show the equality of (sin x)/x and (tan x)/x as x goes to 0. However, Hind s proof can hardly be considered satisfactory by the standards of his time. Indeed, from the above account it is evident that the author desires to show that sin /n = /n = tan /n as n = (1) It remains equally difficult to explain how all this confusing account could possibly demonstrate the superiority of this methods of limits, literally interpreted, over the method of infinitely small quantities, in this case simply the identification of an infinity small segment of the perimeter of the circle with its chord. In Boucharlat s textbook as well (see p.vii) the method of limits is treated as an improvement on the method of infinitely small quantities: repairing that which may be imperfect in this last . There is, however, no attempt in Boucharlat s course to define what is meant by tends to (such-and-such) a limit (or how to make certain that such-and-such a quantity actually tends towards such-and-such a limit). In it the concept of limit, as well as of actual , appears for the first time in evaluating the derivative of the function y = x . We reproduce here in full that passage which elicited critical remarks from Marx in his manuscript On the ambiguity of the terms limit and limiting value . For a correct understanding of the above-mentioned manuscript of Marx it is essential to note that in Boucharlat s account the transition from the equation of the form y/ x = (x1, x) (where y = f(x)) to an equation of the form dy/dx = f (x) is presented as divided into those parts to the left and to the right in the first equation above: from y/ x to dy/dx and from (x1, x) to f (x). And the limit of the ratio y/ x - corresponding to the (y1 - y)/h of equation (2) - is evidently considered equivalent to the expression 0/0, denoted dy/dx. So, in his determination of the differential of x, having deduced the equation (y1 - y)/h = 1, Boucharlat concludes: Since the quantity h does not enter into the second side of this equation, we see that to pass to the limit it is sufficient to change (y1 - y)/h into dy/dx which gives dy/dx = 1, and therefore dy = dx. (p.6) The case where the limit appears equal to zero Boucharlat treats as equivalent to the nonexistence of a limit. So, taking the derivative of y = b and obtaining the equation dy/dx = 0, he concludes, so there is neither limit nor differential (p.6). Boucharlat obtains the limit of the ratio (sin x)/x as x 0 in essentially the same manner as Hind, although in a more intelligible form. He proves at first the theorem given as an example in his textbook, that the arc is greater than the sine, and less than the tangent . (p.24) However, he makes no mention of the fact that immediately follows, viz: (sin x)/(tan x) < (sin x)/x < (sin x)/sin(x) ( 0 < x < /2) , The condition that for h = 0 the ratio (sin h)/h is transformed into 0/0, that is, in general, is undefined, and the conclusion drawn on no more ground than the sine coincides with the arc when this last is changed into zero, all these embarrass Boucharlat no more than they embarrass Hind. We have dwelt long enough, obviously, on the treatment of the concept of limit in the textbooks fo Hind and Boucharlat in order to clarify those passages in the manuscript On the ambiguity of the terms limit and limiting value in which Marx criticised these authors actual transition to the limit, (concerning which see notes 90-92). In order to understand other passages of the manuscripts, and in particular Marx s characteristic ratio treatment of the limit, closer to the contemporary one, it is advisable to introduce certain opinions regarding the concept of limit in other sources with which Marx familiarised himself, first of all the 3-volume Trait of Lacroix on the differential and integral calculus, 1810. Following Leibnitz, Lacroix considered all sorts of functions obeying the requirements of the law of continuity, but considered the passage to the limit to be expression of this law, c est- -dire de la loi qui s observe dans la description des lignes par le mouvement, et d apr s laquelle les points cons cutifs d une m me ligne se succedent sans aucun intervalle. (p.xxv) ( that is, the law which is observed of lines when described by [their] movement, and according to which there is not the slightest interval between successive points of the same line ). For any such change in the quantity is impossible to understand without considering its two different values, between which the interval is being considered, since the law of continuity must be expressed in term of it, that plus il est petit, plus on se rapproche de la loi dont il s agit, laquelle la limite seule convient parfaitement , (ibid: the smaller it becomes the more closely it approaches the law which it obeys, to which only the limit fits with complete agreement ). Lacroix also explains that this role of continuity in mathematical analysis seemed to him appropriate in order to employer la m thode des limites (p.xxiv) for the construction of a systematic course-book of mathematical analysis. The concepts infinite and infinitely small Lacroix considers determined only in a negative sense, that is, as l exclusion de tout limite, soit en grandeur, soit en petitesse, ce qui n offre qu une suite de n gations, et ne sourait jamais constituter une notion positive (p.19 the exclusion of any limit wheter of greatness or of smallness, this only offers a series of negations and never rises to constitute a positive notion ). And in a footnote on the same page he adds l infini est necessairrement ce dont on affirme que les limites ne peuvent tre atteintes par quelque grandeur con evable que ce soit, ( the infinite is necessarily that of which one believes its limits cannot be surpaseed by any conceivable quantity no matter how large ). In other words, Lacroix does not accept any actual infinity: neither an actual infinitely large quantity nor an actual infinitely small one. Lacroix introduces the concept of limit in the following manner: Already in Lacroix there is no longer any assumption of a monotonic or piecewise monotonic function, and his limit is not, in general, a one-sided limit: the variable may approach its limiting value in any manner whatsoever. In place of the concept of absolute value Lacroix employs, although not consistently, the expression value without sign , the meaning of which, however, remains unspecified. He emphasised that the function may not only attain its limiting value but in general may even pass beyond, to oscillate in its vicinity. But Lacroix still did not formulate in clear terms the restriction on the independent variable that in its approach to its limiting value , related to the passage to the limit, it is assumed that it does not attain , that is, that the limit is not to be understood actually. As long as the function with which he is concerned is continuous, that is, its limits coincide with the value of the function at the limiting value of the independent variable, he expresses himself as would a man who believed that the approach of the independent variable to its limiting value must in the passage to the limit be completed by reaching that value. It must also be noted that Lacroix uses the same one word limit for the designation of the limit - an end which as we have seen was conceived by him in a much more general, more precise way, and closer to the contemporary sense that anything in the concepts of the textbooks of Boucharlat and Hind which Marx criticised - as he uses in several instances for the designation of the limit value as well. These lines on the concept of limit in the long treatise of Lacroix - which, as we know, Marx considered his most reliable source of information on the fundamental concepts of mathematical analysis, such as function, limit etc. - are obviously sufficient to clarify what Marx had in mind when he noted briefly regarding the concept of limit in Lacroix s treatment, that this category, brought into general use in [mathematical] analysis largely by Lacroix s example, acquires great significance as a replacement for the category minimal expression (p.68). It is clear, first of all, that Marx actually understood what he was doing when he introduced, in dealing with the ambiguity of the term limit , the concept of the absolutely minimal expression , in the same sense as that which we recognise today in the concept of limit. Marx foresaw, it is also clear, that with the concept of limit as understood by Lacroix we are forced, after completely replacing, obviously, the less satisfactory concept of limit, to perform the unnecessary introduction of the special - new - concept of the absolutely minimal expression ; in other words, we are faced with the necessity of replacing the latter. It is probably appropriate, in connection with this same extract from the manuscripts of Marx which we are discussing at the moment, but also with regard to a variety of other passages of the manuscripts, to introduce the words of Lagrange with respect to the concept of limit from the introduction to his Theory of Analytic Functions (Oeuvres Lagrange, Vol IX, Paris, 1881). Speaking about the attempts by Euler and d Alembert to regard infinitely small differences as absolutely zero, with only their ratios entering into calculus, and to see these as the limits of the ratios of finite or indefinitely small differences, Lagrange wrote (p.16): Later (p.18) he remarks, in connection with the Newtonian method of the remaining ratios of disappearing quantities, that Lagrange then turned to the attempts of the clever English geometrician [John] Landen to deal with these difficulties, attempts which he valued highly, although he considered Landen s method too awkward. (See Appendix IV, John Landen s Residual Analysis , pp.165-173) Of himself, Lagrange wrote that already in 1772 he maintained the theory of the development of functions into a series containing the true principles of differential calculus separate from all consideration of infinitely small quantities or of limits . (p.19) Thus it is clear that Lagrange considered the method of limits no more perfect than the method of infinitely small quantities and that this was related to his understanding that the limit of which one speaks in analysis is understood actually as the last value of the function for the last ( disappearing ) value of the independent variable. ____________

Marx's Mathematical Manuscripts 1881

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1881/mathematical-manuscripts/ch18.html

On a separate sheet attached to his draft sketch of the course of historical development of mathematical calculus, Marx referred to the Scholium of Lemma XI of Book One and the Lemma II of Book Two of Newton s Principia, devoted to two fundamental concepts used by Newton throughout his mathematical analysis, the concept of limit and moment . In the commentary (scholium) to Lemma XI of the first book to Principia mathematica de philosophiae naturalis Newton attempts to explain the concept of ultimate (limiting) ratio and ultimate sum by means of a not very transparent comparison: a metaphysical, not mathematical assumption, Marx characterised it. Indeed, Newton writes: In present-day mathematics the velocity of a body at the given moment t0 is defined with the help of the mathematical concept of limit, and the use by science of such a definition may lead to a variety of considerations, including those of an ontological character. However, the scientific definition of the velocity of a body at a given moment by means of a certain limit of the ratio of vanishing quantities can serve neither as a demonstration of the existence of such a limit nor, a fortiori as a justification for the definition of this limit as the ratio of the quantities not before they vanish, nor afterwards, but with which they vanish, that is, as some sort of ratio of zeroes, the value of which is somehow compared to the speed which a body must have at the very moment when it reaches a place where its movement end. Clearly, however, from such a definition it is impossible to extract by mathematical calculations any corresponding limit, and we are essentially in a logical circle: velocity at the moment t0 is factually described as a certain limit, the limit, itself, however, is then defined by means of the velocity t the moment t0, the existence of which in this case now really seems to be some sort of metaphysical, not mathematical, assumption .* Lemma II of the second book of Principia mathematica contains the following explanation of the concept of moment (or infinitely small): It is natural that this explanation - in which Newton once again employs a metaphysical, not mathematical assumption , this time with respect to the existence of differentials ( moments ) - should have interested Marx first of all. But his lemma might also have attracted his attention insofar as in it Newton attempts to show the formula for the differentiation of the product of two functions without resorting to the suppression of the infinitesimals of higher order. This (unsuccessful) attempt proceeds in the following way: Let A - (1/2) a be the value of the function f(t) at the point t0, B - (1/2) b be the value of the function g(t) at the same point t0, and a and b increments of the respective functions f and g on the interval [t0, t1]. (Lower we denote these f and g respectively.) Then the increment of the product f(t) g(t) on the segment [t0, t1] is: (A + (1/2) a) (B + (1/2) b) - (A - (1/2) a) (B - (1/2) b) , (f(t0) + (1/2) f) g + (g(t0) + (1/2) g) f , As is apparent from the first drafts of the piece on the differential (see, for instance p.76), Marx at first wanted to elucidate the historical path of the development of differential calculus by the use of the example of the history of the theorem of derivative. Therefore it is not surprising that Lemma II should have drawn Marx s attention in this connection. Since the textbooks from which Marx made extracts do not specifically refer to Lemma XI of Book One or Lemma II of Book Two of the Principia, thee is every reason to believe that Marx selected them, having already immediately rejected Newton s work. Since the definition of the limit of the ratio of vanishing quantities by means of the velocity of a body at a given moment t0 contains no means for the calculation of this limit, Newton actually employs for the performance of such calculation, rather than this definition, certain hypothetical properties of limits sufficient to reduce the calculation of the limits of ratios of vanishing quantities to the calculation of the limits themselves, the numerical value of which is supposed to be completely and rigorously defined. Newton states these hypothetical properties first of all in Lemma I of the first section of Book One of Principia: The method of first and last ratios of quantities, by the help of which we demonstrate the propositions that follow. In his notes on the history of differential calculus Marx refers to this lemma together with the scholium to Lemma XI (see pp.75 and 76). Lemma I states: Quantities, and the ratios of quantities, which in any finite time converge continually to equality, and before the end of first time approach nearer to each other than by any given difference, become ultimately equal. (Newton s Principia revised by Florion Cajori, Univ of Calif. Press, 1934, p.29) However, in the demonstration of this limit the existence of a limit as actually reached at the end of the period of time in question is implicitly assumed. Actually, the demonstration is composed of a denial that the value of the quantities obtained t the end of this time can be distinguished from each other. Thus, limit is always understood by Newton in an actual sense and therefore hardly surpasses - in mathematical precision and validity - Leibnitz s actually infinitely small differentials and their corresponding moments, which, as is well known, Newton used in practice. ____________

Marx's Mathematical Manuscripts 1881

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1881/mathematical-manuscripts/ch19.html

In order to understand those places in the manuscripts of Marx at which the ratio dy/dx is regarded as a ratio of zeroes, at times equal to the value of derivative of y with respect to x for all values of x and at the same time something which can be treated as an ordinary fraction - where, for example, the product du/dv dv/dx equals the fraction du/dx, cancelling the dv s - it is essential to have an acquaintance with Euler s attempt to construct the differential calculus as a calculus of zeroes. This attempt deserves interpretation as well in view of the fact that Marx specifically refers, in the list of literature appended to his first draft of the history of differential calculus, to chapter III of Euler s Differential Calculus, and that Marx call Euler s account of the calculus rational . The Differential Calculus by the great mathematician and member of the St Petersburg Academy of Sciences Leonhard Euler was published by the St Petersburg Academy in 1755. The basis for this work lies in the attempt to regard differentials as at the point of equalling zero in quantity, yet at the same time as different from zero: a zero with a history of its origin, with various designations (dy, dx and so on) and allowed to be evaluated so that the ratio dy/dx where y = f(x), is distinguished by the fact that it is the derivative f (x) and can be treated as an ordinary fraction. Euler undertook this attempt in order to free mathematical analysis from the necessity of treating differentials as actually infinitely small quantities with a clearly contradictory character (appearing to be in some sense zero and non-zero simultaneously). The assertion that pure reason supposedly recognises the possibility that the thousandth part of a cubic foot of substance is devoid of any extent , Euler considers completely inadequate (in the sense of inadmissible , in context, see the translation [in Russian] of L. Euler, Differential Calculus. Moscow-Leningrad, 1949, p.90). Since the simple identification of the differential with zero did not yield the differential calculus, Euler introduces various zeroes, establishing for them two types of equality, the arithmetic and the geometric . In the arithmetic sense all zeroes equal to a independently of the sort of zero which is added to a. In the geometric sense of the word, two zeroes are equal only if their ratio is equal to unity. Euler did not clarify what he understands by the ratio of two zeroes. It is only clear that he attributes to this ratio the usual character of a ratio of non-zero quantities and that in practice by the ratio of two zeroes - dy and dx - he intends the same as that which is expressed in modern mathematical analysis by the term lim x 0 y/ x, for Euler s theory of zeroes does not free mathematical analysis from the necessity of the introduction of the concept of limit (and the difficulties attending this concept). Since for Euler zero becomes various zeroes (and in the geometric sense they are not even equal to one another), it is necessary to use a variety of symbols. Two zeroes , writes Euler, may have any geometric ratio to each other, while from the arithmetic point of view their ratio is the ratio of equality. Therefore, since zeroes may have any ratio between them, in order to express these different ratios different symbols are used, especially when it is necessary to determine the geometric ratio between the two different zeroes. But in the calculus of infinitely small quantities nothing larger is formed than the ratio of various infinitely small quantities. Unless we employ different signs for their designation everything will be an enormous mess and nothing would be distinguishable. (p.91) If, following this interpretation of dx and dy as different zeroes, the ratio of which is equal to f (x), we replace dy/dx = f (x) with dy = f (x)dx, then we have an equation the left and right sides of which will be equal both in the arithmetic sense and in the geometric sense. Actually, the left and right will contain various zeroes , but all zeroes , as already noted, are equal in the arithmetic sense. Only insofar as the ratio of dy to dx is completely equal to f (x) - that is, both in the arithmetic and geometric sense [the ratio dy/dx : f (x), where y = f(x), is considered unity even if f (x) = 0] and if the ratio of zeroes is understood correctly as the usual operation of ratio, then we have dy : f (x)dx = (dy/dx) : f (x) = 1 , Obviously, Marx had in min just this complete equivalence of the equation (dy/dx) = f (x) with that of dy = f (x)dx in the sense not only of the possibility of transition from each of them to the other but also of the treatment of this (and with the strength of this) ratio of differential parts dy and dx as a usual ratio (as a fraction), whatever the quality of the differential parts dy and dx as zeroes ( various zeroes, variously designated), when he transformed the first of these equations into the second ( see ibid, p.147). For a more detailed account of the Euler zeroes and a history of the ideas related to it the reader may consult the article, A.P. Yushkevich Euler und Lagrange ber die Grundlagen der Analysis , in Samelband zu Ehren des 250 Geburtstages Leonhard Eulers, Berlin, 1959, pp.224-244. Here we are limiting consideration to two considerations of Euler which are helpful in reading the manuscripts of Marx. The first concerns the concept of the differential as the principal part of the increment of the function. This concept, which plays an essential role in mathematical analysis, particularly in its foundation, Euler introduces in the following way: Let the increment w of the variable x become very small, so that in the expression [for the increment y of the function y of x, that is; in] Pw + Qw + Rw + etc.* the terms Qw , Rw and all higher orders becomes so small that in an expression not demanding a great degree of precision they may be neglected compared to the first term Pw. Then, knowing the first differential Pdx, we also know, admittedly approximately, the first difference, that will be Pw; this has frequent use in many cases in which analysis is applied to practical tasks (p.105, ibid). In other words, having replaced in the differential function y of x (that is, in Pdx, where P is the derivative of y with respect to x) the differential dx, equal to zero according to Euler, with the finite [non-zero] increment w of the variable dx, we obtain the very concept of the differential as the principal part of the increment of the function, the starting point of modern-day course of mathematical analysis. The analogous concept of the differential as the principal part of the increment of the function is also in the manuscripts of Marx (see the account in manuscript 2768, p. 297 [Yanovskaya, 1968]). The second consideration concerns the question of the choice of designations specific to differential calculus, that is, of differentials and derivatives. Here interest arises first of all from the fact that Euler interprets the dot designations of Newton as symbolic of the differential, but not the derivative. In fact he writes, the name fluxions first used by Newton for the designation of speed of growth, was by analogy carried over to the infinitely small increments which a quantity assumes when it as it were varies (p.103). And similarly later, The differentials which they [the English] called fluxions , they marked with dots which were placed above the letters, so that y. meant for them the first fluxion of y, y.. the second fluxion, y... the third fluxion and so on. This manner of designation, however did not satisfy Euler, and he continues : Although this means of designation depends upon an arbitrary rule, the designation need not be rejected if the number of dots is not large, for they are easily indicated. If, however, it is required to write many dots, this method gives rise to a great deal of confusion and inconvenience. In fact, the tenth differential, or tenth fluxion, is extremely inconvenient to indicate thus y........... where by our means of designation , d10y is given easily. There arise occasions when it is necessary to express differentials of much higher, and even infinite, degree; on those occasions the English method of designation is not at all appropriate. (pp. 103-104) About the analogous identification (in several instances) by Newton and his followers of the fluxions x.,y. and so on, with the moments (that is, the differentials) x., y., and so on (where is an infinitely small period of time ) Marx also spoke, when he noted (p.78) plays no role in Newton s analysis of the foundation of functions and therefore may be ignored , and that Newton himself voluntarily neglected (loc.cit.). Marx used the same expression, speaking of the method of Newton, as the differential of y or y, of u or u of z or z . (see p.79) We must note in addition that Marx primarily emphasised the Leibnitzian symbology of the differential calculus over the symbology of Newton and his followers (see p.94). ____________

Marx's Mathematical Manuscripts 1881

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1881/mathematical-manuscripts/ch20.html

