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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Looking Backwards from 2000 to 1887 + +Author: Edward Bellamy + +Posting Date: August 30, 2008 [EBook #624] +Release Date: August, 1996 +[Last updated: October 12, 2022] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LOOKING BACKWARDS FROM 2000 TO 1887 *** + + + + +Produced by Charles Keller. HTML version by Al Haines. + + + + + +</pre> + + +<BR><BR> + +<H1 ALIGN="center"> +LOOKING BACKWARD +</H1> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +From 2000 to 1887 +</H2> + +<BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +by +</H3> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +Edward Bellamy +</H2> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +AUTHOR'S PREFACE +</H3> + +<H4 ALIGN="center"> +Historical Section Shawmut College, Boston, +<BR> +December 26, 2000 +</H4> + +<BR> + +<P> +Living as we do in the closing year of the twentieth century, enjoying +the blessings of a social order at once so simple and logical that it +seems but the triumph of common sense, it is no doubt difficult for +those whose studies have not been largely historical to realize that +the present organization of society is, in its completeness, less than +a century old. No historical fact is, however, better established than +that till nearly the end of the nineteenth century it was the general +belief that the ancient industrial system, with all its shocking social +consequences, was destined to last, with possibly a little patching, to +the end of time. How strange and wellnigh incredible does it seem that +so prodigious a moral and material transformation as has taken place +since then could have been accomplished in so brief an interval! The +readiness with which men accustom themselves, as matters of course, to +improvements in their condition, which, when anticipated, seemed to +leave nothing more to be desired, could not be more strikingly +illustrated. What reflection could be better calculated to moderate the +enthusiasm of reformers who count for their reward on the lively +gratitude of future ages! +</P> + +<P> +The object of this volume is to assist persons who, while desiring to +gain a more definite idea of the social contrasts between the +nineteenth and twentieth centuries, are daunted by the formal aspect of +the histories which treat the subject. Warned by a teacher's experience +that learning is accounted a weariness to the flesh, the author has +sought to alleviate the instructive quality of the book by casting it +in the form of a romantic narrative, which he would be glad to fancy +not wholly devoid of interest on its own account. +</P> + +<P> +The reader, to whom modern social institutions and their underlying +principles are matters of course, may at times find Dr. Leete's +explanations of them rather trite—but it must be remembered that to +Dr. Leete's guest they were not matters of course, and that this book +is written for the express purpose of inducing the reader to forget for +the nonce that they are so to him. One word more. The almost universal +theme of the writers and orators who have celebrated this bimillennial +epoch has been the future rather than the past, not the advance that +has been made, but the progress that shall be made, ever onward and +upward, till the race shall achieve its ineffable destiny. This is +well, wholly well, but it seems to me that nowhere can we find more +solid ground for daring anticipations of human development during the +next one thousand years, than by "Looking Backward" upon the progress +of the last one hundred. +</P> + +<P> +That this volume may be so fortunate as to find readers whose interest +in the subject shall incline them to overlook the deficiencies of the +treatment is the hope in which the author steps aside and leaves Mr. +Julian West to speak for himself. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<H2 ALIGN="center"> +CONTENTS +</H2> + +<P> +<TABLE ALIGN="center" WIDTH="100%"> +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="20%"> +<A HREF="#chap01">Chapter 1</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="20%"> +<A HREF="#chap02">Chapter 2</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="20%"> +<A HREF="#chap03">Chapter 3</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="20%"> +<A HREF="#chap04">Chapter 5</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top" WIDTH="20%"> +<A HREF="#chap05">Chapter 5</A> +</TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap06">Chapter 6</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap07">Chapter 7</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap08">Chapter 8</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap09">Chapter 9</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap10">Chapter 10</A> +</TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap11">Chapter 10</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap12">Chapter 12</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap13">Chapter 13</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap14">Chapter 15</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap15">Chapter 16</A> +</TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap16">Chapter 16</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap17">Chapter 17</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap18">Chapter 18</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap19">Chapter 19</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap20">Chapter 20</A> +</TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap21">Chapter 21</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap22">Chapter 22</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap23">Chapter 23</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap24">Chapter 24</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap25">Chapter 25</A> +</TD> +</TR> + +<TR> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap26">Chapter 26</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap27">Chapter 27</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> +<A HREF="#chap28">Chapter 28</A> +</TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> </TD> +<TD ALIGN="left" VALIGN="top"> </TD> +</TR> + +</TABLE> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap01"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Chapter 1 +</H3> + +<P> +I first saw the light in the city of Boston in the year 1857. "What!" +you say, "eighteen fifty-seven? That is an odd slip. He means nineteen +fifty-seven, of course." I beg pardon, but there is no mistake. It was +about four in the afternoon of December the 26th, one day after +Christmas, in the year 1857, not 1957, that I first breathed the east +wind of Boston, which, I assure the reader, was at that remote period +marked by the same penetrating quality characterizing it in the present +year of grace, 2000. +</P> + +<P> +These statements seem so absurd on their face, especially when I add +that I am a young man apparently of about thirty years of age, that no +person can be blamed for refusing to read another word of what promises +to be a mere imposition upon his credulity. Nevertheless I earnestly +assure the reader that no imposition is intended, and will undertake, +if he shall follow me a few pages, to entirely convince him of this. If +I may, then, provisionally assume, with the pledge of justifying the +assumption, that I know better than the reader when I was born, I will +go on with my narrative. As every schoolboy knows, in the latter part +of the nineteenth century the civilization of to-day, or anything like +it, did not exist, although the elements which were to develop it were +already in ferment. Nothing had, however, occurred to modify the +immemorial division of society into the four classes, or nations, as +they may be more fitly called, since the differences between them were +far greater than those between any nations nowadays, of the rich and +the poor, the educated and the ignorant. I myself was rich and also +educated, and possessed, therefore, all the elements of happiness +enjoyed by the most fortunate in that age. Living in luxury, and +occupied only with the pursuit of the pleasures and refinements of +life, I derived the means of my support from the labor of others, +rendering no sort of service in return. My parents and grand-parents +had lived in the same way, and I expected that my descendants, if I had +any, would enjoy a like easy existence. +</P> + +<P> +But how could I live without service to the world? you ask. Why should +the world have supported in utter idleness one who was able to render +service? The answer is that my great-grandfather had accumulated a sum +of money on which his descendants had ever since lived. The sum, you +will naturally infer, must have been very large not to have been +exhausted in supporting three generations in idleness. This, however, +was not the fact. The sum had been originally by no means large. It +was, in fact, much larger now that three generations had been supported +upon it in idleness, than it was at first. This mystery of use without +consumption, of warmth without combustion, seems like magic, but was +merely an ingenious application of the art now happily lost but carried +to great perfection by your ancestors, of shifting the burden of one's +support on the shoulders of others. The man who had accomplished this, +and it was the end all sought, was said to live on the income of his +investments. To explain at this point how the ancient methods of +industry made this possible would delay us too much. I shall only stop +now to say that interest on investments was a species of tax in +perpetuity upon the product of those engaged in industry which a person +possessing or inheriting money was able to levy. It must not be +supposed that an arrangement which seems so unnatural and preposterous +according to modern notions was never criticized by your ancestors. It +had been the effort of lawgivers and prophets from the earliest ages to +abolish interest, or at least to limit it to the smallest possible +rate. All these efforts had, however, failed, as they necessarily must +so long as the ancient social organizations prevailed. At the time of +which I write, the latter part of the nineteenth century, governments +had generally given up trying to regulate the subject at all. +</P> + +<P> +By way of attempting to give the reader some general impression of the +way people lived together in those days, and especially of the +relations of the rich and poor to one another, perhaps I cannot do +better than to compare society as it then was to a prodigious coach +which the masses of humanity were harnessed to and dragged toilsomely +along a very hilly and sandy road. The driver was hunger, and permitted +no lagging, though the pace was necessarily very slow. Despite the +difficulty of drawing the coach at all along so hard a road, the top +was covered with passengers who never got down, even at the steepest +ascents. These seats on top were very breezy and comfortable. Well up +out of the dust, their occupants could enjoy the scenery at their +leisure, or critically discuss the merits of the straining team. +Naturally such places were in great demand and the competition for them +was keen, every one seeking as the first end in life to secure a seat +on the coach for himself and to leave it to his child after him. By the +rule of the coach a man could leave his seat to whom he wished, but on +the other hand there were many accidents by which it might at any time +be wholly lost. For all that they were so easy, the seats were very +insecure, and at every sudden jolt of the coach persons were slipping +out of them and falling to the ground, where they were instantly +compelled to take hold of the rope and help to drag the coach on which +they had before ridden so pleasantly. It was naturally regarded as a +terrible misfortune to lose one's seat, and the apprehension that this +might happen to them or their friends was a constant cloud upon the +happiness of those who rode. +</P> + +<P> +But did they think only of themselves? you ask. Was not their very +luxury rendered intolerable to them by comparison with the lot of their +brothers and sisters in the harness, and the knowledge that their own +weight added to their toil? Had they no compassion for fellow beings +from whom fortune only distinguished them? Oh, yes; commiseration was +frequently expressed by those who rode for those who had to pull the +coach, especially when the vehicle came to a bad place in the road, as +it was constantly doing, or to a particularly steep hill. At such +times, the desperate straining of the team, their agonized leaping and +plunging under the pitiless lashing of hunger, the many who fainted at +the rope and were trampled in the mire, made a very distressing +spectacle, which often called forth highly creditable displays of +feeling on the top of the coach. At such times the passengers would +call down encouragingly to the toilers of the rope, exhorting them to +patience, and holding out hopes of possible compensation in another +world for the hardness of their lot, while others contributed to buy +salves and liniments for the crippled and injured. It was agreed that +it was a great pity that the coach should be so hard to pull, and there +was a sense of general relief when the specially bad piece of road was +gotten over. This relief was not, indeed, wholly on account of the +team, for there was always some danger at these bad places of a general +overturn in which all would lose their seats. +</P> + +<P> +It must in truth be admitted that the main effect of the spectacle of +the misery of the toilers at the rope was to enhance the passengers' +sense of the value of their seats upon the coach, and to cause them to +hold on to them more desperately than before. If the passengers could +only have felt assured that neither they nor their friends would ever +fall from the top, it is probable that, beyond contributing to the +funds for liniments and bandages, they would have troubled themselves +extremely little about those who dragged the coach. +</P> + +<P> +I am well aware that this will appear to the men and women of the +twentieth century an incredible inhumanity, but there are two facts, +both very curious, which partly explain it. In the first place, it was +firmly and sincerely believed that there was no other way in which +Society could get along, except the many pulled at the rope and the few +rode, and not only this, but that no very radical improvement even was +possible, either in the harness, the coach, the roadway, or the +distribution of the toil. It had always been as it was, and it always +would be so. It was a pity, but it could not be helped, and philosophy +forbade wasting compassion on what was beyond remedy. +</P> + +<P> +The other fact is yet more curious, consisting in a singular +hallucination which those on the top of the coach generally shared, +that they were not exactly like their brothers and sisters who pulled +at the rope, but of finer clay, in some way belonging to a higher order +of beings who might justly expect to be drawn. This seems +unaccountable, but, as I once rode on this very coach and shared that +very hallucination, I ought to be believed. The strangest thing about +the hallucination was that those who had but just climbed up from the +ground, before they had outgrown the marks of the rope upon their +hands, began to fall under its influence. As for those whose parents +and grand-parents before them had been so fortunate as to keep their +seats on the top, the conviction they cherished of the essential +difference between their sort of humanity and the common article was +absolute. The effect of such a delusion in moderating fellow feeling +for the sufferings of the mass of men into a distant and philosophical +compassion is obvious. To it I refer as the only extenuation I can +offer for the indifference which, at the period I write of, marked my +own attitude toward the misery of my brothers. +</P> + +<P> +In 1887 I came to my thirtieth year. Although still unmarried, I was +engaged to wed Edith Bartlett. She, like myself, rode on the top of the +coach. That is to say, not to encumber ourselves further with an +illustration which has, I hope, served its purpose of giving the reader +some general impression of how we lived then, her family was wealthy. +In that age, when money alone commanded all that was agreeable and +refined in life, it was enough for a woman to be rich to have suitors; +but Edith Bartlett was beautiful and graceful also. +</P> + +<P> +My lady readers, I am aware, will protest at this. "Handsome she might +have been," I hear them saying, "but graceful never, in the costumes +which were the fashion at that period, when the head covering was a +dizzy structure a foot tall, and the almost incredible extension of the +skirt behind by means of artificial contrivances more thoroughly +dehumanized the form than any former device of dressmakers. Fancy any +one graceful in such a costume!" The point is certainly well taken, and +I can only reply that while the ladies of the twentieth century are +lovely demonstrations of the effect of appropriate drapery in accenting +feminine graces, my recollection of their great-grandmothers enables me +to maintain that no deformity of costume can wholly disguise them. +</P> + +<P> +Our marriage only waited on the completion of the house which I was +building for our occupancy in one of the most desirable parts of the +city, that is to say, a part chiefly inhabited by the rich. For it must +be understood that the comparative desirability of different parts of +Boston for residence depended then, not on natural features, but on the +character of the neighboring population. Each class or nation lived by +itself, in quarters of its own. A rich man living among the poor, an +educated man among the uneducated, was like one living in isolation +among a jealous and alien race. When the house had been begun, its +completion by the winter of 1886 had been expected. The spring of the +following year found it, however, yet incomplete, and my marriage still +a thing of the future. The cause of a delay calculated to be +particularly exasperating to an ardent lover was a series of strikes, +that is to say, concerted refusals to work on the part of the +brick-layers, masons, carpenters, painters, plumbers, and other trades +concerned in house building. What the specific causes of these strikes +were I do not remember. Strikes had become so common at that period +that people had ceased to inquire into their particular grounds. In one +department of industry or another, they had been nearly incessant ever +since the great business crisis of 1873. In fact it had come to be the +exceptional thing to see any class of laborers pursue their avocation +steadily for more than a few months at a time. +</P> + +<P> +The reader who observes the dates alluded to will of course recognize +in these disturbances of industry the first and incoherent phase of the +great movement which ended in the establishment of the modern +industrial system with all its social consequences. This is all so +plain in the retrospect that a child can understand it, but not being +prophets, we of that day had no clear idea what was happening to us. +What we did see was that industrially the country was in a very queer +way. The relation between the workingman and the employer, between +labor and capital, appeared in some unaccountable manner to have become +dislocated. The working classes had quite suddenly and very generally +become infected with a profound discontent with their condition, and an +idea that it could be greatly bettered if they only knew how to go +about it. On every side, with one accord, they preferred demands for +higher pay, shorter hours, better dwellings, better educational +advantages, and a share in the refinements and luxuries of life, +demands which it was impossible to see the way to granting unless the +world were to become a great deal richer than it then was. Though they +knew something of what they wanted, they knew nothing of how to +accomplish it, and the eager enthusiasm with which they thronged about +any one who seemed likely to give them any light on the subject lent +sudden reputation to many would-be leaders, some of whom had little +enough light to give. However chimerical the aspirations of the +laboring classes might be deemed, the devotion with which they +supported one another in the strikes, which were their chief weapon, +and the sacrifices which they underwent to carry them out left no doubt +of their dead earnestness. +</P> + +<P> +As to the final outcome of the labor troubles, which was the phrase by +which the movement I have described was most commonly referred to, the +opinions of the people of my class differed according to individual +temperament. The sanguine argued very forcibly that it was in the very +nature of things impossible that the new hopes of the workingmen could +be satisfied, simply because the world had not the wherewithal to +satisfy them. It was only because the masses worked very hard and lived +on short commons that the race did not starve outright, and no +considerable improvement in their condition was possible while the +world, as a whole, remained so poor. It was not the capitalists whom +the laboring men were contending with, these maintained, but the +iron-bound environment of humanity, and it was merely a question of the +thickness of their skulls when they would discover the fact and make up +their minds to endure what they could not cure. +</P> + +<P> +The less sanguine admitted all this. Of course the workingmen's +aspirations were impossible of fulfillment for natural reasons, but +there were grounds to fear that they would not discover this fact until +they had made a sad mess of society. They had the votes and the power +to do so if they pleased, and their leaders meant they should. Some of +these desponding observers went so far as to predict an impending +social cataclysm. Humanity, they argued, having climbed to the top +round of the ladder of civilization, was about to take a header into +chaos, after which it would doubtless pick itself up, turn round, and +begin to climb again. Repeated experiences of this sort in historic and +prehistoric times possibly accounted for the puzzling bumps on the +human cranium. Human history, like all great movements, was cyclical, +and returned to the point of beginning. The idea of indefinite progress +in a right line was a chimera of the imagination, with no analogue in +nature. The parabola of a comet was perhaps a yet better illustration +of the career of humanity. Tending upward and sunward from the aphelion +of barbarism, the race attained the perihelion of civilization only to +plunge downward once more to its nether goal in the regions of chaos. +</P> + +<P> +This, of course, was an extreme opinion, but I remember serious men +among my acquaintances who, in discussing the signs of the times, +adopted a very similar tone. It was no doubt the common opinion of +thoughtful men that society was approaching a critical period which +might result in great changes. The labor troubles, their causes, +course, and cure, took lead of all other topics in the public prints, +and in serious conversation. +</P> + +<P> +The nervous tension of the public mind could not have been more +strikingly illustrated than it was by the alarm resulting from the talk +of a small band of men who called themselves anarchists, and proposed +to terrify the American people into adopting their ideas by threats of +violence, as if a mighty nation which had but just put down a rebellion +of half its own numbers, in order to maintain its political system, +were likely to adopt a new social system out of fear. +</P> + +<P> +As one of the wealthy, with a large stake in the existing order of +things, I naturally shared the apprehensions of my class. The +particular grievance I had against the working classes at the time of +which I write, on account of the effect of their strikes in postponing +my wedded bliss, no doubt lent a special animosity to my feeling toward +them. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap02"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Chapter 2 +</H3> + +<P> +The thirtieth day of May, 1887, fell on a Monday. It was one of the +annual holidays of the nation in the latter third of the nineteenth +century, being set apart under the name of Decoration Day, for doing +honor to the memory of the soldiers of the North who took part in the +war for the preservation of the union of the States. The survivors of +the war, escorted by military and civic processions and bands of music, +were wont on this occasion to visit the cemeteries and lay wreaths of +flowers upon the graves of their dead comrades, the ceremony being a +very solemn and touching one. The eldest brother of Edith Bartlett had +fallen in the war, and on Decoration Day the family was in the habit of +making a visit to Mount Auburn, where he lay. +</P> + +<P> +I had asked permission to make one of the party, and, on our return to +the city at nightfall, remained to dine with the family of my +betrothed. In the drawing-room, after dinner, I picked up an evening +paper and read of a fresh strike in the building trades, which would +probably still further delay the completion of my unlucky house. I +remember distinctly how exasperated I was at this, and the +objurgations, as forcible as the presence of the ladies permitted, +which I lavished upon workmen in general, and these strikers in +particular. I had abundant sympathy from those about me, and the +remarks made in the desultory conversation which followed, upon the +unprincipled conduct of the labor agitators, were calculated to make +those gentlemen's ears tingle. It was agreed that affairs were going +from bad to worse very fast, and that there was no telling what we +should come to soon. "The worst of it," I remember Mrs. Bartlett's +saying, "is that the working classes all over the world seem to be +going crazy at once. In Europe it is far worse even than here. I'm sure +I should not dare to live there at all. I asked Mr. Bartlett the other +day where we should emigrate to if all the terrible things took place +which those socialists threaten. He said he did not know any place now +where society could be called stable except Greenland, Patagonia, and +the Chinese Empire." "Those Chinamen knew what they were about," +somebody added, "when they refused to let in our western civilization. +They knew what it would lead to better than we did. They saw it was +nothing but dynamite in disguise." +</P> + +<P> +After this, I remember drawing Edith apart and trying to persuade her +that it would be better to be married at once without waiting for the +completion of the house, spending the time in travel till our home was +ready for us. She was remarkably handsome that evening, the mourning +costume that she wore in recognition of the day setting off to great +advantage the purity of her complexion. I can see her even now with my +mind's eye just as she looked that night. When I took my leave she +followed me into the hall and I kissed her good-by as usual. There was +no circumstance out of the common to distinguish this parting from +previous occasions when we had bade each other good-by for a night or a +day. There was absolutely no premonition in my mind, or I am sure in +hers, that this was more than an ordinary separation. +</P> + +<P> +Ah, well! +</P> + +<P> +The hour at which I had left my betrothed was a rather early one for a +lover, but the fact was no reflection on my devotion. I was a confirmed +sufferer from insomnia, and although otherwise perfectly well had been +completely fagged out that day, from having slept scarcely at all the +two previous nights. Edith knew this and had insisted on sending me +home by nine o'clock, with strict orders to go to bed at once. +</P> + +<P> +The house in which I lived had been occupied by three generations of +the family of which I was the only living representative in the direct +line. It was a large, ancient wooden mansion, very elegant in an +old-fashioned way within, but situated in a quarter that had long since +become undesirable for residence, from its invasion by tenement houses +and manufactories. It was not a house to which I could think of +bringing a bride, much less so dainty a one as Edith Bartlett. I had +advertised it for sale, and meanwhile merely used it for sleeping +purposes, dining at my club. One servant, a faithful colored man by the +name of Sawyer, lived with me and attended to my few wants. One feature +of the house I expected to miss greatly when I should leave it, and +this was the sleeping chamber which I had built under the foundations. +I could not have slept in the city at all, with its never ceasing +nightly noises, if I had been obliged to use an upstairs chamber. But +to this subterranean room no murmur from the upper world ever +penetrated. When I had entered it and closed the door, I was surrounded +by the silence of the tomb. In order to prevent the dampness of the +subsoil from penetrating the chamber, the walls had been laid in +hydraulic cement and were very thick, and the floor was likewise +protected. In order that the room might serve also as a vault equally +proof against violence and flames, for the storage of valuables, I had +roofed it with stone slabs hermetically sealed, and the outer door was +of iron with a thick coating of asbestos. A small pipe, communicating +with a wind-mill on the top of the house, insured the renewal of air. +</P> + +<P> +It might seem that the tenant of such a chamber ought to be able to +command slumber, but it was rare that I slept well, even there, two +nights in succession. So accustomed was I to wakefulness that I minded +little the loss of one night's rest. A second night, however, spent in +my reading chair instead of my bed, tired me out, and I never allowed +myself to go longer than that without slumber, from fear of nervous +disorder. From this statement it will be inferred that I had at my +command some artificial means for inducing sleep in the last resort, +and so in fact I had. If after two sleepless nights I found myself on +the approach of the third without sensations of drowsiness, I called in +Dr. Pillsbury. +</P> + +<P> +He was a doctor by courtesy only, what was called in those days an +"irregular" or "quack" doctor. He called himself a "Professor of Animal +Magnetism." I had come across him in the course of some amateur +investigations into the phenomena of animal magnetism. I don't think he +knew anything about medicine, but he was certainly a remarkable +mesmerist. It was for the purpose of being put to sleep by his +manipulations that I used to send for him when I found a third night of +sleeplessness impending. Let my nervous excitement or mental +preoccupation be however great, Dr. Pillsbury never failed, after a +short time, to leave me in a deep slumber, which continued till I was +aroused by a reversal of the mesmerizing process. The process for +awaking the sleeper was much simpler than that for putting him to +sleep, and for convenience I had made Dr Pillsbury teach Sawyer how to +do it. +</P> + +<P> +My faithful servant alone knew for what purpose Dr. Pillsbury visited +me, or that he did so at all. Of course, when Edith became my wife I +should have to tell her my secrets. I had not hitherto told her this, +because there was unquestionably a slight risk in the mesmeric sleep, +and I knew she would set her face against my practice. The risk, of +course, was that it might become too profound and pass into a trance +beyond the mesmerizer's power to break, ending in death. Repeated +experiments had fully convinced me that the risk was next to nothing if +reasonable precautions were exercised, and of this I hoped, though +doubtingly, to convince Edith. I went directly home after leaving her, +and at once sent Sawyer to fetch Dr. Pillsbury. Meanwhile I sought my +subterranean sleeping chamber, and exchanging my costume for a +comfortable dressing-gown, sat down to read the letters by the evening +mail which Sawyer had laid on my reading table. +</P> + +<P> +One of them was from the builder of my new house, and confirmed what I +had inferred from the newspaper item. The new strikes, he said, had +postponed indefinitely the completion of the contract, as neither +masters nor workmen would concede the point at issue without a long +struggle. Caligula wished that the Roman people had but one neck that +he might cut it off, and as I read this letter I am afraid that for a +moment I was capable of wishing the same thing concerning the laboring +classes of America. The return of Sawyer with the doctor interrupted my +gloomy meditations. +</P> + +<P> +It appeared that he had with difficulty been able to secure his +services, as he was preparing to leave the city that very night. The +doctor explained that since he had seen me last he had learned of a +fine professional opening in a distant city, and decided to take prompt +advantage of it. On my asking, in some panic, what I was to do for some +one to put me to sleep, he gave me the names of several mesmerizers in +Boston who, he averred, had quite as great powers as he. +</P> + +<P> +Somewhat relieved on this point, I instructed Sawyer to rouse me at +nine o'clock next morning, and, lying down on the bed in my +dressing-gown, assumed a comfortable attitude, and surrendered myself +to the manipulations of the mesmerizer. Owing, perhaps, to my unusually +nervous state, I was slower than common in losing consciousness, but at +length a delicious drowsiness stole over me. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap03"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Chapter 3 +</H3> + +<P> +"He is going to open his eyes. He had better see but one of us at +first." +</P> + +<P> +"Promise me, then, that you will not tell him." +</P> + +<P> +The first voice was a man's, the second a woman's, and both spoke in +whispers. +</P> + +<P> +"I will see how he seems," replied the man. +</P> + +<P> +"No, no, promise me," persisted the other. +</P> + +<P> +"Let her have her way," whispered a third voice, also a woman. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, well, I promise, then," answered the man. "Quick, go! He is +coming out of it." +</P> + +<P> +There was a rustle of garments and I opened my eyes. A fine looking man +of perhaps sixty was bending over me, an expression of much benevolence +mingled with great curiosity upon his features. He was an utter +stranger. I raised myself on an elbow and looked around. The room was +empty. I certainly had never been in it before, or one furnished like +it. I looked back at my companion. He smiled. +</P> + +<P> +"How do you feel?" he inquired. +</P> + +<P> +"Where am I?" I demanded. +</P> + +<P> +"You are in my house," was the reply. +</P> + +<P> +"How came I here?" +</P> + +<P> +"We will talk about that when you are stronger. Meanwhile, I beg you +will feel no anxiety. You are among friends and in good hands. How do +you feel?" +</P> + +<P> +"A bit queerly," I replied, "but I am well, I suppose. Will you tell me +how I came to be indebted to your hospitality? What has happened to me? +How came I here? It was in my own house that I went to sleep." +</P> + +<P> +"There will be time enough for explanations later," my unknown host +replied, with a reassuring smile. "It will be better to avoid agitating +talk until you are a little more yourself. Will you oblige me by taking +a couple of swallows of this mixture? It will do you good. I am a +physician." +</P> + +<P> +I repelled the glass with my hand and sat up on the couch, although +with an effort, for my head was strangely light. +</P> + +<P> +"I insist upon knowing at once where I am and what you have been doing +with me," I said. +</P> + +<P> +"My dear sir," responded my companion, "let me beg that you will not +agitate yourself. I would rather you did not insist upon explanations +so soon, but if you do, I will try to satisfy you, provided you will +first take this draught, which will strengthen you somewhat." +</P> + +<P> +I thereupon drank what he offered me. Then he said, "It is not so +simple a matter as you evidently suppose to tell you how you came here. +You can tell me quite as much on that point as I can tell you. You have +just been roused from a deep sleep, or, more properly, trance. So much +I can tell you. You say you were in your own house when you fell into +that sleep. May I ask you when that was?" +</P> + +<P> +"When?" I replied, "when? Why, last evening, of course, at about ten +o'clock. I left my man Sawyer orders to call me at nine o'clock. What +has become of Sawyer?" +</P> + +<P> +"I can't precisely tell you that," replied my companion, regarding me +with a curious expression, "but I am sure that he is excusable for not +being here. And now can you tell me a little more explicitly when it +was that you fell into that sleep, the date, I mean?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, last night, of course; I said so, didn't I? that is, unless I +have overslept an entire day. Great heavens! that cannot be possible; +and yet I have an odd sensation of having slept a long time. It was +Decoration Day that I went to sleep." +</P> + +<P> +"Decoration Day?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, Monday, the 30th." +</P> + +<P> +"Pardon me, the 30th of what?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, of this month, of course, unless I have slept into June, but that +can't be." +</P> + +<P> +"This month is September." +</P> + +<P> +"September! You don't mean that I've slept since May! God in heaven! +Why, it is incredible." +</P> + +<P> +"We shall see," replied my companion; "you say that it was May 30th +when you went to sleep?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes." +</P> + +<P> +"May I ask of what year?" +</P> + +<P> +I stared blankly at him, incapable of speech, for some moments. +</P> + +<P> +"Of what year?" I feebly echoed at last. