by Max Weber
The influence of what remained of the Puritanism of Holland on its art is a very complex problem, and my casual comments on the matter are really of no account. Nevertheless, the contrast between Rubens and Rembrandt, though neither this nor their conduct of life can be equated with the differences in their background, is still very far from being fortuitous. One is reminded of Baudelaire’s verses [in Les fleurs du mal], which are admittedly something of a caricature as far as Rembrandt is concerned, but remain true to the basic mood.
When a historian can speak of the Dordrecht Decrees8 as something almost irrelevant to the history of Holland, this can only mean that he has no idea about modern Dutch ecclesiastical and political history. The neo-Calvinism of Holland is certainly a structure with some very modern features, but this view strikes one as rather odd when one considers how the Kuyper9 schism, which even now is still the basis of the entire political constellation in Holland, rests at all points upon legal concepts and doctrines that were created in and after Dordrecht, starting with the genuinely “Puritan” requirement that the congregation of those participating in the Lord’s Supper must be allowed to maintain its “purity” for the glory of God. The view must seem odd, too, to anyone who is familiar with the surviving printed documents relating to the history of Church discipline in Holland in those old times, and knows of the tremendous authority of the “sacrosancta synodus” which for centuries its devotees would never speak of without baring their heads. The fact that the neo-Calvinist church of Kuyper was founded in the “unbelieving” city of Amsterdam, of all places, or that Amsterdam went over to the side of the Calvinist Party against Oldenbarnevelt, could, according to Rachfahl, be just a matter of “chance.” On the other hand, this strange modern “chance” could lead some people to ponder whether or not that event in 161810 was due to more than the mere day-to-day shifting alliances among the various “cliques” in the Vroedshap11 such as might happen at any time. (As a minority in the world, asceticism has existed everywhere and at almost all times: in Holland at that time and under Kuyper, in England under Cromwell, in Pennsylvania immediately after Penn, in France from the very beginning, and in the Pietist period in Germany.) To judge from his remarks, Rachfahl seems to know little of the part played by the Puritan dissenters in England in Cobden’s anti-Corn Law agitation.
The interesting phenomenon which can be observed in the relationship between the classes and religious life—in almost every country—is the way in which the originally vertical rifts (often including the Baptists) running through the social strata were gradually transformed into horizontal ones: here is where historical materialist “interpretation” begins to assert itself.
15) When (col. 1320) Rachfahl decides to ask how I know that the statement he quotes (after me) by Jakob Fugger is the expression of something other than the Puritan “ethic of the calling,” my answer is: because anyone who knows how a Puritan would express himself in a similar situation, also knows that he would—with complete subjective truthfulness—have expressed himself differently. And sure enough, by no later than column 1324, Rachfahl himself knows—without telling us how!—that the ethic of the calling of the Calvinists does differ from Fugger’s style of life in that for the Calvinists profit and wealth “were only factors of accessory importance”—just as I had explained!
16) Column 1231: “However, as Weber admits, in the end the Calvinist ethic proved to be a force that wanted the good but created evil, . . . namely wealth with all its temptations.”12 To say of a writer that he “admits” one of his own, almost literally quoted, basic theses, is, to say the least, a version of the facts which is liable to mislead the reader.
16a) Archiv, volume 20, page 15 [here in this volume].
17) Compare Archiv, volume 25, page 247, note 110 [here, note 9 in this volume]. Rachfahl knows this essay too, as he occasionally quotes from it himself.
18) I have spoken about the Arminianism in the leading strata of the Dutch wealthy bourgeoise [Groβbürgertum] and have also made reference to Busken-Huët. It is a bit rich for Rachfahl, who contributes nothing new of any significance to the subject, to maintain that I “know” nothing about these matters.
18a) Archiv, volume 20, page 20 [here in this volume].
19) The main emphasis would not, for example, be on the distribution of capital and so forth in any way at all.
20) Compare my remarks in this journal (Archiv, vol. 28, p. 263, and vol. 29, p. 529)
21) “There can be no doubt that an inward relationship exists between Calvinism” (on this quite mistaken restriction, see above) “and capitalism.”