Notice of Marx s intention to acquaint himself with the works of John Landen in the British Museum is evident at several places in the mathematical manuscripts of Marx (see p.33). Marx saw in Landen a possible precursor of Lagrange, attempting to rebuild on strictly algebraic lines the foundation of differential calculus (p.113), and he proposed that the Landen method should be compared to the method Marx categorised as algebraic differentiation , but he himself doubted that Landen really understood the essential difference between this method and any other. To convince himself of the truth of this proposal Marx wanted to study in the Museum Landen s Residual Analysis. In the sources available to him Marx could find two earlier opinions of this book: in Hind s textbook (p.128, 2nd ed.) and in Lacroix s long Treatise (Vol.I, pp.239-240) - which are in fact almost identical since Hind had essentially translated into English the appropriate passage from Lacroix. In Hind we read: The notion of establishing this kind of calculus [that is, differential calculus] upon principles purely algebraical, seems however to have originated with Mr John Landen, a celebrated English mathematician who flourished about the middle of the 18th century. In what is termed his Residual Analysis, the first object is to exhibit the algebraical development of the difference of the same functions of quantities x and x divided by the difference of the quantities themselves, or the development of the expression (f(x ) - f(x)/(x - x), and afterwards to find what is called the special value of the result when x is made = x and when therefore all trace of the divisor x - x has disappeared. (And in Lacroix, ... and when this quotient [(f(x ) - f(x))/(x - x)] is obtained in order not to conserve any trace of the divisor x - x, one sets x = x, since the final goal of the calculation is to arrive at a special value of the above ratio. ) Marx apparently did not succeed in his intention to study Landen s book in the British Museum. An analysis of the contents of the book, however, completely confirms Marx s expressed opinion, which he himself considered highly probable . The complete title of the Landen book is The Residual Analysis, a new branch of the algebraic art, of very extensive use, both in pure mathematics and natural philosophy. Book I, By John Landen. London. Printed for the author, and sold by L.Haws, W.Clarke and R.Collins, at the Red Lion in Paternoster Row, 1764. The preface begin with the words: Later the author criticises the fluxions calculus of Newton and the differentials of Leibnitz as based on the introduction into mathematics of undefined new principles . Those applied in the calculus of fluxions of Newton he considers the explanation of the significant new terms introduced into the theory, such as the not really existent but nonetheless apparent (as self-evident) concepts, imaginary motion and graphically continuous flow, which do not belong in any mathematics of clear and distinct ideas but do continue to speak for example of such things as the speed of time, the velocity of velocity and so on as unnecessary in the proof (and therefore on the other hand serve as the means of definition of several exact mathematical concepts). In the analysis of Leibnitz he considers undefined the introduction, under cover of new principles of infinitely small quantities and the quantity infinitely smaller than any infinitely small quantity, the suppression of which (when it is not a matter of accepted approximate results) is: a very unsatisfactory (if not erroneous) method to rid us of such quantities (p.IV). Landen believed that mathematics had no need of such alien principles and that his Residual Analysis does not require any principles other than those accepted since antiquity in algebra and geometry , no less (if not more) in use, than the calculus of fluxions or differential calculus (p.IV). The starting-point of residual analysis is in the formula (ar - br)/(a - b) = ar-1 + ar-2b + ... + br-1 (1) (vm/r - wm/r)/(v - w) = (vm/r - 1) ((1 + w/v + w/v] + ... + w/v]m-1)/(1 + w/v]m/r + w/v]2m/r + ... + w/v](r-1)m/r)) (2) (v-m/r - w-m/r)/(v - w) = - v-1 w-m/r ((1 + w/v + w/v] + ... + w/v]m-1)/(1 + w/v]m/r + w/v]2m/r + ... + w/v](r-1)m/r)) (3) (xp - x1p)/(x - x1) The special value of the ratio (y - y1)/(x - x1), where y = f(x), y1 = f(x1), at x = x1, Landen designates [x - y]. He obtains the transition to the irrational powers in his examples, beginning with the determination of the special value of the ratio (v4/3 - w4/3)/(v - w) at v = w (the derivative of v4/3 with respect to v) by two different means, one employing formula (2) with m = 4 and r = 3, the other by the same formula, but since 4/3 = 1.333... using the pairs (m = 13,333, r = 10,000), (m = 133,333, r = 100,000), and so on. Landen saves himself from the difficulties attending this infinite process by remarking that the final value of (1 + 1 + 1 + 1 + ... (13,333 times))/(1 + 1 + 1 + 1 + ... (10,000 times)) After this he makes the transition to the case where m/r = sqrt{2} = 1.4142 ... , treating it by means of the second method, that is, as he himself notes, approximately , but such that it can in any case be made more closely approximate , he again concludes that the final value of (1 + 1 + 1 + 1 + ... (14,142 ... times))/(1 + 1 + 1 + 1 + ... (10,000 times)) It is not surprising that Landen cannot construct his Residual Analysis without employing in one form or another the concept of limit. However, in practice he speaks of the limit from the viewpoint of Newton, treating the limit as the final value (as the end) of an infinite (that is, without having any end) sequence. Naturally he did not in fact use this definition, but he approached by this means an approximate evaluation of the point and of the convergence (or divergence) of the process of their sequential values, which prompted the concrete contents of the question to him. Like other mathematicians of his time, Landen considers it possible to employ freely divergent series in formally structured expressions of infinite series if the former only play an intermittent role in the construction. If a series had to express the value of some sort of quantity which was subject to calculation, then in order for it to be used it had to converge. Landen did not consider it necessary to explain precisely what he had in mind for converget or divergent series but instead, having expanded (by means of some sort of formative arrangement) the function into a series, he usually points out the radius of convergence of the derived series and introduces methods by which to improve the convergence (to replace the series with another which converges more rapidly to the same limit). Landen thus, among the number of principles already accepted since Antiquity in algebra and geometry , obviously includes some concepts of the passage to a limit, with which he deals in practice (when speaking of an approximate calculation, for example). But he had no general concept of convergence or limit . Nor did he have methods for calculating limits (or proving their non-existence) which included a wide variety of classes of functions. Landen therefore looked for a definition of the derivative (the special value ) which would contain within itself its own algorithm. Just like Newton, he spoke in terms of the function of x as an analogue of the concept of real numbers. In detail, just as any real number can be regarded as the (finite or infinite) sum of powers to the base 10, of which each one is denoted by the figures 0, 1, 2 ... 9, so any function of x, according to Newton, ought to be represented as the (finite or infinite) sum of powers of the base x, with each denoted by numbers (coefficients) - that is, as a power series. (A series was considered representing a certain function given in terms of a finite algebraic expression if the series is obtained by formal manipulation from the given function. So, for instance, the series 1 + x + x + ... + xn + ... was considered to represent the function 1/(1 - x) since it can be obtained by the division of 1 by 1 - x by means of the division of the polynomial.) The task of finding the derivative of the function f(x) could be represented as equivalent to the analogous task for the power xp and to the task, once knowing the derivatives of the elements (or factors), of finding the derivative of the sum. Just these problems Landen solved first of all in his Residual Analysis. The extension of these methods into functions of several variables and into partial derivatives of various orders, accompanied by a host of technical difficulties, Landen dealt with by means of occasionally very clever formal calculations. In this it is usually implicitly assumed that the power series corresponding to the function is single-valued, that is, if two power series are to represent one and the same function of x, then the coefficients for each of the powers on them must be equal (hence the widespread use of the so-called method of undefined coefficients ). As an example illustrating Landen s use of these methods we present his proposed (with several more precise definitions in use even today) demonstration of the binomial theorem of Newton for the general case of a binomial raised to a real exponent. Since Marx devoted special attention to this theorem of Newton, Primarily with respect to the theorems of Taylor and MacLaurin (see for example pp.109,116), Landen s proof may provide interest in this connection. Let (a + x)p = A1 + A2x + A3x + ... , (1) p(a + x)p-1 = A2 + 2A3x + 3A4x + ... (2) p(a + x)p = pA1 + pA2x + pA3x + ... , (1 ) p(a + x)p = aA2 + ((2aA3)/A )}x + ((3aA4)/(2A3)/}x + ... , (2 ) aA2 = pA1, implies A2 = (p/a)A1 = pap-1 , 2aA3 + A2 = pA2 , implies A3 = ((p - 1)/2a)A2 = (p(p - 1)/2)ap-2 , 3aA4 + 2A3 = pA3 , implies A4 = ((p-2)/3a)A3 = ((p(p - 1) (p - 2))/(2 3))ap - 3 , (a + x)p = ap + (p/1)ap - 1 + ((p(p - 1))/(1 2))ap - 2x + ((p(p - 1) (p - 2))/(1 2 3))ap - 3x + ... , Although the residual analysis of John Landen did not become an everyday working instrument among mathematicians - Landen s notation was cumbersome and he (perhaps therefore) did not reach the theorems of Taylor and MacLauring - it does not follow that Landen s work was generally without influence in the development of mathematics. Landen himself writes (p.45) that several of his theorems from the Residual Analysis have struck the attention of Mr De Moivre, Mr Stirling, and other eminent mathematicians . In his Trait (Vol 1, p.240) Lacroix agrees that he employs the Landen method as an imitation a l alg bre for the proof of the binomial theorem and the expansion of exponential and logarithmic functions into a series. Lacroix s textbook enjoyed a widespread popularity among mathematicians. However, Lacroix s notice was drawn to Landen through the influence of Lagrange, whose Th orie des fonctions analytique Lacroix made the basis for his Trait . In the introduction of this book, speaking of the difficulties remaining in the fundamental concepts of analysis according to Newton, Lagrange writes: In order to avoid these difficulties, a skillful English geometer having made an important discovery in analysis, proposed to replace the method of fluxions, which until then all English geometricians used consistently, with another method, purely analytical and analagous to the method of differentials, but in which, instead of employing differences of variable quantities which are infinitely small or equal to zero, one uses at first the different values of these quantities which are then set equal, after having made, by division, the factor disappear which this equality sets equal to zero. By this means one truly avoids the infinitely small and vanishing quantities; but the results and the application of this calculus are embarrassing and inconvenient, and one must admit that this means of rendering the principles of calculus more rigorous at the same time sacrifices its principal advantages, simplicity of method and ease of operation. (In addition to the Residual Analysis Lagrange also cites the discourse on the same subject published ... in 1758. See Oeuvres des Lagrange, Vol. IX, Paris, 1881, p.18). The last comment of Lagrange is obviously related to the fact that Landen uses an extremely awkward notation and did not obtain the differential and the operations with the differential symbols of calculus. Separate from Lagrange, Lacroix concludes that the method of Landen reduces essentially to the method of limits (Trait , p.XVII).

Marx's Mathematical Manuscripts 1881

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1881/mathematical-manuscripts/ch21.html

Of the books of mathematical analysis available to Marx, obviously of the greatest significance for the understanding of his manuscripts is the textbook of Boucharlat, Elementary Treatise on the Differential and Integral Calculus, with which Marx was acquainted in the English version of the third French edition, translated by Blakelock and published in 1828. This textbook enjoyed a great popularity and was several times reprinted. Its eighth edition with the commentaries of M.H. Laurent, saw the light in Paris in 1881. It was translated into a variety of foreign languages, among them Russian. Graduate of the Ecole Polytechnique, professor of transcendental (higher) mathematics, author of a series of textbooks of mathematics and mechanics, Jean-Louis Boucharlat (1775-1848) was at the same time a poet, and since 1823, professor of literature at the Parisian Atheneum. No doubt his literary accomplishments and clarity of exposition were responsible in no small part for the popularity of Boucharlat s textbook. It is clear that Marx did not turn his attention accidentally to the course-book of Boucharlat. All the same, despite the pretentions of the author to great rigour in his account and to having perfected the algebraic method of Lagrange by means of the method of limits (see the introduction to the fifth edition, 1838, p.VIII) the mathematical level of this course was not very elevated. Even in the fifth (of 1838) and not only in the third edition, the English translation of which Marx consulted, the concepts of limit, function, derivative, differential are introduced thus:* y - y = 3x h + 3xh + h , (y - y)/h = 3x + 3xh + h . (2) In 5-8 Boucharlat finds dy in the examples y = a + 3x , y = ((1 - x )/(1 - x)) , y = (x - 2a ) (x - 3a ) . We see from the above that according to Boucharlat: 1) There is neither a definition of limit, nor of derivative or differential. All these concepts are explained only in examples, and only such that the ratio (f(x + h) - f(x))/h is represented as a polynomial expanded in powers of h, with coefficients in x. The evaluation of the limit of this ratio as h 0 is treated as the supposition that h = 0 in the obtained polynomial. Here questions whether there exist other cases, whether in such cases it is possible to differentiate , and if so, how, do not even arise. 2) The passage from the derivative dy/dx = (x) to the differential dy = (x)dx is regarded as an unlawful operation, carried out only in order to facilitate algebraic calculation. 3) From the fact that for h 0 (f(x + h) - f(x)/h = (x, h) , (A) 0/0 = (x, 0) . (B) 4) The limit or differential equalling zero is rationalised as indicating that there is neither limit nor differential although at the same time dy and dx are always zeroes (if (x) 0, then the differential, equal to (x) 0, exists, if (x) 0, then it doesn t). It is not surprising that such a treatment of the fundamental concepts of the differential calculus did not satisfy Marx. And in fact the first of his outlines of the opening paragraph of the course-book of Boucharlat (see p.65 of the present edition) contains critical remarks concerning that author. But Marx was displeased in particular with the fact that the fundamental concept of differential calculus - the concept of the differential - appeared without foundation and its introduction justified only because it facilitates algebraic operations . See the manuscript On the Differential , p.15). In 11 of Boucharlat s book the remark is made, sometimes the increment of the variable is negative; in that case we must put x - h for x, and proceed as before . In the example y = - ax by this means is obtained dy = - 3ax dx, and the conclusion drawn : We see that this comes to the same thing as supposing dx negative in the differential of y calculated on the hypothesis of a positive increment. But for Boucharlat dx is 0. The question of the meaning of negative zero never came into his head, however. (In the works of this period there was still no general concept of absolute value .) Since the following three paragraphs, 12-14, are particularly characteristic of Boucharlat s course-book and since they are related to a variety of passages in the manuscripts of Marx, the text of these paragraphs is reproduced here in full. In 15 this is correctly used to determine the differential of the product of three variables, in 16 to obtain the differential of the fraction y/z. In 17 the differential of the power function y = xm for a positive m is obtained from the formula d xyztu etc./xyztu etc. = dy/x + dy/y + dz/z + dt/t + du/u + etc. (9) 18 contains the formula for correctly differentiating a power function. In 19 by the use of the formula for operation with the differential symbols (having related the problem to previous cases) it is correctly shown in the cases of fractional and negative exponents. In 20 the differential of a power [function] is obtained immediately by the expansion of (x + h)m according to the binomial theorem of Newton. In the third edition of Boucharlat s course-book, The English translation of which Marx used, there is a Note Second in the appendices with a title beginning, Considerations which prove the solidity of differentiation ... Since this comment attracted Marx s special attention, its text is introduced here (in part): Later, with the help of formal manipulations of infinite series which are not at all well-founded from the modern point of view, it is shown how this might be done, after which Boucharlat concludes: Thus it is clear that Boucharlat adhered to the viewpoint of the algebraic differential calculus of Lagrange, which he tried to improve with the help of the concept of limit. His improvement , however, reduced to the fact that whereas Lagrange wanted to avoid the application of the then not yet well-based concept of limit and simply defined the derivative of f(x) as the coefficient of the first power of h in the expansion f(x + h) = f(x) + Ah + Bh + Ch + ... , (1) (f(x + h) - f(x))/h = A + Bh + Ch + ... , (2)

Marx's Mathematical Manuscripts 1881

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1881/mathematical-manuscripts/ch22.html

Taylor s Theorem is actually included as the 7th proposition of the book Methodus incrementorum directa et inversa by the English mathematician Brook Taylor (1685-1731), published in London in 1715. Taylor had already advised his teacher John Machin by letter of this result in 1712. Taylor s Theorem was so called for the first time in 1784 in the article Approximations in the French Encyclopaedia (Encycclop die m thodique) of Condorcet. In 1786 Simon Lhuilier also used this title in the book Exposition l mentaire des calculs sup rieure, honoured by an award by the Berlin Academy of Sciences (the thesis had been offered in a competition of the Academy). Since that time the theorem has entered all the handbooks of mathematical analysis and no one has called it anything else. We know nowadays, however, that the Scottish mathematician James Gregory already possessed it in the years 1671-72. Both Gregory and Taylor approached Taylor s Theorem starting from finite differences. At this point Taylor addressed himself directly to the problem of considering Newton s deliberately utterly vague explanation of his interpolation formulae. Newton had obtained his theorem by first allowing the independent variable to differ from zero by a (finite) increment and then - after a series of transformations - returning it to zero by dividing it into an infinitely large number of pieces . If we replace Taylor s extremely cumbersome notation by more modern notation, the proof appears as follows. Let y = f(x), where x is a variable which is varied, as he says, uniformly , that is, obtaining the successive values x, x + x, x + 2 x, ..., x + n x = x + h. And let the corresponding values of f(x) be y ( or y0), y1, y2, ..., yn. Let the successive differences (differences of the first order) between yk-1 and yk (k = 0, 1, ..., n - 1) be y, y1, ..., yn-1; the differences between these differences (differences of the second order) are y, y1, ..., yn-2; and so on. In order to visualise all this, let us write it in mathematic form: x + x x + 2 x x + 3 x ... x + n x y1 y2 y3 ... yn y y1 y2 ... yn-1 y y1 ... yn-2 y ... yn-3 .... ..... ... . It is then clear that: y1 = y + y, y2 = y1 + y1 , y1 = y + y , y3 = y2 + y2 , y2 = y1 + y1 , y1 = y + y , f(x + x) = y1 = y + y , f(x + 2 x) = y2 = (y + y) + ( y + y) = y + 2 y + y , f(x + 3 x) = y3 = (y + 2 y + y) + ( y + y) + ( y + y) = y + 3 y + 3 y + y , ............... .. ..... . Having observed the general regularity, Taylor concludes from this that: f(x + n x) = y + n y + (n(n - 1)/1 2) y + (n(n - 1) (n - 2))/1 2 3) y + ... + ny , (1) Setting n x = h (Taylor used v instead of h), we will have: n = h/ x , n - 1 = (h - x)/ x , n - 2 = (h - 2 x)/ x , ..., n - (n - 1) = (h - (n - 1) x)/ x . Substituting these values for n, (n - 1), (n - 2), ... into formula (1), Taylor obtained (in our notation): f(x + h) = y + h ( y/ x) + ((h(h - x))/1 2) ( y/ x ) + ((h(h - x) (h - 2 x))/1 2 3) ( y/ x ) + ..., (2) (h(h - x) (h - 2 x)...(h - (n - 1) x))/1 2... n) ( ny/ xn) He now assumed h to be fixed, n to be actually infinitely large, and x to be actually infinitely small ( zero ), inferring that this transformed y/ x into the first fluxion y. (dy/dx according to Leibnitz), y/ x into the second fluxion y.. (d y/dx according to Leibnitz), and so on. This transforms formula (2) into: f(x + h) y + y.h + y.. y /1 2 + y... h /1 2 3 + ..., Thus, even beginning with finite differences and only then removing them, Taylor still operated strictly in the style of Newton and Leibnitz, with actually infinitely large and actually infinitely small quantities and with the symbolic formulae of the calculus of fluxions, not wondering whether they had any real equivalent and not bothering to consider, of course, the convergence of the obtained series (even so the value of f(x + h)). One must note here that, although Taylor was an ardent adherent of Newton s in the quarrel with Leibnitz and therefore never used the latter s notation nor ever cited him, it is nonetheless no accident that Euler presented the proof*2 in the language of Leibnitz. As D.D. Mordukai-Boltovskoi notes, in essence Taylor addressed the Newtonian fluxions from the Leibnitzian, not the Newtonian, standpoint, namely from that of finite differences (see the Kommentarii cited in Yanovskaya, 1968, p.396). As for the history of MacLaurin s Theorem, it must be noted first of all that is was already present in Taylor in the form of a special case of his theorem at x = 0. It is true that, unlike MacLaurin, Taylor never used the MacLaurin series for the expansions already known at this time, for ax, sin x/a, cos x/a which are more easily obtained using this theorem. Furthermore, with respect to the manuscripts of Marx, who specifically mentioned that he borrowed the algebraic expansion directly from MacLaurin, it must be noted that the proofs of MacLaurin s Theorem (by the method of indeterminate coefficients) which were presented in Boucharlat s and Hind s textbooks actually belonged to MacLaurin himself. Such direct borrowing from the author whose name the theorem bears may also have taken place, of course, with reference to Taylor s Theorem. The bibliographic list which Marx compiled while preparing the historical sketch is apparent evidence that he had decided to become acquainted with Taylor s work in the original, although he did not succeed in carrying out this intention. 2) We find the same order in which Marx criticised the proof of Taylor s Theorem in manuscript 4302, in Boucharlat s textbook as well (J.-L. Boucharlat, El mens de calcul differ rentiel, 5th ed., Paris, 1838; Marx apparently had an English translation done from a different edition). Having stated the problem of successive differentiation in 30 (pp.19-20) - where, by the way, after having obtained 6a as the third derivative of ax he remarks (p.20), here it is no longer possible to differentiate since 6a is a constant - Boucharlat passes to MacLaurin s Theorem ( 31, pp.20-21), proving it by assuming the proof of Taylor s Theorem (later proved in 55-57, pp.34-37). As was already mentioned, Boucharlat proves MacLaurin s Theorem by following MacLaurin himself. He apparently did not read the latter s work, however. In fact, with respect to the title MacLaurin s Theorem , Boucharlat writes, this theorem, as G.Peacock has noted, was discovered by G. Stirling in 1717, consequently earlier than MacLaurin used it, although, as we have already mentioned, MacLaurin fully acknowledged that Taylor already had the theorem. Boucharlat s proof - which raises not a single question about the correctness of the assumptions made, not to mention the convergence of the series under consideration - we represent below in almost literal translation. (y) = A, (dy/dx) = B, (d y/dx ) = 2C, (d y/dx ) = 2 3D , In the following 32-34 (pp.21-22) expansions are found by means of MacLaurin s formula for y = 1/(a + x) , y = sqrt{a + bx}, y = (a + x)m . By this means the binomial theorem is derived from MacLaurin s theorem in the third example. In the first appendix to our 5th edition of Boucharlat s textbook entitled Proof of Newton s formulae by means of differential calculus , a direct derivation (by the same method of indeterminate coefficients) is given of Newton s binomial theorem (for positive integer powers) by means of successive differentiation. It appears as follows. Boucharlat begins with an expansion of (1 + z)m, from which the (?)required expansion for (a + x)m is obtained by the substitution of m (x/a). Assume, he says, (1 + z)m = A + Bz + Cz + Dz + Ez4 + ... (1) (1 + z)m = 1 + Bz + Cz + Dz + Ez4 + ... . m(1 + z)m - 1 = B + 2Cz + 3Dz + 4Ez + etc. m(m - 1) = 2C, C = (m(m - 1))/2 , (1 + z)m = 1 + mz + ((m(m - 1))/(1 2)) z + ((m(m - 1) (m - 2))/(1 2 3)) z + etc. 3) Boucharlat also demonstrates Taylor s Theorem by the method of indeterminate coefficients. In this case he not only assumes that an arbitrary function of many variables may be expanded into a series of powers of any of the variables, but he also considers this expansion unique; that is, that the coefficients of any two such expansions (in powers of one and the same variable) must be equal. This makes it possible to apply the method of indeterminate coefficients. In order to arrive at this possibility, that is, of comparing the coefficients of two expansions of one and the same function, Boucharlat begins with a lemma which asserts that the derivatives of f(x + h) with respect to x and to h are equal. Since Marx expresses dissatisfaction in manuscript 4302 (see Yanovskaya, 1968, p.540 [not translated]) with the demonstration of this lemma in Boucharlat s course-book, while it is impossible even to understand pp.41-42 (see Note 117 Yanovskaya, 1968 [not translated]) of manuscript 3888 without being acquainted with this proof, we present it here in full. Devoted to this is 55 (pp.34-35), in which we read: In the following 56 Boucharlat extends this lemma to derivatives of higher order and in 57 uses it to prove Taylor s Theorem. He begins this proof with the following words on what he considers - and as Marx calls it - his starting equation (37), applicable to any function: Let y1 be a function of x + h; let us assume that when we develop this function into powers of h we obtain y1 = y + Ah + Bh + Ch + etc. , (37) Differentiating equation (37) with respect to h and with respect to x, and having obtained by this means dy1/dh = A + 2Bh + 3Ch + etc. , dy1/dx = dy/dx + (dA/dx) h + (dB/dx) h etc. , The following 58-61 in Boucharlat s book contain examples of expansions of f(x + h) by Taylor s formula in the case of f(x) equals sqrt{x}, sin x, cos x, log x. Questions about the convergence of the series obtained are not even mentioned. Cases of inapplicability of the Taylor series are only considered in the very last paragraphs of the first part of the book (devoted to differential calculus) which are printed in small type. The concluding 62 of the section on Taylor s Theorem and its applications is devoted to a proof of MacLaurin s Theorem from Taylor s Theorem. Marx reproduces this proof in full in manuscript 3888 (see sheets 55-56; pp.51-52 in Marx s enumeration).

