is new is, first, the capitalist entrepreneur, primarily a manufacturer, not a moneyed man engaged in commerce; secondly, the growth of a class of capitalist entrepreneurs; thirdly, the gradual domination of industry by that class; and, fourthly, the type of industrial organization that he creates and the scale on which he applies it. To Adam Smith a "manufacturer" was still a workman, working with his own hands in his own home or workshop, with his own tools. The manufacturer of the Industrial Revolution is the modern master who provides capital, owns his mill or factory, together with the machinery and tools provided for his "hands," pays these "hands" wages, and creates and maintains a market.

With the new capitalist is born the new industrial proletariat, that ever-increasing army of men and women who are wage-earners and are a new stratum in the economic world. The Revolution that dissolved the link between the peasant and the soil forged the bond that chained the wage-earner to the town. Swollen by the dislocated peasantry, by their own power to reproduce themselves in obedience to the increasing demand of capital and science for human hands. and bodies, they have come to stay and to create another England. The slow establishment of a reserve of labor that can be called into the working line when trade requires it, and be thrust back when it is slack, the problems of unemployment and the unemployable, are not the least of the formidable enigmas forced on humanity by the wage-earner and the Industrial Revolution.

Any picture grouping the features in clear-cut symmetry would be false to the facts. In different trades, in different areas, under varying conditions and degrees of pressure, an amazing diversity, not uniformity, is the prevailing note of the economic phenomena. The old order did not perish at a blow. The new was not introduced complete by a few remarkable inventions and a group of organizers. The peasant was not universally divorced from industry nor the industrial population from the soil. But in the stream of tendencies and the competition between the old and the new every year saw one more stone in the ancient fabric dislodged, one more stone in the new fabric cemented.

The face of the country was being altered. The new roads and the canals are made not for the traveler on pleasure bent, but to bring the places where men produce into communication with the centres of exchange. Mark, too, how the roads and canals more and more lead to and from the urban workshops, to and from the sea. From the sea the bulk of the raw material must come to the sea

much of the finished product will go. Commerce, like war, is an affair of positions to start with. England was quick to take advantage of its strategic commercial position. The trend of population is at first to the strategic and focal centres of a distributing, exchanging, bartering, and carrying trade. Then comes the revelation of internal resources. Geological formation underpins geographical configuration. From 1770 onwards a student with a geological map and some knowledge of the economic data of the new trades might predict a priori where the new industrial centres must be. In the whole island so bitten and fretted is the coast line that it is impossible to place a pin-point anywhere on the map which is more than sixty miles from salt water. What this means for imports and exports needs no exposition. By 1801 imports and exports are an absolute necessity of bare existence.

The country town is either transformed by industry or it slips into subordination to the new towns. These are not places which men and women inhabit through choice, but to live in, to produce, to exchange, to breed in, and to die. They are stamped with the feudalism of industry, a feudalism seated among factory chimneys, warehouses, the roar and glare of blast furnaces, the undying throb of machinery drowning the tramp of the wearied feet of men and women born tired and condemned to toil. Over the new towns are hung the banners and scutcheon of the industrial lords. Within there is the dull monotony of brick and stone, sweat and grime and smoke, unceasing noise, the stress of competition whose cessation means ruin.

The new urban race living under new conditions is a new people. Its pleasures, hopes, fears, needs will be different, alike from those of the old cities, the old mercantilism, the old agriculture. It will create a new type of character, frame new values, hammer out from the dirt and roar of the teeming hives ideals of life and government bound to clash fiercely with the ideals inherited from a different past. It will ask for new creeds; it will demand a new economics; it will need and make a new literature. The rearrangement of the elements of society, and the regrading of classes, will bury deeper and deeper each day the legal framework of the old order. The problems of national physique, motherhood, childhood, education, pauperism, citizenship, happiness are old; but restated in the terms of a growing industrial democracy they become new, and with every decade more complex, urgent, and formidable.

