strike by being rendered incapable of production. These are the methods
of the militant revolutionary syndicalists.[X]

Toward the end of the nineties another element came to the aid of the
anarchists. It is difficult to class this group with any certainty. They
are neither socialists nor anarchists. They remind one of those
Bakouninists that Marx once referred to as "lawyers without cases,
physicians without patients and knowledge, students of billiards,
etc."[7] "They are good-natured, gentlemanly, cultured people," says
Sombart; "people with spotless linen, good manners and fashionably
dressed wives; people with whom one holds social intercourse as with
one's equals; people who would at first sight hardly be taken as the
representatives of a new movement whose object it is to prevent
socialism from becoming a mere middle-class belief."[8] In a word, they
appear to be individuals wearied with the unrealities of life and
seeking to overcome their _ennui_ by, at any rate, discussing the making
of revolutions. With their "myths," their "reflections on violence,"
their appeals to physical vigor and to the glory of combat, as well as
with their incessant attacks on the socialist movement, they have given
very material aid to the anarchist element in the syndicalist movement.
For a number of years I have read faithfully _Le Mouvement Socialiste_,
but I confess that I have not understood their dazzling metaphysics, and
I am somewhat comforted to see that both Levine[9] and Lewis[10] find
them frequently incomprehensible.

Without injustice to this group of intellectuals, I think it may be
truthfully said that they have contributed nothing essential to the
doctrines of syndicalism as developed by the trades unionists
themselves; and Edward Berth, in _Les Nouveaux Aspects du Socialisme_,
has partially explained why, without meaning to do so. "It has often
been observed," he says, "that the anarchists are by origin artisan,
peasant, or aristocrat. Rousseau represents, obviously, the anarchism of
the artisan. His republic is a little republic of free and independent
craftsmen.... Proudhon is a peasant in his heart ... and, if we finally
take Tolstoi, we find here an anarchism of worldly or aristocratic
origin. Tolstoi is a _blase_ aristocrat, disgusted with civilization by
having too much eaten of it."[11] Whether or not this characterization
of Tolstoi is justified, there can be no question that many of this type
rushed to th