the ideal in terms never to be misunderstood, rather than an extramundane theory propounded by one who is not called upon to put it to the test of actuality.

Because this principle of participation has been accepted by the entire body of Protestant laity the conditions upon which Protestant ministers must live their lives are defined with something like finality. Each must fit into his habitat at the stage of social evolution reached by his parish. But his precise place is not set by striking an average: he must adopt the customs and meet the standards of the better class of his parishioners. Even though his salary is no higher than that of the skilled mechanic, he and his family must dress, entertain, and contribute to local philanthropies on the scale of the comparatively rich.

To this as an immediate programme the clergyman has no objection; by instinct and education he appreciates the emblems of refinement; he wishes his children to have a flying start in a competitive age; and, above all, he wants to be a commendable representative of the civilization he is pledged to sustain and advance. The Manse, or Rectory, or Parsonage, is always too large and out of proportion to his income; books are the tools of his trade, and they are not only expensive but they become obsolete more quickly than other tools; clerical clothing cannot be bought readily and cheaply in the custom-made stores during clearance sales; charity, to him, is not a passing luxury but a permanent investment to conserve his capital in character; vacations are almost enforced, and in a high-tension-nervebrain-and-heart occupation must not be neglected. So he takes his place, smiles, preaches optimism, gives first and last aid to every kind of injury, keeps the honor of his church and his Master beyond reproach, and spends

the residue of his strength in devising and practising secret economies.

The present gives him scarcely a care; but the future! It looms dark and bleak before him: extreme penury, possibly starvation, or charity. He would prefer the former for himself; he has lived so intimately with chivalrous ideals and generous impulses, he has striven so hard to keep his individual independence as an inalienable right, that he would rather die a South Pacific castaway than subsist on doles of pity. But his family! and above all, the honor of his church! For these he must drain the dregs and comfort his soul with his oft-used pulpit parable of Lazarus and the crumbs. Provision for disability or old age is altogether out of the question with the average minister.

The cost of living has been rising at the rate of five per cent a year; the level of clerical salaries has not risen five per cent in a decade; and the increase, such as it is, has not been a flat advance throughout all the churches; it has been chiefly confined to the wealthier parishes and congregations. Even to save by insurance is almost out of the question, at least in an amount adequate to an old-age annuity. Taken at a comparatively early age, a $5000 twenty-year endowment policy would swallow up more than a fifth of the average yearly salary of Protestant clergymen; supposing, however, that it could be managed, the income at five per cent will bring in only $5 a week for old-age subsistence. No matter how saintly and devoted he is, or how deeply under obligation earth may be for his vicarious life, the Protestant clergyman can see his heaven only beyond a belt of hell through which he and his loved ones must pass.

What fault there is lies at the door of the wealthier laymen of the churches, particularly the successful business

men. Nearly all of them are officers or partners or stockholders in the great corporations of the country. They know perfectly well that practically every large and well-established industry is providing for the disability and the old age of its employees; they have almost a flawless knowledge of the action recently taken by various states in respect of employers' liability; they acquiesce in the pensions paid by the government to the personnel of the army and navy. These and other developments of the corporate conscience are now fixed factors of business and citizenship, justified alike by economic justice and humanitarianism. Nearly all of the prominent business men of America have some connection with the church; many of them are conspicuous leaders of Christian enterprise. Industrially they are Dr. Jekyll; ecclesiastically they are Mr. Hyde. What use is there in glossing the matter? They are proud of being just and fair where it is an economic necessity; they are brutally callous where it is a religious grace. The employer who dares not rip a faithful but gray-haired mechanic from his lathe and throw him upon the mercy of the community will tear a faithful but gray-haired preacher from his pulpit and drop him upon the lean cold bosom of charity. Perhaps the horrible anachronism is the last defiance of a defeated feudalism.

II

According to the United States Census Bureau, the Christian Church of America is the greatest corporation in the country. In 1906, it reported a property equipment costing $1,257,575,860, of which the Protestant share was $935,942,278. For the purpose of framing an indictment to which some one in particular must plead, I shall confine myself to the Protestant

Church. During the sixteen years from 1890 to 1906, that property investment increased 40 per cent; in the nine years since the latter date, the increase must have been another 25 per cent. Thus in twenty-five years, under the inspiration and guidance of its ministry, the Protestant Church has added 65 per cent of value to its capital account, but in that phenomenal increase the minister has not even an infinitesimal equity. The one institution on earth that is dedicated to the proclamation and practice of Justice is a monumental and monstrous example of injustice; the one organization in the land that has as its raison d'être the leadership in private and public righteousness is dragging its palsied conscience far in the rear of the nominally non-moral industrial corporations. Without shame, with scarcely a transient concern, the Protestant Church is treating its most worthy employees as though there had been no advance in social and industrial ethics since the tooth-and-claw period.