Marx's Mathematical Manuscripts 1881

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1881/mathematical-manuscripts/ch23.html

The creation of the scientific theory of the revolutionary struggle of the international proletariat to overthrow the capitalist system and to construct socialism made it necessary, as Marx himself indicated, to examine social conditions from the point of view of materialism and dialectics. These must be deduced from the entire complex of real phenomena and verified by the manifold totality, both of the facts of history and of the reality of nature, society and human thought. Thus, one of the necessary prerequisites for the creation of scientific communism was the mastery of the sciences which study the governing laws of the development of nature, the mastery of their results and methods. At the same time the study of the natural sciences, and mathematics as well, from the point of view of their history and interaction with the economic development of society, was necessary for the practical activity of the proletariat as a class coming to power in order consciously to transform society. With respect to mathematics, dialectical materialism had to solve two closely interrelated problems. On the one hand, it was necessary to generalize the results of mathematics philosophically, and to incorporate them in the scientific world view, the world view of dialectical materialism. On the other hand, the method of materialist dialectics should be used to illuminate the crucial problems of mathematics, thereby enriching the dialectic method. In large measure this work (?)tell to the share of F[riedrich] Engels, since Marx was almost completely occupied with the validation of the laws of the economic development of capitalism and with the practical guidance of the international workers movement. In spite of this Marx persistently kept track of the progress of natural sciences and the technical achievements of his times, and for almost thirty years, from the late 50s right up to his death, was occupied with mathematics a great deal. These studies were reflected in a number of observations scattered throughout the works of Marx, both on the influence of mathematics on philosophy and on the philosophic elucidation of specific problems of mathematics. In addition, they were expressed in his wide-ranging correspondence, particularly with Engels. Then they were used by Marx in the preparation of his most important work, Capital. Finally, the results of his studies were preserved in the extensive manuscripts left behind on Marx s death. These papers were devoted to various problems of mathematics and its history, primarily the problem of the logical and philosophic basis of the differential calculus. Marx had two motives for his mathematical studies: political economy and philosophy. Although Marx repeatedly emphasized the specific nature and extraordinary complexity of economic phenomena and the impossibility of comparing them to biological, still less physical, phenomena, nonetheless he considered the application of mathematics not only possible but indeed necessary for the investigation of the general laws of economics. In Capital Marx employed a mathematical form in writing down economics laws, by no means solely for illustration. The analysis of the form of value and money, the composition of capital, the rate of surplus value, the rate of profit, the process of transformation of capital, its circulation and turnover, its reproduction, its accumulation, loan capital and credit, differential rents: - Marx accomplished all of this by employing mathematics. Proceeding by means of the simplest algebraic transformations from one formula to another, he next analyzed them, interpreted them economically, and formulated new laws. By just such means, for example, Marx derived the dependence of the rate of profit P = M/(C +V) O = C/V P = A/(1 + O) C1 + V1 + M1 = T1 C2 + V2 + M2 = T2 , C2 = V1 - M1 . The still unpublished preparatory works to the third volume of Capital contain Marx s detailed calculations of the quantity (A O)/(1 + O), the difference of the rate of surplus value A and the rate of profit P, where Marx represented its variations in the form of a variety of curves. Since the third volume of Capital, which is devoted to the process of capitalist production taken as a whole, is a synthesis of the first volume - the immediate process of the production of capital - and the second volume - the process of transformation of capital - Marx tried in his rough drafts to supplement the complete and comprehensive qualitative picture provided in his previous work with a quantitative picture. Marx did not bring this work, which even in the case of simple reproduction demands rather complicated, although elementary, computations, to completion. The work, however, correctly posed the problem of the distribution of surplus value (in the costs of production) under conditions of large-scale reproduction in both sectors in order to obtain maximum profits and also derived the law of periodic crises. These are problems which can only be solved by means of contemporary methods of linear programming. The mechanism of economic crises, however, can also be studied empirically, a method concerning which Marx wrote to Engels on May 31, 1873: The mathematician Samuel Moore, who was Marx s adviser in mathematics, was unfortunately not sufficiently well versed; he was obviously unacquainted with Fourier analysis, that branch of applied mathematics which deals with the detection of latent periodicities in complex oscillatory processes, the foundations of which were already contained in J. Fourier s 1822 work, Analytic Theory of Heat. Since Marx believed, according to Paul Lafargue, 2 that a science is not really developed until it has learned to make use of mathematics , he advanced the thesis of the possibility, indeed the necessity, of the application of the mathematical method to research in the social sciences, in political economy in particular. At the same time this did not mean the replacement of political economy and its general laws and methods by mathematics along the lines of the so-called mathematical school of vulgar political economy, headed in England by W. Jevons and in Italy by V. Pareto and others, which had sprung up in the 80s in opposition to the bankrupt historical school but which, like the latter, also argued for a harmony of interests of all (?)classes of capitalist society. Marx made the following observation, in a (?)letter to Engels on March 6, 1868, regarding one of the representatives of this school, Macleod: ... a puffed-up ass, who 1) puts every banal (?)tautology into algebraic form and 2) represents it geometrically. *5 Thus, according to Marx, as in any other specialized science so in political economy, mathematics can be a powerful tool for research only within the limits of the validity of the theory of that specialized science. Therefore, as his acquaintance the Russian jurist and (?)publicist M.M. Kovalevskii wrote, 3 Marx devoted himself to the study of mathematics in order to obtain the ability to apply the mathematical method as well as to examine profoundly the works of the mathematical school. Marx s considered judgment on one of the most important problems of the foundations of geometry, which he expressed in The Theory of Surplus Value , the unfinished 4th volume of Capital, in connection with a polemic with [Samuel] Bailey, who had incorrectly used the geometric analogy, may serve as an example of his philosophical conclusion on the questions of mathematics. Marx wrote: Here Marx, while analyzing the process of abstraction by means of which the geometric concept of distance or length originates, focuses attention not only on the materialistic origin of this concept, the basis of which lies in the characteristic of two comparable objects, but also on its relative character, on its indissoluble connection with space, understood as a material, really existing entity. And all this was in 1861-1863, during the unbroken predominance in science of the Newtonian world view, some forty years before the appearance of the theory of relativity, in which Einstein boldly took to its logical conclusion the idea that length is not simply a superficial abstract measure of a physical body but an integral characteristic of the spatial relationship of two bodies. Marx s statement on the statistical nature of economic mechanisms as mechanisms of large-scale processes has an exceptionally great methodological significance for mathematical statistics. These mechanisms express the interactions of individual processes in the laws of probability; they dominate over any variations from the mean Marx repeatedly returned to this problem. For example, in the Grundrisse of 1857-1858 he wrote, in the chapter on money: Despite the misconception, current for a long time among the majority of Marxists working in the field of economic statistics, that Marx s statements on stochastic processes apply only to capitalist economics, a misconception based on the non-dialectical representation of the accidental and the necessary as two mutually (?)exclusive antitheses, these statements of Marx - to be sure, in a new interpretation - have enormous significance for a planned socialist economy, in which, since it is a commodity economy, the law of large numbers never ceases to operate. Hegel s Science of Logic, especially the second section to the first book, Quantity , was undoubtedly a philosophical stimulus for Marx s mathematical studies. The article Hegel and Mathematics , written by the present author together with S.A. Yanovskaya,*7 cites (?) in this connection the following words of Engels: In the Philosophical Notebooks V.I. Lenin criticized 2 the statements of Hegel on the calculus of infinitesimally small quantities contained in the chapter Quantity , specifically, that ... the justification [for neglecting higher-order infinitesimals - E.K.] has consisted only in the correctness of the results ( demonstrated on other grounds ) ... and not in the clearness of the subject ... , that ... a certain inexactitude (conscious) is ignored, nevertheless the result obtained is not approximate but absolutely exact, that notwithstanding this, to demand Rechtfertigung [justification - Trans.] here is not as superfluous as to ask in the case of the nose for a demonstration of the right to use it . ** V.I. Lenin made the following remarks: Hegel s answer is complicated, abstrus, etc. etc. It is a question of higher mathematics ... A most detailed consideration of the differential and integral calculus, with quotations - Newton, Lagrange, Carnot, Euler, Leibnitz etc., etc, - showing how interesting Hegel found this vanishing of infinitely small magnitudes, this intermediate between Being and non-Being . Without studying higher mathematics all this is incomprehensible. Characteristic is the title Carnot: Refl xions sur la M taphysique du calcul infinit simal !!! It is undoubtedly true that Marx, who had written in 1873: Marx s studies of mathematics were known from his correspondence with Engels, particularly the letters from Marx to Engels of January 11, 1858, May 20 1865, July 6, 1863, and August 25, 1879, the letters from Engels to Marx of August 18, 1881 and November 21, 1882, and Marx s answer of November 22, 1882. They may also be evaluated from references in Engels s preface to the second volume of Capital, comments in Engels s Anti-D hring, and in his unfinished manuscript, The Dialectics of Nature, published for the first time in 1925 in Moscow in the second book of the [Russian-language] Archives of Marx and Engels. The Karl Marx-Friedrich Engels Institute, which was founded in 1920, in carrying out the instructions of V.I. Lenin in his letter of February 2, 1921 3 to purchase the manuscripts of Marx and Engels located abroad (or photocopies of them), acquired a great many, including photocopies of Marx s mathematical manuscripts preserved in the archive of the German Social-Democratic Party - 863 closely-written quarter-sheets, apparently incomplete; the missing pages were later added, however, so that the entire collection came to a thousand sheets. To work on them the Institute commissioned the German mathematician E. Gumbel, whom R. Mateika and R.S. Bogdan helped to decipher the extremely difficult text. In 1927 Gumbel published a report in Letopisi Marksizma on the manuscripts,*9 giving a short description of them. He classified the manuscripts into categories: calculations without any text at all; extracts from works read by Marx; outlines of his own works; and finally, finished original works. Gumbel correctly noted that Marx s choice of sources seemed to be influenced by Hegel, and he presented a (far from complete) list of mathematical works which Marx had summarized: 13 authors and 18 titles. Of these works, the oldest in time was the Philosophiae Naturalis Principia Mathematica of Newton, 1687, and the most recent, the textbooks of T.J. Hall and J.W. Hemmings, 1852. They also included the classical works of d Alembert, Landen, Lagrange, MacLaurin, Taylor and two other works of Newton, De Analysi per Aequationes Numero Terminorum Infinitas and Analysis per Quantitatum Series, Fluxiones et Differentias. The contents of the manuscripts, Gumbel indicated, dealt with arithmetic (for example, the effect of a discount on the rate of exchange, the paying off of a bill of exchange, discounts and rebates, raising to a power and extracting the root of an equation, exercises in taking the logarithm, and so forth), geometry (trigonometry, analytic geometry, conic sections), algebra (the elementary theory of equations, infinite series, the concept of function, Cardan s Rule, progressions, the method of indeterminate coefficients), and differential calculus (differentiation, maxima and minima, the Taylor theorem). He reported that the original works which Marx had completed would be published in the 16th volume of [the Russian edition of] the Complete Works of Marx and Engels. In 1931, with the appointment of the well-known activist of the Bolshevik Party V.V. Adoratskii to be director of the Institute, work on the manuscripts was given a new direction. As head of the Marx Study Center at the time, I was acquainted with the transcribed portion of the manuscripts and with the preparatory work toward their publication, and I was convinced that E. Gumbel was unable to appreciate completely either the importance of their publication or their philosophical and historical-mathematical significance. At my suggestion the board of directors of the Institute enlisted for the work on the manuscripts S.A. Yanovskaya, leading a team which was joined by the mathematicians D.A. Raikov and A.I. Nakhimovskaya. In London in 1931 the Second International Congress of the History of Science and Technology took place, at which a Soviet delegation took part whose members included the author of these lines. The papers of our delegation came out as a separate book with the title Science at the Crossroads.*10 Among the papers included was my own, entitled: A Brief Report on the Unpublished Works of Karl Marx pertaining to Mathematics, the Natural Sciences, Technology and Their Histories. This report discussed: first, the passages from 27 works of natural science which Marx copied and to which he supplied commentaries: on mechanics, physics, chemistry, geology, biology, as well as on electrical technology, metallurgy, agricultural chemistry, and others; second, his works on technology (primarily dating to 1863), treating the history of mills, the history of looms, the problem of automated production in mechanized factories, the development from tools to machines and from machines to mechanized factories, the effect of the mechanisation and rationalisation of production on the development of the textile industry in England and on the situation of the proletariat in the period 1815-1863, the changes in the social system of production at various stages of technological development, the interaction between labor and science, between city and countryside, and so on; and third - Marx s mathematical manuscripts. In Zurich in 1932 there convened an International Congress of Mathematicians in which a Soviet delegation took part. At the Philosophy and History section of the congress I made the report, A New Foundation of the Differential Calculus by Karl Marx , 6 which discussed one of the works contained in Marx s manuscripts. It was of great interest, both for the history of mathematics and for those dealing with the philosophical problems of the scientific worker, since it contains a sketch of the historical development of the concept of the differential and a statement of Marx s viewpoint on the foundation of analysis. This work is of the third category of the manuscripts, and consists of five chapters: 1. The Derivative and the Differential Coefficient [the at that time so-called ratio, dy/dx, 2. The Differential and Differential Calculus, 3. The Historical Development of Differential Calculus, 4. The Theorem of Taylor and MacLaurin, 5. A Critique of Newton s Method of Quadratures. The first part of the third chapter, which forms the nucleus of the entire work, contains a brief account of the methods of Newton, Leibnitz, d Alembert and Lagrange. The second part, which summarizes the first, consists of three sections with the following contents: 1. Mystical Differential Calculus, 2. Rational Differential Calculus, 3. Purely Algebraic Differential Calculus. In another fragment Marx contrasts his own differential method to the methods of d Alembert and Lagrange. His method differs from the method of Lagrange because Marx really differentiates, thanks to which differential symbols appear, while Lagrange applies differentiation to the algebraic binomial expansion. It is clear from both fragments that Marx, like Hegel, considered all efforts to provide a purely formal-logical foundation for analysis hopeless, just as the attempts to give, beginning with the graphic method, a purely intuitive-visual foundation to it had been naive. He set himself the task of providing a foundation for analysis dialectically, relying on the unity of the historical and logical aspects. Marx demonstrated both that the new differential and integral calculus came into existence from elementary mathematics, on its own ground, as a specific type of calculation which already operates independently on its own ground, and that the algebraic method therefore inverts itself into its exact opposite, the differential method . (See p.21 in this edition.) Marx valued highly the work of Lagrange, but he did not consider him - as he was usually considered and as Hegel considered him - a formalist and conventionalist who introduced the basic concepts of analysis into mathematics in a purely superficial and derivative manner. Marx appreciated just the opposite in Lagrange, namely, that he revealed the connection between algebra and analysis, that he showed how analysis develops out of algebra. The real and therefore the simplest connection of the new with the old is discovered as soon as this new reaches its completed form, and one may say that differential calculus gained this relation through the theorems of Taylor and MacLaurin. (See p.113) At the same time, however, Marx reproached Lagrange for not perceiving the dialectical character of this development, for sticking for too long to the domain of algebra, and for insufficiently appreciating the general laws and methods proper to analysis, so that in this regard he should only be used as a starting point . (See Yanovskaya, 1968, p.417) Thus Marx, like a genuine dialectician, rejected both the purely analytic reduction of the new to the old characteristic of the methodology of the mechanistic materialism of the 18th century, and the purely synthetic introduction of the new from outside so characteristic of Hegel. Reports and articles concerning Marx s mathematical manuscripts also appeared in 1932 in the journals Za Marksistsko-Leninskoe Estestvoznanie, Vestnik Kommunisticheskoe Akademii, and Front Nauki I Tekhniki.*11 There was a great deal of interest in the manuscripts among the Soviet, as well as the foreign, learned public. Only in 1933, 7 however, did it become possible, as a result of the work of the team of scholars mentioned above, to publish the first extracts from the manuscripts, in the journal Pod Znamenem Marksizma and simultaneously in the collection Marksizm I Estestvzoznanie, issued on the 50th anniversary of Marx s death by the Marx-Engels Institute. In both publications, the extracts from the manuscripts were accompanied by the article On the Mathematical Manuscripts of K. Marx 4 by the team leader S.A. Yanovskaya. The published extracts are three works of Marx dating from the 70s and the beginning of the 80s. Marx completely finished and prepared to send to Engels the first two - The Derivative and the Symbolic Differential Coefficient and The Differential and Differential Calculus . The third work, A Historical Sketch , is an unfinished draft. From the latter, which includes the sections: 1. Mystical Differential Calculus (that is, Newton and Leibnitz), 2. Rational Differential Calculus (that is, d Alembert) and 3. Purely Algebraic Differential Calculus (that is, Lagrange); we introduce here in the team s translation, section I, in order to acquaint the reader with Marx s exposition. (pp.91-92) In an analogous manner Marx critically analyzed both the method of d Alembert as well as that of Lagrange and, as already mentioned, opposed all three methods with his own. It consists of first forming, for y = f(x), the preliminary derivative , (x1, x) = (f(x1) - f(x))/(x1 - x) dy = f (x)dx (*) 0 = 0 Despite the philosophical and historical significance of the foundation of differential calculus provided by Marx, it did not enter into mathematics, which developed another path unknown to him. The sources which he studied (and their number was significantly greater than Gumbel reported in his article, which did not mention even those textbooks of analysis, such as those of J.-L. Boucharlat and J. Hind, which Marx outlined in detail) made no mention of the works of A Cauchy (Cours d analyse and R sum des le ons sur le calcul infinit simal) in which in 1821-1823 he developed he theory of limits, a theory which, although it contained shortcomings which were later (1880) cleared up by K. Weierstrass, nonetheless incorporated a great deal of rigor and rendered the foundation proposed by Marx superfluous, although it did not diminish its historical and philosophical value. Marx did not know and could not have known of the work of the outstanding logician, mathematician and philosopher of Prague, B. Bolzano, who in 1816-1817 defined the concepts of limit, continuity, the convergence of series, and others - concepts which laid the basis of present-day analysis - since these works as well as others of 1830-1848 which contained the beginnings of set theory and the theory of real number s remained unknown for a long time. Only a hundred years later did they become the property of mathematicians(?). Naturally, Marx did not consider, therefore, the problems of continuity, the differentiability of functions, the axiomatisation of analysis, and so on. The value of Marx s mathematical manuscripts, however, is by no means restricted to his method providing a foundation for differential calculus and his critique of preceding methods. The complete significance of the manuscripts was only revealed when they were all deciphered and scientifically systematized. Beginning with 1932 and with the publication in 1933 of the three works mentioned from the deciphered manuscripts (which Gumbel had not given the attention they deserved), the Swedish mathematician Wildhaber first began working on behalf of the Marx-Engels Institute. Work on the manuscripts was resumed in the 1950s, and somewhat later (1960-1962) G.F.Rybkin became interested. All this work - deciphering, translation, research, and compilation of sources - was conducted under the leadership of S.A. Yanovskaya, who, despite an extraordinary load of teaching and preparing graduate students, despite a painful illness, gave the enterprise all of her energy and her enormous knowledge of the history of mathematics and its philosophical problems, transforming it into her life s work. S.A. Yanovskaya s commentaries on the manuscripts (both the one cited above and those contained in the volume prepared by the Institute of Marxism-Leninism of the Central Committee of the CPSU) by themselves constitute an important scientific work. One of her many students. K.A. Rybnikov, performed significant work in the preparation of the manuscripts for publication (in particular, the difficult research and collation of sources). The volume was prepared for publication by the historian O.K. Senekina, member of the Institute of Marxism-Leninism, and the mathematician A.Z. Rybkin, editor of the Nauka press. As a result of all this work lasting many years (S.A. Yanovskaya labored on the manuscripts until her death in October 1966), a book has appeared which contains Marx s ideas on a series of the most important problems in the history of mathematics as a whole and of its individual concepts, as well as on their epistemological [original: gnoseological - Trans.] significance, ideas which, despite the head-spinning pace of the development of mathematics in the 80 s of the last century - among which and in particular including its logical-philosophical basis - have not lost their contemporaneity in the slightest. For historians of mathematics and for philosophers working with the philosophical problems of mathematics, Marx s views will serve as a guide - not in the form of a quotation, every letter of which is followed as if counting out an emergency ration, but rather in the form of a matchless example of creative, concrete application of dialectical thinking. In addition, the mathematical manuscripts of Marx once again confirm the truth of the words Engels spoke at the graveside of his great friend. Speaking of Marx as the scientist who had discovered the law of the development of human history and the law of motion of capitalist production, Engels said: Two such discoveries would be enough for one lifetime. Happy the man to whom it is granted to make even one such discovery. But in every single field which Marx investigated - and he investigated very many fields, none of them superficially - in every field, even in that of mathematics, he made independent discoveries. *13

Marx's Mathematical Manuscripts 1881

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1881/mathematical-manuscripts/ch24.html