22) And of course a fortiori the assertion, which he constantly stresses, that it was the “common Christian” Reformation morality (so this does include both non- and anti-Calvinist morality) that continued to exist.
22a) I have concluded from the appearance of the “capitalist” spirit (in my sense of the term!) in a place where the economic conditions for it (even then!) were as unfavorable as they could possibly be, that the methodical conduct of life that was dominant in New England and Pennsylvania at the time contained within itself the driving force [Antriebe] for this. To obviate any possible misunderstanding, I also said that such a seed then needed the appropriate “conditions” in order to be able to contribute (and I emphasize the word “contribute”!) to the rise of a capitalist “economic system” (vol. 20, p. 53; vol. 21, p. 110 [here and here in this volume]). I believed such a comment to be superfluous (mistakenly, it seems!).
23) I fail to understand where I am supposed to have spoken of an “absolute” domination [Herrschaft] of Puritanism in the economic life of England. The struggle of the capitalist middle classes [bürgerlich-kapitalistischen Mittelklassen] took place on two fronts. Firstly, against the “squirearchy,” where it took the form of a clash between “asceticism” and “Merry England,” in which the Crown intervened with the Book of Sports. Secondly, against the monopolists and powerful financiers, who, in the seventeenth century, were based at Court (compare the action taken by the Long Parliament to this end). This struggle was supported by a very clear theory of the “justum pretium,” (“just price”) which was satisfied by the Puritan ethic. I had planned to demonstrate this latter point in a future article.
23a) Compare, for example, Archiv, volume 21, p. 98, note 65 [here, note 291 in this volume].
24) But not (God forbid!) what he asserts in column 1249, namely, that I allege the existence of a motive working in an absolutely unique capacity in all (or even most) bearers of the “capitalist spirit” (in my sense).
25) Since Rachfahl well knows that I have gone to great lengths to attempt to explain the waning of those motive forces which were effective in the heyday of ascetic Protestantism—after all, he attacks my method of explanation—this “even today” is another example of his kind of “criticism,” which seizes on any old expression just for effect. On top of that, just to complete the picture, he himself (col. 1324) sets the lifestyle of today’s large-scale capitalism against that of Calvinism—reproducing exactly what he has read in my essays, only with a slightly different choice of words.
26) The italics here are my own. I should add that the italics in the previous quotations from Rachfahl’s articles are also my own.
26a) Sombart (Archiv, vol. 39, p. 701) quite correctly draws attention to the words of the entrepreneur, Walther Rathenau (in the latter’s Reflexionen), who claims “never to have known a truly great businessman and entrepreneur for whom earning money was the most important aspect of his business [Beruf].” Rathenau adds: “I maintain that anyone who hankers after personal financial profit can never be an entrepreneur.” (Notwithstanding his “sermon,” this is exactly what Franklin, and even more certainly the Puritans, would have said. The accumulation of wealth is something “accessory” to all of them—to use Rachfahl’s word.)
27) I quoted far more graphic examples of this than “pious foundations,” which—for completely different motives, and the differenc
e is significant!—were every bit as common within Calvinism and Reformed Christianity in general.
28) I emphasized very strongly that if I were to complete my essays, I should then, instead of being accused of “exaggerating the influence of religious factors,” probably be accused of “surrendering to historical materialism,” as I should then be giving prominence to the effect of economic conditions on the religious sphere (the reverse causal relationship). In column 1325, Rachfahl even applies the epithet “monstrous” to what he alleges to be my thesis, which sits rather oddly with the fact that he appropriates the content of what I have said for himself. Incidentally, that influence in the political sphere is fundamentally different from what it is believed to be by those historians who claim to be “nothing but politicians.” By the “great powers,” these men understand only the big battalions on the field of battle, and we all know that “God is on the side of the big battalions.” Many of these “powers” have never been able to prevail against the biblical text: “We ought to obey God rather than men” as long as it sustained the faith of determined men, even if they were only a small minority, as the Puritans always were. It was this that defeated those that were waging the “Kulturkampf” in the seventeenth century, and again in the nineteenth, and on both occasions their defeat had consequences that were not overcome for generations. It goes without saying that this principle is very far from having been the one and only foundation of political individualism (I assume this expression is unambiguous in this case). But the fact that this element is necessarily lacking in today’s political individualism, and that in Germany, thanks among other things to Lutheranism, it has always been either entirely absent or was understood in a purely passive sense, is responsible for far more than those clever people could imagine in their wildest dreams.
