It is I, be not afraid!

I do not deem it necessary to apologize for or explain the appearance of this periodical, except to say that I do not consider that there is any excuse for its existence but my desire, which is, of all my voluntary acts, the sole cause. For me this is enough. What has aroused in me this desire will doubtless become apparent before many issues have been published.

I wish to state, to all who may not be familiar with the style of printing used here, that the general idea of end-of-the-line justification, as it appears on this page, originated with Mr. Benj. R. Tucker, publisher of Liberty, New York. When the reader turns to the second page, he will observe, if he sympathize with the idea in its artistic aspect, that it becomes absolutely necessary to justify the alternate pages at the opposite end of the line. The economic advantages of this system are apparent to every one who understands the mechanical process of type-composition.

To those to whom I am not a stranger it is unnecessary to state that I believe in free speech and free press (tautology noted). It is customary for those who publish periodicals and defend that belief to state that they are willing to hear all sides of every question, will give space in their periodicals to their opponents, and will be otherwise generous, in order to prove that they are broadminded and that they do not merely pretend to believe in free speech. I frankly confess that I do not consider such generosity expedient. It costs something to publish this periodical.[2] It is comparatively easy to compute what each line in this issue costs. I pay for this, and the cost of publishing this issue has prevented me from saying much more than I have said. I simply cannot afford, therefore, to print anything which I think does not assist me in performing the work I have set out to do, or from the publishing of which (and this after all is precisely the same thing) I derive no pleasure. Any person, therefore, who desires to have printed in this publication any matter which does not conform to the foregoing requirements will be called upon to pay for the space exactly what it costs me,—no more, no less.

Not long since I stood by the grave of Proudhon. While I was reading the inscription chiseled into the cold marble, I heard a commotion accompanied by groans beneath my feet. Somewhat puzzled, I put my ear to the ground, and then I could hear mutterings mingled with the groans. Believing that something must be disturbing him who lay below, I said (in the approved style of the French interviewer), Cher maître, what troubles you? Can I aid you in any way? If so, command me. Ah! said he, it is Zola. I thought I had written with such clearness that no one could misunderstand me; but have you seen the abominations that Zola attributes to me in Paris? Why, he makes one of his characters learn from me the need of an equal division of wealth, and then, apparently in total ignorance of my writings, he claims that I demolished without reconstructing anything. Oh! this is too much. I cannot rest until there has been published to the world a denial that I intended my writing to carry that message to the world. Rest, perturbed spirit, I said; I shall see you righted in the eyes of the world. And thus I fulfil my promise.

A Volcano has burst borth in England, and the lava that runs down its sides is called The Eagle and the Serpent. The responsibility for this rests upon the Eagle Publishing Co., 185 Fleet Street, London, E. C. The price of it (for it is a magazine) is ten cents a copy or sixty cents a year. Volcano, who guards carefully his identity, has emigrated, it seems, from this country, and he proclaims himself, his bird, and his reptile, followers of Nietzsche and Emerson and various other Egoists. At present the magazine does not present a very harmonious appearance, its heterogeneity resembling somewhat that of our modern daily newspapers. Better things may be expected, however, of The Eagle and the Serpemt after its editor becomes a little more accustomed to his ménage—

A still more recent eruption proclaims the existence in England of a volcano of a really dangerous character. Mr. George Bedborough, editor of the Adult, who in his magazine lately has been congratulating his country on its freedom from Anthony Comstocks [3] and other invasive meddlers of that ilk, now finds himself in the clutches of British law on a charge of selling a copy of the first volume of Mr. Havelock Ellis’s Studies in the Psychology of Sex. Mr. Bedborough is at liberty on bail, and, judging this fight for free publication by the eminence of those who have sprung to the defense of the victim, I should predict a favorable outcome. If Englishment can submit to this outrage, they no longer have any just claim to greater freedom than we possess in these benighted States. The present address of the Adult is 51 Arundel Square, London, N., care of Henry Seymour. The best way to express indignation at the action of the British government is to send money to the Defense Committee, of which Mr. Seymour is secretary.