C. LABOR AND THE REVOLUTION

26. Labor's Willing Slaves'

BY EDWIN ARNOLD

Look at common modern existence as we see it, and note to what rich elaboration and large degrees of comfort it has come. I invite you briefly to contemplate the material side of an artisan's existence in your own Birmingham. Let alone the greatness of being an Englishman, and the supreme safety and liberty of his daily life, what king of old records ever fared so royally? What magician of fairy tales ever owned so many slaves to bring him. treasures and pleasures at a wish? Observe his dinner-board. Without being luxurious, the whole globe has played him servingman to spread it. Russia gave the hemp, or India, or South Carolina the cotton, for that cloth which his wife lays upon it. The Eastern islands placed there those condiments and spices which were once the secret relishes of the wealthy. Australian downs sent him frozen mutton or canned beef, the prairies of America meal for his biscuit and pudding; and if he will eat fruit, the orchards of Tasmania and the palm woods of the West Indies proffer delicious gifts, while the orange groves of Florida and of the Hesperides cheapen for his use those "golden apples" which dragons used to guard. His coffee comes from where the jeweled humming-birds hang in the bowers of Brazil, or purple butterflies flutter amid the Javan mangroves. Great clipper ships, racing by night and day under clouds of canvas, convey to him his tea from China or Assam, or from the green Singhalese hills. The sugar which sweetens it was crushed from canes that waved by the Nile or the Orinoco; and the plating of the spoon with which he stirs it was dug for him from Mexican or Nevadan mines. The currants in his dumpling are a tribute from classic Greece, and his tinned salmon or kippered herring are taken from the seas and rivers of Canada or Norway. He may partake, if he will, of rice that ripened under the hot skies of Patna or Rangoon; of cocoa, that "food of the gods," plucked under the burning blue of the Equator. For his rasher of bacon, the hogexpress runs daily with 10,000 grunting victims into Chicago; Dutch or Brittany hens have laid him his eggs, and Danish cows grazed the daisies of Elsinore to produce his cheese and butter. If he drinks beer, it is odds that Belgium and Bavaria have contributed to it the barley and the hops; and when he has finished eating, it will be the

'Adapted from an address delivered at the Birmingham and Midland Institute, October 10, 1893.

Mississippi flats or the gardens of the Antilles that fill for him his pipe with the comforting tobacco. He has fared, I say, at home as no Heliogabalus or Lucullus ever fared; and then, for a trifle, his daily newspaper puts at his command information from the whole globe, the freshness and fulness of which make the news-bearers of Augustus Caesar, thronging hourly into Rome, ridiculous. At work, machinery of wonderful invention redeems his toil from servitude, and elevates it to an art. Is he fond of reading? There are free libraries open to him, full of intellectual and imaginative wealth. Is he artistic? Galleries rich with beautiful paintings and statues are prepared for him. Has he children? They can be educated for next to nothing. Would he communicate with absent friends? His messengers pass in the Queen's livery, bearing his letters everywhere by sea and land; or in hour of urgency the Ariel of electricity will flash for him a message to the ends of the Kingdom at the price of a quart of small-beer. Steam shall carry him wherever he would go for a halfpenny a mile; and when he is ill the charitable institutions he has too often forgotten in health render him such succor as sick goddesses never got from Aesculapius, nor Ulysses at the white. hands of Queen Helen. Does he encounter accident? For him as for all others the benignant science of our time, with the hypodermic syringe or a waft of chloroform, has abolished agony; while for dignity of citizenship, he may help, when election time comes, by his vote to sustain or to shake down the noblest empire ever built by genius or valor. Let fancy fill up the imperfect picture with those thousand helps and adornments that civilization has brought even to lowly lives; and does it not seem stupid and ungrateful to say, as some go about saying, that such an existence, even if it were transitory, is not for itself distinctly worth possessing?

27. The Wage-Slaves

BY ALLAN L. BENSON

On

Poverty did not go out when steam and electricity came in. the contrary, the fear of want became intensified. Now, nobody who has not capital can live unless he can get a job. In the days that preceded the steam engine, nobody had to look for a job. The shoemaker could make shoes for his neighbors. The weaver could weave cloth. Each could work at his trade without anybody's permission, because the tools of his trade were few and inexpensive. Now, neither of them can work at his trade, because the tools of

Adapted from The Truth about Socialism, 6-7. Copyright by the author (1911).

The tools of the

his trade have become numerous and expensive. shoemaker's trade are in the great factory that covers, perhaps, a dozen acres. The tools of the weaver's trade are in another enormous factory. Neither the shoemaker nor the weaver can ever hope to own the tools of his trade. Nor, with the little hand-tools of the past centuries, can either of them compete with the modern factories. The shoe trust, with steam, electricity, and machinery, can make a pair of shoes at a price that no shoemaker, working by hand, could touch.

Thus the hand-workers have been driven to knock at the doors of the factories that rich men own and ask for work. If the rich men can see a profit in letting the poor men work, the poor men are permitted to work. If the rich men cannot see a profit in letting the poor men work, then the poor men may not work. Though there be the greatest need for shoes, if those in need have no money, the rich men lock up their factories and wave the workers away. The workers may starve, if they like. Their wives and children may The workers may become tramps, criminals or maniacs; their wives and their children may be driven into the street-but the rich men who closed their factories because they could see no profit in keeping them open,-these rich men take no part of the responsibility. They talk about "the laws of trade," go to their clubs and have a little smoke, and, perhaps, the next week give a few dollars to "worthy charity" and forget all about the workers.

D. THE NEW INDUSTRIALISM

28. The Function of Capital'

BY J. DORSEY FORREST

Before the Revolution capital had little significance except in agriculture and commerce. Such simple tools and machines as were used in manufacturing were the property of the workmen themselves, and consequently had no such social importance as modern capital has. Except for the introduction of the great mechanical devices and the application of steam-power, capital could never have assumed the tremendous importance which it has attained. The function of capital, then, is the same in kind as it was before the beginning of machine industry, but the quantitative difference is so

'Adapted from The Development of Western Civilization, 331-338. Copyright by the University of Chicago (1906).