I neglected to state in last issue that this periodical is being sent to those subscribers of the Independent whose subscriptions to that journal had not expired when I ceased to publish it at Topeka, Kansas. All such persons receiving I will therefore understand that their subscription to the former will be filled by an equivalent of this.

Mr. John A. Lant, the old war horse of Tarrytown, New York, rises to speak the thoughts that were generated in his brain by reading a copy of I. He says that it has not even originality, to say nothing of anything else, to recommend it to any reader. Feeling acutely this deficiency, he sends along some verses said to be written by one Thomas Spence in his unfruitful effort to restore society to its natural state by means of reformed spelling. Being a typographical freak, to use Mr. Lant’s terse phraseology, I can sympathize with Mr. Spence, and so print the verses sent, especially as my critic pays for the space. They are an Epilog, and this is the way they run:

What a pity, friends, that we should be
So much deprived of Liberty!
Indictments, one upon the other,
Continually do us bother.
How carefully we are forced to seek
For words before we dare to speak.
But, let what will upon me come,
I scorn to close my work till done.

[2]This may not be poetry, but it is an accurate description of a state of things, with which state of things I am at eternal war. And I doubt not that Friend Lant is too. But he says that he can endure deckle on the right only, so I have made an effort to get the verses on the first page, so that he may be spared the pain of seeing them with the deckle on the left. Originality, after all, is not a thing that can be had for the asking; and, judging from Mr. Lant’s letter, I am not the only one that lacks it. He says, too, that, for economy in spacing, any printer will condemn deckle on the left. While admitting that it is not quite so convenient as spacing at the other end of the line, it is, I am quite convinced, a great deal fatter than spacing between the words. But, then, I don't believe that I could please Mr. Lant if I should try; and I don’t intend to try.

Nevertheless, one comrade has sent me a poem that pays its way. It is entitled Sing of Self, and here it is.

To sing of self in many moods,
And Nature as self has seen her,
Is to sing true,
New,
What to do,
And to be in sooth a singer.

Who sings of self and his own sight
Is surely most emphatic.
He may be wrong, he may be right,
But his I is not dogmatic;
It gives your eye a chance to doubt,
’Tis not an ipse dixit,
And, if you like not how self sings out,
Why sing yourself and fix it.

I suspect that a great many of my readers would not need to be told that J. William Lloyd is the author of these verses.

I wish that I had space to print some of the letters that I have received since the first letter of this publication has been sent out, for this would doubtless give pleasure to the writers of them and I know that it would to myself. As an offset to some of the criticism I have received, it was refreshing to read a letter from J. T. Small, of Provincetown, Mass., who was the first comrade to enroll himself as a subscriber. He says: First copy of the I that is not afraid has arrived and received a cordial welcome, and, as one who believes in the supremacy of the Anarchist I over the State Socialist We, I herewith enclose the fifty cents for a year’s subscription to the monthly messenger. He and I are one on this. Bell C. Schull writes, characteristically: I am glad to see I free, wholesome to look upon. . . . I wish that you may [3] be successful in your experiment. A Cincinnati comrade subscribes and writes: Glad to receive paper along Egoistic lines. I wish there were more of them. . . . I hope you can keep it running, but, unless you have some money or source of income outside of the paper, I doubt it. And well may he! However, I have learned from bitter experience that it will not do to make a vocation of this work; and so it is only my avocation.

The publishers of La Voix du Peuple (of which Proudhon, though in prison, was one of the collaborators), in announcing the appearance of their journal in Paris in September, 1849, say: We shall not make, if you please, a programme. A programme is an ensemble of abstract ideas. And it is with abstract ideas as with intentions: they express what one thinks,—they do not agree at all with what one does. On account of this, all programmes are lies. That is just my idea. Promises do not amount to much; it is the deed that does.