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, of what year, if you please? After you have told me that I shall +be able to tell you how long you have slept." +</P> + +<P> +"It was the year 1887," I said. +</P> + +<P> +My companion insisted that I should take another draught from the +glass, and felt my pulse. +</P> + +<P> +"My dear sir," he said, "your manner indicates that you are a man of +culture, which I am aware was by no means the matter of course in your +day it now is. No doubt, then, you have yourself made the observation +that nothing in this world can be truly said to be more wonderful than +anything else. The causes of all phenomena are equally adequate, and +the results equally matters of course. That you should be startled by +what I shall tell you is to be expected; but I am confident that you +will not permit it to affect your equanimity unduly. Your appearance is +that of a young man of barely thirty, and your bodily condition seems +not greatly different from that of one just roused from a somewhat too +long and profound sleep, and yet this is the tenth day of September in +the year 2000, and you have slept exactly one hundred and thirteen +years, three months, and eleven days." +</P> + +<P> +Feeling partially dazed, I drank a cup of some sort of broth at my +companion's suggestion, and, immediately afterward becoming very +drowsy, went off into a deep sleep. +</P> + +<P> +When I awoke it was broad daylight in the room, which had been lighted +artificially when I was awake before. My mysterious host was sitting +near. He was not looking at me when I opened my eyes, and I had a good +opportunity to study him and meditate upon my extraordinary situation, +before he observed that I was awake. My giddiness was all gone, and my +mind perfectly clear. The story that I had been asleep one hundred and +thirteen years, which, in my former weak and bewildered condition, I +had accepted without question, recurred to me now only to be rejected +as a preposterous attempt at an imposture, the motive of which it was +impossible remotely to surmise. +</P> + +<P> +Something extraordinary had certainly happened to account for my waking +up in this strange house with this unknown companion, but my fancy was +utterly impotent to suggest more than the wildest guess as to what that +something might have been. Could it be that I was the victim of some +sort of conspiracy? It looked so, certainly; and yet, if human +lineaments ever gave true evidence, it was certain that this man by my +side, with a face so refined and ingenuous, was no party to any scheme +of crime or outrage. Then it occurred to me to question if I might not +be the butt of some elaborate practical joke on the part of friends who +had somehow learned the secret of my underground chamber and taken this +means of impressing me with the peril of mesmeric experiments. There +were great difficulties in the way of this theory; Sawyer would never +have betrayed me, nor had I any friends at all likely to undertake such +an enterprise; nevertheless the supposition that I was the victim of a +practical joke seemed on the whole the only one tenable. Half expecting +to catch a glimpse of some familiar face grinning from behind a chair +or curtain, I looked carefully about the room. When my eyes next rested +on my companion, he was looking at me. +</P> + +<P> +"You have had a fine nap of twelve hours," he said briskly, "and I can +see that it has done you good. You look much better. Your color is good +and your eyes are bright. How do you feel?" +</P> + +<P> +"I never felt better," I said, sitting up. +</P> + +<P> +"You remember your first waking, no doubt," he pursued, "and your +surprise when I told you how long you had been asleep?" +</P> + +<P> +"You said, I believe, that I had slept one hundred and thirteen years." +</P> + +<P> +"Exactly." +</P> + +<P> +"You will admit," I said, with an ironical smile, "that the story was +rather an improbable one." +</P> + +<P> +"Extraordinary, I admit," he responded, "but given the proper +conditions, not improbable nor inconsistent with what we know of the +trance state. When complete, as in your case, the vital functions are +absolutely suspended, and there is no waste of the tissues. No limit +can be set to the possible duration of a trance when the external +conditions protect the body from physical injury. This trance of yours +is indeed the longest of which there is any positive record, but there +is no known reason wherefore, had you not been discovered and had the +chamber in which we found you continued intact, you might not have +remained in a state of suspended animation till, at the end of +indefinite ages, the gradual refrigeration of the earth had destroyed +the bodily tissues and set the spirit free." +</P> + +<P> +I had to admit that, if I were indeed the victim of a practical joke, +its authors had chosen an admirable agent for carrying out their +imposition. The impressive and even eloquent manner of this man would +have lent dignity to an argument that the moon was made of cheese. The +smile with which I had regarded him as he advanced his trance +hypothesis did not appear to confuse him in the slightest degree. +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps," I said, "you will go on and favor me with some particulars +as to the circumstances under which you discovered this chamber of +which you speak, and its contents. I enjoy good fiction." +</P> + +<P> +"In this case," was the grave reply, "no fiction could be so strange as +the truth. You must know that these many years I have been cherishing +the idea of building a laboratory in the large garden beside this +house, for the purpose of chemical experiments for which I have a +taste. Last Thursday the excavation for the cellar was at last begun. +It was completed by that night, and Friday the masons were to have +come. Thursday night we had a tremendous deluge of rain, and Friday +morning I found my cellar a frog-pond and the walls quite washed down. +My daughter, who had come out to view the disaster with me, called my +attention to a corner of masonry laid bare by the crumbling away of one +of the walls. I cleared a little earth from it, and, finding that it +seemed part of a large mass, determined to investigate it. The workmen +I sent for unearthed an oblong vault some eight feet below the surface, +and set in the corner of what had evidently been the foundation walls +of an ancient house. A layer of ashes and charcoal on the top of the +vault showed that the house above had perished by fire. The vault +itself was perfectly intact, the cement being as good as when first +applied. It had a door, but this we could not force, and found entrance +by removing one of the flagstones which formed the roof. The air which +came up was stagnant but pure, dry and not cold. Descending with a +lantern, I found myself in an apartment fitted up as a bedroom in the +style of the nineteenth century. On the bed lay a young man. That he +was dead and must have been dead a century was of course to be taken +for granted; but the extraordinary state of preservation of the body +struck me and the medical colleagues whom I had summoned with +amazement. That the art of such embalming as this had ever been known +we should not have believed, yet here seemed conclusive testimony that +our immediate ancestors had possessed it. My medical colleagues, whose +curiosity was highly excited, were at once for undertaking experiments +to test the nature of the process employed, but I withheld them. My +motive in so doing, at least the only motive I now need speak of, was +the recollection of something I once had read about the extent to which +your contemporaries had cultivated the subject of animal magnetism. It +had occurred to me as just conceivable that you might be in a trance, +and that the secret of your bodily integrity after so long a time was +not the craft of an embalmer, but life. So extremely fanciful did this +idea seem, even to me, that I did not risk the ridicule of my fellow +physicians by mentioning it, but gave some other reason for postponing +their experiments. No sooner, however, had they left me, than I set on +foot a systematic attempt at resuscitation, of which you know the +result." +</P> + +<P> +Had its theme been yet more incredible, the circumstantiality of this +narrative, as well as the impressive manner and personality of the +narrator, might have staggered a listener, and I had begun to feel very +strangely, when, as he closed, I chanced to catch a glimpse of my +reflection in a mirror hanging on the wall of the room. I rose and went +up to it. The face I saw was the face to a hair and a line and not a +day older than the one I had looked at as I tied my cravat before going +to Edith that Decoration Day, which, as this man would have me believe, +was celebrated one hundred and thirteen years before. At this, the +colossal character of the fraud which was being attempted on me, came +over me afresh. Indignation mastered my mind as I realized the +outrageous liberty that had been taken. +</P> + +<P> +"You are probably surprised," said my companion, "to see that, although +you are a century older than when you lay down to sleep in that +underground chamber, your appearance is unchanged. That should not +amaze you. It is by virtue of the total arrest of the vital functions +that you have survived this great period of time. If your body could +have undergone any change during your trance, it would long ago have +suffered dissolution." +</P> + +<P> +"Sir," I replied, turning to him, "what your motive can be in reciting +to me with a serious face this remarkable farrago, I am utterly unable +to guess; but you are surely yourself too intelligent to suppose that +anybody but an imbecile could be deceived by it. Spare me any more of +this elaborate nonsense and once for all tell me whether you refuse to +give me an intelligible account of where I am and how I came here. If +so, I shall proceed to ascertain my whereabouts for myself, whoever may +hinder." +</P> + +<P> +"You do not, then, believe that this is the year 2000?" +</P> + +<P> +"Do you really think it necessary to ask me that?" I returned. +</P> + +<P> +"Very well," replied my extraordinary host. "Since I cannot convince +you, you shall convince yourself. Are you strong enough to follow me +upstairs?" +</P> + +<P> +"I am as strong as I ever was," I replied angrily, "as I may have to +prove if this jest is carried much farther." +</P> + +<P> +"I beg, sir," was my companion's response, "that you will not allow +yourself to be too fully persuaded that you are the victim of a trick, +lest the reaction, when you are convinced of the truth of my +statements, should be too great." +</P> + +<P> +The tone of concern, mingled with commiseration, with which he said +this, and the entire absence of any sign of resentment at my hot words, +strangely daunted me, and I followed him from the room with an +extraordinary mixture of emotions. He led the way up two flights of +stairs and then up a shorter one, which landed us upon a belvedere on +the house-top. "Be pleased to look around you," he said, as we reached +the platform, "and tell me if this is the Boston of the nineteenth +century." +</P> + +<P> +At my feet lay a great city. Miles of broad streets, shaded by trees +and lined with fine buildings, for the most part not in continuous +blocks but set in larger or smaller inclosures, stretched in every +direction. Every quarter contained large open squares filled with +trees, among which statues glistened and fountains flashed in the late +afternoon sun. Public buildings of a colossal size and an architectural +grandeur unparalleled in my day raised their stately piles on every +side. Surely I had never seen this city nor one comparable to it +before. Raising my eyes at last towards the horizon, I looked westward. +That blue ribbon winding away to the sunset, was it not the sinuous +Charles? I looked east; Boston harbor stretched before me within its +headlands, not one of its green islets missing. +</P> + +<P> +I knew then that I had been told the truth concerning the prodigious +thing which had befallen me. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap04"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Chapter 4 +</H3> + +<P> +I did not faint, but the effort to realize my position made me very +giddy, and I remember that my companion had to give me a strong arm as +he conducted me from the roof to a roomy apartment on the upper floor +of the house, where he insisted on my drinking a glass or two of good +wine and partaking of a light repast. +</P> + +<P> +"I think you are going to be all right now," he said cheerily. "I +should not have taken so abrupt a means to convince you of your +position if your course, while perfectly excusable under the +circumstances, had not rather obliged me to do so. I confess," he added +laughing, "I was a little apprehensive at one time that I should +undergo what I believe you used to call a knockdown in the nineteenth +century, if I did not act rather promptly. I remembered that the +Bostonians of your day were famous pugilists, and thought best to lose +no time. I take it you are now ready to acquit me of the charge of +hoaxing you." +</P> + +<P> +"If you had told me," I replied, profoundly awed, "that a thousand +years instead of a hundred had elapsed since I last looked on this +city, I should now believe you." +</P> + +<P> +"Only a century has passed," he answered, "but many a millennium in the +world's history has seen changes less extraordinary." +</P> + +<P> +"And now," he added, extending his hand with an air of irresistible +cordiality, "let me give you a hearty welcome to the Boston of the +twentieth century and to this house. My name is Leete, Dr. Leete they +call me." +</P> + +<P> +"My name," I said as I shook his hand, "is Julian West." +</P> + +<P> +"I am most happy in making your acquaintance, Mr. West," he responded. +"Seeing that this house is built on the site of your own, I hope you +will find it easy to make yourself at home in it." +</P> + +<P> +After my refreshment Dr. Leete offered me a bath and a change of +clothing, of which I gladly availed myself. +</P> + +<P> +It did not appear that any very startling revolution in men's attire +had been among the great changes my host had spoken of, for, barring a +few details, my new habiliments did not puzzle me at all. +</P> + +<P> +Physically, I was now myself again. But mentally, how was it with me, +the reader will doubtless wonder. What were my intellectual sensations, +he may wish to know, on finding myself so suddenly dropped as it were +into a new world. In reply let me ask him to suppose himself suddenly, +in the twinkling of an eye, transported from earth, say, to Paradise or +Hades. What does he fancy would be his own experience? Would his +thoughts return at once to the earth he had just left, or would he, +after the first shock, wellnigh forget his former life for a while, +albeit to be remembered later, in the interest excited by his new +surroundings? All I can say is, that if his experience were at all like +mine in the transition I am describing, the latter hypothesis would +prove the correct one. The impressions of amazement and curiosity which +my new surroundings produced occupied my mind, after the first shock, +to the exclusion of all other thoughts. For the time the memory of my +former life was, as it were, in abeyance. +</P> + +<P> +No sooner did I find myself physically rehabilitated through the kind +offices of my host, than I became eager to return to the house-top; and +presently we were comfortably established there in easy-chairs, with +the city beneath and around us. After Dr. Leete had responded to +numerous questions on my part, as to the ancient landmarks I missed and +the new ones which had replaced them, he asked me what point of the +contrast between the new and the old city struck me most forcibly. +</P> + +<P> +"To speak of small things before great," I responded, "I really think +that the complete absence of chimneys and their smoke is the detail +that first impressed me." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah!" ejaculated my companion with an air of much interest, "I had +forgotten the chimneys, it is so long since they went out of use. It is +nearly a century since the crude method of combustion on which you +depended for heat became obsolete." +</P> + +<P> +"In general," I said, "what impresses me most about the city is the +material prosperity on the part of the people which its magnificence +implies." +</P> + +<P> +"I would give a great deal for just one glimpse of the Boston of your +day," replied Dr. Leete. "No doubt, as you imply, the cities of that +period were rather shabby affairs. If you had the taste to make them +splendid, which I would not be so rude as to question, the general +poverty resulting from your extraordinary industrial system would not +have given you the means. Moreover, the excessive individualism which +then prevailed was inconsistent with much public spirit. What little +wealth you had seems almost wholly to have been lavished in private +luxury. Nowadays, on the contrary, there is no destination of the +surplus wealth so popular as the adornment of the city, which all enjoy +in equal degree." +</P> + +<P> +The sun had been setting as we returned to the house-top, and as we +talked night descended upon the city. +</P> + +<P> +"It is growing dark," said Dr. Leete. "Let us descend into the house; I +want to introduce my wife and daughter to you." +</P> + +<P> +His words recalled to me the feminine voices which I had heard +whispering about me as I was coming back to conscious life; and, most +curious to learn what the ladies of the year 2000 were like, I assented +with alacrity to the proposition. The apartment in which we found the +wife and daughter of my host, as well as the entire interior of the +house, was filled with a mellow light, which I knew must be artificial, +although I could not discover the source from which it was diffused. +Mrs. Leete was an exceptionally fine looking and well preserved woman +of about her husband's age, while the daughter, who was in the first +blush of womanhood, was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen. Her +face was as bewitching as deep blue eyes, delicately tinted complexion, +and perfect features could make it, but even had her countenance lacked +special charms, the faultless luxuriance of her figure would have given +her place as a beauty among the women of the nineteenth century. +Feminine softness and delicacy were in this lovely creature deliciously +combined with an appearance of health and abounding physical vitality +too often lacking in the maidens with whom alone I could compare her. +It was a coincidence trifling in comparison with the general +strangeness of the situation, but still striking, that her name should +be Edith. +</P> + +<P> +The evening that followed was certainly unique in the history of social +intercourse, but to suppose that our conversation was peculiarly +strained or difficult would be a great mistake. I believe indeed that +it is under what may be called unnatural, in the sense of +extraordinary, circumstances that people behave most naturally, for the +reason, no doubt, that such circumstances banish artificiality. I know +at any rate that my intercourse that evening with these representatives +of another age and world was marked by an ingenuous sincerity and +frankness such as but rarely crown long acquaintance. No doubt the +exquisite tact of my entertainers had much to do with this. Of course +there was nothing we could talk of but the strange experience by virtue +of which I was there, but they talked of it with an interest so naive +and direct in its expression as to relieve the subject to a great +degree of the element of the weird and the uncanny which might so +easily have been overpowering. One would have supposed that they were +quite in the habit of entertaining waifs from another century, so +perfect was their tact. +</P> + +<P> +For my own part, never do I remember the operations of my mind to have +been more alert and acute than that evening, or my intellectual +sensibilities more keen. Of course I do not mean that the consciousness +of my amazing situation was for a moment out of mind, but its chief +effect thus far was to produce a feverish elation, a sort of mental +intoxication.[1] +</P> + +<P> +Edith Leete took little part in the conversation, but when several +times the magnetism of her beauty drew my glance to her face, I found +her eyes fixed on me with an absorbed intensity, almost like +fascination. It was evident that I had excited her interest to an +extraordinary degree, as was not astonishing, supposing her to be a +girl of imagination. Though I supposed curiosity was the chief motive +of her interest, it could but affect me as it would not have done had +she been less beautiful. +</P> + +<P> +Dr. Leete, as well as the ladies, seemed greatly interested in my +account of the circumstances under which I had gone to sleep in the +underground chamber. All had suggestions to offer to account for my +having been forgotten there, and the theory which we finally agreed on +offers at least a plausible explanation, although whether it be in its +details the true one, nobody, of course, will ever know. The layer of +ashes found above the chamber indicated that the house had been burned +down. Let it be supposed that the conflagration had taken place the +night I fell asleep. It only remains to assume that Sawyer lost his +life in the fire or by some accident connected with it, and the rest +follows naturally enough. No one but he and Dr. Pillsbury either knew +of the existence of the chamber or that I was in it, and Dr. Pillsbury, +who had gone that night to New Orleans, had probably never heard of the +fire at all. The conclusion of my friends, and of the public, must have +been that I had perished in the flames. An excavation of the ruins, +unless thorough, would not have disclosed the recess in the foundation +walls connecting with my chamber. To be sure, if the site had been +again built upon, at least immediately, such an excavation would have +been necessary, but the troublous times and the undesirable character +of the locality might well have prevented rebuilding. The size of the +trees in the garden now occupying the site indicated, Dr. Leete said, +that for more than half a century at least it had been open ground. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="footnote"> +[1] In accounting for this state of mind it must be remembered that, +except for the topic of our conversations, there was in my surroundings +next to nothing to suggest what had befallen me. Within a block of my +home in the old Boston I could have found social circles vastly more +foreign to me. The speech of the Bostonians of the twentieth century +differs even less from that of their cultured ancestors of the +nineteenth than did that of the latter from the language of Washington +and Franklin, while the differences between the style of dress and +furniture of the two epochs are not more marked than I have known +fashion to make in the time of one generation. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap05"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Chapter 5 +</H3> + +<P> +When, in the course of the evening the ladies retired, leaving Dr. +Leete and myself alone, he sounded me as to my disposition for sleep, +saying that if I felt like it my bed was ready for me; but if I was +inclined to wakefulness nothing would please him better than to bear me +company. "I am a late bird, myself," he said, "and, without suspicion +of flattery, I may say that a companion more interesting than yourself +could scarcely be imagined. It is decidedly not often that one has a +chance to converse with a man of the nineteenth century." +</P> + +<P> +Now I had been looking forward all the evening with some dread to the +time when I should be alone, on retiring for the night. Surrounded by +these most friendly strangers, stimulated and supported by their +sympathetic interest, I had been able to keep my mental balance. Even +then, however, in pauses of the conversation I had had glimpses, vivid +as lightning flashes, of the horror of strangeness that was waiting to +be faced when I could no longer command diversion. I knew I could not +sleep that night, and as for lying awake and thinking, it argues no +cowardice, I am sure, to confess that I was afraid of it. When, in +reply to my host's question, I frankly told him this, he replied that +it would be strange if I did not feel just so, but that I need have no +anxiety about sleeping; whenever I wanted to go to bed, he would give +me a dose which would insure me a sound night's sleep without fail. +Next morning, no doubt, I would awake with the feeling of an old +citizen. +</P> + +<P> +"Before I acquired that," I replied, "I must know a little more about +the sort of Boston I have come back to. You told me when we were upon +the house-top that though a century only had elapsed since I fell +asleep, it had been marked by greater changes in the conditions of +humanity than many a previous millennium. With the city before me I +could well believe that, but I am very curious to know what some of the +changes have been. To make a beginning somewhere, for the subject is +doubtless a large one, what solution, if any, have you found for the +labor question? It was the Sphinx's riddle of the nineteenth century, +and when I dropped out the Sphinx was threatening to devour society, +because the answer was not forthcoming. It is well worth sleeping a +hundred years to learn what the right answer was, if, indeed, you have +found it yet." +</P> + +<P> +"As no such thing as the labor question is known nowadays," replied Dr. +Leete, "and there is no way in which it could arise, I suppose we may +claim to have solved it. Society would indeed have fully deserved being +devoured if it had failed to answer a riddle so entirely simple. In +fact, to speak by the book, it was not necessary for society to solve +the riddle at all. It may be said to have solved itself. The solution +came as the result of a process of industrial evolution which could not +have terminated otherwise. All that society had to do was to recognize +and cooperate with that evolution, when its tendency had become +unmistakable." +</P> + +<P> +"I can only say," I answered, "that at the time I fell asleep no such +evolution had been recognized." +</P> + +<P> +"It was in 1887 that you fell into this sleep, I think you said." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, May 30th, 1887." +</P> + +<P> +My companion regarded me musingly for some moments. Then he observed, +"And you tell me that even then there was no general recognition of the +nature of the crisis which society was nearing? Of course, I fully +credit your statement. The singular blindness of your contemporaries to +the signs of the times is a phenomenon commented on by many of our +historians, but few facts of history are more difficult for us to +realize, so obvious and unmistakable as we look back seem the +indications, which must also have come under your eyes, of the +transformation about to come to pass. I should be interested, Mr. West, +if you would give me a little more definite idea of the view which you +and men of your grade of intellect took of the state and prospects of +society in 1887. You must, at least, have realized that the widespread +industrial and social troubles, and the underlying dissatisfaction of +all classes with the inequalities of society, and the general misery of +mankind, were portents of great changes of some sort." +</P> + +<P> +"We did, indeed, fully realize that," I replied. "We felt that society +was dragging anchor and in danger of going adrift. Whither it would +drift nobody could say, but all feared the rocks." +</P> + +<P> +"Nevertheless," said Dr. Leete, "the set of the current was perfectly +perceptible if you had but taken pains to observe it, and it was not +toward the rocks, but toward a deeper channel." +</P> + +<P> +"We had a popular proverb," I replied, "that 'hindsight is better than +foresight,' the force of which I shall now, no doubt, appreciate more +fully than ever. All I can say is, that the prospect was such when I +went into that long sleep that I should not have been surprised had I +looked down from your house-top to-day on a heap of charred and +moss-grown ruins instead of this glorious city." +</P> + +<P> +Dr. Leete had listened to me with close attention and nodded +thoughtfully as I finished speaking. "What you have said," he observed, +"will be regarded as a most valuable vindication of Storiot, whose +account of your era has been generally thought exaggerated in its +picture of the gloom and confusion of men's minds. That a period of +transition like that should be full of excitement and agitation was +indeed to be looked for; but seeing how plain was the tendency of the +forces in operation, it was natural to believe that hope rather than +fear would have been the prevailing temper of the popular mind." +</P> + +<P> +"You have not yet told me what was the answer to the riddle which you +found," I said. "I am impatient to know by what contradiction of +natural sequence the peace and prosperity which you now seem to enjoy +could have been the outcome of an era like my own." +</P> + +<P> +"Excuse me," replied my host, "but do you smoke?" It was not till our +cigars were lighted and drawing well that he resumed. "Since you are in +the humor to talk rather than to sleep, as I certainly am, perhaps I +cannot do better than to try to give you enough idea of our modern +industrial system to dissipate at least the impression that there is +any mystery about the process of its evolution. The Bostonians of your +day had the reputation of being great askers of questions, and I am +going to show my descent by asking you one to begin with. What should +you name as the most prominent feature of the labor troubles of your +day?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, the strikes, of course," I replied. +</P> + +<P> +"Exactly; but what made the strikes so formidable?" +</P> + +<P> +"The great labor organizations." +</P> + +<P> +"And what was the motive of these great organizations?" +</P> + +<P> +"The workmen claimed they had to organize to get their rights from the +big corporations," I replied. +</P> + +<P> +"That is just it," said Dr. Leete; "the organization of labor and the +strikes were an effect, merely, of the concentration of capital in +greater masses than had ever been known before. Before this +concentration began, while as yet commerce and industry were conducted +by innumerable petty concerns with small capital, instead of a small +number of great concerns with vast capital, the individual workman was +relatively important and independent in his relations to the employer. +Moreover, when a little capital or a new idea was enough to start a man +in business for himself, workingmen were constantly becoming employers +and there was no hard and fast line between the two classes. Labor +unions were needless then, and general strikes out of the question. But +when the era of small concerns with small capital was succeeded by that +of the great aggregations of capital, all this was changed. The +individual laborer, who had been relatively important to the small +employer, was reduced to insignificance and powerlessness over against +the great corporation, while at the same time the way upward to the +grade of employer was closed to him. Self-defense drove him to union +with his fellows. +</P> + +<P> +"The records of the period show that the outcry against the +concentration of capital was furious. Men believed that it threatened +society with a form of tyranny more abhorrent than it had ever endured. +They believed that the great corporations were preparing for them the +yoke of a baser servitude than had ever been imposed on the race, +servitude not to men but to soulless machines incapable of any motive +but insatiable greed. Looking back, we cannot wonder at their +desperation, for certainly humanity was never confronted with a fate +more sordid and hideous than would have been the era of corporate +tyranny which they anticipated. +</P> + +<P> +"Meanwhile, without being in the smallest degree checked by the clamor +against it, the absorption of business by ever larger monopolies +continued. In the United States there was not, after the beginning of +the last quarter of the century, any opportunity whatever for +individual enterprise in any important field of industry, unless backed +by a great capital. During the last decade of the century, such small +businesses as still remained were fast-failing survivals of a past +epoch, or mere parasites on the great corporations, or else existed in +fields too small to attract the great capitalists. Small businesses, as +far as they still remained, were reduced to the condition of rats and +mice, living in holes and corners, and counting on evading notice for +the enjoyment of existence. The railroads had gone on combining till a +few great syndicates controlled every rail in the land. In +manufactories, every important staple was controlled by a syndicate. +These syndicates, pools, trusts, or whatever their name, fixed prices +and crushed all competition except when combinations as vast as +themselves arose. Then a struggle, resulting in a still greater +consolidation, ensued. The great city bazar crushed it country rivals +with branch stores, and in the city itself absorbed its smaller rivals +till the business of a whole quarter was concentrated under one roof, +with a hundred former proprietors of shops serving as clerks. Having no +business of his own to put his money in, the small capitalist, at the +same time that he took service under the corporation, found no other +investment for his money but its stocks and bonds, thus becoming doubly +dependent upon it. +</P> + +<P> +"The fact that the desperate popular opposition to the consolidation of +business in a few powerful hands had no effect to check it proves that +there must have been a strong economical reason for it. The small +capitalists, with their innumerable petty concerns, had in fact yielded +the field to the great aggregations of capital, because they belonged +to a day of small things and were totally incompetent to the demands of +an age of steam and telegraphs and the gigantic scale of its +enterprises. To restore the former order of things, even if possible, +would have involved returning to the day of stagecoaches. Oppressive +and intolerable as was the regime of the great consolidations of +capital, even its victims, while they cursed it, were forced to admit +the prodigious increase of efficiency which had been imparted to the +national industries, the vast economies effected by concentration of +management and unity of organization, and to confess that since the new +system had taken the place of the old the wealth of the world had +increased at a rate before undreamed of. To be sure this vast increase +had gone chiefly to make the rich richer, increasing the gap between +them and the poor; but the fact remained that, as a means merely of +producing wealth, capital had been proved efficient in proportion to +its consolidation. The restoration of the old system with the +subdivision of capital, if it were possible, might indeed bring back a +greater equality of conditions, with more individual dignity and +freedom, but it would be at the price of general poverty and the arrest +of material progress. +</P> + +<P> +"Was there, then, no way of commanding the services of the mighty +wealth-producing principle of consolidated capital without bowing down +to a plutocracy like that of Carthage? As soon as men began to ask +themselves these questions, they found the answer ready for them. The +movement toward the conduct of business by larger and larger +aggregations of capital, the tendency toward monopolies, which had been +so desperately and vainly resisted, was recognized at last, in its true +significance, as a process which only needed to complete its logical +evolution to open a golden future to humanity. +</P> + +<P> +"Early in the last century the evolution was completed by the final +consolidation of the entire capital of the nation. The industry and +commerce of the country, ceasing to be conducted by a set of +irresponsible corporations and syndicates of private persons at their +caprice and for their profit, were intrusted to a single syndicate +representing the people, to be conducted in the common interest for the +common profit. The nation, that is to say, organized as the one great +business corporation in which all other corporations were absorbed; it +became the one capitalist in the place of all other capitalists, the +sole employer, the final monopoly in which all previous and lesser +monopolies were swallowed up, a monopoly in the profits and economies +of which all citizens shared. The epoch of trusts had ended in The +Great Trust. In a word, the people of the United States concluded to +assume the conduct of their own business, just as one hundred odd years +before they had assumed the conduct of their own government, organizing +now for industrial purposes on precisely the same grounds that they had +then organized for political purposes. At last, strangely late in the +world's history, the obvious fact was perceived that no business is so +essentially the public business as the industry and commerce on which +the people's livelihood depends, and that to entrust it to private +persons to be managed for private profit is a folly similar in kind, +though vastly greater in magnitude, to that of surrendering the +functions of political government to kings and nobles to be conducted +for their personal glorification." +</P> + +<P> +"Such a stupendous change as you describe," said I, "did not, of +course, take place without great bloodshed and terrible convulsions." +</P> + +<P> +"On the contrary," replied Dr. Leete, "there was absolutely no +violence. The change had been long foreseen. Public opinion had become +fully ripe for it, and the whole mass of the people was behind it. +There was no more possibility of opposing it by force than by argument. +On the other hand the popular sentiment toward the great corporations +and those identified with them had ceased to be one of bitterness, as +they came to realize their necessity as a link, a transition phase, in +the evolution of the true industrial system. The most violent foes of +the great private monopolies were now forced to recognize how +invaluable and indispensable had been their office in educating the +people up to the point of assuming control of their own business. Fifty +years before, the consolidation of the industries of the country under +national control would have seemed a very daring experiment to the most +sanguine. But by a series of object lessons, seen and studied by all +men, the great corporations had taught the people an entirely new set +of ideas on this subject. They had seen for many years syndicates +handling revenues greater than those of states, and directing the +labors of hundreds of thousands of men with an efficiency and economy +unattainable in smaller operations. It had come to be recognized as an +axiom that the larger the business the simpler the principles that can +be applied to it; that, as the machine is truer than the hand, so the +system, which in a great concern does the work of the master's eye in a +small business, turns out more accurate results. Thus it came about +that, thanks to the corporations themselves, when it was proposed that +the nation should assume their functions, the suggestion implied +nothing which seemed impracticable even to the timid. To be sure it was +a step beyond any yet taken, a broader generalization, but the very +fact that the nation would be the sole corporation in the field would, +it was seen, relieve the undertaking of many difficulties with which +the partial monopolies had contended." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap06"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Chapter 6 +</H3> + +<P> +Dr. Leete ceased speaking, and I remained silent, endeavoring to form +some general conception of the changes in the arrangements of society +implied in the tremendous revolution which he had described. +</P> + +<P> +Finally I said, "The idea of such an extension of the functions of +government is, to say the least, rather overwhelming." +</P> + +<P> +"Extension!" he repeated, "where is the extension?" +</P> + +<P> +"In my day," I replied, "it was considered that the proper functions of +government, strictly speaking, were limited to keeping the peace and +defending the people against the public enemy, that is, to the military +and police powers." +</P> + +<P> +"And, in heaven's name, who are the public enemies?" exclaimed Dr. +Leete. "Are they France, England, Germany, or hunger, cold, and +nakedness? In your day governments were accustomed, on the slightest +international misunderstanding, to seize upon the bodies of citizens +and deliver them over by hundreds of thousands to death and mutilation, +wasting their treasures the while like water; and all this oftenest for +no imaginable profit to the victims. We have no wars now, and our +governments no war powers, but in order to protect every citizen +against hunger, cold, and nakedness, and provide for all his physical +and mental needs, the function is assumed of directing his industry for +a term of years. No, Mr. West, I am sure on reflection you will +perceive that it was in your age, not in ours, that the extension of +the functions of governments was extraordinary. Not even for the best +ends would men now allow their governments such powers as were then +used for the most maleficent." +</P> + +<P> +"Leaving comparisons aside," I said, "the demagoguery and corruption of +our public men would have been considered, in my day, insuperable +objections to any assumption by government of the charge of the +national industries. We should have thought that no arrangement could +be worse than to entrust the politicians with control of the +wealth-producing machinery of the country. Its material interests were +quite too much the football of parties as it was." +</P> + +<P> +"No doubt you were right," rejoined Dr. Leete, "but all that is changed +now. We have no parties or politicians, and as for demagoguery and +corruption, they are words having only an historical significance." +</P> + +<P> +"Human nature itself must have changed very much," I said. +</P> + +<P> +"Not at all," was Dr. Leete's reply, "but the conditions of human life +have changed, and with them the motives of human action. The +organization of society with you was such that officials were under a +constant temptation to misuse their power for the private profit of +themselves or others. Under such circumstances it seems almost strange +that you dared entrust them with any of your affairs. Nowadays, on the +contrary, society is so constituted that there is absolutely no way in +which an official, however ill-disposed, could possibly make any profit +for himself or any one else by a misuse of his power. Let him be as bad +an official as you please, he cannot be a corrupt one. There is no +motive to be. The social system no longer offers a premium on +dishonesty. But these are matters which you can only understand as you +come, with time, to know us better." +</P> + +<P> +"But you have not yet told me how you have settled the labor problem. +It is the problem of capital which we have been discussing," I said. +"After the nation had assumed conduct of the mills, machinery, +railroads, farms, mines, and capital in general of the country, the +labor question still remained. In assuming the responsibilities of +capital the nation had assumed the difficulties of the capitalist's +position." +</P> + +<P> +"The moment the nation assumed the responsibilities of capital those +difficulties vanished," replied Dr. Leete. "The national organization +of labor under one direction was the complete solution of what was, in +your day and under your system, justly regarded as the insoluble labor +problem. When the nation became the sole employer, all the citizens, by +virtue of their citizenship, became employees, to be distributed +according to the needs of industry." +</P> + +<P> +"That is," I suggested, "you have simply applied the principle of +universal military service, as it was understood in our day, to the +labor question." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Dr. Leete, "that was something which followed as a matter +of course as soon as the nation had become the sole capitalist. The +people were already accustomed to the idea that the obligation of every +citizen, not physically disabled, to contribute his military services +to the defense of the nation was equal and absolute. That it was +equally the duty of every citizen to contribute his quota of industrial +or intellectual services to the maintenance of the nation was equally +evident, though it was not until the nation became the employer of +labor that citizens were able to render this sort of service with any +pretense either of universality or equity. No organization of labor was +possible when the employing power was divided among hundreds or +thousands of individuals and corporations, between which concert of any +kind was neither desired, nor indeed feasible. It constantly happened +then that vast numbers who desired to labor could find no opportunity, +and on the other hand, those who desired to evade a part or all of +their debt could easily do so." +</P> + +<P> +"Service, now, I suppose, is compulsory upon all," I suggested. +</P> + +<P> +"It is rather a matter of course than of compulsion," replied Dr. +Leete. "It is regarded as so absolutely natural and reasonable that the +idea of its being compulsory has ceased to be thought of. He would be +thought to be an incredibly contemptible person who should need +compulsion in such a case. Nevertheless, to speak of service being +compulsory would be a weak way to state its absolute inevitableness. +Our entire social order is so wholly based upon and deduced from it +that if it were conceivable that a man could escape it, he would be +left with no possible way to provide for his existence. He would have +excluded himself from the world, cut himself off from his kind, in a +word, committed suicide." +</P> + +<P> +"Is the term of service in this industrial army for life?