The first extracts from the manuscripts were published in 1933 in Pod Znamenem Marksizma, the journal founded by the Bolsheviks, on the 50th anniversary of Marx s death. This followed Lenin s directive of 1921 to acquire copies of all Marx and Engels manuscripts available abroad. After that, 20 or 30 years elapsed before work was apparently resumed. Ernst Kolman and Sonia Yanovskaya, who contribute the articles, Karl Marx and Mathematics (1968) and the Preface (1968) respectively, and a joint article Hegel and Mathematics (1931), to the present volume, worked on the manuscripts both in the 1930s and in the more recent period. Kolman brought them to world attention at a congress in London in 1931, and it is said that Yanovskaya made them her life s Work, dying before the publication of the NAUK edition. No explanation is given, however, as to why nothing was published relating to the manuscripts between 1933 and 1968. Indeed, even in the 15 years since the authoritative edition of 1968 was published in the Soviet Union, no further translations or analyses have emerged until New Park were able to compile this volume, Even the otherwise complete Collected Works of Marx and Engels currently being published by Lawrence and Wishart is not plannned to include them. Is this because the Mathematical Manuscripts of Karl Marx are of little political, philosophical or historical interest? Are they an historical curiosity? Certainly not! And the excellent additional and explanatory material included in the New Park edition prove that this is not so and that the Soviet scholars who devoted many years of their lives to work on the manuscripts did not believe it so. As Ernst Kolman says in concluding his contribution: For historians of mathematics and for philosophers working with the philosophical problems of mathematics, Marx s views will serve as a guide not in the form of a quotation, every letter of which is followed as if counting out an emergency ration, but rather in the form of a matchless example of creative, concrete application of dialectical thinking. ... (p.234) Many readers may be deterred by their lack of knowledge of mathematics and put-off by the array of algebraic formulae a flick through the pages of this book will show. It should be remembered that Marx wrote these manuscripts for the purpose of clarifying himself and Engels, who remarked in his letter of August 10, .18 8 1. (see p. XX VII): And mathematical beginners will feel for Marx when he wrote to Engels (January 11, 1858) during work on Capital: Study of the Mathematical Manuscripts is, of course, no light exercise, but the New Park volume contains an excellent collection of additional material which make the manuscripts themselves more accessible, develop the ideas contained Within them, and also stand independently as important contributions to the development of dialectical materialism. In particular, Kolman and Yanovskaya s article of 1931, Hegel and Mathematics, contains a brief but monumental critique of Hegel s philosophy, a critical analysis of the range of bourgeois philosophy, from Kant to Mach, via a study of the nature of mathematical knowledge and an important contrast between the work of Marx and Hegel in natural science generally. Yanovskaya s preface to the 1968 edition outlines how Marx came to his study of mathematics sketches briefly the most. important aspects of his work on differential calculus which makes up. the bulk of the manuscripts, and, tells of the problems involved in their preparation for publication. The three letters two from Engels and one from Marx bring out in sharp relief the unity of these two men their work on the sciences; several aspects are further elaborated, and, in particular, Engels first letter casts in characteristically bold terms the most important, philosophical conclusions Marx and he were drawing. Six appendices supplied by the Soviet editors give excerpts from, and commentary on, textbooks and mathematical classics that Marx consulted, which are essential to understanding Marx s own work and place it in its historical context. Kolman s review, Karl Marx and Mathematics: On the Mathematical Manuscripts of Marx (1968), is an excellent discussion of the relation of mathematics to the struggle for socialism, to political economy and to philosophy, gives a detailed history of the manuscripts, and a concise summary of Marx s conclusions relating to calculus and an explanation of Marx s own preferred method of differentiation, outlining the significance of later developments in these areas and drawing out the essence of Marx s contribution. Cyril Smith has contributed an essay, Hegel, Marx and the Calculus, written specially for this volume, explaining the significance of Marx s mathematical work as part of a living struggle. Smith shows the role that the problem of infinity has played since ancient times and especially in relation to Hegel and Marx, and its significance in all the philosophical crises in mathematics. He concludes with an analysis of the nature of mathematical knowledge. The New Park edition has reproduced, unabridged, the useful and diverse notes given in the Russian edition, plus an index to Marx s Mathematical Manuscripts. The manuscripts themselves contain two finished articles, On the Concept of the Derived Function , and On the Differential , with drafts and supplements; a series of drafts and extracts on the history of differential calculus; an article on Taylor s theorem and, three appendices on limit calculus and on D'Alembert s method of differentiation. Marx developed his interest in mathematics in connection with his work on Capital (see Yanovskaya p. VIII), beginning in earnest around 1858 and continuing to the end of his life. He was driven to do so partly by the necessity of understanding and criticising contemporary commercial and economic literature but principally by the necessity of giving quantitative expression to the fundamental laws of value in capitalist society and developing the interconnection of the laws (see Kolman p. 218-222). Marx clearly understood the necessity for political economy to learn to use mathematics if it was to reach its fullest development and indeed anticipated the possibility of statistical analysis of the laws of the capitalist crisis. At the same time Marx vigorously opposed the mathematical fetishism, characteristic of the bourgeois money-mentality, maintaining that the mathematical methods could never over-reach the boundary of the underlying, qualitative theory on which it was based. On p. 252-253, Kolman and Yanovskaya explain: The increasing difficulties offered to the mathematics of complicated forms of motion, piling up in an ascending series in leaps from mechanics to physics, from physics to chemistry, from there to biology and onwards to the social sciences, do not, in the dialectical materialist conception, entirely block its path, but allow it the prospect of even determining the main laws of capitalist economic crisis (Marx to Engels, May 31, 1873) . Around 1863, Marx s interest was taken by differential calculus and his interest in this area continued side by side with his study of commercial arithmetic, etc. until 1883. Marx studied the latest textbooks, studying problems as a pastime as well as in concentrated study. To anyone who has studied mathematics to the level of the calculus, it is clear why calculus attracted interest. For here, above all other areas, mathematics manifests the dialectical leap in a way which is so explicit, and so obstinate in its contradictoriness in the face of all the attempts of mathematical gradualism to reform it away. Hegel also paid great attention to the calculus. Nevertheless, elementary mathematics, just like the formal logic, is not nonsense, it must reflect something in reality and therefore it must contain certain elements of dialectics. (Kolman and Yanovskaya p.250-251). And: The turning point in mathematics was Descartes variable magnitude, With that came motion and hence dialectics in mathematics and at once, too, of necessity the differential and integral calculus, ... (Dialectics of Nature, Engels, p.258) Thus, in the history of mathematics, Marx found a whole new source of dialectical knowledge, reaching its sharpest point in the birth of calculus out of elementary algebra itself, driven to do so by the requirements of application, i.e., of practice, technique, science . (See Kolman and Yanovskaya, p.245) In his speech at Marx s graveside, Engels said: But in every field which Marx investigated and he investigated very many fields, none of them superficially in every field, even in that of mathematics, he made independent discoveries . (see p.234). The legacy of Marx s mathematical studies was 1,000 manuscript pages. References were made to the manuscripts in a number of letters between Marx and Engels and in Engels s Anti-D hring and Dialectics of Nature. Following Lenin s directive of 1921, the Karl Marx-Friedrich Engels Institute purchased photocopies of 863 closely written sheets from the German Social-Democratic Party archives and later the remaining sheets were found. The German mathematician Gumbel led a team to decipher them and published a report in 1927 listing the wide range of subjects dealt with, sometimes only in the form of copied extracts, but also including finished works all very difficult to decipher. In 1931 there was a change and Kolman and Yanovskaya took over the work with a new team. In June 1931, Kolman attended the Second International Congress of the History of Science and Technology with a group of Soviet scientists led by Bukharin. The Bolshevik contributions at the congress had a profound effect on a generation of young British scientists. Apart from his report on Marx s mathematical manuscripts, Kolman spoke on the crises of mathematics (see Science at the Crossroads, Kniga Ltd., 1971) By 1933, the Soviet workers were able to publish extensive excerpts to commemorate the 50th anniversary of Marx s death, including the article on Hegel and Mathematics included in the New Park edition. Work was renewed in the 1950s and strengthened from 1960 onward and a team led by Sonia Yanovskaya meticulously deciphered, translated and edited the manuscripts and researched the sources Marx had used from all over Europe. Yanovskaya died in October 1966, but the manuscripts were finally published in 1968. Kolman left the Soviet Union and died in Sweden in 1979. Publication of the manuscripts in English together with the unique collection of related material must provide an enormous stimulus now for sharpening the ideological struggle against bourgeois ideology not only deepening the grasp of young cadres of the dialectical materialist method, but also winning over sections from the scientific community attracted to the great strength of Marxist theory at a time when science is being stultified, starved and degraded by the death agony of capitalism. Mathematics was correctly defined by Hegel as the science of quantity (see p. 239). Quantity is an objective concept derived from the movement of matter in all its spheres. Mathematical knowledge therefore contains real knowledge of the material world, although at a high level of abstraction. It is no coincidence then that mathematical forms find application in material processes since it was from the same material universe that they were abstracted in the first place. (see p.268 et seq., and Anti-D hring p.51-52) Mathematics thus provides students of dialectical materialism with a source of new knowledge from two aspects. Firstly, by working over the positive results of mathematics from both its historical and logical aspects we can deepen and concretise our grasp of the laws of dialectics. Secondly, at any given historical juncture, mathematics undergoes its particular crises, giving us the opportunity to sharpen our dialectical weapons in the struggle to resolve these problems. In contrasting Marx s method to that of Hegel, Kolman and Yanovskaya state: Whereas Hegel merely tries to substantiate what already exists, it is a matter here of a transformation, the conscious change, the reconstruction of science on the basis of the guiding role of practice. (p.253) Marx s writing on differential calculus contained in this volume clearly shows that Marx set himself the task of critically reworking and resolving the problems of the foundations of the; calculus and was by no means content to passively describe the dialectical moments of the calculus. And he has made a valuable contribution in this field. The actual historical development of mathematics over the last century and a half has moved on from the particular problems with which Marx was concerned in relation to calculus, but has confirmed the essence of Marx s ideas on the subject. (See Preface p. XIII-XVII) These problems, however, continually re-emerge at a deeper level and are linked, to methodological problems in all branches of science and close study of Marx s method is essential his synthesis of the logical and historical; his insistence on the highest standards of precision in science and contempt for all sleight of hand etc.; his insistence on the sublation of the old into the new, established more concretely with every further development of the new. Only by his struggle to develop his algebraic method of differentiation could Marx bring out what was new in the calculus. As Marx remarks (p. 3): First making the differentiation and then removing it therefore leads literally to nothing. The whole difficulty in understanding the differential operation (as in the negation of the negation generally) lies precisely in seeing how it differs from such a simple procedure and therefore leads to real results. What a far cry is this from the positivists of the school of Mach and the modern-day revisionists who want to relegate philosophy to the job of a filing-clerk for natural science and to revolutionary theory the role of a passive spectator. Kolman and Yanovskaya s 1931 article Hegel and Mathematics is a masterpiece which should be read and re-read by all those struggling to develop Marxism. It is a continuation of Lenin s theoretical work, notably of Volumes 14 and 38 of the Collected Works, written on the eve of the Moscow trials. One wonders not so much that the authors ceased to publish, but that they survived to pick up their work again 30 years later. Independently of whether Kolman and Yanovskaya were conscious of the political implications of their philosophical contribution, it is only the Trotskyists who today can carry forward Marx s legacy as a guide to revolutionary practice. Kolman and Yanovskaya (see p. 236-238) credit Hegel s work on mathematics with the following discoveries: That mathematics is the science of quantity quantity as one moment of the notion, not as its essence (quantity-fetishism), derived out of the dialectic of quality. That calculus contains qualitative moments and thus cannot be reduced to elementary mathematics. That the essence of calculus is in its application, its origin in the requirements of practice, outside of mathematics. That without the aid of philosophy, mathematics cannot justify its own methods. The weaknesses of Hegel s view they summarise as follows: Hegel denied the qualitative (dialectical) moments in elementary mathematics and insisted that calculus was alien to mathematics, brought into mathematics in an external manner, through external reflection , but is forced to carry the true dialectics of the development of mathematics over to his philosophical system , although in a mystifying way . They also say Hegel denied the possibility of constructing a mathematics which would consciously apply the dialectical method and consequently ... is forced to jog along behind the mathematics of his day and frequently creates an apparent solution where he should have sharply posed an unsolved problem . A study of these points, which are given above in a much abbreviated form, will provide a rich source of material to deepen our understanding of how idealism imposes upon the external world images derived earlier in the process. In the struggle to subordinate the world to this idea, the idealist becomes trapped by his images, cut off from the dialectical source in external nature. By recognising the origin of the materialist kernel of Hegel s speculations, in the external world, Marx s method builds up dialectics in a struggle to change the world, and derive new knowledge. Marx, like Hegel, considered all efforts to provide a purely formal-logical foundation for analysis hopeless ... (and) to give ... a purely intuitive-visual foundation to it ... naive . (Kolman p.227) Marx appreciated ... . (how Lagrange) ... revealed the connection between algebra and analysis, he showed how analysis develops out of algebra ... (ibid) Marx critically analysed both the method of d'Alembert as well as that of Lagrange (and Leibnitz and Newton). ... and opposed all three methods with his own. (ibid p.232) On page 232, Kolman succinctly summarises Marx s method pointing out that Marx recognised the differential equation as an operative formula a strategy of action which, when it arises, constitutes a reversal of the differential process, since the real algebraic processes then arise out of the symbolic operational equation, which originally itself arose out of a real algebraic process. By means of Lagrange s application of Taylor s theorem Marx discovered that the differential is the major linear portion of the increment which established the basis of the continuity with elementary algebra. The great merit of his contribution is that under historical circumstances in which Marx could not have completed his task, he strove for ah algorithmic method ( an exact instruction for the solution, by means of a finite number of steps, of a certain class of problems ) in which he was on a path which has been the fundamental path of the development, of mathematics (Kolman p. 232). Developments in these areas unknown to Marx are outlined by Kolman (p. 232-233) and Smith (p. 266-268), including the way in which these problems were resolved in actuality. Marx s method is described (Kolman p. 227) as the unity of the historical and logical aspects . So we could begin by outlining Marx s periodisation of the history of the calculus: 1. The mystical differential calculus of Newton and Leibnitz. 2. The rational differential calculus of Euler and D'Alembert. 3. The pure algebraic calculus of Lagrange. (Preface p. XX). Newton and Leibnitz, like the majority of the successors from the beginning performed operations on the ground of the differential calculus ... All of their intelligence was concentrated on that. (p. 7 8) The founders of calculus were not concerned with how and whence their discovery had arisen from the old mathematics. They were content to juggle away the terms that experiment showed were extraneous and operate with their new method of calculation, covering their tracks with mysticism. Newton attempted to use the proven applicability of the derivatives to the representation of material motion, as if this could substitute for mathematical proof. If y is a variable quantity dependent on another variable x, it is possible to calculate the increment of y resulting from a certain increment of x. The ratio between these increments is a measure of the degree of variation of y in relation to x over that interval. If y was distance and x time, the ratio of the finite differences would be the average velocity. The leap comes when the increment in x is taken as zero, (i.e. no increment at all) and the resulting change in y is zero also. But Newton and Leibnitz, by juggling away terms which were even more zero , were able to determine a definite value for the ratio of zeros (c.f. instantaneous speed). The calculus arose in this mystifying way. In the next period of Man s historical analysis, Rational Calculus, D'Alembert attempts to correct and demystify the calculus of Newton and Leibnitz by separating out the derivative by purely, algebraic means, before transforming the finite differences into infinitesimals. Contrary to prevailing opinion at the time, Marx credits Lagrange with initiation of the next period of development of the foundations of calculus. Lagrange utilised Taylor s theorem, which allows the expression of any function in terms of a power series, of finite or infinite degree. Taylor s theorem was a product of the calculus, but it enabled the comprehension of the differentiation of functions without degree in terms of the algebraic functions of definite degree (i.e. a finite number of terms) and the various derivatives appear ready-made in the coefficients of the various terms, which can be calculated by methods not involving the mystical transformations of differential calculus. (see p. 91-100) Philosophy had wrestled with the problem of comprehending motion for millennia before Newton and Leibnitz formulated calculus. Armed with dialectical logic, Marx critically dissected the different forms of expression for the change in the value of variables to which the mathematicians had hitherto paid no attention. In the historically first method, difference appears in its positive form as an increment independent of the variable to which it is added, and which then infinitely contracts so that it can be juggled away . In the second, D'Alembert s correction. of the mystics , the difference appears directly in its negative for but in the end returns to where the mystics set out. In the algebraic method, there are two independent values of the variable and the difference is developed so that a preliminary derivative is formed by separating the difference as a factor. The identity of the two different values then gives the definite derivative (see p. 127-131). The development of the difference is well known for algebraic functions and effective methods exist fora wide class of other functions. Marx sought to generalise the algorithmic feature of this method by use of Taylor s theorem. Marx showed, with his example of the differentiation of a quotient from the product rule (see p.70), how the operational formulae reverse themselves being derived as symbolic results of real processes they then express themselves as a strategy of action for real functions as a specific type of calculation which already operates independently on its own ground (p. 20-21). The founders of calculus introduced the differential metaphysically , without bothering to show how the differential was derived from the finite difference it was first assumed to exist and then afterwards it was explained. Similarly, an increment was supposed which had an existence independent of the variable which was differentiating. Marx insisted on tracing the transition from the lower to the higher, although, contradictorily, this required reversing the historical process of the foundation of calculus. Marx was also interested in the equation in mathematics with its opposite poles, with the development and initiative shifting from one pole to another. The equation is the fundamental dialectical contradiction in mathematics, and it is characteristic that the mathematicians have paid no attention to its development, since for formal logic, if A=B, then B=A, and that is that. The reversal of the transition from real to symbolic expressions into the reverse transition is also a matter of indifference to the mathematicians, although it is the essence of the transition. Marx s Mathematical Manuscripts must be seen as an outstanding model of dialectical practice, and read from the standpoint from which it was written the struggle for dialectical theory as a guide to revolutionary social practice. Marx, for whom arithmetic remain(ed) foreign in 1858 (aged 38), enriched the dialectical method not only by critical generalisation of the results of the sciences, but also by application of dialectical materialist theory to the resolution of the problems of the sciences, including mathematics. Engels Dialectics of Nature, and in particular, The Part Played by Labour in the Transition from Ape to Man, were part of the same revolutionary practice. The Mathematical Manuscripts of Karl Marx confirm that Marx and Engels worked as one. Attempts to separate off Engels work on the sciences are demolished by publication of this book, which could by compared to a literary time-bomb with a hundred-year-long fuse.

Review of The Mathematical Manuscripts of Karl Marx Andy Blunden June 1983

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1881/mathematical-manuscripts/review.htm