A newspaper discussion has lately caused me to remark how little most people really know about freedom. It has been denied to human beings so long that they have very slight conception of it. The great trouble is that some people, when they begin to conceive of such a thing as freedom of thought and action, are timid about accepting it in its entirety. They begin to think that some of it might be good, but that all of it might be bad. They get alarmed when one suggests such a thing as a boycott. They imagine that a boycott can be an act of invasion,—that one can invade the liberty of another by not having anything to do with him and agreeing with others to leave him alone! Only when a person can think clearly enough to see that no invasion can be made by inactivity can he comprehend all the attributes of freedom.

And it is very much the same way about the question of libel. Under a rational conception of free speech there can be no such thing as libel, considered as an invasive act. Speech after all is not a complete act. An indispensable complement is the hearing of what is said. And even then the thing does not attain to the dignity of an act. An invasion must be an overt act. To determine an invasion, the consequences of the overt act must be considered. To say a thing, no matter how untrue, outside the hearing of anyone is, it is clear, of no consequence. There is no reason, therefore, to believe that the situation changes, in so far as the speaker is concerned, when the thing spoken is heard. And neither does the simple fact of its being heard alter the conditions. It is only when the hearer thinks or takes action that any person lied about can feel the effect of the lie. He could not be injured by it if it were not heard; he could not be injured by it if it were [4] heard and not believed; he could not be injured by it if it were heard and believed if no action were taken by the person hearing and believing it. It is only when a person hears a lie, believes it, and then takes some action toward the person lied about that the latter can be injured. After the liar has told his lie, three things must take place before it can have any injurious effect, and these three things are in no wise connected with the liar. What, then, has the liar to do with it anyway?

The defenders of orthodox matrimonial institutions are having, as they long have had, a great deal of trouble with the divorce question. There is no tenable middle ground on this question, and some people who believe that there is are finding that they have nowhere to stand. Either divorce must be denied altogether or it must be granted for any reason whatsoever or for no reason. Once it is admitted that any thing can be an excuse for a divorce, it must be granted that every thing is. Some time it will be seen that the only way to be logical and consistent and reasonable and just is to make a divorce as easily to be obtained as a marriage license. And then there will be no more marriages!

It is curious how few people take reformers seriously. They hear the Freethinker talk, and they may even subscribe for and occasionally read his newspapers; nevertheless they confidently believe that he will repent on his deathbed, if not sooner, and that all dead Freethinkers have so repented. They complacently listen to the Anarchist talking about the abolition of government, and even admit that the State is a thief and a murderer; but they never believe that any Anarchist deep down in his heart really wishes to do without government, or that he could do without it; they go on voting and otherwise taking part in political contests, and if you say that you never go to the polls they think you are lying about it. An Egoist may talk himself hoarse to them and they will blandly tell him that the very fact that he makes such a great effort to convince them of the desirability and consistency of Egoism is indisputable evidence of his Altruism. But they are more cynical about freedom in sex relations than about anything else. They will agree with you that marriage is a failure, that many husbands make slaves of their wives, that some wives make slaves of their husbands, that Church and State have no business to meddle with the sex relations of men and women, that, in short, men and women should be free to live their own lives without the interference of Society either organized or unorganized, especially when those so living accept all the responsibilities of their actions and of the situation. But they will tell you that you will never permit your daughter to practice your views and that you yourself are a great deal better than your philosophy. Imagine their consternation, then, when they discover [5] that you have been leading . . . life and that your sons and daughters . . . your footsteps. Our severest task, therefore, is . . . people that we are in earnest, that we mean what we say, . . . are not dabbling in reform for amusement’s sake, but that we mean business and intend to fight it out on this line to the end, be it bitter or be it sweet. We must convince people that we don’t believe in God and superstition and are never going to; that we believe in the abolition of government and can live without being governed; that we never do anything except from motives of self-interest, and would not if we could; that we believe in freedom in all human relations and that we practice it. And I wish to say a word to you, messieurs the Philistines. I wish to tell you not to deceive yourselves any longer,—that we are just what we claim to be. We (I am speaking for those who agree with me, whoever they may be) intend to live just as near to our ideals as it is possible to live and not live in your prisons. We like this world as a place to live and we believe that we know how to make it a still more desirable place. Is there anything so very terrible in all this?