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, no; it both begins later and ends earlier than the average working +period in your day. Your workshops were filled with children and old +men, but we hold the period of youth sacred to education, and the +period of maturity, when the physical forces begin to flag, equally +sacred to ease and agreeable relaxation. The period of industrial +service is twenty-four years, beginning at the close of the course of +education at twenty-one and terminating at forty-five. After +forty-five, while discharged from labor, the citizen still remains +liable to special calls, in case of emergencies causing a sudden great +increase in the demand for labor, till he reaches the age of +fifty-five, but such calls are rarely, in fact almost never, made. The +fifteenth day of October of every year is what we call Muster Day, +because those who have reached the age of twenty-one are then mustered +into the industrial service, and at the same time those who, after +twenty-four years' service, have reached the age of forty-five, are +honorably mustered out. It is the great day of the year with us, whence +we reckon all other events, our Olympiad, save that it is annual." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap07"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Chapter 7 +</H3> + +<P> +"It is after you have mustered your industrial army into service," I +said, "that I should expect the chief difficulty to arise, for there +its analogy with a military army must cease. Soldiers have all the same +thing, and a very simple thing, to do, namely, to practice the manual +of arms, to march and stand guard. But the industrial army must learn +and follow two or three hundred diverse trades and avocations. What +administrative talent can be equal to determining wisely what trade or +business every individual in a great nation shall pursue?" +</P> + +<P> +"The administration has nothing to do with determining that point." +</P> + +<P> +"Who does determine it, then?" I asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Every man for himself in accordance with his natural aptitude, the +utmost pains being taken to enable him to find out what his natural +aptitude really is. The principle on which our industrial army is +organized is that a man's natural endowments, mental and physical, +determine what he can work at most profitably to the nation and most +satisfactorily to himself. While the obligation of service in some form +is not to be evaded, voluntary election, subject only to necessary +regulation, is depended on to determine the particular sort of service +every man is to render. As an individual's satisfaction during his term +of service depends on his having an occupation to his taste, parents +and teachers watch from early years for indications of special +aptitudes in children. A thorough study of the National industrial +system, with the history and rudiments of all the great trades, is an +essential part of our educational system. While manual training is not +allowed to encroach on the general intellectual culture to which our +schools are devoted, it is carried far enough to give our youth, in +addition to their theoretical knowledge of the national industries, +mechanical and agricultural, a certain familiarity with their tools and +methods. Our schools are constantly visiting our workshops, and often +are taken on long excursions to inspect particular industrial +enterprises. In your day a man was not ashamed to be grossly ignorant +of all trades except his own, but such ignorance would not be +consistent with our idea of placing every one in a position to select +intelligently the occupation for which he has most taste. Usually long +before he is mustered into service a young man has found out the +pursuit he wants to follow, has acquired a great deal of knowledge +about it, and is waiting impatiently the time when he can enlist in its +ranks." +</P> + +<P> +"Surely," I said, "it can hardly be that the number of volunteers for +any trade is exactly the number needed in that trade. It must be +generally either under or over the demand." +</P> + +<P> +"The supply of volunteers is always expected to fully equal the +demand," replied Dr. Leete. "It is the business of the administration +to see that this is the case. The rate of volunteering for each trade +is closely watched. If there be a noticeably greater excess of +volunteers over men needed in any trade, it is inferred that the trade +offers greater attractions than others. On the other hand, if the +number of volunteers for a trade tends to drop below the demand, it is +inferred that it is thought more arduous. It is the business of the +administration to seek constantly to equalize the attractions of the +trades, so far as the conditions of labor in them are concerned, so +that all trades shall be equally attractive to persons having natural +tastes for them. This is done by making the hours of labor in different +trades to differ according to their arduousness. The lighter trades, +prosecuted under the most agreeable circumstances, have in this way the +longest hours, while an arduous trade, such as mining, has very short +hours. There is no theory, no a priori rule, by which the respective +attractiveness of industries is determined. The administration, in +taking burdens off one class of workers and adding them to other +classes, simply follows the fluctuations of opinion among the workers +themselves as indicated by the rate of volunteering. The principle is +that no man's work ought to be, on the whole, harder for him than any +other man's for him, the workers themselves to be the judges. There are +no limits to the application of this rule. If any particular occupation +is in itself so arduous or so oppressive that, in order to induce +volunteers, the day's work in it had to be reduced to ten minutes, it +would be done. If, even then, no man was willing to do it, it would +remain undone. But of course, in point of fact, a moderate reduction in +the hours of labor, or addition of other privileges, suffices to secure +all needed volunteers for any occupation necessary to men. If, indeed, +the unavoidable difficulties and dangers of such a necessary pursuit +were so great that no inducement of compensating advantages would +overcome men's repugnance to it, the administration would only need to +take it out of the common order of occupations by declaring it 'extra +hazardous,' and those who pursued it especially worthy of the national +gratitude, to be overrun with volunteers. Our young men are very greedy +of honor, and do not let slip such opportunities. Of course you will +see that dependence on the purely voluntary choice of avocations +involves the abolition in all of anything like unhygienic conditions or +special peril to life and limb. Health and safety are conditions common +to all industries. The nation does not maim and slaughter its workmen +by thousands, as did the private capitalists and corporations of your +day." +</P> + +<P> +"When there are more who want to enter a particular trade than there is +room for, how do you decide between the applicants?" I inquired. +</P> + +<P> +"Preference is given to those who have acquired the most knowledge of +the trade they wish to follow. No man, however, who through successive +years remains persistent in his desire to show what he can do at any +particular trade, is in the end denied an opportunity. Meanwhile, if a +man cannot at first win entrance into the business he prefers, he has +usually one or more alternative preferences, pursuits for which he has +some degree of aptitude, although not the highest. Every one, indeed, +is expected to study his aptitudes so as to have not only a first +choice as to occupation, but a second or third, so that if, either at +the outset of his career or subsequently, owing to the progress of +invention or changes in demand, he is unable to follow his first +vocation, he can still find reasonably congenial employment. This +principle of secondary choices as to occupation is quite important in +our system. I should add, in reference to the counter-possibility of +some sudden failure of volunteers in a particular trade, or some sudden +necessity of an increased force, that the administration, while +depending on the voluntary system for filling up the trades as a rule, +holds always in reserve the power to call for special volunteers, or +draft any force needed from any quarter. Generally, however, all needs +of this sort can be met by details from the class of unskilled or +common laborers." +</P> + +<P> +"How is this class of common laborers recruited?" I asked. "Surely +nobody voluntarily enters that." +</P> + +<P> +"It is the grade to which all new recruits belong for the first three +years of their service. It is not till after this period, during which +he is assignable to any work at the discretion of his superiors, that +the young man is allowed to elect a special avocation. These three +years of stringent discipline none are exempt from, and very glad our +young men are to pass from this severe school into the comparative +liberty of the trades. If a man were so stupid as to have no choice as +to occupation, he would simply remain a common laborer; but such cases, +as you may suppose, are not common." +</P> + +<P> +"Having once elected and entered on a trade or occupation," I remarked, +"I suppose he has to stick to it the rest of his life." +</P> + +<P> +"Not necessarily," replied Dr. Leete; "while frequent and merely +capricious changes of occupation are not encouraged or even permitted, +every worker is allowed, of course, under certain regulations and in +accordance with the exigencies of the service, to volunteer for another +industry which he thinks would suit him better than his first choice. +In this case his application is received just as if he were +volunteering for the first time, and on the same terms. Not only this, +but a worker may likewise, under suitable regulations and not too +frequently, obtain a transfer to an establishment of the same industry +in another part of the country which for any reason he may prefer. +Under your system a discontented man could indeed leave his work at +will, but he left his means of support at the same time, and took his +chances as to future livelihood. We find that the number of men who +wish to abandon an accustomed occupation for a new one, and old friends +and associations for strange ones, is small. It is only the poorer sort +of workmen who desire to change even as frequently as our regulations +permit. Of course transfers or discharges, when health demands them, +are always given." +</P> + +<P> +"As an industrial system, I should think this might be extremely +efficient," I said, "but I don't see that it makes any provision for +the professional classes, the men who serve the nation with brains +instead of hands. Of course you can't get along without the +brain-workers. How, then, are they selected from those who are to serve +as farmers and mechanics? That must require a very delicate sort of +sifting process, I should say." +</P> + +<P> +"So it does," replied Dr. Leete; "the most delicate possible test is +needed here, and so we leave the question whether a man shall be a +brain or hand worker entirely to him to settle. At the end of the term +of three years as a common laborer, which every man must serve, it is +for him to choose, in accordance to his natural tastes, whether he will +fit himself for an art or profession, or be a farmer or mechanic. If he +feels that he can do better work with his brains than his muscles, he +finds every facility provided for testing the reality of his supposed +bent, of cultivating it, and if fit of pursuing it as his avocation. +The schools of technology, of medicine, of art, of music, of +histrionics, and of higher liberal learning are always open to +aspirants without condition." +</P> + +<P> +"Are not the schools flooded with young men whose only motive is to +avoid work?" +</P> + +<P> +Dr. Leete smiled a little grimly. +</P> + +<P> +"No one is at all likely to enter the professional schools for the +purpose of avoiding work, I assure you," he said. "They are intended +for those with special aptitude for the branches they teach, and any +one without it would find it easier to do double hours at his trade +than try to keep up with the classes. Of course many honestly mistake +their vocation, and, finding themselves unequal to the requirements of +the schools, drop out and return to the industrial service; no +discredit attaches to such persons, for the public policy is to +encourage all to develop suspected talents which only actual tests can +prove the reality of. The professional and scientific schools of your +day depended on the patronage of their pupils for support, and the +practice appears to have been common of giving diplomas to unfit +persons, who afterwards found their way into the professions. Our +schools are national institutions, and to have passed their tests is a +proof of special abilities not to be questioned. +</P> + +<P> +"This opportunity for a professional training," the doctor continued, +"remains open to every man till the age of thirty is reached, after +which students are not received, as there would remain too brief a +period before the age of discharge in which to serve the nation in +their professions. In your day young men had to choose their +professions very young, and therefore, in a large proportion of +instances, wholly mistook their vocations. It is recognized nowadays +that the natural aptitudes of some are later than those of others in +developing, and therefore, while the choice of profession may be made +as early as twenty-four, it remains open for six years longer." +</P> + +<P> +A question which had a dozen times before been on my lips now found +utterance, a question which touched upon what, in my time, had been +regarded the most vital difficulty in the way of any final settlement +of the industrial problem. "It is an extraordinary thing," I said, +"that you should not yet have said a word about the method of adjusting +wages. Since the nation is the sole employer, the government must fix +the rate of wages and determine just how much everybody shall earn, +from the doctors to the diggers. All I can say is, that this plan would +never have worked with us, and I don't see how it can now unless human +nature has changed. In my day, nobody was satisfied with his wages or +salary. Even if he felt he received enough, he was sure his neighbor +had too much, which was as bad. If the universal discontent on this +subject, instead of being dissipated in curses and strikes directed +against innumerable employers, could have been concentrated upon one, +and that the government, the strongest ever devised would not have seen +two pay days." +</P> + +<P> +Dr. Leete laughed heartily. +</P> + +<P> +"Very true, very true," he said, "a general strike would most probably +have followed the first pay day, and a strike directed against a +government is a revolution." +</P> + +<P> +"How, then, do you avoid a revolution every pay day?" if demanded. "Has +some prodigious philosopher devised a new system of calculus +satisfactory to all for determining the exact and comparative value of +all sorts of service, whether by brawn or brain, by hand or voice, by +ear or eye? Or has human nature itself changed, so that no man looks +upon his own things but 'every man on the things of his neighbor'? One +or the other of these events must be the explanation." +</P> + +<P> +"Neither one nor the other, however, is," was my host's laughing +response. "And now, Mr. West," he continued, "you must remember that +you are my patient as well as my guest, and permit me to prescribe +sleep for you before we have any more conversation. It is after three +o'clock." +</P> + +<P> +"The prescription is, no doubt, a wise one," I said; "I only hope it +can be filled." +</P> + +<P> +"I will see to that," the doctor replied, and he did, for he gave me a +wineglass of something or other which sent me to sleep as soon as my +head touched the pillow. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap08"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Chapter 8 +</H3> + +<P> +When I awoke I felt greatly refreshed, and lay a considerable time in a +dozing state, enjoying the sensation of bodily comfort. The experiences +of the day previous, my waking to find myself in the year 2000, the +sight of the new Boston, my host and his family, and the wonderful +things I had heard, were a blank in my memory. I thought I was in my +bed-chamber at home, and the half-dreaming, half-waking fancies which +passed before my mind related to the incidents and experiences of my +former life. Dreamily I reviewed the incidents of Decoration Day, my +trip in company with Edith and her parents to Mount Auburn, and my +dining with them on our return to the city. I recalled how extremely +well Edith had looked, and from that fell to thinking of our marriage; +but scarcely had my imagination begun to develop this delightful theme +than my waking dream was cut short by the recollection of the letter I +had received the night before from the builder announcing that the new +strikes might postpone indefinitely the completion of the new house. +The chagrin which this recollection brought with it effectually roused +me. I remembered that I had an appointment with the builder at eleven +o'clock, to discuss the strike, and opening my eyes, looked up at the +clock at the foot of my bed to see what time it was. But no clock met +my glance, and what was more, I instantly perceived that I was not in +my room. Starting up on my couch, I stared wildly round the strange +apartment. +</P> + +<P> +I think it must have been many seconds that I sat up thus in bed +staring about, without being able to regain the clew to my personal +identity. I was no more able to distinguish myself from pure being +during those moments than we may suppose a soul in the rough to be +before it has received the ear-marks, the individualizing touches which +make it a person. Strange that the sense of this inability should be +such anguish! but so we are constituted. There are no words for the +mental torture I endured during this helpless, eyeless groping for +myself in a boundless void. No other experience of the mind gives +probably anything like the sense of absolute intellectual arrest from +the loss of a mental fulcrum, a starting point of thought, which comes +during such a momentary obscuration of the sense of one's identity. I +trust I may never know what it is again. +</P> + +<P> +I do not know how long this condition had lasted—it seemed an +interminable time—when, like a flash, the recollection of everything +came back to me. I remembered who and where I was, and how I had come +here, and that these scenes as of the life of yesterday which had been +passing before my mind concerned a generation long, long ago mouldered +to dust. Leaping from bed, I stood in the middle of the room clasping +my temples with all my might between my hands to keep them from +bursting. Then I fell prone on the couch, and, burying my face in the +pillow, lay without motion. The reaction which was inevitable, from the +mental elation, the fever of the intellect that had been the first +effect of my tremendous experience, had arrived. The emotional crisis +which had awaited the full realization of my actual position, and all +that it implied, was upon me, and with set teeth and laboring chest, +gripping the bedstead with frenzied strength, I lay there and fought +for my sanity. In my mind, all had broken loose, habits of feeling, +associations of thought, ideas of persons and things, all had dissolved +and lost coherence and were seething together in apparently +irretrievable chaos. There were no rallying points, nothing was left +stable. There only remained the will, and was any human will strong +enough to say to such a weltering sea, "Peace, be still"? I dared not +think. Every effort to reason upon what had befallen me, and realize +what it implied, set up an intolerable swimming of the brain. The idea +that I was two persons, that my identity was double, began to fascinate +me with its simple solution of my experience. +</P> + +<P> +I knew that I was on the verge of losing my mental balance. If I lay +there thinking, I was doomed. Diversion of some sort I must have, at +least the diversion of physical exertion. I sprang up, and, hastily +dressing, opened the door of my room and went down-stairs. The hour was +very early, it being not yet fairly light, and I found no one in the +lower part of the house. There was a hat in the hall, and, opening the +front door, which was fastened with a slightness indicating that +burglary was not among the perils of the modern Boston, I found myself +on the street. For two hours I walked or ran through the streets of the +city, visiting most quarters of the peninsular part of the town. None +but an antiquarian who knows something of the contrast which the Boston +of today offers to the Boston of the nineteenth century can begin to +appreciate what a series of bewildering surprises I underwent during +that time. Viewed from the house-top the day before, the city had +indeed appeared strange to me, but that was only in its general aspect. +How complete the change had been I first realized now that I walked the +streets. The few old landmarks which still remained only intensified +this effect, for without them I might have imagined myself in a foreign +town. A man may leave his native city in childhood, and return fifty +years later, perhaps, to find it transformed in many features. He is +astonished, but he is not bewildered. He is aware of a great lapse of +time, and of changes likewise occurring in himself meanwhile. He but +dimly recalls the city as he knew it when a child. But remember that +there was no sense of any lapse of time with me. So far as my +consciousness was concerned, it was but yesterday, but a few hours, +since I had walked these streets in which scarcely a feature had +escaped a complete metamorphosis. The mental image of the old city was +so fresh and strong that it did not yield to the impression of the +actual city, but contended with it, so that it was first one and then +the other which seemed the more unreal. There was nothing I saw which +was not blurred in this way, like the faces of a composite photograph. +</P> + +<P> +Finally, I stood again at the door of the house from which I had come +out. My feet must have instinctively brought me back to the site of my +old home, for I had no clear idea of returning thither. It was no more +homelike to me than any other spot in this city of a strange +generation, nor were its inmates less utterly and necessarily strangers +than all the other men and women now on the earth. Had the door of the +house been locked, I should have been reminded by its resistance that I +had no object in entering, and turned away, but it yielded to my hand, +and advancing with uncertain steps through the hall, I entered one of +the apartments opening from it. Throwing myself into a chair, I covered +my burning eyeballs with my hands to shut out the horror of +strangeness. My mental confusion was so intense as to produce actual +nausea. The anguish of those moments, during which my brain seemed +melting, or the abjectness of my sense of helplessness, how can I +describe? In my despair I groaned aloud. I began to feel that unless +some help should come I was about to lose my mind. And just then it did +come. I heard the rustle of drapery, and looked up. Edith Leete was +standing before me. Her beautiful face was full of the most poignant +sympathy. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, what is the matter, Mr. West?" she said. "I was here when you came +in. I saw how dreadfully distressed you looked, and when I heard you +groan, I could not keep silent. What has happened to you? Where have +you been? Can't I do something for you?" +</P> + +<P> +Perhaps she involuntarily held out her hands in a gesture of compassion +as she spoke. At any rate I had caught them in my own and was clinging +to them with an impulse as instinctive as that which prompts the +drowning man to seize upon and cling to the rope which is thrown him as +he sinks for the last time. As I looked up into her compassionate face +and her eyes moist with pity, my brain ceased to whirl. The tender +human sympathy which thrilled in the soft pressure of her fingers had +brought me the support I needed. Its effect to calm and soothe was like +that of some wonder-working elixir. +</P> + +<P> +"God bless you," I said, after a few moments. "He must have sent you to +me just now. I think I was in danger of going crazy if you had not +come." At this the tears came into her eyes. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, Mr. West!" she cried. "How heartless you must have thought us! How +could we leave you to yourself so long! But it is over now, is it not? +You are better, surely." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," I said, "thanks to you. If you will not go away quite yet, I +shall be myself soon." +</P> + +<P> +"Indeed I will not go away," she said, with a little quiver of her +face, more expressive of her sympathy than a volume of words. "You must +not think us so heartless as we seemed in leaving you so by yourself. I +scarcely slept last night, for thinking how strange your waking would +be this morning; but father said you would sleep till late. He said +that it would be better not to show too much sympathy with you at +first, but to try to divert your thoughts and make you feel that you +were among friends." +</P> + +<P> +"You have indeed made me feel that," I answered. "But you see it is a +good deal of a jolt to drop a hundred years, and although I did not +seem to feel it so much last night, I have had very odd sensations this +morning." While I held her hands and kept my eyes on her face, I could +already even jest a little at my plight. +</P> + +<P> +"No one thought of such a thing as your going out in the city alone so +early in the morning," she went on. "Oh, Mr. West, where have you been?" +</P> + +<P> +Then I told her of my morning's experience, from my first waking till +the moment I had looked up to see her before me, just as I have told it +here. She was overcome by distressful pity during the recital, and, +though I had released one of her hands, did not try to take from me the +other, seeing, no doubt, how much good it did me to hold it. "I can +think a little what this feeling must have been like," she said. "It +must have been terrible. And to think you were left alone to struggle +with it! Can you ever forgive us?" +</P> + +<P> +"But it is gone now. You have driven it quite away for the present," I +said. +</P> + +<P> +"You will not let it return again," she queried anxiously. +</P> + +<P> +"I can't quite say that," I replied. "It might be too early to say +that, considering how strange everything will still be to me." +</P> + +<P> +"But you will not try to contend with it alone again, at least," she +persisted. "Promise that you will come to us, and let us sympathize +with you, and try to help you. Perhaps we can't do much, but it will +surely be better than to try to bear such feelings alone." +</P> + +<P> +"I will come to you if you will let me," I said. +</P> + +<P> +"Oh yes, yes, I beg you will," she said eagerly. "I would do anything +to help you that I could." +</P> + +<P> +"All you need do is to be sorry for me, as you seem to be now," I +replied. +</P> + +<P> +"It is understood, then," she said, smiling with wet eyes, "that you +are to come and tell me next time, and not run all over Boston among +strangers." +</P> + +<P> +This assumption that we were not strangers seemed scarcely strange, so +near within these few minutes had my trouble and her sympathetic tears +brought us. +</P> + +<P> +"I will promise, when you come to me," she added, with an expression of +charming archness, passing, as she continued, into one of enthusiasm, +"to seem as sorry for you as you wish, but you must not for a moment +suppose that I am really sorry for you at all, or that I think you will +long be sorry for yourself. I know, as well as I know that the world +now is heaven compared with what it was in your day, that the only +feeling you will have after a little while will be one of thankfulness +to God that your life in that age was so strangely cut off, to be +returned to you in this." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap09"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Chapter 9 +</H3> + +<P> +Dr. and Mrs. Leete were evidently not a little startled to learn, when +they presently appeared, that I had been all over the city alone that +morning, and it was apparent that they were agreeably surprised to see +that I seemed so little agitated after the experience. +</P> + +<P> +"Your stroll could scarcely have failed to be a very interesting one," +said Mrs. Leete, as we sat down to table soon after. "You must have +seen a good many new things." +</P> + +<P> +"I saw very little that was not new," I replied. "But I think what +surprised me as much as anything was not to find any stores on +Washington Street, or any banks on State. What have you done with the +merchants and bankers? Hung them all, perhaps, as the anarchists wanted +to do in my day?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not so bad as that," replied Dr. Leete. "We have simply dispensed with +them. Their functions are obsolete in the modern world." +</P> + +<P> +"Who sells you things when you want to buy them?" I inquired. +</P> + +<P> +"There is neither selling nor buying nowadays; the distribution of +goods is effected in another way. As to the bankers, having no money we +have no use for those gentry." +</P> + +<P> +"Miss Leete," said I, turning to Edith, "I am afraid that your father +is making sport of me. I don't blame him, for the temptation my +innocence offers must be extraordinary. But, really, there are limits +to my credulity as to possible alterations in the social system." +</P> + +<P> +"Father has no idea of jesting, I am sure," she replied, with a +reassuring smile. +</P> + +<P> +The conversation took another turn then, the point of ladies' fashions +in the nineteenth century being raised, if I remember rightly, by Mrs. +Leete, and it was not till after breakfast, when the doctor had invited +me up to the house-top, which appeared to be a favorite resort of his, +that he recurred to the subject. +</P> + +<P> +"You were surprised," he said, "at my saying that we got along without +money or trade, but a moment's reflection will show that trade existed +and money was needed in your day simply because the business of +production was left in private hands, and that, consequently, they are +superfluous now." +</P> + +<P> +"I do not at once see how that follows," I replied. +</P> + +<P> +"It is very simple," said Dr. Leete. "When innumerable different and +independent persons produced the various things needful to life and +comfort, endless exchanges between individuals were requisite in order +that they might supply themselves with what they desired. These +exchanges constituted trade, and money was essential as their medium. +But as soon as the nation became the sole producer of all sorts of +commodities, there was no need of exchanges between individuals that +they might get what they required. Everything was procurable from one +source, and nothing could be procured anywhere else. A system of direct +distribution from the national storehouses took the place of trade, and +for this money was unnecessary." +</P> + +<P> +"How is this distribution managed?" I asked. +</P> + +<P> +"On the simplest possible plan," replied Dr. Leete. "A credit +corresponding to his share of the annual product of the nation is given +to every citizen on the public books at the beginning of each year, and +a credit card issued him with which he procures at the public +storehouses, found in every community, whatever he desires whenever he +desires it. This arrangement, you will see, totally obviates the +necessity for business transactions of any sort between individuals and +consumers. Perhaps you would like to see what our credit cards are like. +</P> + +<P> +"You observe," he pursued as I was curiously examining the piece of +pasteboard he gave me, "that this card is issued for a certain number +of dollars. We have kept the old word, but not the substance. The term, +as we use it, answers to no real thing, but merely serves as an +algebraical symbol for comparing the values of products with one +another. For this purpose they are all priced in dollars and cents, +just as in your day. The value of what I procure on this card is +checked off by the clerk, who pricks out of these tiers of squares the +price of what I order." +</P> + +<P> +"If you wanted to buy something of your neighbor, could you transfer +part of your credit to him as consideration?" I inquired. +</P> + +<P> +"In the first place," replied Dr. Leete, "our neighbors have nothing to +sell us, but in any event our credit would not be transferable, being +strictly personal. Before the nation could even think of honoring any +such transfer as you speak of, it would be bound to inquire into all +the circumstances of the transaction, so as to be able to guarantee its +absolute equity. It would have been reason enough, had there been no +other, for abolishing money, that its possession was no indication of +rightful title to it. In the hands of the man who had stolen it or +murdered for it, it was as good as in those which had earned it by +industry. People nowadays interchange gifts and favors out of +friendship, but buying and selling is considered absolutely +inconsistent with the mutual benevolence and disinterestedness which +should prevail between citizens and the sense of community of interest +which supports our social system. According to our ideas, buying and +selling is essentially anti-social in all its tendencies. It is an +education in self-seeking at the expense of others, and no society +whose citizens are trained in such a school can possibly rise above a +very low grade of civilization." +</P> + +<P> +"What if you have to spend more than your card in any one year?" I +asked. +</P> + +<P> +"The provision is so ample that we are more likely not to spend it +all," replied Dr. Leete. "But if extraordinary expenses should exhaust +it, we can obtain a limited advance on the next year's credit, though +this practice is not encouraged, and a heavy discount is charged to +check it. Of course if a man showed himself a reckless spendthrift he +would receive his allowance monthly or weekly instead of yearly, or if +necessary not be permitted to handle it all." +</P> + +<P> +"If you don't spend your allowance, I suppose it accumulates?" +</P> + +<P> +"That is also permitted to a certain extent when a special outlay is +anticipated. But unless notice to the contrary is given, it is presumed +that the citizen who does not fully expend his credit did not have +occasion to do so, and the balance is turned into the general surplus." +</P> + +<P> +"Such a system does not encourage saving habits on the part of +citizens," I said. +</P> + +<P> +"It is not intended to," was the reply. "The nation is rich, and does +not wish the people to deprive themselves of any good thing. In your +day, men were bound to lay up goods and money against coming failure of +the means of support and for their children. This necessity made +parsimony a virtue. But now it would have no such laudable object, and, +having lost its utility, it has ceased to be regarded as a virtue. No +man any more has any care for the morrow, either for himself or his +children, for the nation guarantees the nurture, education, and +comfortable maintenance of every citizen from the cradle to the grave." +</P> + +<P> +"That is a sweeping guarantee!" I said. "What certainty can there be +that the value of a man's labor will recompense the nation for its +outlay on him? On the whole, society may be able to support all its +members, but some must earn less than enough for their support, and +others more; and that brings us back once more to the wages question, +on which you have hitherto said nothing. It was at just this point, if +you remember, that our talk ended last evening; and I say again, as I +did then, that here I should suppose a national industrial system like +yours would find its main difficulty. How, I ask once more, can you +adjust satisfactorily the comparative wages or remuneration of the +multitude of avocations, so unlike and so incommensurable, which are +necessary for the service of society? In our day the market rate +determined the price of labor of all sorts, as well as of goods. The +employer paid as little as he could, and the worker got as much. It was +not a pretty system ethically, I admit; but it did, at least, furnish +us a rough and ready formula for settling a question which must be +settled ten thousand times a day if the world was ever going to get +forward. There seemed to us no other practicable way of doing it." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," replied Dr. Leete, "it was the only practicable way under a +system which made the interests of every individual antagonistic to +those of every other; but it would have been a pity if humanity could +never have devised a better plan, for yours was simply the application +to the mutual relations of men of the devil's maxim, 'Your necessity is +my opportunity.' The reward of any service depended not upon its +difficulty, danger, or hardship, for throughout the world it seems that +the most perilous, severe, and repulsive labor was done by the worst +paid classes; but solely upon the strait of those who needed the +service." +</P> + +<P> +"All that is conceded," I said. "But, with all its defects, the plan of +settling prices by the market rate was a practical plan; and I cannot +conceive what satisfactory substitute you can have devised for it. The +government being the only possible employer, there is of course no +labor market or market rate. Wages of all sorts must be arbitrarily +fixed by the government. I cannot imagine a more complex and delicate +function than that must be, or one, however performed, more certain to +breed universal dissatisfaction." +</P> + +<P> +"I beg your pardon," replied Dr. Leete, "but I think you exaggerate the +difficulty. Suppose a board of fairly sensible men were charged with +settling the wages for all sorts of trades under a system which, like +ours, guaranteed employment to all, while permitting the choice of +avocations. Don't you see that, however unsatisfactory the first +adjustment might be, the mistakes would soon correct themselves? The +favored trades would have too many volunteers, and those discriminated +against would lack them till the errors were set right. But this is +aside from the purpose, for, though this plan would, I fancy, be +practicable enough, it is no part of our system." +</P> + +<P> +"How, then, do you regulate wages?" I once more asked. +</P> + +<P> +Dr. Leete did not reply till after several moments of meditative +silence. "I know, of course," he finally said, "enough of the old order +of things to understand just what you mean by that question; and yet +the present order is so utterly different at this point that I am a +little at loss how to answer you best. You ask me how we regulate +wages; I can only reply that there is no idea in the modern social +economy which at all corresponds with what was meant by wages in your +day." +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose you mean that you have no money to pay wages in," said I. +"But the credit given the worker at the government storehouse answers +to his wages with us. How is the amount of the credit given +respectively to the workers in different lines determined? By what +title does the individual claim his particular share? What is the basis +of allotment?" +</P> + +<P> +"His title," replied Dr. Leete, "is his humanity. The basis of his +claim is the fact that he is a man." +</P> + +<P> +"The fact that he is a man!" I repeated, incredulously. "Do you +possibly mean that all have the same share?" +</P> + +<P> +"Most assuredly." +</P> + +<P> +The readers of this book never having practically known any other +arrangement, or perhaps very carefully considered the historical +accounts of former epochs in which a very different system prevailed, +cannot be expected to appreciate the stupor of amazement into which Dr. +Leete's simple statement plunged me. +</P> + +<P> +"You see," he said, smiling, "that it is not merely that we have no +money to pay wages in, but, as I said, we have nothing at all answering +to your idea of wages." +</P> + +<P> +By this time I had pulled myself together sufficiently to voice some of +the criticisms which, man of the nineteenth century as I was, came +uppermost in my mind, upon this to me astounding arrangement. "Some men +do twice the work of others!" I exclaimed. "Are the clever workmen +content with a plan that ranks them with the indifferent?" +</P> + +<P> +"We leave no possible ground for any complaint of injustice," replied +Dr. Leete, "by requiring precisely the same measure of service from +all." +</P> + +<P> +"How can you do that, I should like to know, when no two men's powers +are the same?