29) It defies belief that Rachfahl (col. 1251) should point to the “agonal instincts” [agonalen Triebe] as an element which I am supposed to have overlooked in my concept of the “spirit” of capitalism. In fact, I have frequently stressed that they have today often taken the place of the extinguished ascetic “spirit.” The nature of these “agonal” instincts (the plural is more appropriate here) is illustrated very well by Rockefeller’s statement to the Industrial Commission (compare Sombart’s remarks on the subject: Archiv, vol. 29, p. 710). I have also given an example of it in volume 21, page 109, note 85a [here, note 313 in this volume].
30) It is quite true that Sombart (p. 709) regards the typical “tendencies” in the purposeful action of entrepreneurs (that is, those which arise from the exigencies of the situation) as part of the “psychology” of the entrepreneur, whereas I designate all such causal components as “pragmatic” or “rational” (because they are derived from the inevitable means to the end of economic success). However, this is purely a difference in terminology, as in practice Sombart’s work brings out the critical points very clearly. The reason why I, for my part, have certain terminological reservations about the expression “psychology” to describe this kind of analysis of action is set out in this journal (vol. 27, p. 546). For example, there is a tendency, when talking about “the psychology of the stock exchange,” to think particularly of “irrational” phenomena which cannot be rationally deduced from the business situation.
Of course, the substance of Sombart’s arguments could be amplified with an abundance of comments and examples. To take, for example, the subject of the “pragmatically” conditioned limits of “calculability” [Rechenhaftigkeit]: I once happened to be introduced to the internal affairs of a very large business, one that had developed out of a family business, which engaged in practically every imaginable form of wholesale trade in three large trading centers and two foreign ones. The individual “seats” had to work at very different levels of intensity—almost unbelievably different in terms of quantity as well as intensity—and their respective contributions to the total profit, which, as in the Middle Ages, went into a single fund, were also very different, as was the capital requirement. One of the relations, the most brilliant businessman among them, had grown tired of the office and was living in Paris, from where he would travel to meetings at the appropriate location when there was anything important to discuss. Be that as it may, the profit, which ran into very high figures, was simply divided into portions per head; the only distinction made was that between double or single portions. Double portions were allocated to the head of the largest branch, which operated with a really enormous office, and to a man who had to reside in a particularly uncongenial overseas location. All the others, including the “casual” worker who resided in Paris, received single portions. A more precisely calculated distribution was described as perfectly possible, but was rejected as “inconvenient,” “petty,” and “unnecessary,” given the level of profit. On the other hand, there was a close relation of the boss, a man who was very highly valued and an intimate friend of his, whose smaller share in the business had been forfeited in a financial crisis and who now “served” as an “employee” (actually as a “Prokurist” or company secretary). The idea of giving this man a higher than usual salary (but one that he could earn elsewhere) was regarded as contrary to all “business principles” and out of the question, because the other employees could demand the same, and especially because he “should not expect anything different.” His salary was part of the costs, and therefore governed by purely economic, “accounting” [rechenhaft] factors. The “profit” which showed up on the balance sheet, however, was not. This was beyond the reach of accounting, because accounting was “pragmatic” and not indispensable for the existence of the business. Such phenomena, of which there are many, can be rationally explained without any “psychology” by reference to the “essence” of “capitalism” with the aid of the categories “means” and “ends.” But if we wish to consider the matter historically, this rational approach will not suffice, for elements that are explicable in terms of the economic system as such unite with others that emanate from a whole variety of sources and work together to create the “spirit” which breathes life into it.
At any rate, categories such as “acquisitive drive” or “the craze for profit” are—as Sombart has rightly emphasized—by no means sufficient to account for the “capitalist spirit”—whatever we understand by this concept.