Naturally there has been some surprise expressed and some criticism indulged in concerning my determination to require payment for all matter that I print for other people except that which I wish to print free of charge. But I do not see any essential difference between my position and that of the railroad company which requires payment for carrying passengers. There is no more reason why I should print matter for nothing than there is why a railway company should transport passengers for nothing. And I can print such matter and distribute it even more cheaply than one who does not publish a periodical, even if the matter were sent to other persons than those to whom I should otherwise send it. And I have taken this step with the intention of doing business of this kind. I am therefore ready to make contracts of this nature, I solicit propositions, and shall gladly and promptly furnish estimates. In justice to my subscribers, however, I must stipulate that I shall publish nothing that will not in some way, in my opinion, interest them, unless I increase the size of the publication.

The next step toward the improvement of I (for I am by no means satisfied with it) will be the addition of a cover. Before I take this step I shall desire a design for the first page of the cover. To the artist who will submit an acceptable design I will give a life subscription to this publication. To anyone notifying me that he intends to compete I shall at once furnish instructions as to the nature of the desired design, and such other information as he may require.

[6]Mr. Richard Mansfield is angry with us Americans, or, I have no doubt, he would give us a good production of Mr. George Bernard Shaw’s Candida, which some of the English critics seem to consider a masterpiece. No matter how much Mr. Mansfield scolds us, we shall always be grateful to him for giving us the opportunity of seeing Arms and the Man and seeing it well played too. If in this latest play Mr. Shaw has excelled the excellence of Arms and the Man, Candida is something that I wish to see as soon as possible.

Though rather late, I cannot deny myself the pleasure of saying a few words about Les Mauvais Bergers, the play which Octave Mirbeau wrote and Sarah Bernhardt produced last winter in Paris. Mirbeau, who is one of the most brilliant of French journalists, has been for some years a student of social and economic questions, and his study of them has brought him into a deep and discouraging pessimism. He sees no way out, and he has incarnated this idea in his piece. It is reeking with misery, hopeless despairing misery. But what truth and life there is in it! And that is what makes it great.

Speaking about tendency plays, one whose tendency almost reached a consummation was The Transgressor, written by Mr. A. W. Gattie, an Englishman of radical proclivities. The piece was produced in this country a year or two ago by Olga Nethersole, who acted the principal role in a most superb manner. Her interpretation of the theme and of the character was appreciative, sympathetic, convincing. But the miserable work of her leading man, Maurice Barrymore, made the play more than half a failure. His acting was so wretchedly and absurdly inadequate that he deserved hisses where he only failed to receive applause. Mr. Gattie should not permit this play to be his last.

I wonder when Grant Allen intends to give us another hilltop novel. The interval since the appearance of The British Barbarians has been altogether too long. It is impossible to place an estimate upon the value of such work as an educator; but, when it gives Mr. Allen so much pleasure to write them and us so much pleasure to read them, it is a pity there cannot be more of them.

The Rochester (New York) Union and Advertiser says that estimates as to the number of Spiritualists in the United States range from 125,000 to 12,000,000,000. The person responsible for the latter estimate must have access to census returns from both sides of the Styx.

The Boston Investigator has been publishing a symposium, the contributors to which endeavor to propose the best substitute for [7] the Bible as a moral guide. Some of the contributions are rational and interesting and some are not, but the amusing part of it is that they are all off on a wild-goose chase. The necessity for a moral guide, when there is no such thing as morality, is not very luminously apparent.