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing could be simpler," was Dr. Leete's reply. "We require of each +that he shall make the same effort; that is, we demand of him the best +service it is in his power to give." +</P> + +<P> +"And supposing all do the best they can," I answered, "the amount of +the product resulting is twice greater from one man than from another." +</P> + +<P> +"Very true," replied Dr. Leete; "but the amount of the resulting +product has nothing whatever to do with the question, which is one of +desert. Desert is a moral question, and the amount of the product a +material quantity. It would be an extraordinary sort of logic which +should try to determine a moral question by a material standard. The +amount of the effort alone is pertinent to the question of desert. All +men who do their best, do the same. A man's endowments, however +godlike, merely fix the measure of his duty. The man of great +endowments who does not do all he might, though he may do more than a +man of small endowments who does his best, is deemed a less deserving +worker than the latter, and dies a debtor to his fellows. The Creator +sets men's tasks for them by the faculties he gives them; we simply +exact their fulfillment." +</P> + +<P> +"No doubt that is very fine philosophy," I said; "nevertheless it seems +hard that the man who produces twice as much as another, even if both +do their best, should have only the same share." +</P> + +<P> +"Does it, indeed, seem so to you?" responded Dr. Leete. "Now, do you +know, that seems very curious to me? The way it strikes people nowadays +is, that a man who can produce twice as much as another with the same +effort, instead of being rewarded for doing so, ought to be punished if +he does not do so. In the nineteenth century, when a horse pulled a +heavier load than a goat, I suppose you rewarded him. Now, we should +have whipped him soundly if he had not, on the ground that, being much +stronger, he ought to. It is singular how ethical standards change." +The doctor said this with such a twinkle in his eye that I was obliged +to laugh. +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose," I said, "that the real reason that we rewarded men for +their endowments, while we considered those of horses and goats merely +as fixing the service to be severally required of them, was that the +animals, not being reasoning beings, naturally did the best they could, +whereas men could only be induced to do so by rewarding them according +to the amount of their product. That brings me to ask why, unless human +nature has mightily changed in a hundred years, you are not under the +same necessity." +</P> + +<P> +"We are," replied Dr. Leete. "I don't think there has been any change +in human nature in that respect since your day. It is still so +constituted that special incentives in the form of prizes, and +advantages to be gained, are requisite to call out the best endeavors +of the average man in any direction." +</P> + +<P> +"But what inducement," I asked, "can a man have to put forth his best +endeavors when, however much or little he accomplishes, his income +remains the same? High characters may be moved by devotion to the +common welfare under such a system, but does not the average man tend +to rest back on his oar, reasoning that it is of no use to make a +special effort, since the effort will not increase his income, nor its +withholding diminish it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Does it then really seem to you," answered my companion, "that human +nature is insensible to any motives save fear of want and love of +luxury, that you should expect security and equality of livelihood to +leave them without possible incentives to effort? Your contemporaries +did not really think so, though they might fancy they did. When it was +a question of the grandest class of efforts, the most absolute +self-devotion, they depended on quite other incentives. Not higher +wages, but honor and the hope of men's gratitude, patriotism and the +inspiration of duty, were the motives which they set before their +soldiers when it was a question of dying for the nation, and never was +there an age of the world when those motives did not call out what is +best and noblest in men. And not only this, but when you come to +analyze the love of money which was the general impulse to effort in +your day, you find that the dread of want and desire of luxury was but +one of several motives which the pursuit of money represented; the +others, and with many the more influential, being desire of power, of +social position, and reputation for ability and success. So you see +that though we have abolished poverty and the fear of it, and +inordinate luxury with the hope of it, we have not touched the greater +part of the motives which underlay the love of money in former times, +or any of those which prompted the supremer sorts of effort. The +coarser motives, which no longer move us, have been replaced by higher +motives wholly unknown to the mere wage earners of your age. Now that +industry of whatever sort is no longer self-service, but service of the +nation, patriotism, passion for humanity, impel the worker as in your +day they did the soldier. The army of industry is an army, not alone by +virtue of its perfect organization, but by reason also of the ardor of +self-devotion which animates its members. +</P> + +<P> +"But as you used to supplement the motives of patriotism with the love +of glory, in order to stimulate the valor of your soldiers, so do we. +Based as our industrial system is on the principle of requiring the +same unit of effort from every man, that is, the best he can do, you +will see that the means by which we spur the workers to do their best +must be a very essential part of our scheme. With us, diligence in the +national service is the sole and certain way to public repute, social +distinction, and official power. The value of a man's services to +society fixes his rank in it. Compared with the effect of our social +arrangements in impelling men to be zealous in business, we deem the +object-lessons of biting poverty and wanton luxury on which you +depended a device as weak and uncertain as it was barbaric. The lust of +honor even in your sordid day notoriously impelled men to more +desperate effort than the love of money could." +</P> + +<P> +"I should be extremely interested," I said, "to learn something of what +these social arrangements are." +</P> + +<P> +"The scheme in its details," replied the doctor, "is of course very +elaborate, for it underlies the entire organization of our industrial +army; but a few words will give you a general idea of it." +</P> + +<P> +At this moment our talk was charmingly interrupted by the emergence +upon the aerial platform where we sat of Edith Leete. She was dressed +for the street, and had come to speak to her father about some +commission she was to do for him. +</P> + +<P> +"By the way, Edith," he exclaimed, as she was about to leave us to +ourselves, "I wonder if Mr. West would not be interested in visiting +the store with you? I have been telling him something about our system +of distribution, and perhaps he might like to see it in practical +operation." +</P> + +<P> +"My daughter," he added, turning to me, "is an indefatigable shopper, +and can tell you more about the stores than I can." +</P> + +<P> +The proposition was naturally very agreeable to me, and Edith being +good enough to say that she should be glad to have my company, we left +the house together. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap10"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Chapter 10 +</H3> + +<P> +"If I am going to explain our way of shopping to you," said my +companion, as we walked along the street, "you must explain your way to +me. I have never been able to understand it from all I have read on the +subject. For example, when you had such a vast number of shops, each +with its different assortment, how could a lady ever settle upon any +purchase till she had visited all the shops? for, until she had, she +could not know what there was to choose from." +</P> + +<P> +"It was as you suppose; that was the only way she could know," I +replied. +</P> + +<P> +"Father calls me an indefatigable shopper, but I should soon be a very +fatigued one if I had to do as they did," was Edith's laughing comment. +</P> + +<P> +"The loss of time in going from shop to shop was indeed a waste which +the busy bitterly complained of," I said; "but as for the ladies of the +idle class, though they complained also, I think the system was really +a godsend by furnishing a device to kill time." +</P> + +<P> +"But say there were a thousand shops in a city, hundreds, perhaps, of +the same sort, how could even the idlest find time to make their +rounds?" +</P> + +<P> +"They really could not visit all, of course," I replied. "Those who did +a great deal of buying, learned in time where they might expect to find +what they wanted. This class had made a science of the specialties of +the shops, and bought at advantage, always getting the most and best +for the least money. It required, however, long experience to acquire +this knowledge. Those who were too busy, or bought too little to gain +it, took their chances and were generally unfortunate, getting the +least and worst for the most money. It was the merest chance if persons +not experienced in shopping received the value of their money." +</P> + +<P> +"But why did you put up with such a shockingly inconvenient arrangement +when you saw its faults so plainly?" Edith asked me. +</P> + +<P> +"It was like all our social arrangements," I replied. "You can see +their faults scarcely more plainly than we did, but we saw no remedy +for them." +</P> + +<P> +"Here we are at the store of our ward," said Edith, as we turned in at +the great portal of one of the magnificent public buildings I had +observed in my morning walk. There was nothing in the exterior aspect +of the edifice to suggest a store to a representative of the nineteenth +century. There was no display of goods in the great windows, or any +device to advertise wares, or attract custom. Nor was there any sort of +sign or legend on the front of the building to indicate the character +of the business carried on there; but instead, above the portal, +standing out from the front of the building, a majestic life-size group +of statuary, the central figure of which was a female ideal of Plenty, +with her cornucopia. Judging from the composition of the throng passing +in and out, about the same proportion of the sexes among shoppers +obtained as in the nineteenth century. As we entered, Edith said that +there was one of these great distributing establishments in each ward +of the city, so that no residence was more than five or ten minutes' +walk from one of them. It was the first interior of a twentieth-century +public building that I had ever beheld, and the spectacle naturally +impressed me deeply. I was in a vast hall full of light, received not +alone from the windows on all sides, but from the dome, the point of +which was a hundred feet above. Beneath it, in the centre of the hall, +a magnificent fountain played, cooling the atmosphere to a delicious +freshness with its spray. The walls and ceiling were frescoed in mellow +tints, calculated to soften without absorbing the light which flooded +the interior. Around the fountain was a space occupied with chairs and +sofas, on which many persons were seated conversing. Legends on the +walls all about the hall indicated to what classes of commodities the +counters below were devoted. Edith directed her steps towards one of +these, where samples of muslin of a bewildering variety were displayed, +and proceeded to inspect them. +</P> + +<P> +"Where is the clerk?" I asked, for there was no one behind the counter, +and no one seemed coming to attend to the customer. +</P> + +<P> +"I have no need of the clerk yet," said Edith; "I have not made my +selection." +</P> + +<P> +"It was the principal business of clerks to help people to make their +selections in my day," I replied. +</P> + +<P> +"What! To tell people what they wanted?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes; and oftener to induce them to buy what they didn't want." +</P> + +<P> +"But did not ladies find that very impertinent?" Edith asked, +wonderingly. "What concern could it possibly be to the clerks whether +people bought or not?" +</P> + +<P> +"It was their sole concern," I answered. "They were hired for the +purpose of getting rid of the goods, and were expected to do their +utmost, short of the use of force, to compass that end." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, yes! How stupid I am to forget!" said Edith. "The storekeeper and +his clerks depended for their livelihood on selling the goods in your +day. Of course that is all different now. The goods are the nation's. +They are here for those who want them, and it is the business of the +clerks to wait on people and take their orders; but it is not the +interest of the clerk or the nation to dispose of a yard or a pound of +anything to anybody who does not want it." She smiled as she added, +"How exceedingly odd it must have seemed to have clerks trying to +induce one to take what one did not want, or was doubtful about!" +</P> + +<P> +"But even a twentieth century clerk might make himself useful in giving +you information about the goods, though he did not tease you to buy +them," I suggested. +</P> + +<P> +"No," said Edith, "that is not the business of the clerk. These printed +cards, for which the government authorities are responsible, give us +all the information we can possibly need." +</P> + +<P> +I saw then that there was fastened to each sample a card containing in +succinct form a complete statement of the make and materials of the +goods and all its qualities, as well as price, leaving absolutely no +point to hang a question on. +</P> + +<P> +"The clerk has, then, nothing to say about the goods he sells?" I said. +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing at all. It is not necessary that he should know or profess to +know anything about them. Courtesy and accuracy in taking orders are +all that are required of him." +</P> + +<P> +"What a prodigious amount of lying that simple arrangement saves!" I +ejaculated. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you mean that all the clerks misrepresented their goods in your +day?" Edith asked. +</P> + +<P> +"God forbid that I should say so!" I replied, "for there were many who +did not, and they were entitled to especial credit, for when one's +livelihood and that of his wife and babies depended on the amount of +goods he could dispose of, the temptation to deceive the customer—or +let him deceive himself—was wellnigh overwhelming. But, Miss Leete, I +am distracting you from your task with my talk." +</P> + +<P> +"Not at all. I have made my selections." With that she touched a +button, and in a moment a clerk appeared. He took down her order on a +tablet with a pencil which made two copies, of which he gave one to +her, and enclosing the counterpart in a small receptacle, dropped it +into a transmitting tube. +</P> + +<P> +"The duplicate of the order," said Edith as she turned away from the +counter, after the clerk had punched the value of her purchase out of +the credit card she gave him, "is given to the purchaser, so that any +mistakes in filling it can be easily traced and rectified." +</P> + +<P> +"You were very quick about your selections," I said. "May I ask how you +knew that you might not have found something to suit you better in some +of the other stores? But probably you are required to buy in your own +district." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, no," she replied. "We buy where we please, though naturally most +often near home. But I should have gained nothing by visiting other +stores. The assortment in all is exactly the same, representing as it +does in each case samples of all the varieties produced or imported by +the United States. That is why one can decide quickly, and never need +visit two stores." +</P> + +<P> +"And is this merely a sample store? I see no clerks cutting off goods +or marking bundles." +</P> + +<P> +"All our stores are sample stores, except as to a few classes of +articles. The goods, with these exceptions, are all at the great +central warehouse of the city, to which they are shipped directly from +the producers. We order from the sample and the printed statement of +texture, make, and qualities. The orders are sent to the warehouse, and +the goods distributed from there." +</P> + +<P> +"That must be a tremendous saving of handling," I said. "By our system, +the manufacturer sold to the wholesaler, the wholesaler to the +retailer, and the retailer to the consumer, and the goods had to be +handled each time. You avoid one handling of the goods, and eliminate +the retailer altogether, with his big profit and the army of clerks it +goes to support. Why, Miss Leete, this store is merely the order +department of a wholesale house, with no more than a wholesaler's +complement of clerks. Under our system of handling the goods, +persuading the customer to buy them, cutting them off, and packing +them, ten clerks would not do what one does here. The saving must be +enormous." +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose so," said Edith, "but of course we have never known any +other way. But, Mr. West, you must not fail to ask father to take you +to the central warehouse some day, where they receive the orders from +the different sample houses all over the city and parcel out and send +the goods to their destinations. He took me there not long ago, and it +was a wonderful sight. The system is certainly perfect; for example, +over yonder in that sort of cage is the dispatching clerk. The orders, +as they are taken by the different departments in the store, are sent +by transmitters to him. His assistants sort them and enclose each class +in a carrier-box by itself. The dispatching clerk has a dozen pneumatic +transmitters before him answering to the general classes of goods, each +communicating with the corresponding department at the warehouse. He +drops the box of orders into the tube it calls for, and in a few +moments later it drops on the proper desk in the warehouse, together +with all the orders of the same sort from the other sample stores. The +orders are read off, recorded, and sent to be filled, like lightning. +The filling I thought the most interesting part. Bales of cloth are +placed on spindles and turned by machinery, and the cutter, who also +has a machine, works right through one bale after another till +exhausted, when another man takes his place; and it is the same with +those who fill the orders in any other staple. The packages are then +delivered by larger tubes to the city districts, and thence distributed +to the houses. You may understand how quickly it is all done when I +tell you that my order will probably be at home sooner than I could +have carried it from here." +</P> + +<P> +"How do you manage in the thinly settled rural districts?" I asked. +</P> + +<P> +"The system is the same," Edith explained; "the village sample shops +are connected by transmitters with the central county warehouse, which +may be twenty miles away. The transmission is so swift, though, that +the time lost on the way is trifling. But, to save expense, in many +counties one set of tubes connect several villages with the warehouse, +and then there is time lost waiting for one another. Sometimes it is +two or three hours before goods ordered are received. It was so where I +was staying last summer, and I found it quite inconvenient."[1] +</P> + +<P> +"There must be many other respects also, no doubt, in which the country +stores are inferior to the city stores," I suggested. +</P> + +<P> +"No," Edith answered, "they are otherwise precisely as good. The sample +shop of the smallest village, just like this one, gives you your choice +of all the varieties of goods the nation has, for the county warehouse +draws on the same source as the city warehouse." +</P> + +<P> +As we walked home I commented on the great variety in the size and cost +of the houses. "How is it," I asked, "that this difference is +consistent with the fact that all citizens have the same income?" +</P> + +<P> +"Because," Edith explained, "although the income is the same, personal +taste determines how the individual shall spend it. Some like fine +horses; others, like myself, prefer pretty clothes; and still others +want an elaborate table. The rents which the nation receives for these +houses vary, according to size, elegance, and location, so that +everybody can find something to suit. The larger houses are usually +occupied by large families, in which there are several to contribute to +the rent; while small families, like ours, find smaller houses more +convenient and economical. It is a matter of taste and convenience +wholly. I have read that in old times people often kept up +establishments and did other things which they could not afford for +ostentation, to make people think them richer than they were. Was it +really so, Mr. West?" +</P> + +<P> +"I shall have to admit that it was," I replied. +</P> + +<P> +"Well, you see, it could not be so nowadays; for everybody's income is +known, and it is known that what is spent one way must be saved +another." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="footnote"> +[1] I am informed since the above is in type that this lack of +perfection in the distributing service of some of the country districts +is to be remedied, and that soon every village will have its own set of +tubes. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap11"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Chapter 11 +</H3> + +<P> +When we arrived home, Dr. Leete had not yet returned, and Mrs. Leete +was not visible. "Are you fond of music, Mr. West?" Edith asked. +</P> + +<P> +I assured her that it was half of life, according to my notion. +</P> + +<P> +"I ought to apologize for inquiring," she said. "It is not a question +that we ask one another nowadays; but I have read that in your day, +even among the cultured class, there were some who did not care for +music." +</P> + +<P> +"You must remember, in excuse," I said, "that we had some rather absurd +kinds of music." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," she said, "I know that; I am afraid I should not have fancied it +all myself. Would you like to hear some of ours now, Mr. West?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing would delight me so much as to listen to you," I said. +</P> + +<P> +"To me!" she exclaimed, laughing. "Did you think I was going to play or +sing to you?" +</P> + +<P> +"I hoped so, certainly," I replied. +</P> + +<P> +Seeing that I was a little abashed, she subdued her merriment and +explained. "Of course, we all sing nowadays as a matter of course in +the training of the voice, and some learn to play instruments for their +private amusement; but the professional music is so much grander and +more perfect than any performance of ours, and so easily commanded when +we wish to hear it, that we don't think of calling our singing or +playing music at all. All the really fine singers and players are in +the musical service, and the rest of us hold our peace for the main +part. But would you really like to hear some music?" +</P> + +<P> +I assured her once more that I would. +</P> + +<P> +"Come, then, into the music room," she said, and I followed her into an +apartment finished, without hangings, in wood, with a floor of polished +wood. I was prepared for new devices in musical instruments, but I saw +nothing in the room which by any stretch of imagination could be +conceived as such. It was evident that my puzzled appearance was +affording intense amusement to Edith. +</P> + +<P> +"Please look at to-day's music," she said, handing me a card, "and tell +me what you would prefer. It is now five o'clock, you will remember." +</P> + +<P> +The card bore the date "September 12, 2000," and contained the longest +programme of music I had ever seen. It was as various as it was long, +including a most extraordinary range of vocal and instrumental solos, +duets, quartettes, and various orchestral combinations. I remained +bewildered by the prodigious list until Edith's pink finger tip +indicated a particular section of it, where several selections were +bracketed, with the words "5 P.M." against them; then I observed that +this prodigious programme was an all-day one, divided into twenty-four +sections answering to the hours. There were but a few pieces of music +in the "5 P.M." section, and I indicated an organ piece as my +preference. +</P> + +<P> +"I am so glad you like the organ," said she. "I think there is scarcely +any music that suits my mood oftener." +</P> + +<P> +She made me sit down comfortably, and, crossing the room, so far as I +could see, merely touched one or two screws, and at once the room was +filled with the music of a grand organ anthem; filled, not flooded, +for, by some means, the volume of melody had been perfectly graduated +to the size of the apartment. I listened, scarcely breathing, to the +close. Such music, so perfectly rendered, I had never expected to hear. +</P> + +<P> +"Grand!" I cried, as the last great wave of sound broke and ebbed away +into silence. "Bach must be at the keys of that organ; but where is the +organ?" +</P> + +<P> +"Wait a moment, please," said Edith; "I want to have you listen to this +waltz before you ask any questions. I think it is perfectly charming"; +and as she spoke the sound of violins filled the room with the witchery +of a summer night. When this had also ceased, she said: "There is +nothing in the least mysterious about the music, as you seem to +imagine. It is not made by fairies or genii, but by good, honest, and +exceedingly clever human hands. We have simply carried the idea of +labor saving by cooperation into our musical service as into everything +else. There are a number of music rooms in the city, perfectly adapted +acoustically to the different sorts of music. These halls are connected +by telephone with all the houses of the city whose people care to pay +the small fee, and there are none, you may be sure, who do not. The +corps of musicians attached to each hall is so large that, although no +individual performer, or group of performers, has more than a brief +part, each day's programme lasts through the twenty-four hours. There +are on that card for to-day, as you will see if you observe closely, +distinct programmes of four of these concerts, each of a different +order of music from the others, being now simultaneously performed, and +any one of the four pieces now going on that you prefer, you can hear +by merely pressing the button which will connect your house-wire with +the hall where it is being rendered. The programmes are so coordinated +that the pieces at any one time simultaneously proceeding in the +different halls usually offer a choice, not only between instrumental +and vocal, and between different sorts of instruments; but also between +different motives from grave to gay, so that all tastes and moods can +be suited." +</P> + +<P> +"It appears to me, Miss Leete," I said, "that if we could have devised +an arrangement for providing everybody with music in their homes, +perfect in quality, unlimited in quantity, suited to every mood, and +beginning and ceasing at will, we should have considered the limit of +human felicity already attained, and ceased to strive for further +improvements." +</P> + +<P> +"I am sure I never could imagine how those among you who depended at +all on music managed to endure the old-fashioned system for providing +it," replied Edith. "Music really worth hearing must have been, I +suppose, wholly out of the reach of the masses, and attainable by the +most favored only occasionally, at great trouble, prodigious expense, +and then for brief periods, arbitrarily fixed by somebody else, and in +connection with all sorts of undesirable circumstances. Your concerts, +for instance, and operas! How perfectly exasperating it must have been, +for the sake of a piece or two of music that suited you, to have to sit +for hours listening to what you did not care for! Now, at a dinner one +can skip the courses one does not care for. Who would ever dine, +however hungry, if required to eat everything brought on the table? and +I am sure one's hearing is quite as sensitive as one's taste. I suppose +it was these difficulties in the way of commanding really good music +which made you endure so much playing and singing in your homes by +people who had only the rudiments of the art." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," I replied, "it was that sort of music or none for most of us. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, well," Edith sighed, "when one really considers, it is not so +strange that people in those days so often did not care for music. I +dare say I should have detested it, too." +</P> + +<P> +"Did I understand you rightly," I inquired, "that this musical +programme covers the entire twenty-four hours? It seems to on this +card, certainly; but who is there to listen to music between say +midnight and morning?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, many," Edith replied. "Our people keep all hours; but if the music +were provided from midnight to morning for no others, it still would be +for the sleepless, the sick, and the dying. All our bedchambers have a +telephone attachment at the head of the bed by which any person who may +be sleepless can command music at pleasure, of the sort suited to the +mood." +</P> + +<P> +"Is there such an arrangement in the room assigned to me?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, certainly; and how stupid, how very stupid, of me not to think to +tell you of that last night! Father will show you about the adjustment +before you go to bed to-night, however; and with the receiver at your +ear, I am quite sure you will be able to snap your fingers at all sorts +of uncanny feelings if they trouble you again." +</P> + +<P> +That evening Dr. Leete asked us about our visit to the store, and in +the course of the desultory comparison of the ways of the nineteenth +century and the twentieth, which followed, something raised the +question of inheritance. "I suppose," I said, "the inheritance of +property is not now allowed." +</P> + +<P> +"On the contrary," replied Dr. Leete, "there is no interference with +it. In fact, you will find, Mr. West, as you come to know us, that +there is far less interference of any sort with personal liberty +nowadays than you were accustomed to. We require, indeed, by law that +every man shall serve the nation for a fixed period, instead of leaving +him his choice, as you did, between working, stealing, or starving. +With the exception of this fundamental law, which is, indeed, merely a +codification of the law of nature—the edict of Eden—by which it is +made equal in its pressure on men, our system depends in no particular +upon legislation, but is entirely voluntary, the logical outcome of the +operation of human nature under rational conditions. This question of +inheritance illustrates just that point. The fact that the nation is +the sole capitalist and land-owner of course restricts the individual's +possessions to his annual credit, and what personal and household +belongings he may have procured with it. His credit, like an annuity in +your day, ceases on his death, with the allowance of a fixed sum for +funeral expenses. His other possessions he leaves as he pleases." +</P> + +<P> +"What is to prevent, in course of time, such accumulations of valuable +goods and chattels in the hands of individuals as might seriously +interfere with equality in the circumstances of citizens?" I asked. +</P> + +<P> +"That matter arranges itself very simply," was the reply. "Under the +present organization of society, accumulations of personal property are +merely burdensome the moment they exceed what adds to the real comfort. +In your day, if a man had a house crammed full with gold and silver +plate, rare china, expensive furniture, and such things, he was +considered rich, for these things represented money, and could at any +time be turned into it. Nowadays a man whom the legacies of a hundred +relatives, simultaneously dying, should place in a similar position, +would be considered very unlucky. The articles, not being salable, +would be of no value to him except for their actual use or the +enjoyment of their beauty. On the other hand, his income remaining the +same, he would have to deplete his credit to hire houses to store the +goods in, and still further to pay for the service of those who took +care of them. You may be very sure that such a man would lose no time +in scattering among his friends possessions which only made him the +poorer, and that none of those friends would accept more of them than +they could easily spare room for and time to attend to. You see, then, +that to prohibit the inheritance of personal property with a view to +prevent great accumulations would be a superfluous precaution for the +nation. The individual citizen can be trusted to see that he is not +overburdened. So careful is he in this respect, that the relatives +usually waive claim to most of the effects of deceased friends, +reserving only particular objects. The nation takes charge of the +resigned chattels, and turns such as are of value into the common stock +once more." +</P> + +<P> +"You spoke of paying for service to take care of your houses," said I; +"that suggests a question I have several times been on the point of +asking. How have you disposed of the problem of domestic service? Who +are willing to be domestic servants in a community where all are social +equals? Our ladies found it hard enough to find such even when there +was little pretense of social equality." +</P> + +<P> +"It is precisely because we are all social equals whose equality +nothing can compromise, and because service is honorable, in a society +whose fundamental principle is that all in turn shall serve the rest, +that we could easily provide a corps of domestic servants such as you +never dreamed of, if we needed them," replied Dr. Leete. "But we do not +need them." +</P> + +<P> +"Who does your house-work, then?" I asked. +</P> + +<P> +"There is none to do," said Mrs. Leete, to whom I had addressed this +question. "Our washing is all done at public laundries at excessively +cheap rates, and our cooking at public kitchens. The making and +repairing of all we wear are done outside in public shops. Electricity, +of course, takes the place of all fires and lighting. We choose houses +no larger than we need, and furnish them so as to involve the minimum +of trouble to keep them in order. We have no use for domestic servants." +</P> + +<P> +"The fact," said Dr. Leete, "that you had in the poorer classes a +boundless supply of serfs on whom you could impose all sorts of painful +and disagreeable tasks, made you indifferent to devices to avoid the +necessity for them. But now that we all have to do in turn whatever +work is done for society, every individual in the nation has the same +interest, and a personal one, in devices for lightening the burden. +This fact has given a prodigious impulse to labor-saving inventions in +all sorts of industry, of which the combination of the maximum of +comfort and minimum of trouble in household arrangements was one of the +earliest results. +</P> + +<P> +"In case of special emergencies in the household," pursued Dr. Leete, +"such as extensive cleaning or renovation, or sickness in the family, +we can always secure assistance from the industrial force." +</P> + +<P> +"But how do you recompense these assistants, since you have no money?" +</P> + +<P> +"We do not pay them, of course, but the nation for them. Their services +can be obtained by application at the proper bureau, and their value is +pricked off the credit card of the applicant." +</P> + +<P> +"What a paradise for womankind the world must be now!" I exclaimed. "In +my day, even wealth and unlimited servants did not enfranchise their +possessors from household cares, while the women of the merely +well-to-do and poorer classes lived and died martyrs to them." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Mrs. Leete, "I have read something of that; enough to +convince me that, badly off as the men, too, were in your day, they +were more fortunate than their mothers and wives." +</P> + +<P> +"The broad shoulders of the nation," said Dr. Leete, "bear now like a +feather the burden that broke the backs of the women of your day. Their +misery came, with all your other miseries, from that incapacity for +cooperation which followed from the individualism on which your social +system was founded, from your inability to perceive that you could make +ten times more profit out of your fellow men by uniting with them than +by contending with them. The wonder is, not that you did not live more +comfortably, but that you were able to live together at all, who were +all confessedly bent on making one another your servants, and securing +possession of one another's goods. +</P> + +<P> +"There, there, father, if you are so vehement, Mr. West will think you +are scolding him," laughingly interposed Edith. +</P> + +<P> +"When you want a doctor," I asked, "do you simply apply to the proper +bureau and take any one that may be sent?" +</P> + +<P> +"That rule would not work well in the case of physicians," replied Dr. +Leete. "The good a physician can do a patient depends largely on his +acquaintance with his constitutional tendencies and condition. The +patient must be able, therefore, to call in a particular doctor, and he +does so just as patients did in your day. The only difference is that, +instead of collecting his fee for himself, the doctor collects it for +the nation by pricking off the amount, according to a regular scale for +medical attendance, from the patient's credit card." +</P> + +<P> +"I can imagine," I said, "that if the fee is always the same, and a +doctor may not turn away patients, as I suppose he may not, the good +doctors are called constantly and the poor doctors left in idleness." +</P> + +<P> +"In the first place, if you will overlook the apparent conceit of the +remark from a retired physician," replied Dr. Leete, with a smile, "we +have no poor doctors. Anybody who pleases to get a little smattering of +medical terms is not now at liberty to practice on the bodies of +citizens, as in your day. None but students who have passed the severe +tests of the schools, and clearly proved their vocation, are permitted +to practice. Then, too, you will observe that there is nowadays no +attempt of doctors to build up their practice at the expense of other +doctors. There would be no motive for that. For the rest, the doctor +has to render regular reports of his work to the medical bureau, and if +he is not reasonably well employed, work is found for him." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap12"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Chapter 12 +</H3> + +<P> +The questions which I needed to ask before I could acquire even an +outline acquaintance with the institutions of the twentieth century +being endless, and Dr. Leete's good-nature appearing equally so, we sat +up talking for several hours after the ladies left us. Reminding my +host of the point at which our talk had broken off that morning, I +expressed my curiosity to learn how the organization of the industrial +army was made to afford a sufficient stimulus to diligence in the lack +of any anxiety on the worker's part as to his livelihood. +</P> + +<P> +"You must understand in the first place," replied the doctor, "that the +supply of incentives to effort is but one of the objects sought in the +organization we have adopted for the army. The other, and equally +important, is to secure for the file-leaders and captains of the force, +and the great officers of the nation, men of proven abilities, who are +pledged by their own careers to hold their followers up to their +highest standard of performance and permit no lagging. With a view to +these two ends the industrial army is organized. First comes the +unclassified grade of common laborers, men of all work, to which all +recruits during their first three years belong. This grade is a sort of +school, and a very strict one, in which the young men are taught habits +of obedience, subordination, and devotion to duty. While the +miscellaneous nature of the work done by this force prevents the +systematic grading of the workers which is afterwards possible, yet +individual records are kept, and excellence receives distinction +corresponding with the penalties that negligence incurs. It is not, +however, policy with us to permit youthful recklessness or +indiscretion, when not deeply culpable, to handicap the future careers +of young men, and all who have passed through the unclassified grade +without serious disgrace have an equal opportunity to choose the life +employment they have most liking for. Having selected this, they enter +upon it as apprentices. The length of the apprenticeship naturally +differs in different occupations. At the end of it the apprentice +becomes a full workman, and a member of his trade or guild. Now not +only are the individual records of the apprentices for ability and +industry strictly kept, and excellence distinguished by suitable +distinctions, but upon the average of his record during apprenticeship +the standing given the apprentice among the full workmen depends. +</P> + +<P> +"While the internal organizations of different industries, mechanical +and agricultural, differ according to their peculiar conditions, they +agree in a general division of their workers into first, second, and +third grades, according to ability, and these grades are in many cases +subdivided into first and second classes. According to his standing as +an apprentice a young man is assigned his place as a first, second, or +third grade worker. Of course only men of unusual ability pass directly +from apprenticeship into the first grade of the workers. The most fall +into the lower grades, working up as they grow more experienced, at the +periodical regradings. These regradings take place in each industry at +intervals corresponding with the length of the apprenticeship to that +industry, so that merit never need wait long to rise, nor can any rest +on past achievements unless they would drop into a lower rank. One of +the notable advantages of a high grading is the privilege it gives the +worker in electing which of the various branches or processes of his +industry he will follow as his specialty. Of course it is not intended +that any of these processes shall be disproportionately arduous, but +there is often much difference between them, and the privilege of +election is accordingly highly prized. So far as possible, indeed, the +preferences even of the poorest workmen are considered in assigning +them their line of work, because not only their happiness but their +usefulness is thus enhanced. While, however, the wish of the lower +grade man is consulted so far as the exigencies of the service permit, +he is considered only after the upper grade men have been provided for, +and often he has to put up with second or third choice, or even with an +arbitrary assignment when help is needed. This privilege of election +attends every regrading, and when a man loses his grade he also risks +having to exchange the sort of work he likes for some other less to his +taste. The results of each regrading, giving the standing of every man +in his industry, are gazetted in the public prints, and those who have +won promotion since the last regrading receive the nation's thanks and +are publicly invested with the badge of their new rank." +</P> + +<P> +"What may this badge be?" I asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Every industry has its emblematic device," replied Dr. Leete, "and +this, in the shape of a metallic badge so small that you might not see +it unless you knew where to look, is all the insignia which the men of +the army wear, except where public convenience demands a distinctive +uniform. This badge is the same in form for all grades of industry, but +while the badge of the third grade is iron, that of the second grade is +silver, and that of the first is gilt. +</P> + +<P> +"Apart from the grand incentive to endeavor afforded by the fact that +the high places in the nation are open only to the highest class men, +and that rank in the army constitutes the only mode of social +distinction for the vast majority who are not aspirants in art, +literature, and the professions, various incitements of a minor, but +perhaps equally effective, sort are provided in the form of special +privileges and immunities in the way of discipline, which the superior +class men enjoy. These, while intended to be as little as possible +invidious to the less successful, have the effect of keeping constantly +before every man's mind the great desirability of attaining the grade +next above his own. +</P> + +<P> +"It is obviously important that not only the good but also the +indifferent and poor workmen should be able to cherish the ambition of +rising. Indeed, the number of the latter being so much greater, it is +even more essential that the ranking system should not operate to +discourage them than that it should stimulate the others. It is to this +end that the grades are divided into classes. The grades as well as the +classes being made numerically equal at each regrading, there is not at +any time, counting out the officers and the unclassified and apprentice +grades, over one-ninth of the industrial army in the lowest class, and +most of this number are recent apprentices, all of whom expect to rise. +Those who remain during the entire term of service in the lowest class +are but a trifling fraction of the industrial army, and likely to be as +deficient in sensibility to their position as in ability to better it. +</P> + +<P> +"It is not even necessary that a worker should win promotion to a +higher grade to have at least a taste of glory. While promotion +requires a general excellence of record as a worker, honorable mention +and various sorts of prizes are awarded for excellence less than +sufficient for promotion, and also for special feats and single +performances in the various industries. There are many minor +distinctions of standing, not only within the grades but within the +classes, each of which acts as a spur to the efforts of a group. It is +intended that no form of merit shall wholly fail of recognition. +</P> + +<P> +"As for actual neglect of work positively bad work, or other overt +remissness on the part of men incapable of generous motives, the +discipline of the industrial army is far too strict to allow anything +whatever of the sort. A man able to do duty, and persistently refusing, +is sentenced to solitary imprisonment on bread and water till he +consents. +</P> + +<P> +"The lowest grade of the officers of the industrial army, that of +assistant foremen or lieutenants, is appointed out of men who have held +their place for two years in the first class of the first grade. Where +this leaves too large a range of choice, only the first group of this +class are eligible. No one thus comes to the point of commanding men +until he is about thirty years old. After a man becomes an officer, his +rating of course no longer depends on the efficiency of his own work, +but on that of his men. The foremen are appointed from among the +assistant foremen, by the same exercise of discretion limited to a +small eligible class. In the appointments to the still higher grades +another principle is introduced, which it would take too much time to +explain now. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course such a system of grading as I have described would have been +impracticable applied to the small industrial concerns of your day, in +some of which there were hardly enough employees to have left one +apiece for the classes. You must remember that, under the national +organization of labor, all industries are carried on by great bodies of +men, many of your farms or shops being combined as one. It is also +owing solely to the vast scale on which each industry is organized, +with co-ordinate establishments in every part of the country, that we +are able by exchanges and transfers to fit every man so nearly with the +sort of work he can do best. +</P> + +<P> +"And now, Mr. West, I will leave it to you, on the bare outline of its +features which I have given, if those who need special incentives to do +their best are likely to lack them under our system. Does it not seem +to you that men who found themselves obliged, whether they wished or +not, to work, would under such a system be strongly impelled to do +their best?" +</P> + +<P> +I replied that it seemed to me the incentives offered were, if any +objection were to be made, too strong; that the pace set for the young +men was too hot; and such, indeed, I would add with deference, still +remains my opinion, now that by longer residence among you I become +better acquainted with the whole subject. +</P> + +<P> +Dr. Leete, however, desired me to reflect, and I am ready to say that +it is perhaps a sufficient reply to my objection, that the worker's +livelihood is in no way dependent on his ranking, and anxiety for that +never embitters his disappointments; that the working hours are short, +the vacations regular, and that all emulation ceases at forty-five, +with the attainment of middle life. +</P> + +<P> +"There are two or three other points I ought to refer to," he added, +"to prevent your getting mistaken impressions. In the first place, you +must understand that this system of preferment given the more efficient +workers over the less so, in no way contravenes the fundamental idea of +our social system, that all who do their best are equally deserving, +whether that best be great or small. I have shown that the system is +arranged to encourage the weaker as well as the stronger with the hope +of rising, while the fact that the stronger are selected for the +leaders is in no way a reflection upon the weaker, but in the interest +of the common weal. +</P> + +<P> +"Do not imagine, either, because emulation is given free play as an +incentive under our system, that we deem it a motive likely to appeal +to the nobler sort of men, or worthy of them. Such as these find their +motives within, not without, and measure their duty by their own +endowments, not by those of others. So long as their achievement is +proportioned to their powers, they would consider it preposterous to +expect praise or blame because it chanced to be great or small. To such +natures emulation appears philosophically absurd, and despicable in a +moral aspect by its substitution of envy for admiration, and exultation +for regret, in one's attitude toward the successes and the failures of +others. +</P> + +<P> +"But all men, even in the last year of the twentieth century, are not +of this high order, and the incentives to endeavor requisite for those +who are not must be of a sort adapted to their inferior natures. For +these, then, emulation of the keenest edge is provided as a constant +spur. Those who need this motive will feel it. Those who are above its +influence do not need it. +</P> + +<P> +"I should not fail to mention," resumed the doctor, "that for those too +deficient in mental or bodily strength to be fairly graded with the +main body of workers, we have a separate grade, unconnected with the +others,—a sort of invalid corps, the members of which are provided +with a light class of tasks fitted to their strength. All our sick in +mind and body, all our deaf and dumb, and lame and blind and crippled, +and even our insane, belong to this invalid corps, and bear its +insignia. The strongest often do nearly a man's work, the feeblest, of +course, nothing; but none who can do anything are willing quite to give +up. In their lucid intervals, even our insane are eager to do what they +can." +</P> + +<P> +"That is a pretty idea of the invalid corps," I said. "Even a barbarian +from the nineteenth century can appreciate that. It is a very graceful +way of disguising charity, and must be grateful to the feelings of its +recipients." +</P> + +<P> +"Charity!" repeated Dr. Leete. "Did you suppose that we consider the +incapable class we are talking of objects of charity?" +</P> + +<P> +"Why, naturally," I said, "inasmuch as they are incapable of +self-support." +</P> + +<P> +But here the doctor took me up quickly. +</P> + +<P> +"Who is capable of self-support?" he demanded. "There is no such thing +in a civilized society as self-support. In a state of society so +barbarous as not even to know family cooperation, each individual may +possibly support himself, though even then for a part of his life only; +but from the moment that men begin to live together, and constitute +even the rudest sort of society, self-support becomes impossible. As +men grow more civilized, and the subdivision of occupations and +services is carried out, a complex mutual dependence becomes the +universal rule. Every man, however solitary may seem his occupation, is +a member of a vast industrial partnership, as large as the nation, as +large as humanity. The necessity of mutual dependence should imply the +duty and guarantee of mutual support; and that it did not in your day +constituted the essential cruelty and unreason of your system." +</P> + +<P> +"That may all be so," I replied, "but it does not touch the case of +those who are unable to contribute anything to the product of industry." +</P> + +<P> +"Surely I told you this morning, at least I thought I did," replied Dr. +Leete, "that the right of a man to maintenance at the nation's table +depends on the fact that he is a man, and not on the amount of health +and strength he may have, so long as he does his best." +</P> + +<P> +"You said so," I answered, "but I supposed the rule applied only to the +workers of different ability. Does it also hold of those who can do +nothing at all?" +</P> + +<P> +"Are they not also men?" +</P> + +<P> +"I am to understand, then, that the lame, the blind, the sick, and the +impotent, are as well off as the most efficient and have the same +income?" +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly," was the reply. +</P> + +<P> +"The idea of charity on such a scale," I answered, "would have made our +most enthusiastic philanthropists gasp." +</P> + +<P> +"If you had a sick brother at home," replied Dr. Leete, "unable to +work, would you feed him on less dainty food, and lodge and clothe him +more poorly, than yourself? More likely far, you would give him the +preference; nor would you think of calling it charity. Would not the +word, in that connection, fill you with indignation?" +</P> + +<P> +"Of course," I replied; "but the cases are not parallel. There is a +sense, no doubt, in which all men are brothers; but this general sort +of brotherhood is not to be compared, except for rhetorical purposes, +to the brotherhood of blood, either as to its sentiment or its +obligations." +</P> + +<P> +"There speaks the nineteenth century!" exclaimed Dr. Leete. "Ah, Mr. +West, there is no doubt as to the length of time that you slept. If I +were to give you, in one sentence, a key to what may seem the mysteries +of our civilization as compared with that of your age, I should say +that it is the fact that the solidarity of the race and the brotherhood +of man, which to you were but fine phrases, are, to our thinking and +feeling, ties as real and as vital as physical fraternity. +</P> + +<P> +"But even setting that consideration aside, I do not see why it so +surprises you that those who cannot work are conceded the full right to +live on the produce of those who can. Even in your day, the duty of +military service for the protection of the nation, to which our +industrial service corresponds, while obligatory on those able to +discharge it, did not operate to deprive of the privileges of +citizenship those who were unable. They stayed at home, and were +protected by those who fought, and nobody questioned their right to be, +or thought less of them. So, now, the requirement of industrial service +from those able to render it does not operate to deprive of the +privileges of citizenship, which now implies the citizen's maintenance, +him who cannot work. The worker is not a citizen because he works, but +works because he is a citizen. As you recognize the duty of the strong +to fight for the weak, we, now that fighting is gone by, recognize his +duty to work for him. +</P> + +<P> +"A solution which leaves an unaccounted-for residuum is no solution at +all; and our solution of the problem of human society would have been +none at all had it left the lame, the sick, and the blind outside with +the beasts, to fare as they might. Better far have left the strong and +well unprovided for than these burdened ones, toward whom every heart +must yearn, and for whom ease of mind and body should be provided, if +for no others. Therefore it is, as I told you this morning, that the +title of every man, woman, and child to the means of existence rests on +no basis less plain, broad, and simple than the fact that they are +fellows of one race-members of one human family. The only coin current +is the image of God, and that is good for all we have. +</P> + +<P> +"I think there is no feature of the civilization of your epoch so +repugnant to modern ideas as the neglect with which you treated your +dependent classes. Even if you had no pity, no feeling of brotherhood, +how was it that you did not see that you were robbing the incapable +class of their plain right in leaving them unprovided for?" +</P> + +<P> +"I don't quite follow you there," I said. "I admit the claim of this +class to our pity, but how could they who produced nothing claim a +share of the product as a right?" +</P> + +<P> +"How happened it," was Dr. Leete's reply, "that your workers were able +to produce more than so many savages would have done? Was it not wholly +on account of the heritage of the past knowledge and achievements of +the race, the machinery of society, thousands of years in contriving, +found by you ready-made to your hand? How did you come to be possessors +of this knowledge and this machinery, which represent nine parts to one +contributed by yourself in the value of your product? You inherited it, +did you not? And were not these others, these unfortunate and crippled +brothers whom you cast out, joint inheritors, co-heirs with you? What +did you do with their share? Did you not rob them when you put them off +with crusts, who were entitled to sit with the heirs, and did you not +add insult to robbery when you called the crusts charity? +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, Mr. West," Dr. Leete continued, as I did not respond, "what I do +not understand is, setting aside all considerations either of justice +or brotherly feeling toward the crippled and defective, how the workers +of your day could have had any heart for their work, knowing that their +children, or grand-children, if unfortunate, would be deprived of the +comforts and even necessities of life. It is a mystery how men with +children could favor a system under which they were rewarded beyond +those less endowed with bodily strength or mental power. For, by the +same discrimination by which the father profited, the son, for whom he +would give his life, being perchance weaker than others, might be +reduced to crusts and beggary. How men dared leave children behind +them, I have never been able to understand." +</P> + +<P> +Note.—Although in his talk on the previous evening Dr. Leete had +emphasized the pains taken to enable every man to ascertain and follow +his natural bent in choosing an occupation, it was not till I learned +that the worker's income is the same in all occupations that I realized +how absolutely he may be counted on to do so, and thus, by selecting +the harness which sets most lightly on himself, find that in which he +can pull best. The failure of my age in any systematic or effective way +to develop and utilize the natural aptitudes of men for the industries +and intellectual avocations was one of the great wastes, as well as one +of the most common causes of unhappiness in that time. The vast +majority of my contemporaries, though nominally free to do so, never +really chose their occupations at all, but were forced by circumstances +into work for which they were relatively inefficient, because not +naturally fitted for it. The rich, in this respect, had little +advantage over the poor. The latter, indeed, being generally deprived +of education, had no opportunity even to ascertain the natural +aptitudes they might have, and on account of their poverty were unable +to develop them by cultivation even when ascertained. The liberal and +technical professions, except by favorable accident, were shut to them, +to their own great loss and that of the nation. On the other hand, the +well-to-do, although they could command education and opportunity, were +scarcely less hampered by social prejudice, which forbade them to +pursue manual avocations, even when adapted to them, and destined them, +whether fit or unfit, to the professions, thus wasting many an +excellent handicraftsman. Mercenary considerations, tempting men to +pursue money-making occupations for which they were unfit, instead of +less remunerative employments for which they were fit, were responsible +for another vast perversion of talent. All these things now are +changed. Equal education and opportunity must needs bring to light +whatever aptitudes a man has, and neither social prejudices nor +mercenary considerations hamper him in the choice of his life work. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap13"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Chapter 13 +</H3> + +<P> +As Edith had promised he should do, Dr. Leete accompanied me to my +bedroom when I retired, to instruct me as to the adjustment of the +musical telephone. He showed how, by turning a screw, the volume of the +music could be made to fill the room, or die away to an echo so faint +and far that one could scarcely be sure whether he heard or imagined +it. If, of two persons side by side, one desired to listen to music and +the other to sleep, it could be made audible to one and inaudible to +another. +</P> + +<P> +"I should strongly advise you to sleep if you can to-night, Mr. West, +in preference to listening to the finest tunes in the world," the +doctor said, after explaining these points. "In the trying experience +you are just now passing through, sleep is a nerve tonic for which +there is no substitute." +</P> + +<P> +Mindful of what had happened to me that very morning, I promised to +heed his counsel. +</P> + +<P> +"Very well," he said, "then I will set the telephone at eight o'clock." +</P> + +<P> +"What do you mean?" I asked. +</P> + +<P> +He explained that, by a clock-work combination, a person could arrange +to be awakened at any hour by the music. +</P> + +<P> +It began to appear, as has since fully proved to be the case, that I +had left my tendency to insomnia behind me with the other discomforts +of existence in the nineteenth century; for though I took no sleeping +draught this time, yet, as the night before, I had no sooner touched +the pillow than I was asleep. +</P> + +<P> +I dreamed that I sat on the throne of the Abencerrages in the +banqueting hall of the Alhambra, feasting my lords and generals, who +next day were to follow the crescent against the Christian dogs of +Spain. The air, cooled by the spray of fountains, was heavy with the +scent of flowers. A band of Nautch girls, round-limbed and +luscious-lipped, danced with voluptuous grace to the music of brazen +and stringed instruments. Looking up to the latticed galleries, one +caught a gleam now and then from the eye of some beauty of the royal +harem, looking down upon the assembled flower of Moorish chivalry. +Louder and louder clashed the cymbals, wilder and wilder grew the +strain, till the blood of the desert race could no longer resist the +martial delirium, and the swart nobles leaped to their feet; a thousand +scimetars were bared, and the cry, "Allah il Allah!" shook the hall and +awoke me, to find it broad daylight, and the room tingling with the +electric music of the "Turkish Reveille." +</P> + +<P> +At the breakfast-table, when I told my host of my morning's experience, +I learned that it was not a mere chance that the piece of music which +awakened me was a reveille. The airs played at one of the halls during +the waking hours of the morning were always of an inspiring type. +</P> + +<P> +"By the way," I said, "I have not thought to ask you anything about the +state of Europe. Have the societies of the Old World also been +remodeled?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," replied Dr. Leete, "the great nations of Europe as well as +Australia, Mexico, and parts of South America, are now organized +industrially like the United States, which was the pioneer of the +evolution. The peaceful relations of these nations are assured by a +loose form of federal union of world-wide extent. An international +council regulates the mutual intercourse and commerce of the members of +the union and their joint policy toward the more backward races, which +are gradually being educated up to civilized institutions. Complete +autonomy within its own limits is enjoyed by every nation." +</P> + +<P> +"How do you carry on commerce without money?" I said. "In trading with +other nations, you must use some sort of money, although you dispense +with it in the internal affairs of the nation." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, no; money is as superfluous in our foreign as in our internal +relations. When foreign commerce was conducted by private enterprise, +money was necessary to adjust it on account of the multifarious +complexity of the transactions; but nowadays it is a function of the +nations as units. There are thus only a dozen or so merchants in the +world, and their business being supervised by the international +council, a simple system of book accounts serves perfectly to regulate +their dealings. Customs duties of every sort are of course superfluous. +A nation simply does not import what its government does not think +requisite for the general interest. Each nation has a bureau of foreign +exchange, which manages its trading. For example, the American bureau, +estimating such and such quantities of French goods necessary to +America for a given year, sends the order to the French bureau, which +in turn sends its order to our bureau. The same is done mutually by all +the nations." +</P> + +<P> +"But how are the prices of foreign goods settled, since there is no +competition?" +</P> + +<P> +"The price at which one nation supplies another with goods," replied +Dr. Leete, "must be that at which it supplies its own citizens. So you +see there is no danger of misunderstanding. Of course no nation is +theoretically bound to supply another with the product of its own +labor, but it is for the interest of all to exchange some commodities. +If a nation is regularly supplying another with certain goods, notice +is required from either side of any important change in the relation." +</P> + +<P> +"But what if a nation, having a monopoly of some natural product, +should refuse to supply it to the others, or to one of them?" +</P> + +<P> +"Such a case has never occurred, and could not without doing the +refusing party vastly more harm than the others," replied Dr. Leete. +"In the fist place, no favoritism could be legally shown. The law +requires that each nation shall deal with the others, in all respects, +on exactly the same footing. Such a course as you suggest would cut off +the nation adopting it from the remainder of the earth for all purposes +whatever. The contingency is one that need not give us much anxiety." +</P> + +<P> +"But," said I, "supposing a nation, having a natural monopoly in some +product of which it exports more than it consumes, should put the price +away up, and thus, without cutting off the supply, make a profit out of +its neighbors' necessities? Its own citizens would of course have to +pay the higher price on that commodity, but as a body would make more +out of foreigners than they would be out of pocket themselves." +</P> + +<P> +"When you come to know how prices of all commodities are determined +nowadays, you will perceive how impossible it is that they could be +altered, except with reference to the amount or arduousness of the work +required respectively to produce them," was Dr. Leete's reply. "This +principle is an international as well as a national guarantee; but even +without it the sense of community of interest, international as well as +national, and the conviction of the folly of selfishness, are too deep +nowadays to render possible such a piece of sharp practice as you +apprehend. You must understand that we all look forward to an eventual +unification of the world as one nation. That, no doubt, will be the +ultimate form of society, and will realize certain economic advantages +over the present federal system of autonomous nations. Meanwhile, +however, the present system works so nearly perfectly that we are quite +content to leave to posterity the completion of the scheme. There are, +indeed, some who hold that it never will be completed, on the ground +that the federal plan is not merely a provisional solution of the +problem of human society, but the best ultimate solution." +</P> + +<P> +"How do you manage," I asked, "when the books of any two nations do not +balance? Supposing we import more from France than we export to her." +</P> + +<P> +"At the end of each year," replied the doctor, "the books of every +nation are examined. If France is found in our debt, probably we are in +the debt of some nation which owes France, and so on with all the +nations. The balances that remain after the accounts have been cleared +by the international council should not be large under our system. +Whatever they may be, the council requires them to be settled every few +years, and may require their settlement at any time if they are getting +too large; for it is not intended that any nation shall run largely in +debt to another, lest feelings unfavorable to amity should be +engendered. To guard further against this, the international council +inspects the commodities interchanged by the nations, to see that they +are of perfect quality." +</P> + +<P> +"But what are the balances finally settled with, seeing that you have +no money?" +</P> + +<P> +"In national staples; a basis of agreement as to what staples shall be +accepted, and in what proportions, for settlement of accounts, being a +preliminary to trade relations." +</P> + +<P> +"Emigration is another point I want to ask you about," said I. "With +every nation organized as a close industrial partnership, monopolizing +all means of production in the country, the emigrant, even if he were +permitted to land, would starve. I suppose there is no emigration +nowadays." +</P> + +<P> +"On the contrary, there is constant emigration, by which I suppose you +mean removal to foreign countries for permanent residence," replied Dr. +Leete. "It is arranged on a simple international arrangement of +indemnities. For example, if a man at twenty-one emigrates from England +to America, England loses all the expense of his maintenance and +education, and America gets a workman for nothing. America accordingly +makes England an allowance. The same principle, varied to suit the +case, applies generally. If the man is near the term of his labor when +he emigrates, the country receiving him has the allowance. As to +imbecile persons, it is deemed best that each nation should be +responsible for its own, and the emigration of such must be under full +guarantees of support by his own nation. Subject to these regulations, +the right of any man to emigrate at any time is unrestricted." +</P> + +<P> +"But how about mere pleasure trips; tours of observation? How can a +stranger travel in a country whose people do not receive money, and are +themselves supplied with the means of life on a basis not extended to +him? His own credit card cannot, of course, be good in other lands. How +does he pay his way?" +</P> + +<P> +"An American credit card," replied Dr. Leete, "is just as good in +Europe as American gold used to be, and on precisely the same +condition, namely, that it be exchanged into the currency of the +country you are traveling in. An American in Berlin takes his credit +card to the local office of the international council, and receives in +exchange for the whole or part of it a German credit card, the amount +being charged against the United States in favor of Germany on the +international account." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +"Perhaps Mr. West would like to dine at the Elephant to-day," said +Edith, as we left the table. +</P> + +<P> +"That is the name we give to the general dining-house in our ward," +explained her father. "Not only is our cooking done at the public +kitchens, as I told you last night, but the service and quality of the +meals are much more satisfactory if taken at the dining-house. The two +minor meals of the day are usually taken at home, as not worth the +trouble of going out; but it is general to go out to dine. We have not +done so since you have been with us, from a notion that it would be +better to wait till you had become a little more familiar with our +ways. What do you think? Shall we take dinner at the dining-house +to-day?" +</P> + +<P> +I said that I should be very much pleased to do so. +</P> + +<P> +Not long after, Edith came to me, smiling, and said: +</P> + +<P> +"Last night, as I was thinking what I could do to make you feel at home +until you came to be a little more used to us and our ways, an idea +occurred to me. What would you say if I were to introduce you to some +very nice people of your own times, whom I am sure you used to be well +acquainted with?" +</P> + +<P> +I replied, rather vaguely, that it would certainly be very agreeable, +but I did not see how she was going to manage it. +</P> + +<P> +"Come with me," was her smiling reply, "and see if I am not as good as +my word." +</P> + +<P> +My susceptibility to surprise had been pretty well exhausted by the +numerous shocks it had received, but it was with some wonderment that I +followed her into a room which I had not before entered. It was a +small, cosy apartment, walled with cases filled with books. +</P> + +<P> +"Here are your friends," said Edith, indicating one of the cases, and +as my eye glanced over the names on the backs of the volumes, +Shakespeare, Milton, Wordsworth, Shelley, Tennyson, Defoe, Dickens, +Thackeray, Hugo, Hawthorne, Irving, and a score of other great writers +of my time and all time, I understood her meaning. She had indeed made +good her promise in a sense compared with which its literal fulfillment +would have been a disappointment. She had introduced me to a circle of +friends whom the century that had elapsed since last I communed with +them had aged as little as it had myself. Their spirit was as high, +their wit as keen, their laughter and their tears as contagious, as +when their speech had whiled away the hours of a former century. Lonely +I was not and could not be more, with this goodly companionship, +however wide the gulf of years that gaped between me and my old life. +</P> + +<P> +"You are glad I brought you here," exclaimed Edith, radiant, as she +read in my face the success of her experiment. "It was a good idea, was +it not, Mr. West? How stupid in me not to think of it before! I will +leave you now with your old friends, for I know there will be no +company for you like them just now; but remember you must not let old +friends make you quite forget new ones!" and with that smiling caution +she left me. +</P> + +<P> +Attracted by the most familiar of the names before me, I laid my hand +on a volume of Dickens, and sat down to read. He had been my prime +favorite among the bookwriters of the century,—I mean the nineteenth +century,—and a week had rarely passed in my old life during which I +had not taken up some volume of his works to while away an idle hour. +Any volume with which I had been familiar would have produced an +extraordinary impression, read under my present circumstances, but my +exceptional familiarity with Dickens, and his consequent power to call +up the associations of my former life, gave to his writings an effect +no others could have had, to intensify, by force of contrast, my +appreciation of the strangeness of my present environment. However new +and astonishing one's surroundings, the tendency is to become a part of +them so soon that almost from the first the power to see them +objectively and fully measure their strangeness, is lost. That power, +already dulled in my case, the pages of Dickens restored by carrying me +back through their associations to the standpoint of my former life. +</P> + +<P> +With a clearness which I had not been able before to attain, I saw now +the past and present, like contrasting pictures, side by side. +</P> + +<P> +The genius of the great novelist of the nineteenth century, like that +of Homer, might indeed defy time; but the setting of his pathetic +tales, the misery of the poor, the wrongs of power, the pitiless +cruelty of the system of society, had passed away as utterly as Circe +and the sirens, Charybdis and Cyclops. +</P> + +<P> +During the hour or two that I sat there with Dickens open before me, I +did not actually read more than a couple of pages. Every paragraph, +every phrase, brought up some new aspect of the world-transformation +which had taken place, and led my thoughts on long and widely ramifying +excursions. As meditating thus in Dr. Leete's library I gradually +attained a more clear and coherent idea of the prodigious spectacle +which I had been so strangely enabled to view, I was filled with a +deepening wonder at the seeming capriciousness of the fate that had +given to one who so little deserved it, or seemed in any way set apart +for it, the power alone among his contemporaries to stand upon the +earth in this latter day. I had neither foreseen the new world nor +toiled for it, as many about me had done regardless of the scorn of +fools or the misconstruction of the good. Surely it would have been +more in accordance with the fitness of things had one of those +prophetic and strenuous souls been enabled to see the travail of his +soul and be satisfied; he, for example, a thousand times rather than I, +who, having beheld in a vision the world I looked on, sang of it in +words that again and again, during these last wondrous days, had rung +in my mind: +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + For I dipt into the future, far as human eye could see,<BR> + Saw the vision of the world, and all the wonder that would be<BR> + Till the war-drum throbbed no longer, and the battle-flags were furled.<BR> + In the Parliament of man, the federation of the world.<BR> +</P> + +<P CLASS="poem"> + Then the common sense of most shall hold a fretful realm in awe,<BR> + And the kindly earth shall slumber, lapt in universal law.<BR> + For I doubt not through the ages one increasing purpose runs,<BR> + And the thoughts of men are widened with the process of the suns.<BR> +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +What though, in his old age, he momentarily lost faith in his own +prediction, as prophets in their hours of depression and doubt +generally do; the words had remained eternal testimony to the seership +of a poet's heart, the insight that is given to faith. +</P> + +<P> +I was still in the library when some hours later Dr. Leete sought me +there. "Edith told me of her idea," he said, "and I thought it an +excellent one. I had a little curiosity what writer you would first +turn to. Ah, Dickens! You admired him, then! That is where we moderns +agree with you. Judged by our standards, he overtops all the writers of +his age, not because his literary genius was highest, but because his +great heart beat for the poor, because he made the cause of the victims +of society his own, and devoted his pen to exposing its cruelties and +shams. No man of his time did so much as he to turn men's minds to the +wrong and wretchedness of the old order of things, and open their eyes +to the necessity of the great change that was coming, although he +himself did not clearly foresee it." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap14"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Chapter 14 +</H3> + +<P> +A heavy rainstorm came up during the day, and I had concluded that the +condition of the streets would be such that my hosts would have to give +up the idea of going out to dinner, although the dining-hall I had +understood to be quite near. I was much surprised when at the dinner +hour the ladies appeared prepared to go out, but without either rubbers +or umbrellas. +</P> + +<P> +The mystery was explained when we found ourselves on the street, for a +continuous waterproof covering had been let down so as to inclose the +sidewalk and turn it into a well lighted and perfectly dry corridor, +which was filled with a stream of ladies and gentlemen dressed for +dinner. At the corners the entire open space was similarly roofed in. +Edith Leete, with whom I walked, seemed much interested in learning +what appeared to be entirely new to her, that in the stormy weather the +streets of the Boston of my day had been impassable, except to persons +protected by umbrellas, boots, and heavy clothing. "Were sidewalk +coverings not used at all?" she asked. They were used, I explained, but +in a scattered and utterly unsystematic way, being private enterprises. +She said to me that at the present time all the streets were provided +against inclement weather in the manner I saw, the apparatus being +rolled out of the way when it was unnecessary. She intimated that it +would be considered an extraordinary imbecility to permit the weather +to have any effect on the social movements of the people. +</P> + +<P> +Dr. Leete, who was walking ahead, overhearing something of our talk, +turned to say that the difference between the age of individualism and +that of concert was well characterized by the fact that, in the +nineteenth century, when it rained, the people of Boston put up three +hundred thousand umbrellas over as many heads, and in the twentieth +century they put up one umbrella over all the heads. +</P> + +<P> +As we walked on, Edith said, "The private umbrella is father's favorite +figure to illustrate the old way when everybody lived for himself and +his family. There is a nineteenth century painting at the Art Gallery +representing a crowd of people in the rain, each one holding his +umbrella over himself and his wife, and giving his neighbors the +drippings, which he claims must have been meant by the artist as a +satire on his times." +</P> + +<P> +We now entered a large building into which a stream of people was +pouring. I could not see the front, owing to the awning, but, if in +correspondence with the interior, which was even finer than the store I +visited the day before, it would have been magnificent. My companion +said that the sculptured group over the entrance was especially +admired. Going up a grand staircase we walked some distance along a +broad corridor with many doors opening upon it. At one of these, which +bore my host's name, we turned in, and I found myself in an elegant +dining-room containing a table for four. Windows opened on a courtyard +where a fountain played to a great height and music made the air +electric. +</P> + +<P> +"You seem at home here," I said, as we seated ourselves at table, and +Dr. Leete touched an annunciator. +</P> + +<P> +"This is, in fact, a part of our house, slightly detached from the +rest," he replied. "Every family in the ward has a room set apart in +this great building for its permanent and exclusive use for a small +annual rental. For transient guests and individuals there is +accommodation on another floor. If we expect to dine here, we put in +our orders the night before, selecting anything in market, according to +the daily reports in the papers. The meal is as expensive or as simple +as we please, though of course everything is vastly cheaper as well as +better than it would be prepared at home. There is actually nothing +which our people take more interest in than the perfection of the +catering and cooking done for them, and I admit that we are a little +vain of the success that has been attained by this branch of the +service. Ah, my dear Mr. West, though other aspects of your +civilization were more tragical, I can imagine that none could have +been more depressing than the poor dinners you had to eat, that is, all +of you who had not great wealth." +</P> + +<P> +"You would have found none of us disposed to disagree with you on that +point," I said. +</P> + +<P> +The waiter, a fine-looking young fellow, wearing a slightly distinctive +uniform, now made his appearance. I observed him closely, as it was the +first time I had been able to study particularly the bearing of one of +the enlisted members of the industrial army. This young man, I knew +from what I had been told, must be highly educated, and the equal, +socially and in all respects, of those he served. But it was perfectly +evident that to neither side was the situation in the slightest degree +embarrassing. Dr. Leete addressed the young man in a tone devoid, of +course, as any gentleman's would be, of superciliousness, but at the +same time not in any way deprecatory, while the manner of the young man +was simply that of a person intent on discharging correctly the task he +was engaged in, equally without familiarity or obsequiousness. It was, +in fact, the manner of a soldier on duty, but without the military +stiffness. As the youth left the room, I said, "I cannot get over my +wonder at seeing a young man like that serving so contentedly in a +menial position." +</P> + +<P> +"What is that word 'menial'? I never heard it," said Edith. +</P> + +<P> +"It is obsolete now," remarked her father. "If I understand it rightly, +it applied to persons who performed particularly disagreeable and +unpleasant tasks for others, and carried with it an implication of +contempt. Was it not so, Mr. West?" +</P> + +<P> +"That is about it," I said. "Personal service, such as waiting on +tables, was considered menial, and held in such contempt, in my day, +that persons of culture and refinement would suffer hardship before +condescending to it." +</P> + +<P> +"What a strangely artificial idea," exclaimed Mrs. Leete wonderingly. +</P> + +<P> +"And yet these services had to be rendered," said Edith. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course," I replied. "But we imposed them on the poor, and those who +had no alternative but starvation." +</P> + +<P> +"And increased the burden you imposed on them by adding your contempt," +remarked Dr. Leete. +</P> + +<P> +"I don't think I clearly understand," said Edith. "Do you mean that you +permitted people to do things for you which you despised them for +doing, or that you accepted services from them which you would have +been unwilling to render them? You can't surely mean that, Mr. West?" +</P> + +<P> +I was obliged to tell her that the fact was just as she had stated. Dr. +Leete, however, came to my relief. +</P> + +<P> +"To understand why Edith is surprised," he said, "you must know that +nowadays it is an axiom of ethics that to accept a service from another +which we would be unwilling to return in kind, if need were, is like +borrowing with the intention of not repaying, while to enforce such a +service by taking advantage of the poverty or necessity of a person +would be an outrage like forcible robbery. It is the worst thing about +any system which divides men, or allows them to be divided, into +classes and castes, that it weakens the sense of a common humanity. +Unequal distribution of wealth, and, still more effectually, unequal +opportunities of education and culture, divided society in your day +into classes which in many respects regarded each other as distinct +races. There is not, after all, such a difference as might appear +between our ways of looking at this question of service. Ladies and +gentlemen of the cultured class in your day would no more have +permitted persons of their own class to render them services they would +scorn to return than we would permit anybody to do so. The poor and the +uncultured, however, they looked upon as of another kind from +themselves. The equal wealth and equal opportunities of culture which +all persons now enjoy have simply made us all members of one class, +which corresponds to the most fortunate class with you. Until this +equality of condition had come to pass, the idea of the solidarity of +humanity, the brotherhood of all men, could never have become the real +conviction and practical principle of action it is nowadays. In your +day the same phrases were indeed used, but they were phrases merely." +</P> + +<P> +"Do the waiters, also, volunteer?" +</P> + +<P> +"No," replied Dr. Leete. "The waiters are young men in the unclassified +grade of the industrial army who are assignable to all sorts of +miscellaneous occupations not requiring special skill. Waiting on table +is one of these, and every young recruit is given a taste of it. I +myself served as a waiter for several months in this very dining-house +some forty years ago. Once more you must remember that there is +recognized no sort of difference between the dignity of the different +sorts of work required by the nation. The individual is never regarded, +nor regards himself, as the servant of those he serves, nor is he in +any way dependent upon them. It is always the nation which he is +serving. No difference is recognized between a waiter's functions and +those of any other worker. The fact that his is a personal service is +indifferent from our point of view. So is a doctor's. I should as soon +expect our waiter today to look down on me because I served him as a +doctor, as think of looking down on him because he serves me as a +waiter." +</P> + +<P> +After dinner my entertainers conducted me about the building, of which +the extent, the magnificent architecture and richness of embellishment, +astonished me. It seemed that it was not merely a dining-hall, but +likewise a great pleasure-house and social rendezvous of the quarter, +and no appliance of entertainment or recreation seemed lacking. +</P> + +<P> +"You find illustrated here," said Dr. Leete, when I had expressed my +admiration, "what I said to you in our first conversation, when you +were looking out over the city, as to the splendor of our public and +common life as compared with the simplicity of our private and home +life, and the contrast which, in this respect, the twentieth bears to +the nineteenth century. To save ourselves useless burdens, we have as +little gear about us at home as is consistent with comfort, but the +social side of our life is ornate and luxurious beyond anything the +world ever knew before. All the industrial and professional guilds have +clubhouses as extensive as this, as well as country, mountain, and +seaside houses for sport and rest in vacations." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +NOTE. In the latter part of the nineteenth century it became a practice +of needy young men at some of the colleges of the country to earn a +little money for their term bills by serving as waiters on tables at +hotels during the long summer vacation. It was claimed, in reply to +critics who expressed the prejudices of the time in asserting that +persons voluntarily following such an occupation could not be +gentlemen, that they were entitled to praise for vindicating, by their +example, the dignity of all honest and necessary labor. The use of this +argument illustrates a common confusion in thought on the part of my +former contemporaries. The business of waiting on tables was in no more +need of defense than most of the other ways of getting a living in that +day, but to talk of dignity attaching to labor of any sort under the +system then prevailing was absurd. There is no way in which selling +labor for the highest price it will fetch is more dignified than +selling goods for what can be got. Both were commercial transactions to +be judged by the commercial standard. By setting a price in money on +his service, the worker accepted the money measure for it, and +renounced all clear claim to be judged by any other. The sordid taint +which this necessity imparted to the noblest and the highest sorts of +service was bitterly resented by generous souls, but there was no +evading it. There was no exemption, however transcendent the quality of +one's service, from the necessity of haggling for its price in the +market-place. The physician must sell his healing and the apostle his +preaching like the rest. The prophet, who had guessed the meaning of +God, must dicker for the price of the revelation, and the poet hawk his +visions in printers' row. If I were asked to name the most +distinguishing felicity of this age, as compared to that in which I +first saw the light, I should say that to me it seems to consist in the +dignity you have given to labor by refusing to set a price upon it and +abolishing the market-place forever. By requiring of every man his best +you have made God his task-master, and by making honor the sole reward +of achievement you have imparted to all service the distinction +peculiar in my day to the soldier's. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap15"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Chapter 15 +</H3> + +<P> +When, in the course of our tour of inspection, we came to the library, +we succumbed to the temptation of the luxurious leather chairs with +which it was furnished, and sat down in one of the book-lined alcoves +to rest and chat awhile.[1] +</P> + +<P> +"Edith tells me that you have been in the library all the morning," +said Mrs. Leete. "Do you know, it seems to me, Mr. West, that you are +the most enviable of mortals." +</P> + +<P> +"I should like to know just why," I replied. +</P> + +<P> +"Because the books of the last hundred years will be new to you," she +answered. "You will have so much of the most absorbing literature to +read as to leave you scarcely time for meals these five years to come. +Ah, what would I give if I had not already read Berrian's novels." +</P> + +<P> +"Or Nesmyth's, mamma," added Edith. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes, or Oates' poems, or 'Past and Present,' or, 'In the Beginning,' +or—oh, I could name a dozen books, each worth a year of one's life," +declared Mrs. Leete, enthusiastically. +</P> + +<P> +"I judge, then, that there has been some notable literature produced in +this century." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said Dr. Leete. "It has been an era of unexampled intellectual +splendor. Probably humanity never before passed through a moral and +material evolution, at once so vast in its scope and brief in its time +of accomplishment, as that from the old order to the new in the early +part of this century. When men came to realize the greatness of the +felicity which had befallen them, and that the change through which +they had passed was not merely an improvement in details of their +condition, but the rise of the race to a new plane of existence with an +illimitable vista of progress, their minds were affected in all their +faculties with a stimulus, of which the outburst of the mediaeval +renaissance offers a suggestion but faint indeed. There ensued an era +of mechanical invention, scientific discovery, art, musical and +literary productiveness to which no previous age of the world offers +anything comparable." +</P> + +<P> +"By the way," said I, "talking of literature, how are books published +now? Is that also done by the nation?" +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly." +</P> + +<P> +"But how do you manage it? Does the government publish everything that +is brought it as a matter of course, at the public expense, or does it +exercise a censorship and print only what it approves?" +</P> + +<P> +"Neither way. The printing department has no censorial powers. It is +bound to print all that is offered it, but prints it only on condition +that the author defray the first cost out of his credit. He must pay +for the privilege of the public ear, and if he has any message worth +hearing we consider that he will be glad to do it. Of course, if +incomes were unequal, as in the old times, this rule would enable only +the rich to be authors, but the resources of citizens being equal, it +merely measures the strength of the author's motive. The cost of an +edition of an average book can be saved out of a year's credit by the +practice of economy and some sacrifices. The book, on being published, +is placed on sale by the nation." +</P> + +<P> +"The author receiving a royalty on the sales as with us, I suppose," I +suggested. +</P> + +<P> +"Not as with you, certainly," replied Dr. Leete, "but nevertheless in +one way. The price of every book is made up of the cost of its +publication with a royalty for the author. The author fixes this +royalty at any figure he pleases. Of course if he puts it unreasonably +high it is his own loss, for the book will not sell. The amount of this +royalty is set to his credit and he is discharged from other service to +the nation for so long a period as this credit at the rate of allowance +for the support of citizens shall suffice to support him. If his book +be moderately successful, he has thus a furlough for several months, a +year, two or three years, and if he in the mean time produces other +successful work, the remission of service is extended so far as the +sale of that may justify. An author of much acceptance succeeds in +supporting himself by his pen during the entire period of service, and +the degree of any writer's literary ability, as determined by the +popular voice, is thus the measure of the opportunity given him to +devote his time to literature. In this respect the outcome of our +system is not very dissimilar to that of yours, but there are two +notable differences. In the first place, the universally high level of +education nowadays gives the popular verdict a conclusiveness on the +real merit of literary work which in your day it was as far as possible +from having. In the second place, there is no such thing now as +favoritism of any sort to interfere with the recognition of true merit. +Every author has precisely the same facilities for bringing his work +before the popular tribunal. To judge from the complaints of the +writers of your day, this absolute equality of opportunity would have +been greatly prized." +</P> + +<P> +"In the recognition of merit in other fields of original genius, such +as music, art, invention, design," I said, "I suppose you follow a +similar principle." +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," he replied, "although the details differ. In art, for example, +as in literature, the people are the sole judges. They vote upon the +acceptance of statues and paintings for the public buildings, and their +favorable verdict carries with it the artist's remission from other +tasks to devote himself to his vocation. On copies of his work disposed +of, he also derives the same advantage as the author on sales of his +books. In all these lines of original genius the plan pursued is the +same to offer a free field to aspirants, and as soon as exceptional +talent is recognized to release it from all trammels and let it have +free course. The remission of other service in these cases is not +intended as a gift or reward, but as the means of obtaining more and +higher service. Of course there are various literary, art, and +scientific institutes to which membership comes to the famous and is +greatly prized. The highest of all honors in the nation, higher than +the presidency, which calls merely for good sense and devotion to duty, +is the red ribbon awarded by the vote of the people to the great +authors, artists, engineers, physicians, and inventors of the +generation. Not over a certain number wear it at any one time, though +every bright young fellow in the country loses innumerable nights' +sleep dreaming of it. I even did myself." +</P> + +<P> +"Just as if mamma and I would have thought any more of you with it," +exclaimed Edith; "not that it isn't, of course, a very fine thing to +have." +</P> + +<P> +"You had no choice, my dear, but to take your father as you found him +and make the best of him," Dr. Leete replied; "but as for your mother, +there, she would never have had me if I had not assured her that I was +bound to get the red ribbon or at least the blue." +</P> + +<P> +On this extravagance Mrs. Leete's only comment was a smile. +</P> + +<P> +"How about periodicals and newspapers?" I said. "I won't deny that your +book publishing system is a considerable improvement on ours, both as +to its tendency to encourage a real literary vocation, and, quite as +important, to discourage mere scribblers; but I don't see how it can be +made to apply to magazines and newspapers. It is very well to make a +man pay for publishing a book, because the expense will be only +occasional; but no man could afford the expense of publishing a +newspaper every day in the year. It took the deep pockets of our +private capitalists to do that, and often exhausted even them before +the returns came in. If you have newspapers at all, they must, I fancy, +be published by the government at the public expense, with government +editors, reflecting government opinions. Now, if your system is so +perfect that there is never anything to criticize in the conduct of +affairs, this arrangement may answer. Otherwise I should think the lack +of an independent unofficial medium for the expression of public +opinion would have most unfortunate results. Confess, Dr. Leete, that a +free newspaper press, with all that it implies, was a redeeming +incident of the old system when capital was in private hands, and that +you have to set off the loss of that against your gains in other +respects." +</P> + +<P> +"I am afraid I can't give you even that consolation," replied Dr. +Leete, laughing. "In the first place, Mr. West, the newspaper press is +by no means the only or, as we look at it, the best vehicle for serious +criticism of public affairs. To us, the judgments of your newspapers on +such themes seem generally to have been crude and flippant, as well as +deeply tinctured with prejudice and bitterness. In so far as they may +be taken as expressing public opinion, they give an unfavorable +impression of the popular intelligence, while so far as they may have +formed public opinion, the nation was not to be felicitated. Nowadays, +when a citizen desires to make a serious impression upon the public +mind as to any aspect of public affairs, he comes out with a book or +pamphlet, published as other books are. But this is not because we lack +newspapers and magazines, or that they lack the most absolute freedom. +The newspaper press is organized so as to be a more perfect expression +of public opinion than it possibly could be in your day, when private +capital controlled and managed it primarily as a money-making business, +and secondarily only as a mouthpiece for the people." +</P> + +<P> +"But," said I, "if the government prints the papers at the public +expense, how can it fail to control their policy? Who appoints the +editors, if not the government?" +</P> + +<P> +"The government does not pay the expense of the papers, nor appoint +their editors, nor in any way exert the slightest influence on their +policy," replied Dr. Leete. "The people who take the paper pay the +expense of its publication, choose its editor, and remove him when +unsatisfactory. You will scarcely say, I think, that such a newspaper +press is not a free organ of popular opinion." +</P> + +<P> +"Decidedly I shall not," I replied, "but how is it practicable?" +</P> + +<P> +"Nothing could be simpler. Supposing some of my neighbors or myself +think we ought to have a newspaper reflecting our opinions, and devoted +especially to our locality, trade, or profession. We go about among the +people till we get the names of such a number that their annual +subscriptions will meet the cost of the paper, which is little or big +according to the largeness of its constituency. The amount of the +subscriptions marked off the credits of the citizens guarantees the +nation against loss in publishing the paper, its business, you +understand, being that of a publisher purely, with no option to refuse +the duty required. The subscribers to the paper now elect somebody as +editor, who, if he accepts the office, is discharged from other service +during his incumbency. Instead of paying a salary to him, as in your +day, the subscribers pay the nation an indemnity equal to the cost of +his support for taking him away from the general service. He manages +the paper just as one of your editors did, except that he has no +counting-room to obey, or interests of private capital as against the +public good to defend. At the end of the first year, the subscribers +for the next either re-elect the former editor or choose any one else +to his place. An able editor, of course, keeps his place indefinitely. +As the subscription list enlarges, the funds of the paper increase, and +it is improved by the securing of more and better contributors, just as +your papers were." +</P> + +<P> +"How is the staff of contributors recompensed, since they cannot be +paid in money?" +</P> + +<P> +"The editor settles with them the price of their wares. The amount is +transferred to their individual credit from the guarantee credit of the +paper, and a remission of service is granted the contributor for a +length of time corresponding to the amount credited him, just as to +other authors. As to magazines, the system is the same. Those +interested in the prospectus of a new periodical pledge enough +subscriptions to run it for a year; select their editor, who +recompenses his contributors just as in the other case, the printing +bureau furnishing the necessary force and material for publication, as +a matter of course. When an editor's services are no longer desired, if +he cannot earn the right to his time by other literary work, he simply +resumes his place in the industrial army. I should add that, though +ordinarily the editor is elected only at the end of the year, and as a +rule is continued in office for a term of years, in case of any sudden +change he should give to the tone of the paper, provision is made for +taking the sense of the subscribers as to his removal at any time." +</P> + +<P> +"However earnestly a man may long for leisure for purposes of study or +meditation," I remarked, "he cannot get out of the harness, if I +understand you rightly, except in these two ways you have mentioned. He +must either by literary, artistic, or inventive productiveness +indemnify the nation for the loss of his services, or must get a +sufficient number of other people to contribute to such an indemnity." +</P> + +<P> +"It is most certain," replied Dr. Leete, "that no able-bodied man +nowadays can evade his share of work and live on the toil of others, +whether he calls himself by the fine name of student or confesses to +being simply lazy. At the same time our system is elastic enough to +give free play to every instinct of human nature which does not aim at +dominating others or living on the fruit of others' labor. There is not +only the remission by indemnification but the remission by abnegation. +Any man in his thirty-third year, his term of service being then half +done, can obtain an honorable discharge from the army, provided he +accepts for the rest of his life one half the rate of maintenance other +citizens receive. It is quite possible to live on this amount, though +one must forego the luxuries and elegancies of life, with some, +perhaps, of its comforts." +</P> + +<P> +When the ladies retired that evening, Edith brought me a book and said: +</P> + +<P> +"If you should be wakeful to-night, Mr. West, you might be interested +in looking over this story by Berrian. It is considered his +masterpiece, and will at least give you an idea what the stories +nowadays are like." +</P> + +<P> +I sat up in my room that night reading "Penthesilia" till it grew gray +in the east, and did not lay it down till I had finished it. And yet +let no admirer of the great romancer of the twentieth century resent my +saying that at the first reading what most impressed me was not so much +what was in the book as what was left out of it. The story-writers of +my day would have deemed the making of bricks without straw a light +task compared with the construction of a romance from which should be +excluded all effects drawn from the contrasts of wealth and poverty, +education and ignorance, coarseness and refinement, high and low, all +motives drawn from social pride and ambition, the desire of being +richer or the fear of being poorer, together with sordid anxieties of +any sort for one's self or others; a romance in which there should, +indeed, be love galore, but love unfretted by artificial barriers +created by differences of station or possessions, owning no other law +but that of the heart. The reading of "Penthesilia" was of more value +than almost any amount of explanation would have been in giving me +something like a general impression of the social aspect of the +twentieth century. The information Dr. Leete had imparted was indeed +extensive as to facts, but they had affected my mind as so many +separate impressions, which I had as yet succeeded but imperfectly in +making cohere. Berrian put them together for me in a picture. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="footnote"> +[1] I cannot sufficiently celebrate the glorious liberty that reigns in +the public libraries of the twentieth century as compared with the +intolerable management of those of the nineteenth century, in which the +books were jealously railed away from the people, and obtainable only +at an expenditure of time and red tape calculated to discourage any +ordinary taste for literature. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap16"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Chapter 16 +</H3> + +<P> +Next morning I rose somewhat before the breakfast hour. As I descended +the stairs, Edith stepped into the hall from the room which had been +the scene of the morning interview between us described some chapters +back. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah!" she exclaimed, with a charmingly arch expression, "you thought to +slip out unbeknown for another of those solitary morning rambles which +have such nice effects on you. But you see I am up too early for you +this time. You are fairly caught." +</P> + +<P> +"You discredit the efficacy of your own cure," I said, "by supposing +that such a ramble would now be attended with bad consequences." +</P> + +<P> +"I am very glad to hear that," she said. "I was in here arranging some +flowers for the breakfast table when I heard you come down, and fancied +I detected something surreptitious in your step on the stairs." +</P> + +<P> +"You did me injustice," I replied. "I had no idea of going out at all." +</P> + +<P> +Despite her effort to convey an impression that my interception was +purely accidental, I had at the time a dim suspicion of what I +afterwards learned to be the fact, namely, that this sweet creature, in +pursuance of her self-assumed guardianship over me, had risen for the +last two or three mornings at an unheard-of hour, to insure against the +possibility of my wandering off alone in case I should be affected as +on the former occasion. Receiving permission to assist her in making up +the breakfast bouquet, I followed her into the room from which she had +emerged. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you sure," she asked, "that you are quite done with those terrible +sensations you had that morning?" +</P> + +<P> +"I can't say that I do not have times of feeling decidedly queer," I +replied, "moments when my personal identity seems an open question. It +would be too much to expect after my experience that I should not have +such sensations occasionally, but as for being carried entirely off my +feet, as I was on the point of being that morning, I think the danger +is past." +</P> + +<P> +"I shall never forget how you looked that morning," she said. +</P> + +<P> +"If you had merely saved my life," I continued, "I might, perhaps, find +words to express my gratitude, but it was my reason you saved, and +there are no words that would not belittle my debt to you." I spoke +with emotion, and her eyes grew suddenly moist. +</P> + +<P> +"It is too much to believe all this," she said, "but it is very +delightful to hear you say it. What I did was very little. I was very +much distressed for you, I know. Father never thinks anything ought to +astonish us when it can be explained scientifically, as I suppose this +long sleep of yours can be, but even to fancy myself in your place +makes my head swim. I know that I could not have borne it at all." +</P> + +<P> +"That would depend," I replied, "on whether an angel came to support +you with her sympathy in the crisis of your condition, as one came to +me." If my face at all expressed the feelings I had a right to have +toward this sweet and lovely young girl, who had played so angelic a +role toward me, its expression must have been very worshipful just +then. The expression or the words, or both together, caused her now to +drop her eyes with a charming blush. +</P> + +<P> +"For the matter of that," I said, "if your experience has not been as +startling as mine, it must have been rather overwhelming to see a man +belonging to a strange century, and apparently a hundred years dead, +raised to life." +</P> + +<P> +"It seemed indeed strange beyond any describing at first," she said, +"but when we began to put ourselves in your place, and realize how much +stranger it must seem to you, I fancy we forgot our own feelings a good +deal, at least I know I did. It seemed then not so much astounding as +interesting and touching beyond anything ever heard of before." +</P> + +<P> +"But does it not come over you as astounding to sit at table with me, +seeing who I am?" +</P> + +<P> +"You must remember that you do not seem so strange to us as we must to +you," she answered. "We belong to a future of which you could not form +an idea, a generation of which you knew nothing until you saw us. But +you belong to a generation of which our forefathers were a part. We +know all about it; the names of many of its members are household words +with us. We have made a study of your ways of living and thinking; +nothing you say or do surprises us, while we say and do nothing which +does not seem strange to you. So you see, Mr. West, that if you feel +that you can, in time, get accustomed to us, you must not be surprised +that from the first we have scarcely found you strange at all." +</P> + +<P> +"I had not thought of it in that way," I replied. "There is indeed much +in what you say. One can look back a thousand years easier than forward +fifty. A century is not so very long a retrospect. I might have known +your great-grand-parents. Possibly I did. Did they live in Boston?" +</P> + +<P> +"I believe so." +</P> + +<P> +"You are not sure, then?" +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," she replied. "Now I think, they did." +</P> + +<P> +"I had a very large circle of acquaintances in the city," I said. "It +is not unlikely that I knew or knew of some of them. Perhaps I may have +known them well. Wouldn't it be interesting if I should chance to be +able to tell you all about your great-grandfather, for instance?" +</P> + +<P> +"Very interesting." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you know your genealogy well enough to tell me who your forbears +were in the Boston of my day?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, yes." +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps, then, you will some time tell me what some of their names +were." +</P> + +<P> +She was engrossed in arranging a troublesome spray of green, and did +not reply at once. Steps upon the stairway indicated that the other +members of the family were descending. +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps, some time," she said. +</P> + +<P> +After breakfast, Dr. Leete suggested taking me to inspect the central +warehouse and observe actually in operation the machinery of +distribution, which Edith had described to me. As we walked away from +the house I said, "It is now several days that I have been living in +your household on a most extraordinary footing, or rather on none at +all. I have not spoken of this aspect of my position before because +there were so many other aspects yet more extraordinary. But now that I +am beginning a little to feel my feet under me, and to realize that, +however I came here, I am here, and must make the best of it, I must +speak to you on this point." +</P> + +<P> +"As for your being a guest in my house," replied Dr. Leete, "I pray you +not to begin to be uneasy on that point, for I mean to keep you a long +time yet. With all your modesty, you can but realize that such a guest +as yourself is an acquisition not willingly to be parted with." +</P> + +<P> +"Thanks, doctor," I said. "It would be absurd, certainly, for me to +affect any oversensitiveness about accepting the temporary hospitality +of one to whom I owe it that I am not still awaiting the end of the +world in a living tomb. But if I am to be a permanent citizen of this +century I must have some standing in it. Now, in my time a person more +or less entering the world, however he got in, would not be noticed in +the unorganized throng of men, and might make a place for himself +anywhere he chose if he were strong enough. But nowadays everybody is a +part of a system with a distinct place and function. I am outside the +system, and don't see how I can get in; there seems no way to get in, +except to be born in or to come in as an emigrant from some other +system." +</P> + +<P> +Dr. Leete laughed heartily. +</P> + +<P> +"I admit," he said, "that our system is defective in lacking provision +for cases like yours, but you see nobody anticipated additions to the +world except by the usual process. You need, however, have no fear that +we shall be unable to provide both a place and occupation for you in +due time. You have as yet been brought in contact only with the members +of my family, but you must not suppose that I have kept your secret. On +the contrary, your case, even before your resuscitation, and vastly +more since has excited the profoundest interest in the nation. In view +of your precarious nervous condition, it was thought best that I should +take exclusive charge of you at first, and that you should, through me +and my family, receive some general idea of the sort of world you had +come back to before you began to make the acquaintance generally of its +inhabitants. As to finding a function for you in society, there was no +hesitation as to what that would be. Few of us have it in our power to +confer so great a service on the nation as you will be able to when you +leave my roof, which, however, you must not think of doing for a good +time yet." +</P> + +<P> +"What can I possibly do?" I asked. "Perhaps you imagine I have some +trade, or art, or special skill. I assure you I have none whatever. I +never earned a dollar in my life, or did an hour's work. I am strong, +and might be a common laborer, but nothing more." +</P> + +<P> +"If that were the most efficient service you were able to render the +nation, you would find that avocation considered quite as respectable +as any other," replied Dr. Leete; "but you can do something else +better. You are easily the master of all our historians on questions +relating to the social condition of the latter part of the nineteenth +century, to us one of the most absorbingly interesting periods of +history: and whenever in due time you have sufficiently familiarized +yourself with our institutions, and are willing to teach us something +concerning those of your day, you will find an historical lectureship +in one of our colleges awaiting you." +</P> + +<P> +"Very good! very good indeed," I said, much relieved by so practical a +suggestion on a point which had begun to trouble me. "If your people +are really so much interested in the nineteenth century, there will +indeed be an occupation ready-made for me. I don't think there is +anything else that I could possibly earn my salt at, but I certainly +may claim without conceit to have some special qualifications for such +a post as you describe." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap17"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Chapter 17 +</H3> + +<P> +I found the processes at the warehouse quite as interesting as Edith +had described them, and became even enthusiastic over the truly +remarkable illustration which is seen there of the prodigiously +multiplied efficiency which perfect organization can give to labor. It +is like a gigantic mill, into the hopper of which goods are being +constantly poured by the train-load and shipload, to issue at the other +end in packages of pounds and ounces, yards and inches, pints and +gallons, corresponding to the infinitely complex personal needs of half +a million people. Dr. Leete, with the assistance of data furnished by +me as to the way goods were sold in my day, figured out some astounding +results in the way of the economies effected by the modern system. +</P> + +<P> +As we set out homeward, I said: "After what I have seen to-day, +together with what you have told me, and what I learned under Miss +Leete's tutelage at the sample store, I have a tolerably clear idea of +your system of distribution, and how it enables you to dispense with a +circulating medium. But I should like very much to know something more +about your system of production. You have told me in general how your +industrial army is levied and organized, but who directs its efforts? +What supreme authority determines what shall be done in every +department, so that enough of everything is produced and yet no labor +wasted? It seems to me that this must be a wonderfully complex and +difficult function, requiring very unusual endowments." +</P> + +<P> +"Does it indeed seem so to you?" responded Dr. Leete. "I assure you +that it is nothing of the kind, but on the other hand so simple, and +depending on principles so obvious and easily applied, that the +functionaries at Washington to whom it is trusted require to be nothing +more than men of fair abilities to discharge it to the entire +satisfaction of the nation. The machine which they direct is indeed a +vast one, but so logical in its principles and direct and simple in its +workings, that it all but runs itself; and nobody but a fool could +derange it, as I think you will agree after a few words of explanation. +Since you already have a pretty good idea of the working of the +distributive system, let us begin at that end. Even in your day +statisticians were able to tell you the number of yards of cotton, +velvet, woolen, the number of barrels of flour, potatoes, butter, +number of pairs of shoes, hats, and umbrellas annually consumed by the +nation. Owing to the fact that production was in private hands, and +that there was no way of getting statistics of actual distribution, +these figures were not exact, but they were nearly so. Now that every +pin which is given out from a national warehouse is recorded, of course +the figures of consumption for any week, month, or year, in the +possession of the department of distribution at the end of that period, +are precise. On these figures, allowing for tendencies to increase or +decrease and for any special causes likely to affect demand, the +estimates, say for a year ahead, are based. These estimates, with a +proper margin for security, having been accepted by the general +administration, the responsibility of the distributive department +ceases until the goods are delivered to it. I speak of the estimates +being furnished for an entire year ahead, but in reality they cover +that much time only in case of the great staples for which the demand +can be calculated on as steady. In the great majority of smaller +industries for the product of which popular taste fluctuates, and +novelty is frequently required, production is kept barely ahead of +consumption, the distributive department furnishing frequent estimates +based on the weekly state of demand. +</P> + +<P> +"Now the entire field of productive and constructive industry is +divided into ten great departments, each representing a group of allied +industries, each particular industry being in turn represented by a +subordinate bureau, which has a complete record of the plant and force +under its control, of the present product, and means of increasing it. +The estimates of the distributive department, after adoption by the +administration, are sent as mandates to the ten great departments, +which allot them to the subordinate bureaus representing the particular +industries, and these set the men at work. Each bureau is responsible +for the task given it, and this responsibility is enforced by +departmental oversight and that of the administration; nor does the +distributive department accept the product without its own inspection; +while even if in the hands of the consumer an article turns out unfit, +the system enables the fault to be traced back to the original workman. +The production of the commodities for actual public consumption does +not, of course, require by any means all the national force of workers. +After the necessary contingents have been detailed for the various +industries, the amount of labor left for other employment is expended +in creating fixed capital, such as buildings, machinery, engineering +works, and so forth." +</P> + +<P> +"One point occurs to me," I said, "on which I should think there might +be dissatisfaction. Where there is no opportunity for private +enterprise, how is there any assurance that the claims of small +minorities of the people to have articles produced, for which there is +no wide demand, will be respected? An official decree at any moment may +deprive them of the means of gratifying some special taste, merely +because the majority does not share it." +</P> + +<P> +"That would be tyranny indeed," replied Dr. Leete, "and you may be very +sure that it does not happen with us, to whom liberty is as dear as +equality or fraternity. As you come to know our system better, you will +see that our officials are in fact, and not merely in name, the agents +and servants of the people. The administration has no power to stop the +production of any commodity for which there continues to be a demand. +Suppose the demand for any article declines to such a point that its +production becomes very costly. The price has to be raised in +proportion, of course, but as long as the consumer cares to pay it, the +production goes on. Again, suppose an article not before produced is +demanded. If the administration doubts the reality of the demand, a +popular petition guaranteeing a certain basis of consumption compels it +to produce the desired article. A government, or a majority, which +should undertake to tell the people, or a minority, what they were to +eat, drink, or wear, as I believe governments in America did in your +day, would be regarded as a curious anachronism indeed. Possibly you +had reasons for tolerating these infringements of personal +independence, but we should not think them endurable. I am glad you +raised this point, for it has given me a chance to show you how much +more direct and efficient is the control over production exercised by +the individual citizen now than it was in your day, when what you +called private initiative prevailed, though it should have been called +capitalist initiative, for the average private citizen had little +enough share in it." +</P> + +<P> +"You speak of raising the price of costly articles," I said. "How can +prices be regulated in a country where there is no competition between +buyers or sellers?" +</P> + +<P> +"Just as they were with you," replied