A small volume issued early this year from the press of Leonard Smithers, Royal Arcade, London, W., is The Ballad of Reading Gaol, by C.3.3. It is by no means a secret that C.3.3. is simply the prison-name of Oscar Wilde, and that this ballad is but the song of his sufferings during his incarceration. I have not noticed this book on the counters of respectable book-sellers in America. What matter? Mr. Wilde’s genius will keep his name alive long after his calumniators and libellers have crumbled into forgotten dust.

Perhaps no addition to our Egoistic literature would be so valuable as an English translation of Max Stirner’s Der Einzige und Sein Eigenthum, and this would probably ere long be a reality if there were only money enough forthcoming to secure its publication. Why can we not secure the publication in the same manner as we did that of Instead of a Book? I will take five dollars’ worth of it and pay in advance, providing sufficient is subscribed to guarantee its publication. Who will second the motion? Mr. John Henry Mackay, the German poet of freedom, has written a biography of Stirner, and this also ought to be Englished; but after the other.

I wonder how much longer we shall be obliged to wait for the next issue of Liberty. I hope Mr. Tucker will see his way clear to publish it soon.

It is with considerable pleasure that I note the liberation of Abner J. Pope, who had been imprisoned on account of the Firebrand. As one gets in another gets out.

When Emerson said, If in the hours of clear reason we should speak the severest truth, we should say that we had never made a sacrifice, he probably did not know that he had spoken one of the severest bedrock truths of Egoism.

Thoreau said: If there is an experiment which you would like [4] to try, try it. Do not entertain doubts if they are not agreeable to you. I am hereby following his advice.

Few things in print have given me so much pleasure lately as Heloise, a poem by Berta C.E. Buss which has been published in the May and June numbers of the Adult. Such things are far more important and interesting, in my view, when written by a woman than when they emanate from a man. It makes one wish to read more from the pen of this woman. If she keeps on in this vein, Pope will lose his laurels.

There is a great difference of opinion among the patriots on the question of annexation. From the standpoint of the governmentalist there should be no difference of opinion upon this question. This nation is a good thing: the more of it the better. It may cost more to maintain and protect these outlying colonies than they will produce in revenue, but strategically they will be of immense value in case of contests with other nations; and such contests, after this war, are not likely to be lacking. Yet public sentiment is rapidly changing in these days,—perhaps only fluctuating; at any rate, the government is now pursuing, and is being upheld in, a policy that, a few months ago, would have brought political ruin to any party or politician which would have dared even to advocate it. The government has scarcely remembered a single apology that it made for its declaration of war with Spain. In order to establish peace and order in Cuba, territory at the antipodes has been seized and held; in order to feed the famished reconcentrados in Cuba, all possibility of their salvation has been destroyed by the blockade and no attempt is being made to send them food,—they are left to starve to death. However much the rationalist may deprecate and disapprove of this war, he may still look with complacency upon the extension of the domain of the United States. He can look at the matter in this wise: Either this nation is a potent factor in civilization and progress, or it is not. If, then, he decide that the United States, with all its faults, is still better than Spain, better than savagery, better, in short, than anything except nothing, he must greet with satisfaction the absorption of less advanced populations. And then, to be consistent, he would not object to the annexation of the greater part of the world, excepting only a few nations like England and France and possibly others which may have some claim to a superiority over us. In case he believe that we have the best there is, his dream must be the annexation of the rest of the earth, because all of the parts must become as the best part; and there we have it! It would be easier to establish equal freedom in the world if it were all one nation than it is under existing divisions.

A magazine book-reviewer recently stated that his author wrote [5] with a studied carelessness. Would it not have been more accurate and lucid to have said careful carelessness?

The idiot class is now in great turmoil over the question of alumni government. Because some alumni are given a certain amount of authority in the government of colleges and universities by virtue of the donations which they have made to the institution, every alumnus forthwith feels that he is being slighted if he is not given a voice in the management. And it now seems as if his wail is of some avail and he is going to be permitted to meddle with affairs in which he has no business.