(1) In discussing the genesis of capitalist production, I said [that the secret is that there is at bottom a complete separation of ... the producer from the means of production (p. 315, column l, French edition of Capital) and that the expropriation of the agricultural producer is the basis of the whole process. Only in England has it been so far accomplished in a radical manner. ... But al/ the other countries of Western Europe are following the same course (loc. cit., column II). Thus I expressly restricted the historical inevitability of this process to the countries of Western Europe. Why did I do this? Please refer to the argument in Chapter XXXII; The transformation of the individualised and scattered means of production into socially concentrated means of production, the transformation, therefore, of the dwarf-like property of the many into the giant property of the few, this terrible and arduously accomplished expropriation of the mass of the people forms the pre-history of capital. Private property, founded on personal labour ... is supplanted by capitalist private property, which rests on exploitation of the labour of others, on wage-labour (p. 340, column II). In the last analysis, then, one form of private property is transformed into another form of private property; (the Western course). Since the Russian peasant lands have never been their private property, how could this tendency be applied to them? My answer is that, thanks to the unique combination of circumstances in Russia, the rural commune, which is still established on a national scale, may gradually shake off its primitive characteristics and directly develop as an element of collective production on a national scale. Precisely because it is contemporaneous with capitalist production, the rural commune may appropriate all its positive achievements without undergoing its [terrible] frightful vicissitudes. Russia does not live in isolation from the modern world, and nor has it fallen prey, like the East Indies, to a conquering foreign power. Should the Russian admirers of the capitalist system den y that such a development is theoretically possible, then I would ask them the following question. Did Russia have to undergo a long Western-style incubation of mechanical industry before it could make use of machinery, steamships, railways, etc.? Let them also explain how they managed to introduce, in the twinkling of an eye, that whole machinery of exchange (banks, credit companies, etc.) which was the work of centuries in the West. If, at the time of the emancipation, the rural commune had been initially placed under conditions of normal prosperity, if, moreover, the huge public debt, mostly financed at the peasants expense, along with the enormous sums which the state (still at the peasants expense) provided for the new pillars of society , transformed into capitalists if all these expenses had served for the further development of the rural commune, no one would be dreaming today of the historical inevitability of the annihilation of the commune. Everyone would see the commune as the element in the regeneration of Russian society, and an element of superiority over countries still enslaved by the capitalist regime. [The contemporaneity of capitalist production was not the only factor that could provide the Russian commune with the elements of development.] Also favourable to the maintenance of the Russian commune (on the path of development) is the fact not only that it is contemporary with capitalist production [in the Western countries], but that it has survived the epoch when the social system stood intact. Today, it faces a social system which, both in Western Europe and the United States, is in conflict with science, with the popular masses, and with the very productive forces that it generates [in short, this social system has become the arena of flagrant antagonisms, conflicts and periodic disasters; it makes clear to the blindest observer that it is a transitory system of production, doomed to be eliminated as soc(iety) returns to... ]. In short, the rural commune finds it in a state of crisis that will end only when the social system is eliminated through the return of modern societies to the archaic type of communal property. In the words of an American writer who, supported in his work by the Washington government, is not at all to be suspected of revolutionary tendencies, [ the higher plane'] the new system to which modern society is tending will be a revival, in a superior form, of an archaic social type. We should not, then, be too frightened by the word archaic . But at least we should be thoroughly acquainted with all the historical twists and turns. We know nothing about them. In one way or another, this commune perished in the midst of never ending foreign and intestine warfare. It probably died a violent death when the Germanic tribes came to conquer Italy, Spain, Gaul, and so on. The commune of the archaic type had already ceased to exist. And yet, its natural vitality is proved by two facts. Scattered examples survived all the vicissitudes of the Middle Ages and have maintained themselves up to the present day- e.g. in my own home region of Trier. More importantly, however, it so stamped its own features on the commune that supplanted it (a commune in which arable land became private property, while the forests, pastures, waste ground, etc., remained communal property), that Maurer was able to reconstruct the archaic prototype while deciphering the commune [of more recent origin] of secondary formation. Thanks to the characteristic features inherited from the prototype, the new commune which the Germans introduced into every conquered region became the only focus of liberty and popular life throughout the Middle Ages. We know nothing of the life of the [Germanic] [rural] [archaic] commune after Tacitus, nor how and when it actually disappeared. Thanks to Julius Caesar, however, we do at least know its point of departure. In Caesar s time, the [arable] land was already distributed on an annual basis- not yet, however, among individual members of a commune, but among the gentes [Geschlechter] and tribes of the [various] Germanic confederations. The agricultural rural commune therefore emerged in Germania from a more archaic type; it was the product of spontaneous development rather than being imported ready-made from Asia. It may also be found in Asia- in the East Indies- always as the final term or last period of the archaic formation. If I am [now] to assess the possible destinies [of the rural commune'] from a purely theoretical point of view- that is, always supposing conditions of normal life I must now refer to certain characteristics which differentiate the agricultural commune from the more archaic type. Firstly, the earlier primitive communities all rested on the natural kinship of their members. In breaking this strong yet narrow tie, the agricultural commune proved more capable of adapting and expanding, and of undergoing contact with strangers. Secondly, within the commune, the house and its complementary yard were already the farmer s private property, whereas the communal house was one of the material bases of previous communities, long before agriculture was even introduced. Finally, although the arable land remained communal property, it was periodically divided among the members of the agricultural commune, so that each farmer tilled on his own behalf the various fields allocated to him and individually appropriated their fruits. In the more archaic communities, by contrast, production was a common activity, and only the final produce was distributed among individual members. Of course, this primitive type of collective or co-operative production stemmed from the weakness of the isolated individual, not from socialisation of the means of production. It is easy to see that the dualism inherent in the agricultural commune may give it a sturdy life: for communal property and all the resulting social relations provide it with a solid foundation, while the privately owned houses, fragmented tillage of the arable land and private appropriation of its fruits all permit a development of individuality incompatible with conditions in the more primitive communities. It is just as evident, however, that the very same dualism may eventually become a source of disintegration. Apart from the influence of a hostile environment, the mere accumulation over time of movable property, beginning with wealth in livestock and even extending to wealth in serfs, combines with the ever more prominent role played by movables in agriculture itself and with a host of other circumstances, inseparable from such accumulation, which would take me too far from the central theme. All these factors, then, serve to dissolve economic and social equality, generating within the commune itself a conflict of interests which leads, first, to the conversion of arable land into private property, and ultimately to the private appropriation of forests, pastures, waste ground, etc., already no more than communal appendages of private property. (dl Accordingly, the agricultural commune every here presents itself as the most recent type of the archaic formation of societies; and the period of the agricultural commune appears in the historical course of Western Europe, both ancient and modern, as a period of transition from communal to private property, from the primary to the secondary formation. But does this mean that the development of the agricultural commune must follow this route in every circumstance [in every historical context]? Not at all. Its constitutive form allows of the following alternative: either the element of private property which it implies gains the upper hand over the collective element, or the reverse takes place. Everything depends upon the historical context in which it is situated.... Both solutions are a priori possibilities, but each one naturally requires a completely different historical context. Russia is the only European country in which the agricultural commune has maintained itself on a national scale up to the present day. It is not, like the East Indies, the prey of a conquering foreign power. Nor does it live in isolation from the modern world. On the one hand, communal land ownership allows it directly and gradually to transform fragmented, individualist agriculture into collective agriculture [at the same time that the contemporaneity of capitalist production in the West, with which it has both material and intellectual links . . . ], and the Russian peasants already practise it in the jointly owned meadows; the physical configuration of the land makes it suitable for huge-scale mechanised cultivation; the peasant s familiarity with the artel relationship (contrat d'arte) can help him to make the transition from augmented to co-operative labour; and, finally, Russian society, which has for so long lived at his expense, owes him the credits required for such a transition. [To be sure, the first step should be to create normal conditions for the commune on its present basis, for the peasant is above all hostile to any abrupt change.] On the other hand, the contemporaneity of Western [capitalist] production, which dominates the world market, enables Russia to build into the commune all the positive achievements of the capitalist system, without having to pass under its harsh tribute. If the spokesmen of the new pillars of society deny that it is theoretically possible for the modern rural commune to follow such a path, then they should tell us whether Russia, like the West, was forced to pass through a long incubation of mechanical industry before it could acquire machinery, steamships, railways, and so on. One might then ask them how they managed to introduce, in the twinkling of an eye, the whole machinery of exchange (banks, credit companies, etc.) which was the work of centuries [elsewhere] in the West. One debilitating feature of the agricultural commune in Russia is inimical to it in every way. This is its isolation, the lack of connection between the lives of different communes. It is not an immanent or universal characteristic of this type that the commune should appear as a localised microcosm. But wherever it does so appear, it leads to the formation of a more or less central despotism above the communes. The federation of North Russian republics proves that such isolation, which seems to have been originally imposed by the huge size of the country, was largely consolidated by Russia s political changes of fortune after the Mongol invasion. Today, it is an obstacle that could be removed with the utmost ease. All that is necessary is to replace the volost , a government institution, with a peasant assembly chosen by the communes themselves an economic and administrative body serving their own interests. Historically very favourable to the preservation of the agricultural commune through its further development is the fact not only that it is contemporaneous with Western capitalist production [so that it] and therefore able to acquire its fruits without bowing to its modus operandi, but also that it has survived the epoch when the capitalist system stood intact. Today it finds that system, bath in Western Europe and the United States, in conflict with the working masses, with science, and with the very productive forces which it generates in short, in a crisis that will end through its own elimination, through the return of modern societies to a higher form of an archaic type of collective ownership and production. It is understood that the commune would develop gradually, and that the first step would be to place it under normal conditions on its present basis. [The historical situation of the Russian rural commune is without parallel! Alone in Europe, it has preserved itself not as scattered debris (like the rare and curious miniatures of an archaic type that were recently to be found in the West), but as the more or less dominant form of popular life spread over a vast empire. While it has in common land ownership the natural basis of collective appropriation, its historical context the contemporaneity of capitalist production provides it with read y-made material conditions for huge-scale common labour. It is therefore able to incorporate the positive achievements of the capitalist system, without having to pass under its harsh tribute. The commune may gradually replace fragmented agriculture with large-scale, machine assisted agriculture particularly suited to the physical configuration of Russia. It may thus become the direct starting-point of the economic system towards which modern society is tending; it may open a new chapter that does not begin with its own suicide. [Indeed, the first thing to do would be to place it under normal conditions.] [But it is not enough to eliminate the dualism within the rural commune, which it could eliminate by ... ] It is confronted, however, by landed property, which controls nearly half the land, and the best at that, not to mention the state holdings. In this respect, the preservation of the rural commune through its further development merges with the general course of Russian society: it is, indeed, the price for its regeneration. [Even from an] Even from a purely economic point of view, Russia can break out of its agricultural. ... ? ... .(e) through the evolution of its rural commune; it would try in vain to find a way out through [the introduction of) English-style capitalised farming, against which [the totality] all the rural conditions of the country would rebel. [Thus, only a general uprising can break the isolation of the rural commune , the lack of connection between the lives of different communes, in short, its existence as a localised microcosm which denies it any the historical initiative.] [Theoretically speaking, then, the Russian rural commune may preserve its land by developing its base of common land ownership, and by eliminating the principle of private property which it also implies. lt may become a direct starting-point of the economic system towards which modern society is tending; it may open a new chapter that does not begin with its own suicide; it may reap the fruits with which capitalist production has enriched humanity, without passing through the capitalist regime which, simply in terms of its possible duration, hardly counts in the life of society. But it is necessary to descend from pure theory to Russian reality.] If we abstract from all the evils now weighing clown upon the Russian rural commune and merely consider its constitutive form and historical context, it is immediately apparent that one of its fundamental characteristics, common land ownership, forms the natural basis of collective production and appropriation. Further more, the Russian peasant s familiarity with the arte/ relationship would facilitate the transition from fragmented to collective labour, already practised to some extent in the jointly owned meadows for the drying of grass and other ventures of general interest. If in agriculture proper, however, collective labour is to supplant fragmented labour (the form of private appropriation), then two things are necessary: the economic need for such a transformation; and the material conditions for its realisation. The economic need would make itself felt in the rural commune as soon as it is placed under normal conditions that is to say, as soon as its burdens are lifted and its land for cultivation expands to a normal size. The time has passed when Russian agriculture required no more than land and tillers of parcellised holdings armed with rather primitive instruments [and the fertility of the soil].... That time has passed all the more quickly in that the oppression of the farmer has infected and sterilised his fields. He now needs co-operative labour, organised on a large scale. Moreover, since the peasant does not have what is necessary to till his three desyatins, would he be any better off if he had ten times the number of desyatins? But where is the peasant to find the tools, the fertiliser, the agronomic methods, etc.. all the things required for collective labour? This is precisely where the Russian rural commune is greatly superior to archaic communes of the same type. For, alone in Europe, it has maintained itself on a vast, nationwide basis. It is thus placed within a historical context in which the contemporaneity of capitalist production provides it with all the conditions for co-operative labour. lt is in a position to incorporate the positive achievements of the capitalist system, without having to pass under its harsh tribute. The physical configuration of the Russian land is eminently suited to machine-assisted agriculture, organised on a large scale and [in the hands] performed by co-operative labour. As for the initial expenses, both intellectual and material, Russian society owes them to the rural commune at whose expense it has lived for so long and in which it must seek its regenerative element . The best proof that such a development of the rural commune corresponds to the historical trend of our epoch, is the fatal crisis undergone by capitalist production in those European and American countries where it reached its highest peak. The crisis will come to an end with the elimination of capitalist production and the return of modern society to a higher form of the most archaic type collective production and appropriation. (4) [In descending from theory to reality, no one can disguise the fact that the Russian commune now faces a conspiracy by powerful forces and interests. Not only has the state subjected it to ceaseless exploitation, it has also fostered, at the peasant s expense, the domiciliation of a certain part of the capitalist system stock exchange, bank, railways, trade....] Life is the first requirement for development, and no one can hide from themselves that, here and now, the life of the rural commune is in peril. [You are perfectly aware that the very existence of the Russian commune is now threatened by a conspiracy of powerful interests. Overburdened by direct state exactions, fraudulently exploited by intruding capitalists, merchants, etc., and the landed proprietors , it is also being undermined by village usurers and the conflict of interests in its midst aroused by the situation in which it has been placed. In order to expropriate the agricultural producers, it is not necessary to drive them from the land, as happened in England and elsewhere; nor to abolish communal property by some ukase. If you go and take from the peasants more than a certain proportion of the product of their agricultural labour, then not even your gendarmes and your army will enable you to tie them to their fields. In the last years of the Roman Empire some provincial decurions, not peasants but actual landowners, fled their homes, abandoned their land, and even sold themselves into bondage all in order to be rid of a property that had become nothing more than an official pretext for exerting quite merciless pressure over them. After the so-called emancipation of the peasantry, the state placed the Russian commune in abnormal economic conditions; and since that time, it has never ceased to weigh it clown with the social force concentrated in its hands. Exhausted by tax demands, the commune became a kind of inert matter easily exploited by traders, landowners and usurers. This oppression from without unleashed the conflict of interests already present at the heart of the commune, rapidly developing the seeds of its disintegration. But that is not all. [At the peasant s expense, it grew as in a hothouse those excrescences of the capitalist system that can be most easily acclimatised (the stock exchange, speculation, banks, share companies, railways), writing off their deficits, advancing profits to their entrepreneurs, etc., etc.] At the peasant s expense, the state [lent a hand to] grew in hothouse conditions certain branches of the Western capitalist system which, in no way developing the productive premises of agriculture, are the best suited to facilitate and precipitate the theft of its fruits by un productive middlemen. In this way, it helped to enrich a new capitalist vermin which is sucking the already depleted blood of the rural commune . .... In short, the state [came forward as middleman] lent a hand in the precocious development of the technical and economic instruments best suited to facilitate and precipitate the exploitation of the farmer Russia s greatest productive force and to enrich the new pillars of society . [One can see at a glance that unless there is a powerful reaction, this combination of hostile forces will inevitably bring about the ruin of the commune through the simple pressure of events.] Unless it is broken by a powerful reaction, this combination of destructive influences must naturally lead to the death of the rural commune. It may be asked, however: why have all these interests (and I include the big government-protected industries) found an advantage in the present situation of the rural commune? Why should they knowingly conspire to kill the goose that lays the golden eggs? Precisely because they feel that this present situation is no longer tenable, and that the present mode of exploiting it [is not tenable either] is therefore no longer in vogue. The land, infected by the farmer s poverty, is already growing sterile. Good harvests [which favourable weather conditions sometimes draw from the land] are matched by periods of famine. Instead of exporting, Russia has to import grain. The average results of the last ten years reveal a level of agricultural production that is not only stagnant but actually declining. For the first time, Russia has to import grain instead of exporting it. And so, there is no longer any time to lose. And so, an end must be made to the situation. The more or less well-off minority of peasants must be formed into a rural middle class, and the majority simply converted into proletarians [into wage labourers]. To this end, the spokesmen of the new pillars of society denounce the very evils weighing upon the commune as so many natural symptoms of its decrepitude. Since so many different interests, particularly the new pillars of society constructed under Alexander Il s benevolent empire, find an advantage in the present situation of the rural commune, why should they knowingly conspire to bring about its death? Why do their spokesmen denounce the evils weighing upon it as irrefutable proof of its natural decay? Wh y do they wish to kill the goose that lays the golden eggs? Quite simply, the economic facts, which it would take me tao long to analyse, have uncovered the secret that the present situation of the commune is no longer tenable, and that, through mere force of circumstances, the present mode of exploiting the popular masses will go out of fashion. Thus, something new is required; and this something new, insinuated in the most diverse forms, always comes clown to the abolition of communal property, the formation of the more or less well-off minority of peasants into a rural middle class, and the straight forward conversion of the majority into proletarians. [One cannot disguise from oneself that] On the one hand the rural commune is almost at its last gasp; on the other, a powerful conspiracy is waiting in the wings to finish it off. To save the Russian commune, there must be a Russian Revolution. For their part, those who hold the political and social power are doing their best to prepare the masses for such a catastrophe. While the commune is being bled and tortured, its lands sterilised and impoverished, the literary flunkeys of the new pillars of society ironically refer to the evils heaped on the commune as if they were symptoms of spontaneous, indisputable decay, arguing that it is dying a natural death and that it would be an act of kindness to shorten its agony. At this level, it is a question no longer of a problem to be solved, but simply of an enemy to be beaten. Thus, it is no longer a theoretical problem; [it is a question to be solved, it is quite simply an enemy to be beaten.] To save the Russian commune, there must be a Russian Revolution. For their part, the Russian government and the new pillars of society are doing their best to prepare the masses for such a catastrophe. If the revolution takes place in time, if it concentrates all its forces [if the intelligent part of Russian society] [if the Russian intelligentsia (l'intelligence russe) concentrates all the living forces of the country] to ensure the unfettered rise of the rural commune, the latter will soon develop as a regenerating element of Russian society and an element of superiority over the countries enslaved by the capitalist regime.

Marx-Zasulich Correspondence February/March 1881

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1881/zasulich/draft-1.htm

Thus [in writing these lines] I expressly restricted [the development in question] this historical inevitability to the. countries of Western Europe . So that there should not be the slightest doubt about my thinking, I say on p. 341: Private property, as the antithesis to social, collective property, exists only where ... the external conditions of labour belong to private individuals. But according to whether these private individuals are workers or non workers, private property has a different character. Thus the process I [described] analysed, substituted a form of private, fragmented property of the workers- capitalist property(a) of a tiny minority (loc. cit., p. 342), substituted one kind of property for another. How [ would it apply] could it apply to Russia, where the land is not and never has been the private property of the agricultural producer? [In any case, those who believe that the dissolution of communal property is a historical necessity in Russia cannot, at any event, prove such a necessity from my account of the inevitable course of things in Western Europe. On the contrary, they would have to provide new arguments quite independent of the course I described. The only thing they can learn from me is this:] Thus, the only conclusion they would be justified in drawing from the course of things in the West is the following: If capitalist production is to be established in Russia, the first step must be to abolish communal property and expropriate the peasants, that is, the great mass of the people. That is anyway the wish of the Russian liberals [who wish to naturalise capitalist production in their own country and, quite consistently, to transform the great mass of peasants into simple wage-labourers], but does their wish prove more than Catherine II s wish [to graft] to implant the Western medieval craft system in Russian soil? [Since the Russian peasants land is their common property and has never been their private property.... ] [In Russia, where the land is not and never has been the peasant s private property , the transformation metamorphosis of this of such private property into capitalist property has no sense is impossible is therefore out of the question. The only conclusion one might draw is that .... All that can be concluded from the Western data .... If one wishes to draw some indication lesson from the (Western) data .... ] [The most simple-minded observer could not deny that these are two quite distinct cases. In any case, the Western process.... ] Thus [the process I have analysed] the expropriation of the agricultural producers in the West served to transform the fragmented private property of workers into the concentrated private property of capitalists. But it was always the substitution of one form of private property for another form of private property. [How, then, could this same process apply to the land in Russia to the Russian agricultural producers whose land is not and never has ... whose property in land always remained communal and has never been private . The same historical process which [I analysed] such as it was realised in the West.... ] In Russia, on the contrary, it would be a matter of substituting capitalist property for the communist property [of the tillers of the land a process that would evidently be quite ... ]. Yes indeed! If capitalist production is to establish its sway in Russia, then the great majority of peasants that is, of the Russian people will have to be transformed into wage-labourers, and hence be expropriated through the prior abolition of their communist property. But in any event, the Western precedent would prove nothing at all [about the historical inevitability of this process]. III. From a historical point of view, the only serious argument [that may be invoked] in favour of the inevitable dissolution of communal property in Russia is as follows: Communal property existed everywhere in Western Europe, and it everywhere disappeared with the progress of society; [why should its fate be different in Russia?] how, then, could it escape the same fate in Russia? First of all, in Western Europe, the death of communal property [and the emergence] and the birth of capitalist production are separated by a [centuries-long] huge interval which covers a whole series of successive economic revolutions and evolutions, [The death of communal property did not give birth to capitalist production,] of which capitalist production is but [the last] the most recent. On the one hand it has marvellously developed the social productive forces, but on the other it has betrayed [its transitory character] its own incompatibility with the very forces it generates. Its history is no longer anything more than one of antagonisms, crises, conflicts and disasters. Lastly, it has unveiled its purely transitory character to all except those who have an interest in remaining blind. The peoples among which it reached its highest peak in Europe and [the United States of] America seek only to break its chains by replacing capitalist with co-operative production, and capitalist property with a higher form of the archaic type of property, that is, [collective] communist property. If Russia were isolated in the world, it would have to develop on its own account the economic conquests which Western Europe only acquired through a long series of evolutions from its primitive communities to the present situation. There would then be no doubt whatsoever, at least in my mind, that Russia s communities are fated to perish with the development of Russian society. However, the situation of the Russian commune is absolutely different from that of the primitive communities in the West [in Western Europe]. Russia is the only European country in which communal property has maintained itself on a vast, nationwide scale. But at the same time, Russia exists in a modern historical context: it is contemporaneous with a higher culture, and it is linked to a world market in which capitalist production is predominant. [It is therefore capitalist production which enables it to achieve results without having to pass through its. ... ] Thus, in appropriating the positive results of this mode of production, it is able to develop and transform the still archaic form of its rural commune, instead of destroying it. (I would remark in passing that the form of communist property in Russia is the most modern form of the archaic type which has itself gone through a whole series of evolutionary changes.) If the admirers of the capitalist system in Russia deny that such a combination is possible, let them prove that Russia had to undergo an incubation period of mechanical production in order to make use of machinery! Let them explain to me how they managed, in just a few days as it were, to introduce the machinery of exchange (banks, credit companies, etc.) which was the work of centuries in the West. [Although the capitalist system is past its prime in the West, approaching the time when it will be no more than a social regime a regressive form an archaic formation, its Russian admirers are.... ] This brings me to the heart of the matter. One cannot disguise from oneself that the archaic type, to which the Russian rural commune belongs, conceals an inner dualism which, given certain historical conditions, may bring on its ruin [its dissolution]. There is common land ownership, but [on the other hand, in practice the work of cultivation or production is clone on small peasant plots] each peasant cultivates and works [his plot, reaps the fruits of his field] his field on his own account, like the small Western peasant. Communal property and small-plot cultivation: this combination [which used to be a (fertilising) element of progress, the development of farming), useful in more distant times, becomes dangerous in our own epoch. On the one hand movable property, playing an ever more important role in agriculture itself, gradually differentiates the commune members in terms of wealth and gives rise to a conflict of interests, above all under state fiscal pressure; on the other hand, the economic superiority of communal property as the basis of co-operative and combined labour- is lost, it should not be forgotten, however, that the Russian peasants already practise the collective mode in the cultivation of their joint meadows (prairies indivises); that their familiarity with the artel relationship could greatly facilitate their transition from small-plot to collective farming; that the physical configuration of the Russian land makes it suitable for large-scale and combined mechanical farming [with the aid of machines]; and finally, that Russian society, having for so long lived at the expense of the rural commune, owes it the initial funds required for such a change. What is involved, of course, is only a gradual change that would begin by creating normal conditions for the commune on its present basis. What threatens the life of the Russian commune is neither a historical inevitability nor a theory; it is state oppression, and exploitation by capitalist intruders whom the state has made powerful at the peasants expense.