This religious corporation employs 150,000 local managers or executive officers known as priests, clergymen, ministers, pastors, or preachers. Usually these pay the cost of their own training, although some branches of the sacred business assist candidates during the years of preparation. Higher standards of character are required of the employees than in any other occupation; and, on the whole, the degree of mental efficiency demanded is as exacting as in other professions which rest on an intellectual foundation. The outstanding qualities, scrutinized with jealous care, are the instinct for spiritual interpretation and the capacity for ethical leadership. These are the rarest characteristics in the endowment of humanity, and historians and philosophers are unanimous in thinking that the stability and advancement of so

ciety have always depended more upon the exercise of these qualities than upon any other factors. And, as may be at once conceded, the intensive cultivation of these qualities precludes the development of the economic or financial faculty; hence the sneer that ministers are poor business men is as much beside the mark as to say that as a rule bankers would make indifferent artists and corporation presidents very wretched poets. Necessity, however, in this case comes to the rescue of the clergy, for they are compelled to assist in the finances of their parishes and in course of time they do acquire a respectable degree of business acumen. As a class, at the age of thirty-five, they are probably as level-headed and worldly-wise as the men of any other class.

Moreover, the Protestant Church raises and administers well over $100,000,000 per annum, not counting the additions to the invested permanent funds local and general endowand general endowments. For instance, the denomination with which I am most familiar, "The Presbyterian Church in the United States of America,'-the incorporated title,-reported for the year ending in 1915, a total income of $27,785,036. It is manned by 9685 ministers; but this number includes permanent officials of boards, professors, missionaries, ministers without charge, and a large percentage disabled by old age from active service. And yet, out of that total only $256,144 was designed for meeting the needs of its disabled servants or the widows and dependent children of ministers who had died.

But what is worse, only $96,596 was given in cash by the churches during the year for bona-fide pensions- the the balance being for the Relief Fund, which is a pure form of charity and barely enough to avoid scandal by giving slight alleviation to the most des

perately needy. Later I shall point out more definitely the distinction between the charity called relief and the justice known as pensions. It is sufficient here to note that one of the wealthiest branches of the Protestant corporation has thus far failed to reach the standard of economic justice frankly recognized by industrial corporations commonly called 'soulless.'

III

Industrial justice represents the latest phase in the evolution of a social conscience. For many centuries charity has been reckoned a grace of religion, and it is supposed that grace has forever abrogated law. Perhaps in the theological realm it has, but not in the social. Swiftly, and with ever-increasing momentum, the science of economics has overridden sentiment; industrialism has frankly appropriated the language and the laws of ethics; organized bodies of laborers have dropped the pleading tone of the suppliant and speak in the accent of demand. The movement came, not from the few at the top, but from the masses at the bottom and from the multitudes in the middle. Charity has grown to be the most hated word in the vocabulary. There is no anger against the impulse of charity as felt by the almoner, but a deep indignation that the social structure should have any area in which charity is needed. Men demand economic justice as they demand liberty of thought, speech, and movement, as they demand equality before the law, as they demand representation in government; they claim it as an inalienable right, as a fundamental law of democracy; and they will accept no grace as a substitute.

Fortunately, in one department of our multiform industrial relationships, the capitalists or their executives re

cognized almost instantly the validity of the claim. To tabulate the various forms of response in baldest outline and without a word of comment would require more than the space allotted to this article. Within a few years, thousands of schemes have been elaborated by which the producers of values may participate in the wealth produced. Leaving aside coöperative societies, stock partnerships, bonus distribution, profit-sharing, and sliding scales of wages, as being a branch of the theme that is not germane to the subject of economic justice toward the Christian ministry, we come to the question of pensions, which, in its final form, is nothing less than the equity a worker has in the value of the business his labor has helped to build up, considered from the standpoint of the time he has given to the occupation. Pensions differ from all forms of workmen's compensation for disability chiefly in the fact that the time element does not enter into the latter; but both are a distinct recognition that the employees' willingness to contribute to the production of values gives them an indubitable equity in the wealth produced, whether that wealth be regarded as permanent capital or periodic increment.

