The Problem Stated with the Assistance of Alfred Marshall

The invitation to deliver these lectures gave me both personal and professional pleasure. But, whereas my personal response was a sincere and modest appreciation of an honour I had no right to expect, my professional reaction was not modest at all. Sociology, it seemed to me, had every right to claim a share in this annual commemoration of Alfred Marshall, and I considered it a sign of grace that a University which has not yet accepted sociology as an inmate should nevertheless be prepared to welcome her as a visitor. It may be-and the thought is a disturbing one-that sociology is on trial here in my person. If so, I am sure I can rely on you to be scrupulously fair in your judgement, and to regard any merit you may find in my lectures as evidence of the academic value of the subject I profess, while treating everything in them that appears to you paltry, common or ill-conceived as the product of qualities peculiar to myself and not to be found in any of my colleagues.

I will not defend the relevance of my subject to the occasion by claiming Marshall as a sociologist. For, once he had deserted his first loves of metaphysics, ethics and psychology, he devoted his life to the development of economics as an independent science and to the perfection of its own special methods of investigation and analysis. He deliberately chose a path markedly different from that followed by Adam Smith and John Stuart Mill, and the mood in which he made this choice is indicated in the inaugural lecture which he delivered here in Cambridge in 1885. Speaking of Comte's belief in a unified social science, he said: 'No doubt if that existed economics would gladly find shelter under its wing. But it does not exist; it shows no signs of coming into existence. There is no use in waiting idly for it; we must do what we can with our present resources. He therefore defended the autonomy and the superiority of the economic method, a superiority due mainly to its use of the measuring rod of money, which 'is so much the best measure of motives that no other can compete with it.'

Marshall was, as you know, an idealist; so much so that Keynes has said of him that he 'was too anxious to do good'. The last thing I wish to do is to claim him for sociology on that account. It is true that some sociologists have suffered from a similar affliction of benevolence, often to the detriment of their intellectual performance, but I should hate to distinguish the economist from the sociologist by saying that the one should be ruled by his head while the other may be swayed by his heart. For every honest sociologist, like every honest economist, knows that the choice of ends or ideals lies outside the field of social science and within the field of social philosophy. But idealism made Marshall passionately eager to put the science of economics at the service of policy by using it-as a science may legitimately be used-to lay bare the full nature and content of the problems with which policy has to deal and to assess the relative efficacy of alternative means for the achievement of given ends. And he realised that, even in the case of what would naturally be regarded as economic problems, the science of economics was not of itself able fully to render these two services. For they involved the consideration of social forces which are as immune to attack by the economist's tape-measure as was the croquet ball to the blows which Alice tried in vain to strike with the head of her flamingo. It was, perhaps, on this account that, in certain moods, Marshall felt a quite unwarranted disappointment at his achievements, and even expressed regret that he had preferred economics to psychology, a science which might have brought him nearer to the pulse and life-blood of society and given him a deeper understanding of human aspirations.

It would be easy to cite many passages in which Marshall was drawn to speak of these elusive factors of whose importance he was so firmly convinced, but I prefer to confine my attention to one essay whose theme comes very near to that which I have chosen for these lectures. It is a paper he read to the Cambridge Reform Club in 1873 on The Future of the Working Classes, and it has been republished in the memorial volume edited by Professor Pigou. There are some textual differences between the two editons which, I understand, are to be attributed to corrections made by Marshall himself after the original version had appeared in print as a pamphlet was reminded of this essay by my colleague, Professor Phelps Brown, who made use of it in his inaugural lecture last November. It is equally well suited to my purpose today, because in it Marshall, while examining one facet of the problem of social equality from the point of view of economic cost, came right up to the frontier beyond which lies the territory of sociology, crossed it, and made a brief excursion on the other side. His action could be interpreted as a challenge to sociology to send an emissary to meet him at the frontier, and to join with him in the task of converting no-man's-land into common ground. I have been presumptuous enough to answer the challenge by setting out to travel, as historian and sociologist, towards a point on the economic frontier of that same general theme, the problem of social equality.

In his Cambridge paper Marshall posed the question 'whether there be valid ground for the opinion that the amelioration of the working classes has limits beyond which it cannot pass'. 'The question', he said, 'is not whether all men will ultimately be equal-that they certainly will not-but whether progress may not go on steadily, if slowly, till, by occupation at least, every man is a gentleman. I hold that it may, and that it will/ His faith was based on the belief that the distinguishing feature of the working classes was heavy and excessive labour, and that the volume of such labour could be greatly reduced. Looking round he found evidence that the skilled artisans, whose labour was not deadening and soul-destroying, were already rising towards the condition which he foresaw as the ultimate achievement of all. They are learning, he said, to value education and leisure more than 'mere increase of wages and material comforts'. They are 'steadily developing independence and a manly respect for themselves and, therefore, a courteous respect for others; they are steadily accepting the private and public duties of a citizen; steadily increasing their grasp of the truth that they are men, and not producing machines. They are steadily becoming gentlemen.' When technical advance has reduced heavy...