Marx-Zasulich Correspondence February/March 1881

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1881/zasulich/draft-2.htm

Dear Citizen, In order to examine in depth the questions raised in your letter of 16 February, I would have to enter into the relevant details and interrupt some urgent work. I do hope, however, that the brief account which I have the honour of sending you will suffice to clear up any misunderstanding about my so-called theory. (1) In analysing the genesis of capitalist production, I said: The historical inevitability of this course is therefore expressly restricted to the countries of Western Europe. [Next, the cause.] The reason for this restriction is indicated in the following passage from Ch. XXXII: In the Western case, then, one form of private property is transformed into another form of private property. In the case of the Russian peasants, on the contrary, their communal property would have to be transformed into private property. Whether or not one believes that such a transformation is inevitable, the reasons for and against have nothing to do with my analysis of the genesis of the capitalist system. At the very most, it might be inferred that, given the present condition of the great majority of Russian peasants, their conversion into small-landowners would merely be a prologue to their swift expropriation. If you go back to the origins of Western societies, you will everywhere find communal ownership of the land; with the progress of society, it everywhere gave way to private ownership; it cannot therefore escape the same fate in Russia alone. I shall consider this line of reasoning only in so far as it [concerns Europe] is based upon European experiences. As regards the East Indies, for example, everyone except Sir H. Maine and his like is aware that the suppression of communal land ownership was nothing but an act of English vandalism which drove the indigenous population backward rather than forward. Primitive communities are not all cut according to the same pattern. On the contrary, they form a series of social groups which, differing in both type and age, mark successive phases of evolution. One of these types, conventionally known as the agrarian commune (la commune agricole), also embraces the Russian commune. Its equivalent in the West is the very recent Germanic commune. This did not yet exist in the time of Julius Caesar, and no longer existed when the Germanic tribes came to conquer Italy, Gaul, Spain, etc. In the time of Julius Caesar, the cultivable land was already distributed on an annual basis among different groups, the gentes and the tribes, but not yet among the individual families of a commune; probably the land was also worked by groups, in common. In the Germanic lands themselves, this more archaic type of community changed through a natural development into the agrarian commune described by Tacitus. After then, however, it fell out of sight, disappearing in the midst of constant warfare and migration. Perhaps it died a violent death. But its natural vitality is proved by two indisputable facts. A few scattered examples of this model survived all the vicissitudes of the Middle Ages and may still be found today- for example, in my home region of Trier. More importantly, however, we find the clear imprint of this agrarian commune so clearly traced on the new commune which emerged from it that Maurer was able to reconstruct the former while working to decipher the latter. The new commune in .which cultivable land is privately owned by the producers, while the forests, pastures, waste ground, etc., still remain communal property was introduced by the Germans to all the countries they conquered. Thanks to certain features borrowed from its prototype, it became the only focus of popular life and liberty throughout the Middle Ages. The rural commune may also be found in Asia, among the Afghans, etc. But it everywhere appears as the most recent type the last word, so to speak, in the archaic formation of societies. It was to emphasise this point that I went into some detail concerning the Germanic commune. We must now consider the most characteristic features differentiating the agrarian commune from the more archaic communities: Clearly, the dualism inherent in the constitution of the agrarian commune was able to endow it with a vigorous life. Emancipated from the strong yet narrow ties of natural kinship, the communal land ownership and resulting social relations provided a solid foundation; while at the same time, the house and yard as an individual family preserve, together with small-plot farming and private appropriation of its fruits, fostered individuality to an extent incompatible with [the structure] the framework of the more primitive communities. It is no less evident, however, that this very dualism could eventually turn into the seeds of disintegration. Apart from all the malignant outside influences, the commune bore within its own breast the elements that were poisoning its life. As we have seen, private land ownership bad already crept into the commune in the shape of a house with its own country-yard that could become a strong-point for an attack upon communal land. But the key factor was fragmented labour as the source. of private appropriation. It gave rise to the accumulation of movable goods such as livestock, money, and sometimes even: slaves or serfs. Such movable property, not subject to communal control, open to individual trading in Which there was plenty of scope for trickery and chance, came to weigh ever more heavily upon the entire rural economy. ere was the dissolver of primitive economic and social equality. It introduced heterogeneous elements into the commune, provoking conflicts of interest and passion liable to erode communal owner ship first of the cultivable land, and then of the forests, pastures, waste ground, etc. Once converted into communal appendages of private property, these will also fall in the long run. As [the most recent and] the latest phase in the [archaic] primitive formation of society, the agrarian commune [naturally represents the transition] is at the same time a phase in the transition to the secondary formation, and therefore in the transition from a society based on communal property to one based on private property. The secondary formation does, of course, include the series of societies which rest upon slavery and serfdom. Does this mean, however, that the historical career of the agrarian commune is fated to end in this way? Not at all. Its innate dualism admits of an alternative: either its property element will gain the upper band over its collective element; or else the reverse will take place. Everything depends upon the historical context in which it is located. Let us, for the moment, abstract from the evils bearing down upon the Russian commune and merely consider its evolutionary possibilities. It occupies a unique situation without any precedent in history. Alone in Europe, it is still the organic, predominant form of rural life in a vast empire. Communal land ownership offers it the natural basis for collective appropriation, and its historical context the contemporaneity of capitalist production provides it with the ready-made material conditions for large-scale co-operative labour organised on a large scale. It may therefore incorporate the positive achievements developed by the capitalist system, without having to pass under its harsh tribute. It may gradually replace small-plot agriculture with a combined, machine assisted agriculture which the physical configuration of the Russian land invites. After normal conditions have been created for the commune in its present form, it may become the direct starting point of the economic system towards which modern. society .is tending; it may open a new chapter that does not begin with its own suicide. [It is confronted, however, by landed property, which bas in its clutches nearly half the land the best part, not to mention the state holdings, and the best part at that. In this respect, the preservation of the rural commune through its further development merges with the general course of Russian society: it is, indeed, the price for its regeneration. Even from a purely economic point of view ... Russia would try in vain to break out of its impasse through English-style capitalist farming, against which all the social conditions of the country would rebel. The English themselves made similar attempts in the East Indies; they only managed to spoil indigenous agriculture and to swell the number and intensity of famines.] The English themselves made such attempts in the East Indies; they only managed to spoil indigenous agriculture and to swell the number and intensity of famines. But what of the anathema which strikes the commune its isolation, the lack of connection between the lives of different communes, that localised microcosm which has so far denied it all historical initiative? It would vanish in the general upheaval of Russian society. The Russian peasant s familiarity with the artel would particularly facilitate the transition from fragmented to co-operative labour a form which, to some extent [in the jointly owned meadows and a few ventures of general interest], he already applies in such communal activities as tossing and drying the hay. A wholly archaic peculiarity, which is the bugbear of modern agronomists, also points in this direction. If you go to any region in which the cultivable land exhibits a curious dismemberment, giving it the form of a chessboard composed of small fields, you will have no doubt that you are confronted with the domain of a dead agrarian commune. The members, without studying the theory of ground-rent, realised that the same amount of labour expended upon fields with a different natural fertility and location would produce different yields. In order to [secure the same economic benefits] equalise the chances for labour, they therefore divided the land into a number of areas according to natural and economic variations, and then subdivided these areas into as many plots as there were tillers. Finally, everyone received a patch of land in each area. It goes without saying that this arrangement, perpetuated by the Russian commune to this day, cuts across agronomic requirements [whether farming is on a collective or a private, individual basis]. Apart from other disadvantages, it compels a dispersion of strength and time. [But it has great advantages as the starting-point for collective farming. Extend the land on which the peasant works, and he will reign supreme.] Still, it does fava ur [as a starting-point] the transition to collective farming, however refractory to the objective it may appear at first sight. The small plot ....

Marx-Zasulich Correspondence February/March 1881

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1881/zasulich/draft-3.htm

8 March 1881 Dear Citizen, A nervous complaint which has periodically affected me for the last ten years has prevented me from answering your letter of 16 February [ which you did the honour of sending me]. I regret that I am unable to give you a concise account for publication [of the problems] of the question which [you kindly] you did me the honour of asking. Two months ago, I already promised a text on the same subject to the St. Petersburg committee. Still, I hope that a few lines will suffice to leave you in no doubt [about the conclusions that have been] about the way in which my so-called theory has been misunderstood. (1) The analysis in Capital therefore provides [ nothing] no reasons that might be used either for or against the vitality of the Russian commune. [My personal opinion concerning the Russian commune, which I have studied for many years in the original sources, is as follows.] [After studying (for many years) the Russian commune in the original sources for.] [In order to have a definitive view on the possible destinies of the Russian commune, one must have more than vague historical analogies. One must study it.] [I have studied it for many.] [I have made a study of it.] [My persona! opinion on the possible fate of the Russian commune.] The special studies I have made of it, including a search for original source-material, have [led me to the conclusion] convinced me that the commune is the natural [starting-point] fulcrum for social regeneration in Russia [for the regeneration of Russian society]. But [the first step must, of course, be to place it in conditions ... ] in order that it might function as such, the harmful influences assailing it on all sides must first be eliminated, and it must then be assured the conditions for spontaneous development.

Marx-Zasulich Correspondence February/March 1881

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1881/zasulich/draft-4.htm

8 March 1881 41, Maitland Park Road, London N.W. Dear Citizen, A nervous complaint which has periodically affected me for the last ten years has prevented me from answering sooner your letter of 16 February. I regret that I am unable to give you a concise account for publication of the question which you did me the honour of raising. Some months ago, I already promised a text on the same subject to the St. Petersburg Committee. Still, I hope that a few lines will suffice to leave you in no doubt about the way in which my so-called theory has been misunderstood. In analysing the genesis of capitalist production, I said: The historical inevitability of this course is therefore expressly restricted to the countries of Western Europe. The reason for this restriction is indicated in Ch. XXXII: Private property, founded upon personal labour ... is supplanted by capitalist private property, which rests on exploitation of the labour of others, on wage labour. (loc. cit., p. 340). In the Western case, then, one form of private property is transformed into another form of private property. In the case of the Russian peasants, however, their communal property would have to be transformed into private property. The analysis in Capital therefore provides no reasons either for or against the vitality of the Russian commune. But the special study I have made of it, including a search for original source material, has convinced me that the commune is the fulcrum for social regeneration in Russia. But in order that it might function as such, the harmful influences assailing it on all sides must first be eliminated, and it must then be assured the normal conditions for spontaneous development.

Marx-Zasulich Correspondence February/March 1881

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1881/zasulich/reply.htm

Honoured Citizen, You are not unaware that your Capital enjoys great popularity in Russia. Although the edition has been confiscated, the few remaining copies are read and re-read by the mass of more or less educated people in our country; serious men are studying it. What you probably do not realise is the role which your Capital plays in our discussions on the agrarian question in Russia and our rural commune. You know better than anyone how urgent this question is in Russia. You know what Chernyshevskii thought of it. Our progressive literature Otechestvennye Zapiski, for example continues to develop his ideas. But in my view, it is a life-and-death question above all for our socialist party. In one way or another, even the personal fate of our revolutionary socialists depends upon your answer to the question. For there are only two possibilities. Either the rural commune, freed of exorbitant tax demands, payment to the nobility and arbitrary administration, is capable of developing in a socialist direction, that is, gradually organising its production and distribution on a collectivist basis. In that case, the revolutionary socialist must devote all his strength to the liberation and development of the commune. If, however, the commune is destined to perish, all that remains for the socialist, as such, is more or less ill-founded calculations as to how many decades it will take for the Russian peasant s land to pass into the hands of the bourgeoisie, and how many centuries it will take for capitalism in Russia to reach something like the level of development already attained in Western Europe. Their task will then be to conduct propaganda solely among the urban workers, while these workers will be continually drowned in the peasant mass which, following the dissolution of the commune, will be thrown on to the streets of the large towns in search of a wage. Nowadays, we often hear it said that the rural commune is an archaic form condemned to perish by history, scientific socialism and, in short, everything above debate. Those who preach such a view call themselves your disciples par excellence: Marksists . Their strongest argument is often: Marx said so. But how do you derive that from Capital? others object. He does not discuss the agrarian question, and says nothing about Russia. He would have said as much if he had discussed our country, your disciples retort with perhaps a little too much temerity. So you will understand, Citizen, how interested we are in Y our opinion. You would be doing us a very great favour if you were to set forth Your ideas on the possible fate of our rural commune, and on the theory that it is historically necessary for every country in the world to pass through all the phases of capitalist production. In the name of my friends, I take the liberty to ask You, Citizen, to do us this favour. If time does not allow you to set forth Your ideas in a fairly detailed manner, then at least be so kind as to do this in the form of a letter that you would allow us to translate and publish in Russia. My address is: Imprimerie polonaise, Rue de Lausanne No. 49, Gen ve.

Letter from Vera Zasulich to Karl Marx 1881

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1881/zasulich/zasulich.htm

On the occassion of his death, let us give a brief account of the present position on this question, and Bauer's contribution to its solution. The view that dominated from the free-thinkers of the Middle Ages to the Enlighteners of the 18th century, the latter included, that all religions, and therefore Christianity too, were the work of deceivers was no longer sufficient after Hegel had set philosophy the task of showing a rational evolution in world history. It is clear that if spontaneously arising religions like the fetish worship of the Negroes or the common primitive religion of the Aryans come to being without deception playing any part, deception by the priests soon becomes inevitable in their further development. But, in spite of all sincere fanaticism, artificial religions cannot even, at their foundation, do without deception and falsification of history. Christianity, too, has pretty achievements to boast of in this respect from the very beginning, as Bauer shows in his criticism of the New Testament. But that only confirms a general phenomenon and does not explain the particular case in question. A religion that brought the Roman world empire into subjection, and dominated by far the larger part of civilized humanity for 1,800 years, cannot be disposed of merely by declaring it to be nonsense gleaned together by frauds. One cannot dispose of it before one succeeds in explaining its origin and its development from the historical conditions under which it arose and reached its dominating position. This applies to Christianity. The question to be solved, then, is how it came about that the popular masses in the Roman Empire so far preferred this nonsense which was preached, into the bargain, by slaves and oppressed to all other religions, that the ambitious Constantine finally saw in the adoption of this religion of nonsense the best means of exalting himself to the position of autocrat of the Roman world. Bruno Bauer has contributed far more to the solution of this question than anybody else. No matter how much the half-believing theologians of the period of reaction have struggled against him since 1849, he irrefutably proved the chronological order of the Gospels and their mutual interdependence, shown by Wilke from the purely linguistic standpoint, by the very contents of the Gospels themselves. He exposed the utter lack of scientific spirit of Strauss' vague myth theory according to which anybody can hold for historical as much as he likes in the Gospel narrations. And, if almost nothing from the whole content of the Gospels turns out to be historically provable so that even the historical existence of a Jesus Christ can be questioned Bauer has, thereby, only cleared the ground for the solution of the question: what is the origin of the ideas and thoughts that have been woven together into a sort of system in Christianity, and how came they to dominate the world? Bauer studied this question until his death. His research reached its culminating point in the conclusion that the Alexandrian Jew Philo, who was still living about A.D. 40 but was already very old, was the real father of Christianity, and that the Roman stoic Seneca was, so to speak, its uncle. The numerous writings attributed to Philo which have reached us originate indeed in a fusion of allegorically and rationalistically conceived Jewish traditions with Greek, particularly stoic, philosophy. This conciliation of western and eastern outlooks already contains all the essentially Christian ideas: the inborn sinfulness of man, the Logos, the Word, which is with God and is God and which becomes the mediator between God and man: atonement, not by sacrifices of animals, but by bringing one's own heart of God, and finally the essential feature that the new religious philosophy reverses the previous world order, seeks its disciples among the poor, the miserable, the slaves, and the rejected, and despises the rich, the powerful, and the privileged, whence the precept to despise all worldly pleasure and to mortify the flesh. One the other hand, Augustus himself saw to it that not only the God-man, but also the so-called immaculate conception became formulae imposed by the state. He not only had Caesar and himself worshipped as gods, he also spread the notion that he, Augustus Caesar Divus, the Divine, was not the son of a human father but that his mother had conceived him of the god Apollo. But was not that Apollo perhaps a relation of the one sung by Heinrich Heine? [Reference to Heine's Apollgott.] As we see, we need only the keystone and we have the whole of Christianity in its basic features: the incarnation of the Word become man in a definite person and his sacrifice on the cross for the redemption of sinful mankind. Truly reliable sources leave us uncertain as to when this keystone was introduced into the stoic-philonic doctrines. But this much is sure: it was not introduced by philosophers, either Philo's disciples or stoics. Religions are founded by people who feel a need for religion themselves and have a feeling for the religious needs of the masses. As a rule, this is not the case with the classical philosophers. On the other hand, we find that in times of general decay, now, for instance, philosophy and religious dogmatism are generally current in a vulgarized and shallow form. While classic Greek philosophy in its last forms particularly in the Epicurean school led to atheistic materialism, Greek vulgar philosophy led to the doctrine of a one and only God and of the immortality of the human soul. Likewise, rationally vulgarized Judaism in mixture and intercourse with aliens and half-Jews ended by neglecting the ritual and transforming the formerly exclusively Jewish national god, Jahveh, into the one true God, the creator of heaven and earth, and by adopting the idea of the immortality of the soul which was alien to early Judaism. Thus, monotheistic vulgar philosophy came into contact with vulgar religion, which presented it with the ready-made one and only God. Thus, the ground was prepared on which the elaboration among the Jews of the likewise vulgarized philonic notions and not Philo's own works that Christianity proceeded from is proved by the New Testament's almost complete disregard of most of these works, particularly the allegorical and philosophical interpretation of the narrations of the Old Testament. This is an aspect to which Bauer did not devote enough attention. One can get an idea of what Christianity looked like in its early form by reading the so-called Book of Revelation of John. Wild, confused fanaticism, only the beginnings of dogmas, only the mortification of the flesh of the so-called Christian morals, but on the other hand a multitude of visions and prophesies. The development of the dogmas and moral doctrine belongs to a later period, in which the Gospels and the so-called Epistles of the Apostles were written. In this at least as regards morals the philosophy of the stoics, of Seneca in particular, was unceremoniously made us of. Bauer proved that the Epistles often copy the latter word-for-word; in fact, even the faithful noticed this, but they maintained that Seneca had copied from the New Testament, though it had not yet been written in his time. Dogma developed, on the one hand in connection with the legend of Jesus which was then taking shape, and, on the other hand, in the struggle between Christians of Jewish and of pagan origin. Bauer also gives very valuable data on the causes which helped Christianity to triumph and attain world domination. But here the German philosopher is prevented by his idealism from seeing clearly and formulating precisely. Phrases often replace substance in decisive points. Instead, therefore, of going into details of Bauer's views, we shall give our own conception of this point, based on Bauer's works, and also on our personal study. The Roman conquest dissolved in all subjugated countries, first, directly, the former political conditions, and then, indirectly, also the social conditions of life. Firstly by substituting for the former organization according to estates (slavery apart) the simple distinction between Roman citizens and peregrines or subjects. Secondly, and mainly, by exacting tribute in the name of the Roman state. If, under the empire, a limit was set as far as possible in the interest of the state to the governors' thirst for wealth, that thirst was replaced by ever more effective and oppressive taxation for the benefit of the state treasury, the effect of which was terribly destructive. Thirdly, Roman law was finally administered everywhere by Roman judges, while the native social system was declared invalid insofar as it was incompatible with the provisions of Roman law. These three levers necessarily developed a tremendous levelling power, particularly when they were applied for several hundred years to populations the most vigorous sections of which had been either suppressed or taken away into slavery in the battles preceding, accompanying, and often following, the conquest. Social relations in the provinces came nearer and nearer to those obtaining in the capital and in Italy. The population became more and more sharply divided into three classes, thrown together out of the most varying elements and nationalities: rich people, including not a few emancipated slaves (cf. Petronius), big landowners or usurers or both at once, like Seneca, the uncle of Christianity; propertyless free people, who in Rome were fed and amused by the state in the provinces they got on as they could by themselves and finally the great mass, the slaves. In the face of the state, i.e., the emperor, the first two classes had as few rights as the slaves in the face of their masters. From the time of Tiberius to that of Nero, in particular, it was a practice to sentence rich Roman citizens to death in order to confiscate their property. The support of the government was materially, the army, which was more like an army of hired foreign soldiers than the old Roman peasant army, and morally, the general view that there was no way out of that condition; that not, indeed, this or that Caesar, but the empire based on military domination was an immutable necessity. This is not the place to examine what very material facts this view was based on. The general rightlessness and despair of the possibility of a better condition gave rise to a corresponding general slackening and demoralization. The few surviving old Romans of the patrician type and views either were removed or died out; Tacitus was the last of them. The others were glad when they were able to keep away from public life; all they existed for was to collect and enjoy riches, and to indulge in private gossip and private intrigue. The propertyless free citizens were state pensioners in Rome, but in the provinces their condition was an unhappy one. They had to work, and to compete with slave-labor into the bargain. But they were confined to the towns. Besides them, there was also in the provinces peasants, free landowners (here and there probably still common ownership) or, as in Gaul, bondsmen for debts to the big landowners. This class was the least affected by the social upheaval; it was also the one to resist longest the religious upheaval. [Engels note: According to Fallmereyer, the peasants in Main, Peloponnesus, still offered sacrifices to Zeus in the 9th century.] Finally, there were the slaves, deprived of rights and of their own will and the possibility to free themselves, as the defeat of Spartacus had already proved; most of them, however, were former free citizens, or sons of free-born citizens. It must, therefore, have been among them that hatred of their conditions of life was still generally vigorous, though externally powerless. We shall find that the type of ideologists at the time corresponded to this state of affairs. The philosophers were either mere money-earning schoolmasters or buffoons in the pay of wealthy revellers. Some were even slaves. An example of what became of them under good conditions is supplied by Seneca. This stoic and preacher of virtue and abstinence was Nero's first court intriguer, which he could not have been without servility; he secured from him presents in money, properties, gardens, and palaces and while he preached the poor man Lazarus of the Gospel, he was, in reality, the rich man of the same parable. Not until Nero wanted to get at him did he request the emperor to take back all his presents, his philosophy being enough for him. Only completely isolated philosophers, like Persius, had the courage to brandish the lash of satire over their degenerated contemporaries. But, as for the second type of ideologists, the jurists, they were enthusiastic over the new conditions because the abolition of all differences between Estates allowed them broad scope in the elaboration of their favorite private right, in return for which they prepared for the emperor the vilest state system of right that ever existed. With the political and social peculiarities of the various peoples, the Roman Empire also doomed to ruin their particular religions. All religions of antiquity were spontaneous tribal, and later national, religions, which arose from and merged with the social and political conditions of the respective peoples. Once these, their bases, were disrupted, and their traditional forms of society, their inherited political institutions and their national independence shattered, the religion corresponding to these also naturally collapsed. The national gods could suffer other gods beside them, as was the general rule of antiquity, but not above them. The transplanting of Oriental divinities to Rome was harmful only to the Roman religion, it could not check the decay of the Oriental religions. As soon as the national gods were unable to protect the independence of their nation, they met their own destruction. This was the case everywhere (except with peasants, especially in the mountains). What vulgar philosophical enlightenment I almost said Voltairianism did in Rome and Greece, was done in the provinces by Roman oppression and the replacing of men proud of their freedom by desperate subjects and self-seeking ragamuffins. Such was the material and moral situation. The present was unbearable, the future still more menacing, if possible. There was no way out. Only despair or refuge in the commonest sensuous pleasure, for those who could afford it at least, and they were a tiny minority. Otherwise, nothing but surrender to the inevitable. But, in all classes there was necessarily a number of people who, despairing of material salvation, sought in its stead a spiritual salvation, a consolation in their consciousness to save them from utter despair. This consolation could not be provided by the stoics any more than by the Epicurean school, for the very reason that these philosophers were not intended for common consciousness and, secondly, because the conduct of disciples of the schools cast discredit on their doctrines. The consolation was to be a substitute, not for the lost philosophy, but for the lost religion; it had to take on a religious form, the same as anything which had to grip the masses both then and as late as the 17th century. We hardly need to note that the majority of those who were pining for such consolation of their consciousness, for this flight from the external world into the internal, were necessarily among the slaves. It was in the midst of this general economic, political, intellectual, and moral decadence that Christianity appeared. It entered into a resolute antithesis to all previous religions. In all previous religions, ritual had been the main thing. Only by taking part in the sacrifices and processions, and in the Orient by observing the most detailed diet and cleanliness precepts, could one show to what religion one belonged. While Rome and Greece were tolerant in the last respect, there was in the Orient a rage for religious prohibitions that contributed no little to the final downfall. People of two different religions (Egyptians, Persians, Jews, Chaldeans) could not eat or drink together, perform any every-day act together, or hardly speak to each other. It was largely due to this segregation of man from man that the Orient collapsed. Christianity knew no distinctive ceremonies, not even the sacrifices and processions of the classic world. By thus rejecting all national religions and their common ceremonies, and addressing itself to all peoples without distinction, it became the first possible world religion. Judaism, too, with its new universal god, had made a start on the way to becoming a universal religion; but the children of Israel always remained an aristocracy among the believers and the circumcised, and Christianity itself had to get rid of the notion of the superiority of the Jewish Christians (still dominant in the so-called Book of Revelation of John) before it could really become a universal religion. Islam, itself, on the other hand, by preserving its specifically Oriental ritual, limited the area of its propagation to the Orient and North Africa, conquered and populated anew by Arab Bedouins; here it could become the dominating religion, but not in the West. Secondly, Christianity struck a chord that was bound to echo in countless hearts. To all complaints about the wickedness of the times and the general material and moral distress, Christian consciousness of sin answered: It is so and it cannot be otherwise; thou art in blame, ye are all to blame for the corruption of the world, thine and your own internal corruption! And where was the man who could deny it? Mea culpa! The admission of each one's share in the responsibility for the general unhappiness was irrefutable and was made the precondition for the spiritual salvation which Christianity at the same time announced. And this spiritual salvation was so instituted that it could be easily understood by members of every old religious community. The idea of atonement to placate the offended deity was current in all the old religions; how could the idea of self-sacrifice of the mediator atoning once for all for the sins of humanity not easily find ground there? Christianity, therefore, clearly expressed the universal feeling that men themselves are guilty of the general corruption as the consciousness of sin of each one; at the same time, it provided, in the death-sacrifice of his judge, a form of the universally longed-for internal salvation from the corrupt world, the consolation of consciousness; it thus again proved its capacity to become a world religion and, indeed, a religion which suited the world as it then was. So it happened that, among the thousands of prophets and preachers in the desert that filled that period of countless religious novations, the founders of Christianity alone met with success. Not only Palestine, but the entire Orient swarmed with such founders of religions, and between them there raged what can be called a Darwinian struggle for ideological existence. Thanks mainly to the elements mentioned above, Christianity won the day. How it gradually developed its character of world religion by natural selection in the struggle of sects against one another and against the pagan world is taught in detail by the history of the Church in the first three centuries.

