Clearly, free action is wanted on just one point. We are free in matters of religion. There are no recent instances of persecution, except in remote places. We are equally free in matters of political practice. There are, perhaps, more exceptions to political freedom than religious freedom, but still political freedom is practically assured. But no one today enjoys industrial freedom. No one is self-directive in the field of work. Every workman must find an employer. The functions of hand and head are performed by different individuals. So long as this condition exists there will be warfare between the executive and servile agents. Industrial freedom means the privilege of self-control in respect to one's work. It involves the making of every workman his own employer. This is not an easy relation to sustain to oneself, it is admitted. But it is not more difficult than serving as priest and king over oneself. Industrial freedom, like religious and political freedom, depends for its effectiveness upon character and capacity in the individual. Religious feudalism and political feudalism were so ordered as to afford the best possible training in selfcontrol in their respective fields. Industrial feudalism will doubtless furnish a discipline equally effective. When men are ready for the assumption of authority, such authority will be readily assumed. The shifting of control will be gradual-so gradual that there will be no break in the unity of industrial life. The work of the world will go on very much as it does now. No one will stop working, but work will be done from a new motive: not under compulsion but voluntarily. This is the very essence of industrial freedom. When

Great Britain abrogated the political government of Massachusetts with the intention of forcing submission by this means, the province subsisted for a year without governors of any kind-without governors but not without government. In one of the workshops of the new industrialism, surprise was expressed by a visitor that there was not special distinction in the product. The answer of the workman to the query was that the object of the workshop was not to make an unusual kind of chair but to make the usual chair with a new kind of workman. The chair was after a traditional pattern; the workman was the product of a revolution.

Without elaborating these suggestions further, I may state succinctly the theses I have had in mind to prove.

1. An industrial order is now being established which corresponds in all essential respects with what is known in political history as feudalism.

The political order, so far as it is shaped by the same individuals who control industry, partakes also of the nature of feudalism; hence the recrudescence in the United States of the principles of Hamilton and the dominance of the Republican Party.

3. When the feudalistic tendency culminates into the establishment of a centralized control of all industries, then the conscious and deliberate appropriation of that power by the people will begin, till work becomes free and the worker self-directive.

4. Biology and psychology testify to the ultimate triumph of the principle of self-activity. In other words, all the forces of evolution are on the side of the people.

THE WORKSHOP AND SCHOOL.

A short time ago I received a letter from a graduate student in a certain university in which he stated that, on account of the lack of a sufficient sum of money to "carry him through," he was forced to support himself. "This I do," the letter reads, "by manufacturing a few hundred cigars a week. If you use cigars, I should esteem your patronage a great favor. I make the cigars myself, and manufacture only high grade goods." The condition depicted here is one with which I was familiar, yet never before was one aspect of our education brought so forcibly and clearly to my attention. The letter betokens the complete divorcement that has grown up between education on the one hand, and industrialism on the other hand. Education, it seems, is a leisuristic pursuit which entails the sacrifice of one's trade or profession. Furthermore, one's trade or profession is not regarded as having any educational value and is at best a means of gaining a livelihood. Taking this young man's case as typical, how should such a problem be solved? Should he seek to abandon his trade altogether and win at all hazards a special and supposedly higher culture; or should he go back to the workshop and yield all hopes of becoming an educated man; or should he do what he is now doing; devote part of his time to his work (which is one thing) and a part of his time to education (which is another thing)?

Let us suppose that he despises his work as ignoble

and chooses to become a man of culture-then, he rejects that which is at least real, and enters upon a path that tends toward unreality, till perchance he loses himself in abstraction and ceases, therefore, however refined he may become, to be a vital factor in the world's work. But is the other alternative any better? He gains, let us say, a livelihood by his work; he surrounds himself with the bodily comforts and indulges occasionally in luxuries; he becomes perhaps a foreman in the shop or rises to the position of proprietor, promoter and trust-magnate. But if, in this process, he is uneducated, his work is still unredeemed and is virtually unprofitable, however vast his worldly possessions. Recently a man who had chosen the way of business and in the pride of his success had asserted that a college education was a detriment to a man of affairs, passed his vacation in Europe. It was observed that when away from his business he was reduced for pleasurable exercise to gambling at Monte Carlo. We were a little shocked at this, not that we regard gambling as a sin, but that Monte Carlo seemed so trivial in view of the stimulus which Europe offers to a man of true culture and insight. But is the third solution a way out of the difficulty? Should our young man study half of the time and work at his trade the rest of the day? This solution is reached, of course, by way of a compromise-a compromise of the same nature as that presented in the labor world by the eight-hour day. It consists in reducing what is offensive and undesirable to its lowest terms, in order that when necessity is satisfied, the worker may be free for a season to do that which to him is pleasurable. I cannot imagine a torture more grievous than that. Indeed, the orthodox hell, as described by Milton in Para

dise Lost, consisted in just this alternate freezing and burning. The case of this young man, or of any young man, seems to me at this time to be hopeless. There is simply no chance in the world today for a man to be integral, to live an entire life; he must be divided and divided according to the divisions which obtain throughout the whole range of modern life.

I see only one remedy for the class system of modern society-that is, to reconstruct the institutions that embody the social spirit; to create a school which is not so far removed from the workshop as to obliterate real processes and objects-to create a workshop which shall be so fully educative in itself that it will be a virtual school. I can conceive that even a cigar factory might be so conducted as to be instructive. If one really understood the work he was doing, the part he was playing in the world's vast intricate scheme of industry; or if one really knew in all its relations the object he was handling-in this case, let us say, the history of the tobacco plant, such a workman would not pass as a wholly uneducated man. In contact with his fellow workmen, he might develop to the full the life of comradeship: that human sympathy without which education of any sort is empty and unprofitable. My illustration is perhaps unfortunate. To King James, who uttered a counterblast against tobacco, or to Emerson, who thought a cigar was a crowbar thrust in among the delicate tendrils of the brain, the illustration would be unsavory. But it was of a plant of less importance than the tobacco plant that Tennyson said:

"Flower in the crannied wall,

I pluck you out of the crannies,

I hold you here, root and all, in my hand!