Two immigrants—a man and a woman—were denied admission into this country a few weeks ago because they refused to get married. Since the immigration bureau has transformed itself into a matrimonial bureau and assumed authority to oblige every unmarried person to enter the bonds of wedlock at the same moment he enters the country, it would seem to devolve upon the pension bureau, or some other equally interested department of the government, to set about gathering all the unmarried people now in the country into the matrimonial fold. Thus might it preserve its reputation as an institution of frauds.

It is as difficult to give an unbiased opinion upon a given subject, when one is acquainted with but one phase of it, as it is when one encounters the thing for the first time. In order to be able to judge accurately, the subject must be seen from different viewpoints. Let us take, for instance, the case of the humped over bicycle rider. From long familiarity with the sight of a man in this position we have become to a certain extent accustomed to it and it no longer gives us that intensely nauseating sensation that it did when it was a novelty. But, when we meet a woman riding with her head and her hips on the same level, we discover that our first impression was correct, and that the habit is idiotically ridiculous.

Rational self-esteem is as much of a necessity to enable us to esteem others as it is to secure the esteem of others.

It is no more an evidence of conceitedness to know a thing and know that you know it than it is an evidence of modesty not to know a thing and not to know that you don’t know it.

It is never possible to know that it is blissful to be ignorant until one has become wise enough to demonstrate the folly of wisdom.

Equal liberty means equality of opportunity, and does not mean equality of results, although some people would have it so. And here lies the essential difference between the doctrine of Proudhon [6] and the doctrine of Kropotkine. The latter would have equality of opportunity and results, while the former would be satisfied with equality of opportunity and would be willing to let results take care of themselves. Society after the fashion of Kropotkine would consist of two classes,—one which would earn more than it would receive and another which would receive more than it would earn. Society according to Proudhon would consist of but one class,—a class that would receive precisely what it would earn, not a jot more, not a jot less.

There is no such thing as Altruism as a philosophy opposed to Egoism. Altruism, except as a term which describes that quality in people which prompts them to consider others, is a polite fiction. No Altruist, self-styled or so-called, has ever been able to explain satisfactorily why he is an Altruist. He cannot do this because he can give no reason which is not in itself a confession of Egoism. If he say that this extreme regard for others (which constitutes his alleged Altruism) is prompted by the fact that he considers the others of more importance to him than he himself is (passing over the fact that this is virtually an admission of self-interest as a motive), it is necessary, in order to show the fallacy of this, only to reduce it to its logical absurdity, which may be done by pointing out that, his own importance to himself vanishing when he ceases to exist, others continue to be of importance to him when there is no such person as he! In the next place, it is inconceivable that any rational human being can act without a motive; and the very admission of a motive is a confession of Egoism.

The most valuable philosophy to all persons is the philosophy of forgetfulness; not forgetfulness as a faculty merely, but as a method. The person who can at will forget anything he chooses and who does it with the conviction that this is the very best thing he can do under the circumstances, is able to live with a greater amount of satisfaction and consequent happiness, and with a lesser amount of disturbance and irritation and consequent misery, than the person who persists in remembering everything, especially the things that make him most unhappy. The philosophy of forgetfulness is, therefore, a valuable concomitant of the philosophy of Egoism.