Bruno Bauer and Early Christianity

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1882/05/bauer.htm

The song given above is probably the only political folk song remaining popular in England for more than a hundred and sixty years. It owes this in great measure also to its wonderful tune, which is still sung widely today.

Works of Frederick Engels 1882

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1882/09/07.htm

We have no idea what became of this early Paleolithic man. None of the present-day races in any of the areas where he existed, even in India, can be considered as descending from him. The implements of this extinct race have been discovered in the caves of England, France, Switzerland, Belgium, and Southern Germany, mostly in the undermost layers of soil deposit. Above this lowest level of culture, frequently separated from it by a thick or thin layer of stalactite, is a second layer containing implements. Belonging to a later period, these are far more skilfully crafted and made of various materials. True, the stone implements are not polished, but they are designed and executed so as to be more expedient. Next to these we discover spear- and arrow-heads of stone, reindeer antlers and bones, daggers and sewing needles made from bones or antlers, as well as necklaces made of bored animal s teeth, etc. Some implements bear vivid drawings of animals reindeers, mammoths, aurochs, seals, whales and hunting scenes with figures of naked men, even the beginnings of sculpture in horn. Early Paleolithic man occurred together with animals of largely southern origin, while late Paleolithic man existed alongside animals of northern origin: two extant species of northern bears, the polar fox, the glutton, the snow owl. Late Paleolithic. man probably moved down from the north-east together with these animals. The Eskimoes are probably his last surviving descendants. The implements of both cultures correspond fully not only in isolated instances, but as a totality. The same is true of the drawings. Both derived their sustenance from nearly the same animals, and the mode of life of the extinct race, insofar as we can ascertain it, was absolutely the same.

Marx Engels on Art and Literature

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1882/early-german-history/dawn-civilisation.htm

We are even more astounded by the state of industry itself. The fine woven fabrics, delicate sandals, and well crafted saddler s goods indicate a far higher level of culture than that of the Tacitean Germans. Particularly amazing are the indigenous articles of metal. Comparative philology proves that the Germans brought the knowledge of metals with them from their Asian homeland. Perhaps they also knew how to extract and work metal, but it is hardly likely that they still had this knowledge at the time when they clashed with the Romans. At least there is no indication in the writings of the first century that between the Rhine and the Elbe iron or bronze were being produced and worked; rather there is evidence to the contrary. Tacitus, it is true, mentions that the Goths (in Upper Silesia?) mined iron, and Ptolemy ascribes ironworks to the neighbouring Quades; in both cases, the knowledge of smelting could have been re-acquired from the shores of the Danube. Finds attested through coins as belonging to the first century include no indigenous metal products, only Roman. Why should all these Roman metal articles have been brought to Germany if there had been indigenous metalworking? One does find old casting moulds, unfinished castings, and scraps of bronze in Germany, but these are never accompanied by coins which could indicate their age; in all probability they are from pre-Germanic times, left by nomadic Etruscan bronze founders. Besides it is pointless to ask whether the immigrating Germans had entirely lost the art of metal-working; all facts, indicate that in the first century metal-working was practically non-existent among them. But here the Taschberg bog finds again reveal an unexpectedly high level of the indigenous metal industry. Here are buckles, decorative metal plates engraved with heads of men and animals, a silver helmet covering the whole face, except for eyes, nose and mouth, chain mail of woven wire, demanding an extraordinary amount of labour, for the wire had to be hammered out first (wire-drawing was invented only in 1306), h gold head band, not to mention other artifacts which might not be of local origin. These objects are similar to others found in the Nydam bog, in a bog on Funen, and lastly to a find made in Bohemia (Horovice), also in the early sixties: magnificent bronze disks with human heads, buckles, clasps, etc., all similar to those found at Taschberg, and accordingly all from the same period. From the third century on, the metal industry, steadily improving, must have spread over the whole territory of Germany; by the time of the migration of peoples, say towards the end of the fifth century, it had reached a comparatively advanced stage. Not only iron and bronze, but gold and silver were regularly worked. Gold bracteates, modelled on Roman coins, were minted, and base metals gilded; one also comes across inlaid work, enamels, and filigree. An awkward form is often decorated with highly tasteful and artistic designs, only partially based on Roman work. This is mainly true of buckles, clasps and brooches which have certain characteristic forms in common. In the British Museum, clasps from Kerch, on the Sea of Azov, are exhibited together With similar clasps found in England, which could have come from the same metal-works. The style of such work, despite the often substantial local peculiarities, is essentially uniform from Sweden to the lower Danube, and from the Black Sea to France and England. This first period of German metal industry on the continent ceases with the cessation of the migration of peoples and with the general acceptance of Christianity. In England and Scandinavia, it continues for somewhat longer. The wide extension of this industry among the Germans in the sixth and seventh centuries and its distinction as a special branch of industry is attested in various codes of law. There are numerous references to blacksmiths, sword makers and gold- and silver-smiths even in the Alamannian statutes and even to publicly attested ones (publice probati). Bavarian law punishes theft from a church, ducal palace, smithy, or mill more severely, for these four buildings are public and remain open at all times. According to Frisian law, recompense for the murder of a goldsmith was 25 per cent higher than for others of the same social standing. Salic law values an ordinary serf at 12 solidi, but a blacksmith-serf (faber) at 35 solidi.

Marx Engels on Art and Literature

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1882/early-german-history/germanic-culture.htm

... We were greatly interested in the reports about the happenings among the leaders in Germany. I never concealed the fact that in my opinion the masses in Germany are much better than the gentlemen in the leadership, especially since the party, thanks to the press and agitation, has become a milch cow for them, providing butter, and now Bismarck and the bourgeoisie have all of a sudden butchered that cow. The thousand people who thereby immediately lost their livelihoods had the personal misfortune of not being placed directly into the position of revolutionaries, that is, sent into exile. Otherwise very many of those who are now bemoaning their lot would have gone over to Most s camp or at any rate would find the Sozialdemokrat much too tame. Most of those people remained in Germany and had to, went to rather reactionary places, remained socially ostracised, dependent for their living on philistines, and a great number of them were themselves contaminated by philistinism. Soon they pinned all their hopes on a repeal of the Anti-Socialist Law. No wonder that under pressure of philistinism the idea, which is really absurd, took hold of them that this could be attained by meekness. Germany is an execrable country for people with scant will-power. The narrowness and pettiness of civil as well as political relations, the small-town character of even the big cities, the small but constantly increasing vexations encountered in the struggle with police and bureaucracy all this is exhausting and does not spur on to resistance, and thus in this great children s nursery many become children themselves. Petty relations beget petty views, so that it takes great intelligence and energy for anyone living in Germany to be able to see beyond his immediate environment, to keep one s eye upon the great interconnection of world events and not to lapse into that self-complacent objectivity which sees no further than its nose and precisely for that reason amounts to the most narrow-minded subjectivity even when it is shared by thousands of such subjects. But no matter how natural may be the rise of this trend, which covers up its lack of insight and power of resistance with objective supersapience, it must be resolutely fought. And here the masses of workers furnish the best pillar of support. They alone live in Germany under more or less modern conditions; all their minor and major afflictions centre in the oppression emanating from capital, and whereas all other struggles in Germany, social as well as political, are petty and paltry and concern mere trifles which elsewhere have been settled long ago, their struggle is the only one being fought magnificently, the only one that is up to the mark of the times, the only one that does not exhaust the fighters but provides them with ever new energy...

Letters: Karl Marx and Frederick Engels, Selected Correspondence 1882

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1882/letters/82_01_25.htm

One of the real tasks of the Revolution of 1848 and the real, and not illusory tasks of a revolution are always solved as a consequence of this revolution was the constitution of the suppressed and scattered nationalities of Central Europe, provided they were at all viable and provided especially that they were ripe for independence. This task was accomplished by the executors of the revolution, Bonaparte, Cavour and Bismarck for Italy, Hungary and Germany in accordance with the then prevailing conditions. There remained Ireland and Poland. We may leave Ireland out of consideration here, since it affects the situation on the European continent only very indirectly. But Poland is situated in the centre of the continent, and the maintenance of its partition is the very tie which binds the Holy Alliance together again and again. We have, therefore, great interest in Poland. It is historically impossible for a great people even to discuss internal problems of any kind seriously, as long as it lacks national independence. Before 1859, there was no question of socialism in Italy; even the number of Republicans was small, although they formed the most active element. Only after 1861 the Republicans increased in influence and later transferred their best elements to the Socialists. The same was true in Germany. Lassalle was at the point of giving up his work as a failure, when he had the fortune of being shot. Only when in the year 1866 the greater Prussian unity of petty Germany [die grosspreussische Einheit Kleindeutschlands ed] had been actually decided, the Lassallean, as well as the so-called Eisenach parties assumed some importance. And only after 1870 when the Bonapartist appetite of intervention had been removed definitively the thing got really going. If we still had the old Bundestag, where would be our Party? The same happened in Hungary. Only after 1860 it was drawn into the modern movement: fraud on top, socialism below. An international movement of the proletariat is possible only among independent nations. The little bit of republican internationalism between 1830 and 1848, was grouped around France which was destined to free Europe. Hence it increased French chauvinism in such a way as to cause the world-liberating mission of France and with it France s native right to be in the lead to get in our way every day even now. (The Blanquists present a caricature of this view, but it is still very strong also among Malon and company.) Also in the International the Frenchmen considered this point of view as fairly obvious. Only historical events could teach them and several others also and still must teach them daily that international cooperation is possible only among equals, and even a primus inter pares can exist at best for immediate action. So long as Poland is partitioned and subjugated, therefore, neither a strong socialist party can develop in the country itself, nor can there arise real international intercourse between the proletarian parties in Germany, etc, with other than migr Poles. Every Polish peasant or worker who wakes up from the general gloom and participates in the common interest, encounters first the fact of national subjugation. This fact is in his way everywhere as the first barrier. To remove it is the basic condition of every healthy and free development. Polish socialists who do not place the liberation of their country at the head of their programme, appear to me as would German socialists who do not demand first and foremost repeal of the socialist law, freedom of the press, association and assembly. In order to be able to fight one needs first a soil to stand on, air, light and space. Otherwise all is idle chatter. It is unimportant whether a reconstitution of Poland is possible before the next revolution. We have in no case the task to deter the Poles from their efforts to fight for the vital conditions of their future development, or to persuade them that national independence is a very secondary matter from the international point of view. On the contrary, independence is the basis of any common international action. Moreover in 1873 a war between Germany and Russia was at the point of breaking out, and the constitution of some kind of a Polish state, which could form the core of a later real one, very much within the realm of possibility. And if my lords, the Russians, do not stop soon their Panslavist intrigues and agitation in Herzegovina, they may be drawn into a war which will put to shame their own, Austria s and Bismarck s worst fears. Only the Russian Panslavist party and the Tsar have an interest to let the matter in Herzegovina become serious. We can have as little interest in the gang of Bosnian robbers as in the stupid Austrian ministers and bureaucrats who are now making so much noise there. Thus even without revolution, merely through a European collision the constitution of an independent Poland proper [Kleinpolen ed] would not be so far from possible, just as the Prussian Germany proper [Kleindeutschland ed] which was invented by the bourgeois was not reached by way of the revolutionary or parliamentary path of their dream, but as a result of war. Thus I hold the view that there are two nations in Europe which do not only have the right but the duty to be nationalistic before they become internationalists: the Irish and the Poles. They are internationalists of the best kind if they are very nationalistic. The Poles have understood this in all crises and have proved it on the battlefields of all revolutions. Take away their expectation to re-establish Poland; or persuade them that the new Poland will soon fall into their laps by itself, and they are finished with their interest in the European Revolution. We, in particular, have no reason whatever to block their irrefutable striving for independence. In the first place, they have invented and applied in 1863 the method of fighting which the Russians are now imitating with such great success (see Berlin und Petersburg, appendix 2); and secondly they were the only reliable and capable lieutenants in the Paris Commune. Who are, by the way, the people who fight against the nationalist strivings of the Poles? Firstly the European bourgeois with whom the Poles have lost all credit since the insurrection of 1846 with its socialist tendencies; and secondly the Russian Panslavists and people influenced by them, such as Proudhon who looked through the coloured glasses of Herzen. Among the Russians, even the best, there are today only very few who are free from Panslavist leanings or memories. They are so firmly convinced of the Panslavist mission of Russia, as the French are of the innate revolutionary initiative of France. But in truth Panslavism is a smokescreen for world dominion, appearing in the cloak of a non-existent Slavic nationality, and therefore our, as well as the Russian people s, worst enemy. This smokescreen will go up in thin air in its day, but in the meantime it may become very unpleasant for us. A Panslavist war, as the last sheet-anchor of Russian Tsarism and Russian reaction, is being prepared at this very moment. It is very questionable whether it will come off, but if war breaks out one thing is certain: the splendidly progressing development in a revolutionary direction in Germany, Austria and even Russia, will become totally deranged and will be pushed onto another, at first unpredictable, path. At best we lose three to ten years, a respite for a constitutional new era in Germany, and perhaps also in Russia. The most probable outcome seems to be the establishment of a small Polish state [Kleinpolen ed] under German hegemony, a war of revenge with France, a renewal of national antagonisms, and finally the establishment of a new Holy Alliance. Thus, Panslavism is now, more than ever before, our most deadly enemy, even though it is on the brink of its grave, or rather just because of this. For the Katkoff, Aksakoff, Ignatieff and company know this one thing: that their rule is forever finished, as soon as Tsarism is overthrown and the Russian people takes the centre of the stage. Hence this fiery zeal for war, at a time when the public exchequer is negative and when no banker is willing to loan even a penny to the Russian government. This is the reason why all Panslavists carry such a deadly hatred for the Poles. They are the only anti-Panslavist Slavs. Hence they are traitors to the sacred cause of Slavdom and they must be fitted by force into the Greater Slavic realm of the Tsar, the future capital of which is Tsarigrad, that is, Constantinople. Now you, may ask me, whether I have no sympathy whatever for the small Slavic peoples, and remnants of peoples, which have been severed asunder by the three wedges driven in the flesh of Slavdom: the Germans, Magyars and Turks? In fact I have damned little sympathy for them. The Czecho-Slovak cry of distress Boze ak jus nikto nenj na zemi ktoby Slavom [sic] spraviedlivost cinil? ['Is there, oh God, no man on earth who will render the Slavs their due? ed] is answered from Petersburg, and the entire Czech national movement tends in a direction in which the Tsar will spraviedlivost ciniti [render them their due ed]. The same with the others, Serbs, Bulgarians, Slovenes, Galician Ruthenes (at least in part). But we cannot stand for these aims. Only when with the collapse of Tsarism the nationalist ambitions of these dwarfs of peoples will be freed from association with Panslavist tendencies of world domination, only then we can let them take their fate in their own hands. And I am certain that six months of independence will suffice for most Austro-Hungarian Slavs to bring them to a point where they will beg to be readmitted. But these tiny nations can never be granted the right, which they now assign to themselves in Serbia, Bulgaria and Eastern Rumelia, to prevent the extension of the European railroad net to Constantinople. As concerns the differences between the Poles in Switzerland, those are quarrels between migr s, which are rarely of importance, and least so among an migr group which in three years will celebrate its hundredth anniversary, and among which, with the impulse of all migr s to do, or at least to plan something new, one plan has followed another, one allegedly new theory has replaced another. From what I have already said, it becomes clear that we do not share the views of the people associated with R wnosc and we have told them this in a declaration on the occasion of the celebration of the fiftieth anniversary of 29 November 1830, which was read at the Geneva meeting. You find this declaration printed in Polish in the Report of the meeting (Sprawozdanie z miedzynarodowego zebrania zwolanego w 50 letnia rocznice listopadowego powstania przez redakcje R wnosci w Genewie, Biblijoteka R wnosc: Nr 1, Geneva, 1881, pp 30 ff). It appears that the R wnosc group has been impressed by the radically sounding phrases of the Geneva Russians, and now want to prove also that the reproach of chauvinist nationalism does not touch them. This deviation founded on purely local and passing causes will play itself out without much effect in Poland itself and does not deserve to be refuted in detail. By the way, we do not take any position at this time on any future settlement between the Poles and the Lithuanians, Byelorussians and Ukrainians of the old [greater] Poland, nor on the frontier settlement with Germany. The splendid cooperation among German and Czech workers in Bohemia proves, moreover, how little the workers themselves in the allegedly subjugated countries are infected by the Panslavist appetites of the professors and bourgeois.

Marx-Engels Correspondenc: Nationalism, Internationalism and the Polish Question by Frederick Engels 1882

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1882/letters/82_02_07.htm

I am availing myself of an afternoon that has set in to write to you. As regards the Virgin Mary-Isis, this is a detail into which I would be unable to enter if only because of space, Mariolatry however belonging like all hagiolatry to a far later period than the one considered by me (a time when priestly calculation in the realm of the saints reproduced for the polytheistic peasant people its many tutelary gods), and finally the derivation would have to be proved historically too, for which special studies are required. Likewise with the halo and moonshine. As for the rest, the Cult of Isis was part of the state religion in the imperial days in Rome. Bimetallism. The main thing is that we, particularly after the ghastly boasting and bragging of many leaders about the economic superiority of our party over the bourgeois, something for which these same gentlemen are totally blameless-that we must be on our guard against laying ourselves open to such economic attacks, as these same gentlemen do so unceremoniously the minute they believe they can thereby flatter a certain type of worker, obtain an election victory or some other advantage. Just because silver is extracted in Saxony, they believe it is necessary to go in for the double standard swindle. In order to gain a couple of voters, our party is supposed to make itself awfully ridiculous in the field where its strength certainly ought to lie! But that s what our Messrs. literati are. Just like the bourgeois literati they believe they have the privilege of learning nothing and of arguing about everything. They have concocted a literature for us which seeks its equal in economic ignorance, new-fangled utopianism and arrogance, and which Bismarck did us a great favor to interdict. In the question of the double standard it is not a question today so much of the double standard in general as of a specific double standard in the ratio gold to silver as 15 :1. This, then, to be singled out. The double standard is rendered more impossible every day by the fact that the value relationship of gold and silver, formerly at least approximately constant and changing only slowly, is now subjected to daily and violent fluctuations, and first of all in the direction that silver falls in value as a result of the immensely increasing production, especially in North America. The exhaustion of gold is an invention of the silver barons. But be the reason for the change in the value what it will, the fact remains, and that is above all what we have to deal with. Silver loses more and more each day the capacity of serving as a measure of value, gold retains it. The value relationship of the two is now around 17 :1. The silver people, however, want once more to dictate to the world the old relationship of 15 :1 and that is just as impossible as to maintain constantly and generally machine-spun yarn and fabrics at the price of hand-woven yarn and fabrics. The coiner s die does not determine the value of coins, it guarantees the recipient only weight and alloy, it can never transfer to 15 pounds of silver the value of 17 . All this is so clearly and exhaustively dealt with in Capital, chapter on money (chapter 3, pp. 72 to 120) that there is nothing more to say about it. For material with regard to the latest fluctuations, cf. Soetbeer:Edelmetall, Production und Wertverh ltnis, etc. (Gotha, Perthes, 1879). Soetbeer is a first-rate authority in this field and the father of German coin reform he advocated the Mark of one-third of a Taler even before 1840. So then:if silver is coined at 15 pfennig = 1 pfennig gold, then it flows back into the state coffers, everybody tries to get rid of it. That was the experience of the United States with its silver dollar coined with the old content, which is worth only ninety cents, and likewise Bismarck, when he tried to put into circulation again by force the withdrawn silver Talers which had been replaced by gold. Mr. Bank President Dechend imagines it possible by means of the double standard to pay off Germany s debts abroad in bad silver instead of full-valued gold, and thus avert every gold crisis, which would certainly be very convenient for the Reichsbank [Federal Bank] if it would only work. But the only upshot of the whole thing is that Mr. Dechend himself demonstrates that he is totally incompetent to be bank president and belongs much rather on the school bench than on the Reichsbank. The Prussian Junker would, to be sure, be likewise happy if he were able to pay back or pay interest in silver at 15 :1. And as this would have to be settled at home, such a bamboozling of the creditors by the debtors would certainly be workable-if the nobility could only find people to feed it silver d 17 :1 so that it might pay back at 15 :1. For his own means do not permit him the repayment. But he did have to take his silver at 15 and so everything remained for him as of old. Insofar as the German silver production is concerned, the extraction from German ore takes on a slighter position every year by the side of the (Rhenish) extraction from South American ore. 1876 total production in Germany:about 280,000 pounds, of which 58,000 out of South American ore, since then increasing even higher. That the forcing down of silver to small change must still more reduce the value of silver, is clear; the consumption of silver for other purposes is trifling compared with its consumption for money, and therefore it does not increase because demonetization calls more silver on the market. That England will ever introduce the double standard, is not to be thought of. No country which has the gold standard can now introduce the double standard again for any length of time. A general double standard is moreover already a general impossibility. If everybody were to agree that silver today is once more to have the value of 15 :1, they cannot alter the fact that it is worth only 17 :1, and there is absolutely nothing to be done about it. You could just as well adopt a decision that 2 x 2 should be 5. Bamberger did us any number of services in our first period of exile, he was a very decent and obliging man, the secretary of Karl von Braunschweig. Afterwards we lost sight of him. Best greetings.