The trial of George Bedborough (whose arrest I mentioned last month) for corrupting and otherwise wilfully misusing the morals of Queen Victoria’s subjects has not yet taken place, the defence having determined to go to a higher court at once, in order to secure a more intelligent jury, and this is, as I understand it, the cause of the delay. The trial, Mr. Bedborough writes, will take place in September. And the delay is not particularly to be regretted. Time is needed to secure the necessary funds to conduct the defence and to organize the line of battle. Evidently Englishmen of all shades of radical belief realize the importance of acting together in this instance and they are going to make a hard fight. All contributions to the defence fund should be sent as soon as possible to the treasurer of the Free Press Defence Committee, Mrs. Gladys Dawson, Bedford Hotel, Covent Garden, London, W. C. Of course all persons familiar with the Comstock prosecutions in this country will have no difficulty in understanding that it is just as absurd to arrest Mr. Bedborough for selling Dr. Havelock Ellis’s Sexual Inversion as it was to imprison Moses Harman for publishing the Markland letter. The dominant element in the Anglo-Saxon race seems to fall before it is ripe, no matter in what soil it is growing. The intellectual level of the governing class is about the same in England and in the United States. And the level is very low. It is about time for those of us who have Anglo-Saxon blood in our veins to become ashamed of the beasts who share it with us. Nevertheless, there is other blood that is worse!

It pleases me to be able to state that one comrade has expressed a willingness to put twenty-five dollars into the publication of an English translation of Stirner’s masterpiece. This, with other encouraging offers, gives me hope that it is a possible thing to secure the subscription of a sufficient amount to assure an English edition of Der Einzige und Sein Eigenthum as soon as it is out of the translator’s hands. Should a sufficient number of my readers express a desire to assist in this matter I shall publish a list of the subscribers and the amounts subscribed.

Immigration Commissioner Powderly has been the recipient of a great deal of notoriety since his authorization of the deportation of Rudolph Rocke and Amelia Witcroft because they were not married when they reached this country and refused to get married after their arrival. Powderly, it will be remembered, was [8] for a long time the general master workman of the Knights of Labor and was the revered prophet of organized labor in this country. He annually led his devoted sheep to the ballot box to vote the Republican ticket. After a time his sheep threw him over and the Republican party naturally took him in out of the cold. And his sheep? They are now being led to the ballot box by other prophets. The sheep have become so accustomed to the prophets now that the latter do not even have to wear sheep’s clothing.

Hooley, the English promoter, swears that he paid certain of the titled nobility of England for the use of their names in the directorates of his various soap-bubble corporations. The titled gentlemen say he didn’t. Why should they be so sensitive about the matter? Is it any worse for individuals to pay these people for their titles than it is for the government to do it? Hooley, it is said, paid fabulous sums to certain newspapers for commendatory editorials. And there seem to be some people who disapprove of that sort of thing.

Bismarck is dead, and the wailing of the mourners has not perceptibly diminished the gaiety of nations, for he had not outlived his uselessness. His death, however, has given Kaiser Wilhelm der Kleine an opportunity for a burst of bombastic oratory which has caused some extra typesetting in the royal printing office, and this is the most serious consequence of the old war-maker’s taking off. He has been given credit for doing a great deal that he never did, but this is a very common thing among men who have wielded power. In a very few ways he was a benefit to the human race; in many more ways he was its bitterest enemy. The world would have been better off without him many years ago.

The war is over, and, as usual, the United States has been whipped,—behind the scenes. The taxation that has been saddled upon the people is an enormous burden, but it would really be lighter if there were more of it. This is a paradox whose explanation is very easy. By far a greater calamity than the increase of internal revenue exactions is the long lease of life given to the national banking system by the increase of the interest-bearing debt of the nation. Wall Street will get the bulk of the new issue of government bonds, because many more of the purchasers were speculators than investors. Thus the bonds will come to be held by the persons by whom they were intended to be held, and a reform of the monetary system of the country has been removed much farther into the future. It would have been less disastrous to the welfare of the people if the whole amount of the receipts from the sale of the bonds had been raised by immediate taxation. But we are not ruled directly by blockheads; these latter never do much besides the voting.