From time to time the statement is made, apropos of the trial of some person on a criminal charge, that it is a maxim of law that the person charged with a crime is presumed to be innocent until proved guilty. This is simply a conventional absurdity, and was concocted, doubtless, in order to distract attention away from some real perversion of justice. The fact is that every person charged with a crime is presumed to be guilty, otherwise there would be no [7] excuse for charging him with the crime. Despite the hypocritical clamor of those who do know better and the innocent prattle of those who ought to know better, the real attitude of organized society towards persons accused of crime is to consider them guilty, and unorganized society usually makes the same presumption until the accused proves himself innocent; and, in case of a conviction, this same unorganized society considers it simply a formal but necessary confirmation of the presumption. And, after all, there is nothing so terribly outrageous about this. If this maxim of law were to be enforced, all suspected persons would have to be tried and found guilty of a crime before they might be apprehended. After the criminal had been convicted and sentenced, the police might set out after him and catch him,—if they could. If, then, every person is to be considered absolutely innocent until proven guilty, justice would demand that everybody be tried for every crime. Crime and its punishment being in a sense artificial things, they present complications which human ingenuity has not yet been able to simplify. When a crime has been committed, the most expedient thing we can do is to detain the person most likely to be guilty until we can get at the truth. This may not always be absolutely just, but it is the best thing we can do under the circumstances. By these observations I do not mean, of course, to imply that present methods of dealing with crime are the best that could be devised, or that all law-forbidden acts are crimes. Upon these subjects I shall have many things to say at other times.

A great effort has been made and continues to be made to distinguish Idealism from Realism, but there is a great deal of nonsense about it. The real realist, it is true, is not a doubtful quantity. He is clear and well-defined; there is no mistaking him. But when one attempts to designate the idealist, the difficulty arises. To be sure, many writers are designated as idealists, and themselves strenuously insist that they are; but when one undertakes to analyze their work, it is found to contain the very qualities that make another unmistakeably a realist. Take Flaubert, for instance, who claimed to belong to a school exactly opposite and antipathetic to the school to which Zola, the realist par excellence, belongs. And yet there are pages and even chapters of Flaubert which make one feel that he is in the true Zolaland. Why is this? It is because the real is what exists and the ideal is what one wishes, consciously or unconsciously, to exist; and the dividing line between what one has and what one wants is, like the line which divides the present from the future, necessarily a very subtile one. A person can live in the present; but he cannot live in the future without taking the present with him.

Schopenhauer, noting the fact that few people laugh when alone, [8] claims that it is because such people are defective in imagination—dull-minded, in fact. This is one of the cases in which his observations, as in his essay on Women, did not go deep enough. The reason why most people do not laugh when alone is because of their diffidence and timidity. In order to analyze this statement, let us take the man who is riding alone in a public conveyance. He is unacquainted with any of those surrounding him, and he may be reading the most laughable thing imaginable, but, being unaccompanied by friends with whom to share it, suppresses his laughter, because, if he were to give way to [it,] those about him would either laugh at him, scowl at him, or in some way show their disapproval; or, which is to him the same thing, he is afraid that they may. Being accusomed for [this] reason to restrain his laughter, when alone in public (unless it [be] upon an occasion when everybody is cognizant of and amused [at] the same thing), he likewise restrains himself when entirely alone, because unconsciously and as a matter of habit he fears that some one may surprise him when laughing in solitude, which case he realizes that he would feel mortified and ashamed. If to be lacking in imagination prevents people from laughing when alone, it would prevent them from laughing under [any] circumstances; and this is obviously untrue, since provocation [to] laughter is not dependent on the presence of others. I do not believe that either dulness or imagination has anything to do with the matter.

It is doubtless unnecessary to suggest to non-subscribers who receive a copy of this issue that, if they do not wish to read it [and] subscribe, it is a very simple matter to throw it in the waste basket; and in cases where I receive no response, I shall assume that my suggestion has been adopted and shall govern myself accordingly. I shall not have the audacity to trouble anybody with two unwelcome numbers.

Do good for good’s sake, said an evangelist lately. Do good for your own sake would have been a more rational way [of] putting [it].

Mr. E. Percy Pool has induced somebody to print in book form a lot of chapters which he has written on The Psychology [of] Metaphysics. He evidently hopes to fine gudgeons enough [to] buy it. And the sad part of it is that his hopes may be realized.

Number 718 of Lucifer is a double one, a large share of [it] being devoted to accounts of and protests against the prosecution of Mr. George Bedborough, to which I refer on another page. The cause is quite worth the trouble, and I trust that the friends of freedom in America will give it all possible assistance.