Letters: Marx-Engels Correspondence 1882

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1882/letters/82_03_10.htm

I thank you for the pamphlet you have sent me and am very glad that glorious old Tom Spence has been brought out again[A]. I shall be very glad to make your personal acquantaince as soon as you shall have set yourself right with my friend Marx whom I see you can now afford to quote[B]. Yours truly

Letters: Marx-Engels Correspondence 1882

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1882/letters/82_03_13.htm

Gladstone has discredited himself terribly. His whole Irish policy has suffered shipwreck. He has to drop Forster and the Lord Lieutenant of Ireland, Cowper-Temple (whose stepfather is Palmerston), and must say a pater peccavi[A]: The Irish M.P.s[B] have been set free, the Coercion Bill has not been extended, the back rents of the farmers are to be partly cancelled and partly taken over by the state against fair amortisation. On the other hand the Tories have already reached the stage where they want to save whatever can still be saved: before the farmers take the land they should redeem the rents with the aid of the state, according to the Prussian model, so that the landowners may get at least something! The Irish are teaching our leisurely John Bull to get a move on. That s what comes from shooting!

Letters: Marx-Engels Correspondence 1882. Ireland

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1882/letters/82_05_03.htm

Dear Sorge: ... Marx was in Algiers for about two months, where he suffered a relapse of pleurisy, as I think I wrote you. After this was cured, he went to Monte Carlo in Monaco, and suffered another, but this time a mild one. From there he went to Paris about three weeks ago, and is now with his daughter, Mrs. Longuet, in Argenteuil near Paris, travelling to Enghien every day to take the sulphur springs there for his chronic bronchial catarrh and cough. His general health is very good; as for his further movements, they depend entirely upon the doctors. The English translation of the Manifesto sent us is quite unprintable without complete revision. But you will understand that this is out of the question under the present circumstances. I have heard nothing of Leo for months. He is a queer chap who must be allowed to go his own way. I haven t even his address. Apropos, for some time past I have been receiving communications for Leo from Dr. Lilienthal in New York, which I can transmit only via Paris. Who is this Lilienthal? The presumption of the Lassalleans after their arrival in America was inevitable. People who carried the only true gospel with them in their bag could not speak unpretentiously to the Americans, still languishing in spiritual darkness. What was at stake, moreover, was finding a new footing in America to take the place of the one that was disappearing more and more under their feet in Germany. To make up for it we are happily rid of them in Germany; in America, where everything proceeds ten times as fast, they will soon be disposed of. I trust your eyes get better through your resting them. I also had trouble with them once and know what an infamous business it is. In Germany things are going ahead excellently on the whole. To be sure, the literati of the party have tried to effect a turn towards the reactionary, tame-bourgeois, educated, but this failed utterly. The infamies to which the Social Democratic workers are subjected everywhere have made them much more revolutionary everywhere than they were even three years ago. You will have read the details in the Sozialdemokrat. Of the leaders, Bebel is the one who has behaved best in this affair again. Liebknecht wavered somewhat, since not only does he welcome every, even halfway so-called democratic, eddicated man with open arms and without looking him over carefully, but his son-in-law, the fat sleepyhead Bruno Geiser, is one of the biggest whiners. These people would like to beg off the Socialist Law at any price, by mildness, meekness, toadying and tameness, because it makes short work of their literary earnings. As soon as the law is abolished (even the bourgeois do not count upon its prolongation by the present Reichstag or any other possible Reichstag, because it has proved to be totally ineffective), the split will probably become an open one, and the Vierecks, Hochbergs, Geisers, Blos and Co. will form a separate Right wing, where we can negotiate with them from case to case until they finally collapse altogether. We said this immediately after the passage of the Socialist Law, when Hochberg and Schramm published in the Jahrbuch what was under the circumstances a quite infamous estimate of the party s activity up to that time, and demanded of the party more eddicated, respectable, parlor-dress manners. Regards to Adolph; he hasn t let me hear from him. Best regards, Tell Adolph that Pumps has a little girl.

Letters: Letters of Marx and Engels from Science and Society

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1882/letters/82_06_20.htm

Soon after the establishment of the Union (1800), began the liberal-national opposition of the urban bourgeoisie which, as in every peasant country with dwindling townlets (for example, Denmark), finds its natural leaders in lawyers. These also need the peasants; they therefore had to find a slogan to attract the peasants. Thus O Connell discovered such a slogan first in the Catholic emancipation, and then in the Repeal of the Union. Because of the infamy of the landowners, this trend has recently had to adopt a new course. While in the social field the Land League pursues more revolutionary aims (which are achievable in Ireland) the total removal of the intruder landlords it acts rather tamely in political respects and demands only Home Rule, that is, an Irish local Parliament side by side with the British Parliament and subordinated to it. This too can be achieved by constitutional means. The frightened landlords are already clamouring for the quickest possible redemption of the peasant land (suggested by the Tories themselves) in order to save what can still be saved. On the other hand, Gladstone declares that greater self-government for Ireland is quite admissible. After the American Civil War, Fenianism took its place beside these two trends. The hundreds of thousands of Irish soldiers and officers, who fought in the war, did so with the ulterior motive of building up an army for the liberation of Ireland. The controversies between America and England after the war became the main lever of the Fenians. Had it come to a war, Ireland would in a few months have been part of the United States or at least a republic under its protection. The sum which England so willingly undertook to pay, and did indeed pay in accordance with Geneva arbitrators decision on the Alabama affair , was the price she paid to buy off American intervention in Ireland. From this moment the main danger had been removed. The police was strong enough to deal with the Fenians. The treachery inevitable in any conspiracy also helped, and yet it was only leaders who were traitors and then became downright spies and false witnesses. The leaders who got away to America engaged there in emigrant revolution and most of them were reduced to beggary, like O Donovan Rossa. For those who saw the European emigration of 1849-52 here, everything seems very familiar only naturally on the exaggerated American scale. Many Fenians have doubtless now returned and restored the old armed organisation. They form an important element in the movement and force the Liberals to more decisive action. But, apart from that, they cannot do anything but scare John Bull. Though he grows noticeably weaker on the outskirts of his Empire, he can still easily suppress any Irish rebellion so close to home. In the first place, in Ireland there are 14,000 men of the Constabulary, gendarmes, who are armed with rifles and bayonets and have undergone military training. Besides, there are about 80,000 regulars, who can easily be reinforced with an equal number of regulars and English militia. In addition, the Navy. And John Bull is known for his matchless brutality in suppressing rebellions. Without war or the threat of war from without, an Irish rebellion has not the slightest chance; and only two powers can become dangerous in this respect: France and, still far more, the United States. France is out of the question. In America the parties flirt with the Irish electorate, make promises but do not keep them. They have no intention of getting involved in a war because of Ireland. They are even interested in having conditions in Ireland that promote a massive Irish emigration to America. And it is understandable that a land which in twenty years will be the most populated, richest and most powerful in the world has no special desire to rush headlong into adventures which could and would hamper its enormous internal development. In twenty years it will speak in a very different way. However, if there should be danger of war with America, England would grant the Irish open-handedly everything they asked for only not complete independence, which is not at all desirable owing to the geographical position. Therefore all that is left to Ireland is the constitutional way of gradually conquering one position after the other; and here the mysterious background of a Fenian armed conspiracy can remain a very effective element. But these Fenians are themselves increasingly being pushed into a sort of Bakuninism: the assassination of Burke and Cavendish could only serve the purpose of making a compromise between the Land League and Gladstone impossible. However that compromise was the best thing that could have happened to Ireland under the circumstances. The landlords are evicting tens of thousands of tenants from their houses and homes because of rent arrears, and that under military protection. The primary need at the moment is to stop this systematic depopulation of Ireland (the evicted starve to death or have to emigrate to America). Gladstone is ready to table a bill according to which arrears would be paid in the same way as feudal taxes were settled in Austria in 1848: a third by the peasant and a third by the state, and the other third forfeited by the landlord. That suggestion was made by the Land League itself. Thus the heroic deed in Phoenix Park appears if not as pure stupidity, then at least as pure Bakuninist bragging, purposeless propagande par le fait. If it has not had the same consequences as the similar silly actions of H del and Nobiling, it is only because Ireland lies not quite in Prussia. It should therefore be left to the Bakuninists and Mostians to attach equal importance to this childishness and to the assassination of Alexander II, and to threaten with an Irish revolution which never comes. One more thing should be thoroughly noted about Ireland: never praise a single Irishman a politician unreservedly, and never identify yourself with him before he is dead. Celtic blood and the customary exploitation of the peasant (all the educated social layers in Ireland, especially the lawyers, live by this alone) make Irish politicians very responsive to corruption. O Connell let the peasants pay him as much as 80,000 a year for his agitation. In connection with the Union, for which England paid out 1,000,000 in bribes, one of those bribed was reproached: You have sold your motherland. Reply: Yes, and I was damned glad to have a motherland to sell.

Letters: Marx-Engels Correspondence 1882. Ireland

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1882/letters/82_06_26.htm

The business in Egypt has been contrived by Russian diplomacy. Gladstone is to take Egypt (which he has not got yet by a long way and if he had it he would still be a long way from keeping it) in order that Russia may take Armenia, which according to Gladstone would be a further liberation of a Christian country from the Mohammedan yoke. Everything else about the affair is a sham, humbug, pretext. Whether the humbug will succeed will soon be seen.

Letters: Marx-Engels Correspondence 1882

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1882/letters/82_09_12.htm

I have long been wanting to write to you about French affairs but have only now found time to do it. The good part about it is that now I can kill two birds with one stone. 1. St- tienne: In spite of the well-meant advice of the Belgians the inevitable has happened, the irreconcilable elements have separated. And that s good. In the beginning, when the parti ouvrier was founded, all elements had to be admitted who accepted the programme, if they did so with secret reservations that was bound to show later on. We here were never mistaken about Malon and Brousse. Both of them had been trained in the school of Bakuninist intrigues. Malon was even an accomplice of Bakunin s in setting up the secret Alliance (he was one of the 17 founder members). But after all they had to be given a chance to show whether they had shed the Bakuninist practice together with the Bakuninist theory. The course of events has shown that they adopted the programme (and adulterated it Malon introduced several changes that made it worse) with the secret intention of disrupting it. What had been begun at Rheims and Paris was finished at St- tienne. The programme has been shorn of its proletarian class character. The communist preamble of 1880 has been replaced by the Rules of the International of 1866, which had to be framed so broadly just because the French Proudhonists were so backward, and it was all the same necessary not to exclude them. The positive demands of the programme have been abolished as every locality is given the right to draw up a special programme for any special purpose any time it chooses. The so-called St- tienne party is not only no workers party but no party whatever because in actual fact it has no programme. At most it is a Malon Brousse party. The strongest objection which the two were able to make against the old programme was that it repelled more people than it attracted. This has now been remedied: neither Proudhonists nor Radicals have any longer any ground to remain outside, and if Malon & Co had their way the revolutionary hash , which Vollmar complains about, would be the official pronouncement of the French proletariat. In all Latin countries (and perhaps also elsewhere) great laxity has always prevailed with regard to credentials for Congressional seats. Many of them could hardly stand the light of day. So long as this was not overdone and as long as only matters of secondary importance were involved little damage resulted. But only the Bakuninists made this practice the rule (first in the Jura), they made a regular business out of the fraudulent procurement of seats and sought in that way to get to the top. The same thing has happened now in St- tienne. In general all the old Bakuninist tactics, which justify any means lies, calumniation, secret cliquishness dominated the preparations for the Congress. That is the only trade in which Brousse is proficient. People forget that practices which may be successful in small sections and in a small area such as the Jura, are when applied to a real workers party of a big country bound to destroy those who apply such methods and stratagems. The sham victory at St- tienne will not last long and the end of Malon and Brousse will certainly come soon. It seems that every workers party of a big country can develop only through internal struggle, which accords with the laws of dialectical development in general. The German party became what it is in the struggle between the Eisenachers and Lassalleans where fighting played a major role. Unity became possible only when the bunch of scoundrels that had been deliberately trained by Lassalle to be his tools had outlived their day, and even then it was brought about by us much too hastily. In France the people who, although they have sacrificed the Bakuninist theory, continue to employ Bakuninist means of struggle, and who at the same time want to sacrifice the class character of the movement to further their special ends, must also first outlive their usefulness before unity is possible again. To preach unity under such circumstances would be sheer folly. Moral sermons avail nothing against infantile disorders, which are after all unavoidable under present-day circumstances. By the way, the Roanne people too stand in need of constant and severe criticism. They are too often carried away by revolutionary phrases and an impotent urge for action...

Letters: Karl Marx and Frederick Engels, Selected Correspondence 1882

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1882/letters/82_10_20.htm

I read [Vollmar's] second article rather hurriedly, with two or three people talking the whole time. Otherwise the way he represents the French Revolution to himself would have led me to detect the French influence and with it my Vollmar too, no doubt. You have perceived this side quite correctly. He at last is the dreamed-of realisation of the phrase about the "one reactionary mass." All the official parties united in one lump here, all the Socialists in one column there--great decisive battle. Victory all along the line at one blow. In real life things do not happen so simply. In real life, as you also remark, the revolution begins the other way round by the great majority of the people and also of the official parties massing themselves together against the government, which is thereby isolated, and overthrowing it; and it is only after those of the official parties whose existence is still possible have mutually and successively accomplished one another's destruction that Vollmar's great division takes place and with it the prospect of our rule. If, like Vollmar, we wanted to start straight off with the final act of the revolution we should be in a miserably bad way. In France the long expected split has taken place. The original conjunction of Guesde and Lafargue with Malon and Brousse was no doubt unavoidable when the party was founded, but Marx and I never had any illusions that it could last. The issue is purely one of principle: is the struggle to be conducted as a class struggle of the proletariat against the bourgeoisie, or is it to be permitted that in good opportunist (or as it is called in the Socialist translation: possibilist) style the class character of the movement, together with the programme, are everywhere to be dropped where there is a chance of winning more votes, more adherents, by this means. Malon and Brousse, by declaring themselves in favour of the latter alternative, have sacrificed the proletarian class character of the movement and made separation inevitable. All the better. The development of the proletariat proceeds everywhere amidst internal struggles and France, which is now forming a workers' party for the first time, is no exception. We in Germany have got beyond the first phase of the internal struggle, other phases still lie before us. Unity is quite a good thing so long as it is possible, but there are things which stand higher than unity. And when, like Marx and myself, one has fought harder all one's life long against the alleged Socialists than against anyone else (for we only regarded the bourgeoisie as a class and hardly ever involved ourselves in conflicts with individual bourgeois), one cannot greatly grieve that the inevitable struggle has broken out. ... I hope this will reach you before they put you behind the bars. Hearty greetings from Marx and Tussy. Marx is rapidly recovering and if his pleurisy does not come back he will be stronger next autumn than he has been for years. If you see Liebknecht in the K figturm (as they say in Berne), give him the best regards from all of us.

Letters: Marx-Engels Correspondence 1882

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1882/letters/82_10_28.htm

... Enclosed a mathematical essay by Moore. The conclusion that the algebraic method is only the differential method disguised refers of course only to his own method of geometrical construction and is pretty correct there, too. 1 have written to him that you place no value on the way the thing is represented in geometrical construction, the application to the equations of curves being quite enough. Further, the fundamental difference between your method and the old one is that you make x change to x', thus making them really vary, while the other way starts from x + h, which is always only the sum of two magnitudes, but never the variation of a magnitude. Your x therefore, even when it has passed through x and again becomes the first x, is still other than it was; while x remains fixed the whole time, if h is first added to it and then taken away again. However, every graphical representation of the variation is necessarily the representation of the completed process, of the result, hence of a quantity which became constant, the line x; its supplement is represented as x + h, two pieces of a line. From this it already follows that a graphical representation of how x', and then again becomes x, is impossible ...

Letters: Marx-Engels Correspondence 1882

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1882/letters/82_11_21.htm

... Sam, as you saw immediately, criticises the analytical method applied by me by just pushing it aside, and instead busies himself with the geometrical application, about which I said not one word. In the same way, I could get rid of the development of the proper so-called differential method beginning with the mystical method of Newton and Leibnitz, then going on to the rationalistic method of d'Alembert and Euler, and finishing with the strictly algebraic method of Lagrange (which, however, always begins from the same original basic outlook as Newton Leibnitz) I could get rid of this whole historical development of analysis by saying that practically nothing essential has changed in the geometrical application of the differential calculus, i.e. in the geometrical representation. The sun is now shining, so the moment for going for a walk has come, so no more pro nunc of mathematics, but I'll come back later to the different methods occasionally in detail ...

Letters: Marx-Engels Correspondence 1882

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1882/letters/82_11_22.htm

It is funny to see from the so-called primitive peoples how the conception of holiness arose. What is originally holy is what we have taken over from the animal kingdom--the bestial; "human laws" are as much of an abomination in relation to this as they are in the gospel to the divine law.

Letters: Marx-Engels Correspondence 1882

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1882/letters/82_12_08.htm

Enclosed is the appendix on the Mark. Be so kind as to send it back on Sunday, so that I can revise it on Monday--I was not able to conclude the final revision to-day. I consider the view expounded here regarding the conditions of the peasantry in the Middle Ages and the rise of a second serfdom after the middle of the fifteenth century is on the whole incontrovertible. I have been right through Maurer for all the relevant passages and find nearly all my assertions there, supported, moreover, with evidence, while alongside of them are exactly the opposite, but either unsupported by evidence or taken from a period which is not that in question at all. This particularly applies to Fronh fe [lands liable to feudal dues], Volume 4, conclusion. These contradictions arise in Maurer: (1) from his habit of bringing in evidence and examples from all periods side by side and jumbled together; (2) from the remnants of his legalistic bias, which always gets in his way whenever it is a question of understanding a development; (3) from his great lack of regard for the part played by force; (4) from his enlightened prejudice that since the dark Middle Ages a steady progress to better things must surely have taken place--this prevents him from seeing not only the antagonistic character of real progress, but also the individual retrogressions. You will find that my thing is by no means all of a piece but a regular patchwork. The first draft was all of one piece but unfortunately wrong. I only mastered the material by degrees and that is why there is so much patching together. Incidentally the general re-introduction of serfdom was one of the reasons why no industry could develop in Germany in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. In the first place there was the reversed division of labour among the guilds--the opposite from that in manufacture: the work was divided among the guilds instead of inside the workshop. In England at this stage migration to the territory outside the guild took place, but in Germany this was prevented by the transformation of the country people and the inhabitants of the agricultural market towns into serfs. But this also caused the ultimate collapse of the trade guild as soon as the competition of foreign manufacture arose. The other reasons which combined with this in holding back German manufacture I will here omit. ... Today again fog and gas light the whole day long. Hartmann s battery probably a failure for lighting; can be used at best for telegraphy, etc. More about this as soon as something definite has been established. Keep well. I hope you'll soon get weather you're allowed to go out in.

Letters: Marx-Engels Correspondence 1882

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1882/letters/82_12_15.htm

But this does not mean that physical labour is economic labour; far from it. The economic labour performed by the 10,000 H.U. in nowise consists of the reproduction of the same 10,000 H.U., wholly or partially, in this or that form. On the contrary, most of these are lost in the increased heat and radiation of the body, etc., and what remains available of them are the fertilising potentialities of the excrements. The economic labour which a man performs by the employment of these 10,000 H.U. consists rather in the fixation for a greater or less time of new H.U. radiated to him from the sun, which have only this labour connection with the first 10,000 H.U. Whether, however, the new quantity of H.U. fixated by the application of the 10,000 H.U. of daily nourishment reaches 5,000, 10,000, 20,000 or 1,000,000 H.U., depends solely on the degree of development attained by the means of production. This can only be represented arithmetically in the most primitive branches of production: hunting, fishing, cattle-raising, agriculture. In hunting and fishing new solar energy is not even fixated, only what has already been fixated is turned to use. At the same time it is obvious that, assuming the fisher or hunter to be normally nourished, the amount of albumen or fat he gets by hunting or fishing is independent of the amount of these foodstuffs which he consumes. In cattle raising, energy is fixated in the sense that vegetable matter, which would otherwise rapidly wither, decay and decompose, is systematically transformed into animal albumen, fat, skin, bones, etc., and therefore fixated for a longer time. Here the calculation is already complicated. Still more so in agriculture, where the energy value of the auxiliary materials, manures, etc., also enters into the calculation. In industry all calculation comes to an end: in most cases the work added to the product can no longer be expressed in H.U. If, for instance, this is still possible with a pound of yarn because its toughness and capacity for resistance can just, with a lot of fuss and trouble, be reduced to a mechanical formula, here already this appears as an utterly useless piece of pedantry, and in the case of a piece of unbleached cloth, still more in the case of bleached, dyed and printed cloth, becomes absurd. The energy value of a hammer, a screw or a needle calculated according to the cost of production is an impossible quantity. In my opinion it is absolutely impossible to try and express economic relations in physical magnitudes. What Podolinsky has entirely forgotten is that man as a worker is not merely a fixer of present solar heat but a still greater squanderer of past solar heat. The stores of energy, coal, ores, forests, etc., we succeed in squandering you know better than I. From this point of view even fishing and hunting appear not as the fixation of new sun heat but as the using up and incipient waste of solar energy already accumulated. Further: what man does deliberately by work, the plant does unconsciously. Plants--and this is an old story already--are the great absorbers and depositors of sun heat in a changed form. By work, therefore, in so far as it fixates sun heat (which in industry and elsewhere is by no means always the case) man succeeds in uniting the natural functions of the energy-consuming animal with those of the energy-collecting plant. Podolinsky has strayed away from his very valuable discovery into mistaken paths because he was trying to find in natural science a new proof of the truth of socialism, and has therefore confused physics and economics.

Letters: Marx-Engels Correspondence 1882

https://www.marxists.org/archive/marx/works/1882/letters/82_12_19.htm