Pensions are deferred wages. They are as far removed from charity as is the ordinary biweekly pay envelope or the monthly check. Their record is not in the private bank-book of the employer but on the debit page of the ledger. This is equally true whether they are provided by a capital fund, as in the United States Steel Corporation, or whether they are charged against earnings, as by the New York Central Railroad. Indeed, the method of provision is the least important feature; the one vital point is that industrial corporations recognize that to pay wages to employees when their ability to produce has passed away is ethically

and economically sound. The principle has been almost universally adopted. Practically every railroad system and manufacturing corporation in America reckons the pensioning of disabled or aged employees as a fixed liability, no more to be evaded than the annual charge-off for depreciation.

Such a principle or practice, once established in the business world, could not fail of extension. Colleges and universities paid attention to their emeritus funds, and, when it was found that these were inadequate or inequitable, the Carnegie Foundation completed the system. The privileges of this fund have been extended to seventy-three institutions, and the average pension provided for professors who wish to retire at sixty-five years of age or later is $1600 per annum. Public-school systems in every large centre already have made, or are making, provision for old-age retirement, but the bases of the plans adopted are so variant that no summary can be given: they represent every possible form, from contributory insurance to a straight pension paid by the Educational Board from the taxes and provided for in the annual budget. The retiring pensions of the United States army and navy, and also the oldage benefits of some of the brotherhoods of organized labor, are too wellknown to need comment. Once the principle was accepted and found feasible in application, it spread in concentric circles, through municipal employees and various state and federal branches of employment, until it seems now to be coterminous with human needs everywhere. Old-age pensions are distributed by the governments of France, Germany, Great Britain, Denmark, and indeed, in one aspect or another, are in force in nearly all civilized nations of the world. In several of our own commonwealths mothers' pensions are being operated with a de

gree of success that is far too subtle, though none the less real, to admit of tabulation. "The right to live' sums up, not only the sentiment, but the ethics of this universal development of the economic conscience. Any one who works according to his ability creates for himself an inalienable equity in the totality of the world's wealth, and the annual pension is not a new form of largesse but a regular dividend upon the capital which the worker has invested in the form of time, muscle, or brain. Or, in other words, a pension is simply a deferred wage held back for bookkeeping purposes. It is no more charity than is a bond coupon.

Clergymen are producers of values. Every form of property depends for its worth upon the stability of the social fabric, and upon the overhead charges of the state for its protection. There is more relevance than business men realize in the apparently cynical remark of a friend of mine: 'I stand for the church, not because I believe in Heaven, but because I believe in earth. It is cheaper to pay preachers than policemen and it is always more economical to support pulpits than prisons. I always contribute to the churches and charge it to my insurance account.' Sir Charles Warren, when chief of the London police, made the remark that each Salvation Army officer in the slums of the metropolis released two policemen from duty. Speaking of the effect of the work of a popular evangelist upon the employees of a certain railroad, one of its high executive officers said to me that his company could well afford to pay $100,000 for the six weeks of revival meetings in return for the increased efficiency of the men by decreasing drinking and inducing a more conscientious concentration on their occupations.

In every community the clergymen stand and have always stood for those things which increase values; they are

the relentless foes of intemperance, immorality, and gambling; they stand sponsor for better housing, more effective health measures, the conservation of childhood, the laying out of playgrounds and parks, the improvement of the home, higher and more practical standards of education, and for popularizing thrift, for self-respect, and for civic enthusiasm. These value-making characteristics are pointed out because the new movement for ministerial pensions should rest squarely upon the business men of the churches, and the claim should be frankly recognized as a payment of deferred salary out of the increased values produced. And if the effort to put the movement upon a basis of equity is to succeed, the laymen of the churches must take it in hand as a part of their business and not as a work of grace. The last shame and blight that can rest upon the Protestant ministry will fall if the clergymen of the various denominations are expected to panhandle for the establishment of their respective pension funds. In fact, they will refuse in such large numbers that the schemes will fail and the Protestant Church of America, counting among its laymen the leaders of national finance and industry, will present itself as that glaring anomaly, a spiritual corporation devoid of an ethical soul.

IV

Organized charity does not differ in any essential from spontaneous and desultory charity: it is a dole dependent on the impulse of the donor rather than on the rightful claim of the recipient. The great Protestant denominations have for many years systematized the giving of relief to indigent and wornout ministers, or to the widows and dependent children of the clergy. Quite recently, several of the churches have realized that social justice requires