31) On the concept of the “ideal type,” see my essay in volume 19 of this journal. [See Editors’ introduction, note 34.]
32) I have made a change of terminology to the extent that previously I was not inclined to term anything more than isolated phenomena of the economy of the ancient world “capitalist,” and therefore was reluctant to talk about ancient “capitalism.” I now hold a different view on this, as is shown by my article “Agrarverhältuisse im Altertum” in Handwörterbuch der Staatswissenschaften, ed. J. Conrad, 3rd edition, volume 1, 1909, pages 52–188.
33) In this journal (Archiv, vol. 26, p. 279, note 3 [p. here, note 3 in this volume]) I have myself stressed that non-completion has had the unfortunate result that “superficial readers might be tempted to regard these articles as finished pieces of work.” A “critic,” however, does not have the right to be such a superficial reader. Even a consideration of my little sketch in the Christliche Welt should suffice to make it obvious that the problem in my essays in the Archiv was deliberately approached from the angle that was most difficult to grasp and “prove,” namely, that which concerned the inner disposition [Habitus], and that the powerful influence of education, the discipline of the sects, and other matters—right up to the threshold of the present—were merely adumbrated, and not explored in any depth at all. Though Rachfahl lays emphasis on the importance of education, it takes very little knowledge of the role played by Pietist educational principles in this context to realize that here, too, specific influences of “ascetic Protestantism” (in the sense I have described) were at work.
34) This is the only kind of capitalism I am concerned with. I might have been better advised to indicate this in t
he title and in the nomenclature throughout the text. However, I did not do this when composing the essays for the reasons stated above in note 32.
35) The manner in which Rachfahl finds fault with my brief remarks about the development of bourgeois [bürgerlich] “comfort” in contrast to the grand seigneur lifestyle can only be called pathetic. Anyone with a nodding acquaintance with cultural history knows of the existence of this contrast. Of course, it is true that the “boundaries” between historical phenomena (however strongly contrasting) are always fluid. Certain historians seem unable to grasp that this is precisely why it is so vital to distinguish between concepts. I refer the reader to what I have said on this matter in the Handwörterbuch der Staatswissenschaften (3rd ed., p. 183, right-hand column).
EDITORS’ NOTES
1. “Antikritisches zum ‘Geist’ des Kapitalismus,” Archiv für Sozialwissenschaft und Sozialpolitik 30 (1910), pp. 176–202.
2. The historian Felix Rachfahl (1867–1925) studied in Breslau, where he was deeply involved in one of the Burschenschaften (fraternities), achieved his Habilitation in 1893 in Kiel, and became auβerordentliche Professor (a professor who does not have his own “Institut,” or department) in Halle in 1898, then Ordinarius (full professor) in Königsberg in 1903. There followed professorships at the universities of Gieβen (1907), Kiel (1909)—the dispute with Weber took place during this period, and Freiburg (1914). His particular academic interests lay in the fields of medieval studies, in the history of his native Silesia, and in that of the Netherlands, as evidenced by his major publication: Wilhelm von Oranien und der Niederländische Aufstand (William of Orange and the Revolt of the Netherlands) in three volumes (1906–24). At the time of his death, plans for a fourth volume were well advanced, but he left instructions for all his literary estate to be destroyed, instructions which his executors duly carried out. A former student, Georg von Below, paints a picture of a dedicated if somewhat pedantic scholar and a demanding and rather formidable teacher, who was nonetheless deeply concerned for the well-being of his students. His lecturing style seems to have left something to be desired. Von Below writes: “He would read out word for word in a monotonous and very loud voice from a manuscript without paragraphs or sub-headings.” He was a Catholic and politically conservative, and is reported to have expressed the view that the Catholic Center Party played a valuable role in keeping the working masses away from Social Democracy. (Information kindly supplied by Dr. Christian Boyens, Kiel, and based on Georg von Below, Felix Rachfahl [Schlesische Lebensbilder, 2 vols., 1926], held by the library of the University of Kiel.)