Dr. Leete. "You think that needs +explaining," he added, as I looked incredulous, "but the explanation +need not be long; the cost of the labor which produced it was +recognized as the legitimate basis of the price of an article in your +day, and so it is in ours. In your day, it was the difference in wages +that made the difference in the cost of labor; now it is the relative +number of hours constituting a day's work in different trades, the +maintenance of the worker being equal in all cases. The cost of a man's +work in a trade so difficult that in order to attract volunteers the +hours have to be fixed at four a day is twice as great as that in a +trade where the men work eight hours. The result as to the cost of +labor, you see, is just the same as if the man working four hours were +paid, under your system, twice the wages the others get. This +calculation applied to the labor employed in the various processes of a +manufactured article gives its price relatively to other articles. +Besides the cost of production and transportation, the factor of +scarcity affects the prices of some commodities. As regards the great +staples of life, of which an abundance can always be secured, scarcity +is eliminated as a factor. There is always a large surplus kept on hand +from which any fluctuations of demand or supply can be corrected, even +in most cases of bad crops. The prices of the staples grow less year by +year, but rarely, if ever, rise. There are, however, certain classes of +articles permanently, and others temporarily, unequal to the demand, +as, for example, fresh fish or dairy products in the latter category, +and the products of high skill and rare materials in the other. All +that can be done here is to equalize the inconvenience of the scarcity. +This is done by temporarily raising the price if the scarcity be +temporary, or fixing it high if it be permanent. High prices in your +day meant restriction of the articles affected to the rich, but +nowadays, when the means of all are the same, the effect is only that +those to whom the articles seem most desirable are the ones who +purchase them. Of course the nation, as any other caterer for the +public needs must be, is frequently left with small lots of goods on +its hands by changes in taste, unseasonable weather and various other +causes. These it has to dispose of at a sacrifice just as merchants +often did in your day, charging up the loss to the expenses of the +business. Owing, however, to the vast body of consumers to which such +lots can be simultaneously offered, there is rarely any difficulty in +getting rid of them at trifling loss. I have given you now some general +notion of our system of production; as well as distribution. Do you +find it as complex as you expected?" +</P> + +<P> +I admitted that nothing could be much simpler. +</P> + +<P> +"I am sure," said Dr. Leete, "that it is within the truth to say that +the head of one of the myriad private businesses of your day, who had +to maintain sleepless vigilance against the fluctuations of the market, +the machinations of his rivals, and the failure of his debtors, had a +far more trying task than the group of men at Washington who nowadays +direct the industries of the entire nation. All this merely shows, my +dear fellow, how much easier it is to do things the right way than the +wrong. It is easier for a general up in a balloon, with perfect survey +of the field, to manoeuvre a million men to victory than for a sergeant +to manage a platoon in a thicket." +</P> + +<P> +"The general of this army, including the flower of the manhood of the +nation, must be the foremost man in the country, really greater even +than the President of the United States," I said. +</P> + +<P> +"He is the President of the United States," replied Dr. Leete, "or +rather the most important function of the presidency is the headship of +the industrial army." +</P> + +<P> +"How is he chosen?" I asked. +</P> + +<P> +"I explained to you before," replied Dr. Leete, "when I was describing +the force of the motive of emulation among all grades of the industrial +army, that the line of promotion for the meritorious lies through three +grades to the officer's grade, and thence up through the lieutenancies +to the captaincy or foremanship, and superintendency or colonel's rank. +Next, with an intervening grade in some of the larger trades, comes the +general of the guild, under whose immediate control all the operations +of the trade are conducted. This officer is at the head of the national +bureau representing his trade, and is responsible for its work to the +administration. The general of his guild holds a splendid position, and +one which amply satisfies the ambition of most men, but above his rank, +which may be compared—to follow the military analogies familiar to +you—to that of a general of division or major-general, is that of the +chiefs of the ten great departments, or groups of allied trades. The +chiefs of these ten grand divisions of the industrial army may be +compared to your commanders of army corps, or lieutenant-generals, each +having from a dozen to a score of generals of separate guilds reporting +to him. Above these ten great officers, who form his council, is the +general-in-chief, who is the President of the United States. +</P> + +<P> +"The general-in-chief of the industrial army must have passed through +all the grades below him, from the common laborers up. Let us see how +he rises. As I have told you, it is simply by the excellence of his +record as a worker that one rises through the grades of the privates +and becomes a candidate for a lieutenancy. Through the lieutenancies he +rises to the colonelcy, or superintendent's position, by appointment +from above, strictly limited to the candidates of the best records. The +general of the guild appoints to the ranks under him, but he himself is +not appointed, but chosen by suffrage." +</P> + +<P> +"By suffrage!" I exclaimed. "Is not that ruinous to the discipline of +the guild, by tempting the candidates to intrigue for the support of +the workers under them?" +</P> + +<P> +"So it would be, no doubt," replied Dr. Leete, "if the workers had any +suffrage to exercise, or anything to say about the choice. But they +have nothing. Just here comes in a peculiarity of our system. The +general of the guild is chosen from among the superintendents by vote +of the honorary members of the guild, that is, of those who have served +their time in the guild and received their discharge. As you know, at +the age of forty-five we are mustered out of the army of industry, and +have the residue of life for the pursuit of our own improvement or +recreation. Of course, however, the associations of our active lifetime +retain a powerful hold on us. The companionships we formed then remain +our companionships till the end of life. We always continue honorary +members of our former guilds, and retain the keenest and most jealous +interest in their welfare and repute in the hands of the following +generation. In the clubs maintained by the honorary members of the +several guilds, in which we meet socially, there are no topics of +conversation so common as those which relate to these matters, and the +young aspirants for guild leadership who can pass the criticism of us +old fellows are likely to be pretty well equipped. Recognizing this +fact, the nation entrusts to the honorary members of each guild the +election of its general, and I venture to claim that no previous form +of society could have developed a body of electors so ideally adapted +to their office, as regards absolute impartiality, knowledge of the +special qualifications and record of candidates, solicitude for the +best result, and complete absence of self-interest. +</P> + +<P> +"Each of the ten lieutenant-generals or heads of departments is himself +elected from among the generals of the guilds grouped as a department, +by vote of the honorary members of the guilds thus grouped. Of course +there is a tendency on the part of each guild to vote for its own +general, but no guild of any group has nearly enough votes to elect a +man not supported by most of the others. I assure you that these +elections are exceedingly lively." +</P> + +<P> +"The President, I suppose, is selected from among the ten heads of the +great departments," I suggested. +</P> + +<P> +"Precisely, but the heads of departments are not eligible to the +presidency till they have been a certain number of years out of office. +It is rarely that a man passes through all the grades to the headship +of a department much before he is forty, and at the end of a five +years' term he is usually forty-five. If more, he still serves through +his term, and if less, he is nevertheless discharged from the +industrial army at its termination. It would not do for him to return +to the ranks. The interval before he is a candidate for the presidency +is intended to give time for him to recognize fully that he has +returned into the general mass of the nation, and is identified with it +rather than with the industrial army. Moreover, it is expected that he +will employ this period in studying the general condition of the army, +instead of that of the special group of guilds of which he was the +head. From among the former heads of departments who may be eligible at +the time, the President is elected by vote of all the men of the nation +who are not connected with the industrial army." +</P> + +<P> +"The army is not allowed to vote for President?" +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly not. That would be perilous to its discipline, which it is +the business of the President to maintain as the representative of the +nation at large. His right hand for this purpose is the inspectorate, a +highly important department of our system; to the inspectorate come all +complaints or information as to defects in goods, insolence or +inefficiency of officials, or dereliction of any sort in the public +service. The inspectorate, however, does not wait for complaints. Not +only is it on the alert to catch and sift every rumor of a fault in the +service, but it is its business, by systematic and constant oversight +and inspection of every branch of the army, to find out what is going +wrong before anybody else does. The President is usually not far from +fifty when elected, and serves five years, forming an honorable +exception to the rule of retirement at forty-five. At the end of his +term of office, a national Congress is called to receive his report and +approve or condemn it. If it is approved, Congress usually elects him +to represent the nation for five years more in the international +council. Congress, I should also say, passes on the reports of the +outgoing heads of departments, and a disapproval renders any one of +them ineligible for President. But it is rare, indeed, that the nation +has occasion for other sentiments than those of gratitude toward its +high officers. As to their ability, to have risen from the ranks, by +tests so various and severe, to their positions, is proof in itself of +extraordinary qualities, while as to faithfulness, our social system +leaves them absolutely without any other motive than that of winning +the esteem of their fellow citizens. Corruption is impossible in a +society where there is neither poverty to be bribed nor wealth to +bribe, while as to demagoguery or intrigue for office, the conditions +of promotion render them out of the question." +</P> + +<P> +"One point I do not quite understand," I said. "Are the members of the +liberal professions eligible to the presidency? and if so, how are they +ranked with those who pursue the industries proper?" +</P> + +<P> +"They have no ranking with them," replied Dr. Leete. "The members of +the technical professions, such as engineers and architects, have a +ranking with the constructive guilds; but the members of the liberal +professions, the doctors and teachers, as well as the artists and men +of letters who obtain remissions of industrial service, do not belong +to the industrial army. On this ground they vote for the President, but +are not eligible to his office. One of its main duties being the +control and discipline of the industrial army, it is essential that the +President should have passed through all its grades to understand his +business." +</P> + +<P> +"That is reasonable," I said; "but if the doctors and teachers do not +know enough of industry to be President, neither, I should think, can +the President know enough of medicine and education to control those +departments." +</P> + +<P> +"No more does he," was the reply. "Except in the general way that he is +responsible for the enforcement of the laws as to all classes, the +President has nothing to do with the faculties of medicine and +education, which are controlled by boards of regents of their own, in +which the President is ex-officio chairman, and has the casting vote. +These regents, who, of course, are responsible to Congress, are chosen +by the honorary members of the guilds of education and medicine, the +retired teachers and doctors of the country." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you know," I said, "the method of electing officials by votes of +the retired members of the guilds is nothing more than the application +on a national scale of the plan of government by alumni, which we used +to a slight extent occasionally in the management of our higher +educational institutions." +</P> + +<P> +"Did you, indeed?" exclaimed Dr. Leete, with animation. "That is quite +new to me, and I fancy will be to most of us, and of much interest as +well. There has been great discussion as to the germ of the idea, and +we fancied that there was for once something new under the sun. Well! +well! In your higher educational institutions! that is interesting +indeed. You must tell me more of that." +</P> + +<P> +"Truly, there is very little more to tell than I have told already," I +replied. "If we had the germ of your idea, it was but as a germ." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap18"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Chapter 18 +</H3> + +<P> +That evening I sat up for some time after the ladies had retired, +talking with Dr. Leete about the effect of the plan of exempting men +from further service to the nation after the age of forty-five, a point +brought up by his account of the part taken by the retired citizens in +the government. +</P> + +<P> +"At forty-five," said I, "a man still has ten years of good manual +labor in him, and twice ten years of good intellectual service. To be +superannuated at that age and laid on the shelf must be regarded rather +as a hardship than a favor by men of energetic dispositions." +</P> + +<P> +"My dear Mr. West," exclaimed Dr. Leete, beaming upon me, "you cannot +have any idea of the piquancy your nineteenth century ideas have for us +of this day, the rare quaintness of their effect. Know, O child of +another race and yet the same, that the labor we have to render as our +part in securing for the nation the means of a comfortable physical +existence is by no means regarded as the most important, the most +interesting, or the most dignified employment of our powers. We look +upon it as a necessary duty to be discharged before we can fully devote +ourselves to the higher exercise of our faculties, the intellectual and +spiritual enjoyments and pursuits which alone mean life. Everything +possible is indeed done by the just distribution of burdens, and by all +manner of special attractions and incentives to relieve our labor of +irksomeness, and, except in a comparative sense, it is not usually +irksome, and is often inspiring. But it is not our labor, but the +higher and larger activities which the performance of our task will +leave us free to enter upon, that are considered the main business of +existence. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course not all, nor the majority, have those scientific, artistic, +literary, or scholarly interests which make leisure the one thing +valuable to their possessors. Many look upon the last half of life +chiefly as a period for enjoyment of other sorts; for travel, for +social relaxation in the company of their life-time friends; a time for +the cultivation of all manner of personal idiosyncrasies and special +tastes, and the pursuit of every imaginable form of recreation; in a +word, a time for the leisurely and unperturbed appreciation of the good +things of the world which they have helped to create. But, whatever the +differences between our individual tastes as to the use we shall put +our leisure to, we all agree in looking forward to the date of our +discharge as the time when we shall first enter upon the full enjoyment +of our birthright, the period when we shall first really attain our +majority and become enfranchised from discipline and control, with the +fee of our lives vested in ourselves. As eager boys in your day +anticipated twenty-one, so men nowadays look forward to forty-five. At +twenty-one we become men, but at forty-five we renew youth. Middle age +and what you would have called old age are considered, rather than +youth, the enviable time of life. Thanks to the better conditions of +existence nowadays, and above all the freedom of every one from care, +old age approaches many years later and has an aspect far more benign +than in past times. Persons of average constitution usually live to +eighty-five or ninety, and at forty-five we are physically and mentally +younger, I fancy, than you were at thirty-five. It is a strange +reflection that at forty-five, when we are just entering upon the most +enjoyable period of life, you already began to think of growing old and +to look backward. With you it was the forenoon, with us it is the +afternoon, which is the brighter half of life." +</P> + +<P> +After this I remember that our talk branched into the subject of +popular sports and recreations at the present time as compared with +those of the nineteenth century. +</P> + +<P> +"In one respect," said Dr. Leete, "there is a marked difference. The +professional sportsmen, which were such a curious feature of your day, +we have nothing answering to, nor are the prizes for which our athletes +contend money prizes, as with you. Our contests are always for glory +only. The generous rivalry existing between the various guilds, and the +loyalty of each worker to his own, afford a constant stimulation to all +sorts of games and matches by sea and land, in which the young men take +scarcely more interest than the honorary guildsmen who have served +their time. The guild yacht races off Marblehead take place next week, +and you will be able to judge for yourself of the popular enthusiasm +which such events nowadays call out as compared with your day. The +demand for 'panem ef circenses' preferred by the Roman populace is +recognized nowadays as a wholly reasonable one. If bread is the first +necessity of life, recreation is a close second, and the nation caters +for both. Americans of the nineteenth century were as unfortunate in +lacking an adequate provision for the one sort of need as for the +other. Even if the people of that period had enjoyed larger leisure, +they would, I fancy, have often been at a loss how to pass it +agreeably. We are never in that predicament." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap19"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Chapter 19 +</H3> + +<P> +In the course of an early morning constitutional I visited Charlestown. +Among the changes, too numerous to attempt to indicate, which mark the +lapse of a century in that quarter, I particularly noted the total +disappearance of the old state prison. +</P> + +<P> +"That went before my day, but I remember hearing about it," said Dr. +Leete, when I alluded to the fact at the breakfast table. "We have no +jails nowadays. All cases of atavism are treated in the hospitals." +</P> + +<P> +"Of atavism!" I exclaimed, staring. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, yes," replied Dr. Leete. "The idea of dealing punitively with +those unfortunates was given up at least fifty years ago, and I think +more." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't quite understand you," I said. "Atavism in my day was a word +applied to the cases of persons in whom some trait of a remote ancestor +recurred in a noticeable manner. Am I to understand that crime is +nowadays looked upon as the recurrence of an ancestral trait?" +</P> + +<P> +"I beg your pardon," said Dr. Leete with a smile half humorous, half +deprecating, "but since you have so explicitly asked the question, I am +forced to say that the fact is precisely that." +</P> + +<P> +After what I had already learned of the moral contrasts between the +nineteenth and the twentieth centuries, it was doubtless absurd in me +to begin to develop sensitiveness on the subject, and probably if Dr. +Leete had not spoken with that apologetic air and Mrs. Leete and Edith +shown a corresponding embarrassment, I should not have flushed, as I +was conscious I did. +</P> + +<P> +"I was not in much danger of being vain of my generation before," I +said; "but, really—" +</P> + +<P> +"This is your generation, Mr. West," interposed Edith. "It is the one +in which you are living, you know, and it is only because we are alive +now that we call it ours." +</P> + +<P> +"Thank you. I will try to think of it so," I said, and as my eyes met +hers their expression quite cured my senseless sensitiveness. "After +all," I said, with a laugh, "I was brought up a Calvinist, and ought +not to be startled to hear crime spoken of as an ancestral trait." +</P> + +<P> +"In point of fact," said Dr. Leete, "our use of the word is no +reflection at all on your generation, if, begging Edith's pardon, we +may call it yours, so far as seeming to imply that we think ourselves, +apart from our circumstances, better than you were. In your day fully +nineteen twentieths of the crime, using the word broadly to include all +sorts of misdemeanors, resulted from the inequality in the possessions +of individuals; want tempted the poor, lust of greater gains, or the +desire to preserve former gains, tempted the well-to-do. Directly or +indirectly, the desire for money, which then meant every good thing, +was the motive of all this crime, the taproot of a vast poison growth, +which the machinery of law, courts, and police could barely prevent +from choking your civilization outright. When we made the nation the +sole trustee of the wealth of the people, and guaranteed to all +abundant maintenance, on the one hand abolishing want, and on the other +checking the accumulation of riches, we cut this root, and the poison +tree that overshadowed your society withered, like Jonah's gourd, in a +day. As for the comparatively small class of violent crimes against +persons, unconnected with any idea of gain, they were almost wholly +confined, even in your day, to the ignorant and bestial; and in these +days, when education and good manners are not the monopoly of a few, +but universal, such atrocities are scarcely ever heard of. You now see +why the word 'atavism' is used for crime. It is because nearly all +forms of crime known to you are motiveless now, and when they appear +can only be explained as the outcropping of ancestral traits. You used +to call persons who stole, evidently without any rational motive, +kleptomaniacs, and when the case was clear deemed it absurd to punish +them as thieves. Your attitude toward the genuine kleptomaniac is +precisely ours toward the victim of atavism, an attitude of compassion +and firm but gentle restraint." +</P> + +<P> +"Your courts must have an easy time of it," I observed. "With no +private property to speak of, no disputes between citizens over +business relations, no real estate to divide or debts to collect, there +must be absolutely no civil business at all for them; and with no +offenses against property, and mighty few of any sort to provide +criminal cases, I should think you might almost do without judges and +lawyers altogether." +</P> + +<P> +"We do without the lawyers, certainly," was Dr. Leete's reply. "It +would not seem reasonable to us, in a case where the only interest of +the nation is to find out the truth, that persons should take part in +the proceedings who had an acknowledged motive to color it." +</P> + +<P> +"But who defends the accused?" +</P> + +<P> +"If he is a criminal he needs no defense, for he pleads guilty in most +instances," replied Dr. Leete. "The plea of the accused is not a mere +formality with us, as with you. It is usually the end of the case." +</P> + +<P> +"You don't mean that the man who pleads not guilty is thereupon +discharged?" +</P> + +<P> +"No, I do not mean that. He is not accused on light grounds, and if he +denies his guilt, must still be tried. But trials are few, for in most +cases the guilty man pleads guilty. When he makes a false plea and is +clearly proved guilty, his penalty is doubled. Falsehood is, however, +so despised among us that few offenders would lie to save themselves." +</P> + +<P> +"That is the most astounding thing you have yet told me," I exclaimed. +"If lying has gone out of fashion, this is indeed the 'new heavens and +the new earth wherein dwelleth righteousness,' which the prophet +foretold." +</P> + +<P> +"Such is, in fact, the belief of some persons nowadays," was the +doctor's answer. "They hold that we have entered upon the millennium, +and the theory from their point of view does not lack plausibility. But +as to your astonishment at finding that the world has outgrown lying, +there is really no ground for it. Falsehood, even in your day, was not +common between gentlemen and ladies, social equals. The lie of fear was +the refuge of cowardice, and the lie of fraud the device of the cheat. +The inequalities of men and the lust of acquisition offered a constant +premium on lying at that time. Yet even then, the man who neither +feared another nor desired to defraud him scorned falsehood. Because we +are now all social equals, and no man either has anything to fear from +another or can gain anything by deceiving him, the contempt of +falsehood is so universal that it is rarely, as I told you, that even a +criminal in other respects will be found willing to lie. When, however, +a plea of not guilty is returned, the judge appoints two colleagues to +state the opposite sides of the case. How far these men are from being +like your hired advocates and prosecutors, determined to acquit or +convict, may appear from the fact that unless both agree that the +verdict found is just, the case is tried over, while anything like bias +in the tone of either of the judges stating the case would be a +shocking scandal." +</P> + +<P> +"Do I understand," I said, "that it is a judge who states each side of +the case as well as a judge who hears it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly. The judges take turns in serving on the bench and at the +bar, and are expected to maintain the judicial temper equally whether +in stating or deciding a case. The system is indeed in effect that of +trial by three judges occupying different points of view as to the +case. When they agree upon a verdict, we believe it to be as near to +absolute truth as men well can come." +</P> + +<P> +"You have given up the jury system, then?" +</P> + +<P> +"It was well enough as a corrective in the days of hired advocates, and +a bench sometimes venal, and often with a tenure that made it +dependent, but is needless now. No conceivable motive but justice could +actuate our judges." +</P> + +<P> +"How are these magistrates selected?" +</P> + +<P> +"They are an honorable exception to the rule which discharges all men +from service at the age of forty-five. The President of the nation +appoints the necessary judges year by year from the class reaching that +age. The number appointed is, of course, exceedingly few, and the honor +so high that it is held an offset to the additional term of service +which follows, and though a judge's appointment may be declined, it +rarely is. The term is five years, without eligibility to +reappointment. The members of the Supreme Court, which is the guardian +of the constitution, are selected from among the lower judges. When a +vacancy in that court occurs, those of the lower judges, whose terms +expire that year, select, as their last official act, the one of their +colleagues left on the bench whom they deem fittest to fill it." +</P> + +<P> +"There being no legal profession to serve as a school for judges," I +said, "they must, of course, come directly from the law school to the +bench." +</P> + +<P> +"We have no such things as law schools," replied the doctor smiling. +"The law as a special science is obsolete. It was a system of casuistry +which the elaborate artificiality of the old order of society +absolutely required to interpret it, but only a few of the plainest and +simplest legal maxims have any application to the existing state of the +world. Everything touching the relations of men to one another is now +simpler, beyond any comparison, than in your day. We should have no +sort of use for the hair-splitting experts who presided and argued in +your courts. You must not imagine, however, that we have any disrespect +for those ancient worthies because we have no use for them. On the +contrary, we entertain an unfeigned respect, amounting almost to awe, +for the men who alone understood and were able to expound the +interminable complexity of the rights of property, and the relations of +commercial and personal dependence involved in your system. What, +indeed, could possibly give a more powerful impression of the intricacy +and artificiality of that system than the fact that it was necessary to +set apart from other pursuits the cream of the intellect of every +generation, in order to provide a body of pundits able to make it even +vaguely intelligible to those whose fates it determined. The treatises +of your great lawyers, the works of Blackstone and Chitty, of Story and +Parsons, stand in our museums, side by side with the tomes of Duns +Scotus and his fellow scholastics, as curious monuments of intellectual +subtlety devoted to subjects equally remote from the interests of +modern men. Our judges are simply widely informed, judicious, and +discreet men of ripe years. +</P> + +<P> +"I should not fail to speak of one important function of the minor +judges," added Dr. Leete. "This is to adjudicate all cases where a +private of the industrial army makes a complaint of unfairness against +an officer. All such questions are heard and settled without appeal by +a single judge, three judges being required only in graver cases. The +efficiency of industry requires the strictest discipline in the army of +labor, but the claim of the workman to just and considerate treatment +is backed by the whole power of the nation. The officer commands and +the private obeys, but no officer is so high that he would dare display +an overbearing manner toward a workman of the lowest class. As for +churlishness or rudeness by an official of any sort, in his relations +to the public, not one among minor offenses is more sure of a prompt +penalty than this. Not only justice but civility is enforced by our +judges in all sorts of intercourse. No value of service is accepted as +a set-off to boorish or offensive manners." +</P> + +<P> +It occurred to me, as Dr. Leete was speaking, that in all his talk I +had heard much of the nation and nothing of the state governments. Had +the organization of the nation as an industrial unit done away with the +states? I asked. +</P> + +<P> +"Necessarily," he replied. "The state governments would have interfered +with the control and discipline of the industrial army, which, of +course, required to be central and uniform. Even if the state +governments had not become inconvenient for other reasons, they were +rendered superfluous by the prodigious simplification in the task of +government since your day. Almost the sole function of the +administration now is that of directing the industries of the country. +Most of the purposes for which governments formerly existed no longer +remain to be subserved. We have no army or navy, and no military +organization. We have no departments of state or treasury, no excise or +revenue services, no taxes or tax collectors. The only function proper +of government, as known to you, which still remains, is the judiciary +and police system. I have already explained to you how simple is our +judicial system as compared with your huge and complex machine. Of +course the same absence of crime and temptation to it, which make the +duties of judges so light, reduces the number and duties of the police +to a minimum." +</P> + +<P> +"But with no state legislatures, and Congress meeting only once in five +years, how do you get your legislation done?" +</P> + +<P> +"We have no legislation," replied Dr. Leete, "that is, next to none. It +is rarely that Congress, even when it meets, considers any new laws of +consequence, and then it only has power to commend them to the +following Congress, lest anything be done hastily. If you will consider +a moment, Mr. West, you will see that we have nothing to make laws +about. The fundamental principles on which our society is founded +settle for all time the strifes and misunderstandings which in your day +called for legislation. +</P> + +<P> +"Fully ninety-nine hundredths of the laws of that time concerned the +definition and protection of private property and the relations of +buyers and sellers. There is neither private property, beyond personal +belongings, now, nor buying and selling, and therefore the occasion of +nearly all the legislation formerly necessary has passed away. +Formerly, society was a pyramid poised on its apex. All the +gravitations of human nature were constantly tending to topple it over, +and it could be maintained upright, or rather upwrong (if you will +pardon the feeble witticism), by an elaborate system of constantly +renewed props and buttresses and guy-ropes in the form of laws. A +central Congress and forty state legislatures, turning out some twenty +thousand laws a year, could not make new props fast enough to take the +place of those which were constantly breaking down or becoming +ineffectual through some shifting of the strain. Now society rests on +its base, and is in as little need of artificial supports as the +everlasting hills." +</P> + +<P> +"But you have at least municipal governments besides the one central +authority?" +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly, and they have important and extensive functions in looking +out for the public comfort and recreation, and the improvement and +embellishment of the villages and cities." +</P> + +<P> +"But having no control over the labor of their people, or means of +hiring it, how can they do anything?" +</P> + +<P> +"Every town or city is conceded the right to retain, for its own public +works, a certain proportion of the quota of labor its citizens +contribute to the nation. This proportion, being assigned it as so much +credit, can be applied in any way desired." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap20"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Chapter 20 +</H3> + +<P> +That afternoon Edith casually inquired if I had yet revisited the +underground chamber in the garden in which I had been found. +</P> + +<P> +"Not yet," I replied. "To be frank, I have shrunk thus far from doing +so, lest the visit might revive old associations rather too strongly +for my mental equilibrium." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, yes!" she said, "I can imagine that you have done well to stay +away. I ought to have thought of that." +</P> + +<P> +"No," I said, "I am glad you spoke of it. The danger, if there was any, +existed only during the first day or two. Thanks to you, chiefly and +always, I feel my footing now so firm in this new world, that if you +will go with me to keep the ghosts off, I should really like to visit +the place this afternoon." +</P> + +<P> +Edith demurred at first, but, finding that I was in earnest, consented +to accompany me. The rampart of earth thrown up from the excavation was +visible among the trees from the house, and a few steps brought us to +the spot. All remained as it was at the point when work was interrupted +by the discovery of the tenant of the chamber, save that the door had +been opened and the slab from the roof replaced. Descending the sloping +sides of the excavation, we went in at the door and stood within the +dimly lighted room. +</P> + +<P> +Everything was just as I had beheld it last on that evening one hundred +and thirteen years previous, just before closing my eyes for that long +sleep. I stood for some time silently looking about me. I saw that my +companion was furtively regarding me with an expression of awed and +sympathetic curiosity. I put out my hand to her and she placed hers in +it, the soft fingers responding with a reassuring pressure to my clasp. +Finally she whispered, "Had we not better go out now? You must not try +yourself too far. Oh, how strange it must be to you!" +</P> + +<P> +"On the contrary," I replied, "it does not seem strange; that is the +strangest part of it." +</P> + +<P> +"Not strange?" she echoed. +</P> + +<P> +"Even so," I replied. "The emotions with which you evidently credit me, +and which I anticipated would attend this visit, I simply do not feel. +I realize all that these surroundings suggest, but without the +agitation I expected. You can't be nearly as much surprised at this as +I am myself. Ever since that terrible morning when you came to my help, +I have tried to avoid thinking of my former life, just as I have +avoided coming here, for fear of the agitating effects. I am for all +the world like a man who has permitted an injured limb to lie +motionless under the impression that it is exquisitely sensitive, and +on trying to move it finds that it is paralyzed." +</P> + +<P> +"Do you mean your memory is gone?" +</P> + +<P> +"Not at all. I remember everything connected with my former life, but +with a total lack of keen sensation. I remember it for clearness as if +it had been but a day since then, but my feelings about what I remember +are as faint as if to my consciousness, as well as in fact, a hundred +years had intervened. Perhaps it is possible to explain this, too. The +effect of change in surroundings is like that of lapse of time in +making the past seem remote. When I first woke from that trance, my +former life appeared as yesterday, but now, since I have learned to +know my new surroundings, and to realize the prodigious changes that +have transformed the world, I no longer find it hard, but very easy, to +realize that I have slept a century. Can you conceive of such a thing +as living a hundred years in four days? It really seems to me that I +have done just that, and that it is this experience which has given so +remote and unreal an appearance to my former life. Can you see how such +a thing might be?" +</P> + +<P> +"I can conceive it," replied Edith, meditatively, "and I think we ought +all to be thankful that it is so, for it will save you much suffering, +I am sure." +</P> + +<P> +"Imagine," I said, in an effort to explain, as much to myself as to +her, the strangeness of my mental condition, "that a man first heard of +a bereavement many, many years, half a lifetime perhaps, after the +event occurred. I fancy his feeling would be perhaps something as mine +is. When I think of my friends in the world of that former day, and the +sorrow they must have felt for me, it is with a pensive pity, rather +than keen anguish, as of a sorrow long, long ago ended." +</P> + +<P> +"You have told us nothing yet of your friends," said Edith. "Had you +many to mourn you?" +</P> + +<P> +"Thank God, I had very few relatives, none nearer than cousins," I +replied. "But there was one, not a relative, but dearer to me than any +kin of blood. She had your name. She was to have been my wife soon. Ah +me!" +</P> + +<P> +"Ah me!" sighed the Edith by my side. "Think of the heartache she must +have had." +</P> + +<P> +Something in the deep feeling of this gentle girl touched a chord in my +benumbed heart. My eyes, before so dry, were flooded with the tears +that had till now refused to come. When I had regained my composure, I +saw that she too had been weeping freely. +</P> + +<P> +"God bless your tender heart," I said. "Would you like to see her +picture?" +</P> + +<P> +A small locket with Edith Bartlett's picture, secured about my neck +with a gold chain, had lain upon my breast all through that long sleep, +and removing this I opened and gave it to my companion. She took it +with eagerness, and after poring long over the sweet face, touched the +picture with her lips. +</P> + +<P> +"I know that she was good and lovely enough to well deserve your +tears," she said; "but remember her heartache was over long ago, and +she has been in heaven for nearly a century." +</P> + +<P> +It was indeed so. Whatever her sorrow had once been, for nearly a +century she had ceased to weep, and, my sudden passion spent, my own +tears dried away. I had loved her very dearly in my other life, but it +was a hundred years ago! I do not know but some may find in this +confession evidence of lack of feeling, but I think, perhaps, that none +can have had an experience sufficiently like mine to enable them to +judge me. As we were about to leave the chamber, my eye rested upon the +great iron safe which stood in one corner. Calling my companion's +attention to it, I said: +</P> + +<P> +"This was my strong room as well as my sleeping room. In the safe +yonder are several thousand dollars in gold, and any amount of +securities. If I had known when I went to sleep that night just how +long my nap would be, I should still have thought that the gold was a +safe provision for my needs in any country or any century, however +distant. That a time would ever come when it would lose its purchasing +power, I should have considered the wildest of fancies. Nevertheless, +here I wake up to find myself among a people of whom a cartload of gold +will not procure a loaf of bread." +</P> + +<P> +As might be expected, I did not succeed in impressing Edith that there +was anything remarkable in this fact. "Why in the world should it?" she +merely asked. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap21"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Chapter 21 +</H3> + +<P> +It had been suggested by Dr. Leete that we should devote the next +morning to an inspection of the schools and colleges of the city, with +some attempt on his own part at an explanation of the educational +system of the twentieth century. +</P> + +<P> +"You will see," said he, as we set out after breakfast, "many very +important differences between our methods of education and yours, but +the main difference is that nowadays all persons equally have those +opportunities of higher education which in your day only an +infinitesimal portion of the population enjoyed. We should think we had +gained nothing worth speaking of, in equalizing the physical comfort of +men, without this educational equality." +</P> + +<P> +"The cost must be very great," I said. +</P> + +<P> +"If it took half the revenue of the nation, nobody would grudge it," +replied Dr. Leete, "nor even if it took it all save a bare pittance. +But in truth the expense of educating ten thousand youth is not ten nor +five times that of educating one thousand. The principle which makes +all operations on a large scale proportionally cheaper than on a small +scale holds as to education also." +</P> + +<P> +"College education was terribly expensive in my day," said I. +</P> + +<P> +"If I have not been misinformed by our historians," Dr. Leete answered, +"it was not college education but college dissipation and extravagance +which cost so highly. The actual expense of your colleges appears to +have been very low, and would have been far lower if their patronage +had been greater. The higher education nowadays is as cheap as the +lower, as all grades of teachers, like all other workers, receive the +same support. We have simply added to the common school system of +compulsory education, in vogue in Massachusetts a hundred years ago, a +half dozen higher grades, carrying the youth to the age of twenty-one +and giving him what you used to call the education of a gentleman, +instead of turning him loose at fourteen or fifteen with no mental +equipment beyond reading, writing, and the multiplication table." +</P> + +<P> +"Setting aside the actual cost of these additional years of education," +I replied, "we should not have thought we could afford the loss of time +from industrial pursuits. Boys of the poorer classes usually went to +work at sixteen or younger, and knew their trade at twenty." +</P> + +<P> +"We should not concede you any gain even in material product by that +plan," Dr. Leete replied. "The greater efficiency which education gives +to all sorts of labor, except the rudest, makes up in a short period +for the time lost in acquiring it." +</P> + +<P> +"We should also have been afraid," said I, "that a high education, +while it adapted men to the professions, would set them against manual +labor of all sorts." +</P> + +<P> +"That was the effect of high education in your day, I have read," +replied the doctor; "and it was no wonder, for manual labor meant +association with a rude, coarse, and ignorant class of people. There is +no such class now. It was inevitable that such a feeling should exist +then, for the further reason that all men receiving a high education +were understood to be destined for the professions or for wealthy +leisure, and such an education in one neither rich nor professional was +a proof of disappointed aspirations, an evidence of failure, a badge of +inferiority rather than superiority. Nowadays, of course, when the +highest education is deemed necessary to fit a man merely to live, +without any reference to the sort of work he may do, its possession +conveys no such implication." +</P> + +<P> +"After all," I remarked, "no amount of education can cure natural +dullness or make up for original mental deficiencies. Unless the +average natural mental capacity of men is much above its level in my +day, a high education must be pretty nearly thrown away on a large +element of the population. We used to hold that a certain amount of +susceptibility to educational influences is required to make a mind +worth cultivating, just as a certain natural fertility in soil is +required if it is to repay tilling." +</P> + +<P> +"Ah," said Dr. Leete, "I am glad you used that illustration, for it is +just the one I would have chosen to set forth the modern view of +education. You say that land so poor that the product will not repay +the labor of tilling is not cultivated. Nevertheless, much land that +does not begin to repay tilling by its product was cultivated in your +day and is in ours. I refer to gardens, parks, lawns, and, in general, +to pieces of land so situated that, were they left to grow up to weeds +and briers, they would be eyesores and inconveniencies to all about. +They are therefore tilled, and though their product is little, there is +yet no land that, in a wider sense, better repays cultivation. So it is +with the men and women with whom we mingle in the relations of society, +whose voices are always in our ears, whose behavior in innumerable ways +affects our enjoyment—who are, in fact, as much conditions of our +lives as the air we breathe, or any of the physical elements on which +we depend. If, indeed, we could not afford to educate everybody, we +should choose the coarsest and dullest by nature, rather than the +brightest, to receive what education we could give. The naturally +refined and intellectual can better dispense with aids to culture than +those less fortunate in natural endowments. +</P> + +<P> +"To borrow a phrase which was often used in your day, we should not +consider life worth living if we had to be surrounded by a population +of ignorant, boorish, coarse, wholly uncultivated men and women, as was +the plight of the few educated in your day. Is a man satisfied, merely +because he is perfumed himself, to mingle with a malodorous crowd? +Could he take more than a very limited satisfaction, even in a palatial +apartment, if the windows on all four sides opened into stable yards? +And yet just that was the situation of those considered most fortunate +as to culture and refinement in your day. I know that the poor and +ignorant envied the rich and cultured then; but to us the latter, +living as they did, surrounded by squalor and brutishness, seem little +better off than the former. The cultured man in your age was like one +up to the neck in a nauseous bog solacing himself with a smelling +bottle. You see, perhaps, now, how we look at this question of +universal high education. No single thing is so important to every man +as to have for neighbors intelligent, companionable persons. There is +nothing, therefore, which the nation can do for him that will enhance +so much his own happiness as to educate his neighbors. When it fails to +do so, the value of his own education to him is reduced by half, and +many of the tastes he has cultivated are made positive sources of pain. +</P> + +<P> +"To educate some to the highest degree, and leave the mass wholly +uncultivated, as you did, made the gap between them almost like that +between different natural species, which have no means of +communication. What could be more inhuman than this consequence of a +partial enjoyment of education! Its universal and equal enjoyment +leaves, indeed, the differences between men as to natural endowments as +marked as in a state of nature, but the level of the lowest is vastly +raised. Brutishness is eliminated. All have some inkling of the +humanities, some appreciation of the things of the mind, and an +admiration for the still higher culture they have fallen short of. They +have become capable of receiving and imparting, in various degrees, but +all in some measure, the pleasures and inspirations of a refined social +life. The cultured society of the nineteenth century—what did it +consist of but here and there a few microscopic oases in a vast, +unbroken wilderness? The proportion of individuals capable of +intellectual sympathies or refined intercourse, to the mass of their +contemporaries, used to be so infinitesimal as to be in any broad view +of humanity scarcely worth mentioning. One generation of the world +to-day represents a greater volume of intellectual life than any five +centuries ever did before. +</P> + +<P> +"There is still another point I should mention in stating the grounds +on which nothing less than the universality of the best education could +now be tolerated," continued Dr. Leete, "and that is, the interest of +the coming generation in having educated parents. To put the matter in +a nutshell, there are three main grounds on which our educational +system rests: first, the right of every man to the completest education +the nation can give him on his own account, as necessary to his +enjoyment of himself; second, the right of his fellow-citizens to have +him educated, as necessary to their enjoyment of his society; third, +the right of the unborn to be guaranteed an intelligent and refined +parentage." +</P> + +<P> +I shall not describe in detail what I saw in the schools that day. +Having taken but slight interest in educational matters in my former +life, I could offer few comparisons of interest. Next to the fact of +the universality of the higher as well as the lower education, I was +most struck with the prominence given to physical culture, and the fact +that proficiency in athletic feats and games as well as in scholarship +had a place in the rating of the youth. +</P> + +<P> +"The faculty of education," Dr. Leete explained, "is held to the same +responsibility for the bodies as for the minds of its charges. The +highest possible physical, as well as mental, development of every one +is the double object of a curriculum which lasts from the age of six to +that of twenty-one." +</P> + +<P> +The magnificent health of the young people in the schools impressed me +strongly. My previous observations, not only of the notable personal +endowments of the family of my host, but of the people I had seen in my +walks abroad, had already suggested the idea that there must have been +something like a general improvement in the physical standard of the +race since my day, and now, as I compared these stalwart young men and +fresh, vigorous maidens with the young people I had seen in the schools +of the nineteenth century, I was moved to impart my thought to Dr. +Leete. He listened with great interest to what I said. +</P> + +<P> +"Your testimony on this point," he declared, "is invaluable. We believe +that there has been such an improvement as you speak of, but of course +it could only be a matter of theory with us. It is an incident of your +unique position that you alone in the world of to-day can speak with +authority on this point. Your opinion, when you state it publicly, +will, I assure you, make a profound sensation. For the rest it would be +strange, certainly, if the race did not show an improvement. In your +day, riches debauched one class with idleness of mind and body, while +poverty sapped the vitality of the masses by overwork, bad food, and +pestilent homes. The labor required of children, and the burdens laid +on women, enfeebled the very springs of life. Instead of these +maleficent circumstances, all now enjoy the most favorable conditions +of physical life; the young are carefully nurtured and studiously cared +for; the labor which is required of all is limited to the period of +greatest bodily vigor, and is never excessive; care for one's self and +one's family, anxiety as to livelihood, the strain of a ceaseless +battle for life—all these influences, which once did so much to wreck +the minds and bodies of men and women, are known no more. Certainly, an +improvement of the species ought to follow such a change. In certain +specific respects we know, indeed, that the improvement has taken +place. Insanity, for instance, which in the nineteenth century was so +terribly common a product of your insane mode of life, has almost +disappeared, with its alternative, suicide." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap22"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Chapter 22 +</H3> + +<P> +We had made an appointment to meet the ladies at the dining-hall for +dinner, after which, having some engagement, they left us sitting at +table there, discussing our wine and cigars with a multitude of other +matters. +</P> + +<P> +"Doctor," said I, in the course of our talk, "morally speaking, your +social system is one which I should be insensate not to admire in +comparison with any previously in vogue in the world, and especially +with that of my own most unhappy century. If I were to fall into a +mesmeric sleep tonight as lasting as that other and meanwhile the +course of time were to take a turn backward instead of forward, and I +were to wake up again in the nineteenth century, when I had told my +friends what I had seen, they would every one admit that your world was +a paradise of order, equity, and felicity. But they were a very +practical people, my contemporaries, and after expressing their +admiration for the moral beauty and material splendor of the system, +they would presently begin to cipher and ask how you got the money to +make everybody so happy; for certainly, to support the whole nation at +a rate of comfort, and even luxury, such as I see around me, must +involve vastly greater wealth than the nation produced in my day. Now, +while I could explain to them pretty nearly everything else of the main +features of your system, I should quite fail to answer this question, +and failing there, they would tell me, for they were very close +cipherers, that I had been dreaming; nor would they ever believe +anything else. In my day, I know that the total annual product of the +nation, although it might have been divided with absolute equality, +would not have come to more than three or four hundred dollars per +head, not very much more than enough to supply the necessities of life +with few or any of its comforts. How is it that you have so much more?" +</P> + +<P> +"That is a very pertinent question, Mr. West," replied Dr. Leete, "and +I should not blame your friends, in the case you supposed, if they +declared your story all moonshine, failing a satisfactory reply to it. +It is a question which I cannot answer exhaustively at any one sitting, +and as for the exact statistics to bear out my general statements, I +shall have to refer you for them to books in my library, but it would +certainly be a pity to leave you to be put to confusion by your old +acquaintances, in case of the contingency you speak of, for lack of a +few suggestions. +</P> + +<P> +"Let us begin with a number of small items wherein we economize wealth +as compared with you. We have no national, state, county, or municipal +debts, or payments on their account. We have no sort of military or +naval expenditures for men or materials, no army, navy, or militia. We +have no revenue service, no swarm of tax assessors and collectors. As +regards our judiciary, police, sheriffs, and jailers, the force which +Massachusetts alone kept on foot in your day far more than suffices for +the nation now. We have no criminal class preying upon the wealth of +society as you had. The number of persons, more or less absolutely lost +to the working force through physical disability, of the lame, sick, +and debilitated, which constituted such a burden on the able-bodied in +your day, now that all live under conditions of health and comfort, has +shrunk to scarcely perceptible proportions, and with every generation +is becoming more completely eliminated. +</P> + +<P> +"Another item wherein we save is the disuse of money and the thousand +occupations connected with financial operations of all sorts, whereby +an army of men was formerly taken away from useful employments. Also +consider that the waste of the very rich in your day on inordinate +personal luxury has ceased, though, indeed, this item might easily be +over-estimated. Again, consider that there are no idlers now, rich or +poor—no drones. +</P> + +<P> +"A very important cause of former poverty was the vast waste of labor +and materials which resulted from domestic washing and cooking, and the +performing separately of innumerable other tasks to which we apply the +cooperative plan. +</P> + +<P> +"A larger economy than any of these—yes, of all together—is effected +by the organization of our distributing system, by which the work done +once by the merchants, traders, storekeepers, with their various grades +of jobbers, wholesalers, retailers, agents, commercial travelers, and +middlemen of all sorts, with an excessive waste of energy in needless +transportation and interminable handlings, is performed by one tenth +the number of hands and an unnecessary turn of not one wheel. Something +of what our distributing system is like you know. Our statisticians +calculate that one eightieth part of our workers suffices for all the +processes of distribution which in your day required one eighth of the +population, so much being withdrawn from the force engaged in +productive labor." +</P> + +<P> +"I begin to see," I said, "where you get your greater wealth." +</P> + +<P> +"I beg your pardon," replied Dr. Leete, "but you scarcely do as yet. +The economies I have mentioned thus far, in the aggregate, considering +the labor they would save directly and indirectly through saving of +material, might possibly be equivalent to the addition to your annual +production of wealth of one half its former total. These items are, +however, scarcely worth mentioning in comparison with other prodigious +wastes, now saved, which resulted inevitably from leaving the +industries of the nation to private enterprise. However great the +economies your contemporaries might have devised in the consumption of +products, and however marvelous the progress of mechanical invention, +they could never have raised themselves out of the slough of poverty so +long as they held to that system. +</P> + +<P> +"No mode more wasteful for utilizing human energy could be devised, and +for the credit of the human intellect it should be remembered that the +system never was devised, but was merely a survival from the rude ages +when the lack of social organization made any sort of cooperation +impossible." +</P> + +<P> +"I will readily admit," I said, "that our industrial system was +ethically very bad, but as a mere wealth-making machine, apart from +moral aspects, it seemed to us admirable." +</P> + +<P> +"As I said," responded the doctor, "the subject is too large to discuss +at length now, but if you are really interested to know the main +criticisms which we moderns make on your industrial system as compared +with our own, I can touch briefly on some of them. +</P> + +<P> +"The wastes which resulted from leaving the conduct of industry to +irresponsible individuals, wholly without mutual understanding or +concert, were mainly four: first, the waste by mistaken undertakings; +second, the waste from the competition and mutual hostility of those +engaged in industry; third, the waste by periodical gluts and crises, +with the consequent interruptions of industry; fourth, the waste from +idle capital and labor, at all times. Any one of these four great +leaks, were all the others stopped, would suffice to make the +difference between wealth and poverty on the part of a nation. +</P> + +<P> +"Take the waste by mistaken undertakings, to begin with. In your day +the production and distribution of commodities being without concert or +organization, there was no means of knowing just what demand there was +for any class of products, or what was the rate of supply. Therefore, +any enterprise by a private capitalist was always a doubtful +experiment. The projector having no general view of the field of +industry and consumption, such as our government has, could never be +sure either what the people wanted, or what arrangements other +capitalists were making to supply them. In view of this, we are not +surprised to learn that the chances were considered several to one in +favor of the failure of any given business enterprise, and that it was +common for persons who at last succeeded in making a hit to have failed +repeatedly. If a shoemaker, for every pair of shoes he succeeded in +completing, spoiled the leather of four or five pair, besides losing +the time spent on them, he would stand about the same chance of getting +rich as your contemporaries did with their system of private +enterprise, and its average of four or five failures to one success. +</P> + +<P> +"The next of the great wastes was that from competition. The field of +industry was a battlefield as wide as the world, in which the workers +wasted, in assailing one another, energies which, if expended in +concerted effort, as to-day, would have enriched all. As for mercy or +quarter in this warfare, there was absolutely no suggestion of it. To +deliberately enter a field of business and destroy the enterprises of +those who had occupied it previously, in order to plant one's own +enterprise on their ruins, was an achievement which never failed to +command popular admiration. Nor is there any stretch of fancy in +comparing this sort of struggle with actual warfare, so far as concerns +the mental agony and physical suffering which attended the struggle, +and the misery which overwhelmed the defeated and those dependent on +them. Now nothing about your age is, at first sight, more astounding to +a man of modern times than the fact that men engaged in the same +industry, instead of fraternizing as comrades and co-laborers to a +common end, should have regarded each other as rivals and enemies to be +throttled and overthrown. This certainly seems like sheer madness, a +scene from bedlam. But more closely regarded, it is seen to be no such +thing. Your contemporaries, with their mutual throat-cutting, knew very +well what they were at. The producers of the nineteenth century were +not, like ours, working together for the maintenance of the community, +but each solely for his own maintenance at the expense of the +community. If, in working to this end, he at the same time increased +the aggregate wealth, that was merely incidental. It was just as +feasible and as common to increase one's private hoard by practices +injurious to the general welfare. One's worst enemies were necessarily +those of his own trade, for, under your plan of making private profit +the motive of production, a scarcity of the article he produced was +what each particular producer desired. It was for his interest that no +more of it should be produced than he himself could produce. To secure +this consummation as far as circumstances permitted, by killing off and +discouraging those engaged in his line of industry, was his constant +effort. When he had killed off all he could, his policy was to combine +with those he could not kill, and convert their mutual warfare into a +warfare upon the public at large by cornering the market, as I believe +you used to call it, and putting up prices to the highest point people +would stand before going without the goods. The day dream of the +nineteenth century producer was to gain absolute control of the supply +of some necessity of life, so that he might keep the public at the +verge of starvation, and always command famine prices for what he +supplied. This, Mr. West, is what was called in the nineteenth century +a system of production. I will leave it to you if it does not seem, in +some of its aspects, a great deal more like a system for preventing +production. Some time when we have plenty of leisure I am going to ask +you to sit down with me and try to make me comprehend, as I never yet +could, though I have studied the matter a great deal how such shrewd +fellows as your contemporaries appear to have been in many respects +ever came to entrust the business of providing for the community to a +class whose interest it was to starve it. I assure you that the wonder +with us is, not that the world did not get rich under such a system, +but that it did not perish outright from want. This wonder increases as +we go on to consider some of the other prodigious wastes that +characterized it. +</P> + +<P> +"Apart from the waste of labor and capital by misdirected industry, and +that from the constant bloodletting of your industrial warfare, your +system was liable to periodical convulsions, overwhelming alike the +wise and unwise, the successful cut-throat as well as his victim. I +refer to the business crises at intervals of five to ten years, which +wrecked the industries of the nation, prostrating all weak enterprises +and crippling the strongest, and were followed by long periods, often +of many years, of so-called dull times, during which the capitalists +slowly regathered their dissipated strength while the laboring classes +starved and rioted. Then would ensue another brief season of +prosperity, followed in turn by another crisis and the ensuing years of +exhaustion. As commerce developed, making the nations mutually +dependent, these crises became world-wide, while the obstinacy of the +ensuing state of collapse increased with the area affected by the +convulsions, and the consequent lack of rallying centres. In proportion +as the industries of the world multiplied and became complex, and the +volume of capital involved was increased, these business cataclysms +became more frequent, till, in the latter part of the nineteenth +century, there were two years of bad times to one of good, and the +system of industry, never before so extended or so imposing, seemed in +danger of collapsing by its own weight. After endless discussions, your +economists appear by that time to have settled down to the despairing +conclusion that there was no more possibility of preventing or +controlling these crises than if they had been drouths or hurricanes. +It only remained to endure them as necessary evils, and when they had +passed over to build up again the shattered structure of industry, as +dwellers in an earthquake country keep on rebuilding their cities on +the same site. +</P> + +<P> +"So far as considering the causes of the trouble inherent in their +industrial system, your contemporaries were certainly correct. They +were in its very basis, and must needs become more and more maleficent +as the business fabric grew in size and complexity. One of these causes +was the lack of any common control of the different industries, and the +consequent impossibility of their orderly and coordinate development. +It inevitably resulted from this lack that they were continually +getting out of step with one another and out of relation with the +demand. +</P> + +<P> +"Of the latter there was no criterion such as organized distribution +gives us, and the first notice that it had been exceeded in any group +of industries was a crash of prices, bankruptcy of producers, stoppage +of production, reduction of wages, or discharge of workmen. This +process was constantly going on in many industries, even in what were +called good times, but a crisis took place only when the industries +affected were extensive. The markets then were glutted with goods, of +which nobody wanted beyond a sufficiency at any price. The wages and +profits of those making the glutted classes of goods being reduced or +wholly stopped, their purchasing power as consumers of other classes of +goods, of which there were no natural glut, was taken away, and, as a +consequence, goods of which there was no natural glut became +artificially glutted, till their prices also were broken down, and +their makers thrown out of work and deprived of income. The crisis was +by this time fairly under way, and nothing could check it till a +nation's ransom had been wasted. +</P> + +<P> +"A cause, also inherent in your system, which often produced and always +terribly aggravated crises, was the machinery of money and credit. +Money was essential when production was in many private hands, and +buying and selling was necessary to secure what one wanted. It was, +however, open to the obvious objection of substituting for food, +clothing, and other things a merely conventional representative of +them. The confusion of mind which this favored, between goods and their +representative, led the way to the credit system and its prodigious +illusions. Already accustomed to accept money for commodities, the +people next accepted promises for money, and ceased to look at all +behind the representative for the thing represented. Money was a sign +of real commodities, but credit was but the sign of a sign. There was a +natural limit to gold and silver, that is, money proper, but none to +credit, and the result was that the volume of credit, that is, the +promises of money, ceased to bear any ascertainable proportion to the +money, still less to the commodities, actually in existence. Under such +a system, frequent and periodical crises were necessitated by a law as +absolute as that which brings to the ground a structure overhanging its +centre of gravity. It was one of your fictions that the government and +the banks authorized by it alone issued money; but everybody who gave a +dollar's credit issued money to that extent, which was as good as any +to swell the circulation till the next crises. The great extension of +the credit system was a characteristic of the latter part of the +nineteenth century, and accounts largely for the almost incessant +business crises which marked that period. Perilous as credit was, you +could not dispense with its use, for, lacking any national or other +public organization of the capital of the country, it was the only +means you had for concentrating and directing it upon industrial +enterprises. It was in this way a most potent means for exaggerating +the chief peril of the private enterprise system of industry by +enabling particular industries to absorb disproportionate amounts of +the disposable capital of the country, and thus prepare disaster. +Business enterprises were always vastly in debt for advances of credit, +both to one another and to the banks and capitalists, and the prompt +withdrawal of this credit at the first sign of a crisis was generally +the precipitating cause of it. +</P> + +<P> +"It was the misfortune of your contemporaries that they had to cement +their business fabric with a material which an accident might at any +moment turn into an explosive. They were in the plight of a man +building a house with dynamite for mortar, for credit can be compared +with nothing else. +</P> + +<P> +"If you would see how needless were these convulsions of business which +I have been speaking of, and how entirely they resulted from leaving +industry to private and unorganized management, just consider the +working of our system. Overproduction in special lines, which was the +great hobgoblin of your day, is impossible now, for by the connection +between distribution and production supply is geared to demand like an +engine to the governor which regulates its speed. Even suppose by an +error of judgment an excessive production of some commodity. The +consequent slackening or cessation of production in that line throws +nobody out of employment. The suspended workers are at once found +occupation in some other department of the vast workshop and lose only +the time spent in changing, while, as for the glut, the business of the +nation is large enough to carry any amount of product manufactured in +excess of demand till the latter overtakes it. In such a case of +over-production, as I have supposed, there is not with us, as with you, +any complex machinery to get out of order and magnify a thousand times +the original mistake. Of course, having not even money, we still less +have credit. All estimates deal directly with the real things, the +flour, iron, wood, wool, and labor, of which money and credit were for +you the very misleading representatives. In our calculation of cost +there can be no mistakes. Out of the annual product the amount +necessary for the support of the people is taken, and the requisite +labor to produce the next year's consumption provided for. The residue +of the material and labor represents what can be safely expended in +improvements. If the crops are bad, the surplus for that year is less +than usual, that is all. Except for slight occasional effects of such +natural causes, there are no fluctuations of business; the material +prosperity of the nation flows on uninterruptedly from generation to +generation, like an ever broadening and deepening river. +</P> + +<P> +"Your business crises, Mr. West," continued the doctor, "like either of +the great wastes I mentioned before, were enough, alone, to have kept +your noses to the grindstone forever; but I have still to speak of one +other great cause of your poverty, and that was the idleness of a great +part of your capital and labor. With us it is the business of the +administration to keep in constant employment every ounce of available +capital and labor in the country. In your day there was no general +control of either capital or labor, and a large part of both failed to +find employment. 'Capital,' you used to say, 'is naturally timid,' and +it would certainly have been reckless if it had not been timid in an +epoch when there was a large preponderance of probability that any +particular business venture would end in failure. There was no time +when, if security could have been guaranteed it, the amount of capital +devoted to productive industry could not have been greatly increased. +The proportion of it so employed underwent constant extraordinary +fluctuations, according to the greater or less feeling of uncertainty +as to the stability of the industrial situation, so that the output of +the national industries greatly varied in different years. But for the +same reason that the amount of capital employed at times of special +insecurity was far less than at times of somewhat greater security, a +very large proportion was never employed at all, because the hazard of +business was always very great in the best of times. +</P> + +<P> +"It should be also noted that the great amount of capital always +seeking employment where tolerable safety could be insured terribly +embittered the competition between capitalists when a promising opening +presented itself. The idleness of capital, the result of its timidity, +of course meant the idleness of labor in corresponding degree. +Moreover, every change in the adjustments of business, every slightest +alteration in the condition of commerce or manufactures, not to speak +of the innumerable business failures that took place yearly, even in +the best of times, were constantly throwing a multitude of men out of +employment for periods of weeks or months, or even years. A great +number of these seekers after employment were constantly traversing the +country, becoming in time professional vagabonds, then criminals. 'Give +us work!' was the cry of an army of the unemployed at nearly all +seasons, and in seasons of dullness in business this army swelled to a +host so vast and desperate as to threaten the stability of the +government. Could there conceivably be a more conclusive demonstration +of the imbecility of the system of private enterprise as a method for +enriching a nation than the fact that, in an age of such general +poverty and want of everything, capitalists had to throttle one another +to find a safe chance to invest their capital and workmen rioted and +burned because they could find no work to do? +</P> + +<P> +"Now, Mr. West," continued Dr. Leete, "I want you to bear in mind that +these points of which I have been speaking indicate only negatively the +advantages of the national organization of industry by showing certain +fatal defects and prodigious imbecilities of the systems of private +enterprise which are not found in it. These alone, you must admit, +would pretty well explain why the nation is so much richer than in your +day. But the larger half of our advantage over you, the positive side +of it, I have yet barely spoken of. Supposing the system of private +enterprise in industry were without any of the great leaks I have +mentioned; that there were no waste on account of misdirected effort +growing out of mistakes as to the demand, and inability to command a +general view of the industrial field. Suppose, also, there were no +neutralizing and duplicating of effort from competition. Suppose, also, +there were no waste from business panics and crises through bankruptcy +and long interruptions of industry, and also none from the idleness of +capital and labor. Supposing these evils, which are essential to the +conduct of industry by capital in private hands, could all be +miraculously prevented, and the system yet retained; even then the +superiority of the results attained by the modern industrial system of +national control would remain overwhelming. +</P> + +<P> +"You used to have some pretty large textile manufacturing +establishments, even in your day, although not comparable with ours. No +doubt you have visited these great mills in your time, covering acres +of ground, employing thousands of hands, and combining under one roof, +under one control, the hundred distinct processes between, say, the +cotton bale and the bale of glossy calicoes. You have admired the vast +economy of labor as of mechanical force resulting from the perfect +interworking with the rest of every wheel and every hand. No doubt you +have reflected how much less the same force of workers employed in that +factory would accomplish if they were scattered, each man working +independently. Would you think it an exaggeration to say that the +utmost product of those workers, working thus apart, however amicable +their relations might be, was increased not merely by a percentage, but +many fold, when their efforts were organized under one control? Well +now, Mr. West, the organization of the industry of the nation under a +single control, so that all its processes interlock, has multiplied the +total product over the utmost that could be done under the former +system, even leaving out of account the four great wastes mentioned, in +the same proportion that the product of those millworkers was increased +by cooperation. The effectiveness of the working force of a nation, +under the myriad-headed leadership of private capital, even if the +leaders were not mutual enemies, as compared with that which it attains +under a single head, may be likened to the military efficiency of a +mob, or a horde of barbarians with a thousand petty chiefs, as compared +with that of a disciplined army under one general—such a fighting +machine, for example, as the German army in the time of Von Moltke." +</P> + +<P> +"After what you have told me," I said, "I do not so much wonder that +the nation is richer now than then, but that you are not all Croesuses." +</P> + +<P> +"Well," replied Dr. Leete, "we are pretty well off. The rate at which +we live is as luxurious as we could wish. The rivalry of ostentation, +which in your day led to extravagance in no way conducive to comfort, +finds no place, of course, in a society of people absolutely equal in +resources, and our ambition stops at the surroundings which minister to +the enjoyment of life. We might, indeed, have much larger incomes, +individually, if we chose so to use the surplus of our product, but we +prefer to expend it upon public works and pleasures in which all share, +upon public halls and buildings, art galleries, bridges, statuary, +means of transit, and the conveniences of our cities, great musical and +theatrical exhibitions, and in providing on a vast scale for the +recreations of the people. You have not begun to see how we live yet, +Mr. West. At home we have comfort, but the splendor of our life is, on +its social side, that which we share with our fellows. When you know +more of it you will see where the money goes, as you used to say, and I +think you will agree that we do well so to expend it." +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose," observed Dr. Leete, as we strolled homeward from the +dining hall, "that no reflection would have cut the men of your +wealth-worshiping century more keenly than the suggestion that they did +not know how to make money. Nevertheless that is just the verdict +history has passed on them. Their system of unorganized and +antagonistic industries was as absurd economically as it was morally +abominable. Selfishness was their only science, and in industrial +production selfishness is suicide. Competition, which is the instinct +of selfishness, is another word for dissipation of energy, while +combination is the secret of efficient production; and not till the +idea of increasing the individual hoard gives place to the idea of +increasing the common stock can industrial combination be realized, and +the acquisition of wealth really begin. Even if the principle of share +and share alike for all men were not the only humane and rational basis +for a society, we should still enforce it as economically expedient, +seeing that until the disintegrating influence of self-seeking is +suppressed no true concert of industry is possible." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap23"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Chapter 23 +</H3> + +<P> +That evening, as I sat with Edith in the music room, listening to some +pieces in the programme of that day which had attracted my notice, I +took advantage of an interval in the music to say, "I have a question +to ask you which I fear is rather indiscreet." +</P> + +<P> +"I am quite sure it is not that," she replied, encouragingly. +</P> + +<P> +"I am in the position of an eavesdropper," I continued, "who, having +overheard a little of a matter not intended for him, though seeming to +concern him, has the impudence to come to the speaker for the rest." +</P> + +<P> +"An eavesdropper!" she repeated, looking puzzled. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," I said, "but an excusable one, as I think you will admit." +</P> + +<P> +"This is very mysterious," she replied. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," said I, "so mysterious that often I have doubted whether I +really overheard at all what I am going to ask you about, or only +dreamed it. I want you to tell me. The matter is this: When I was +coming out of that sleep of a century, the first impression of which I +was conscious was of voices talking around me, voices that afterwards I +recognized as your father's, your mother's, and your own. First, I +remember your father's voice saying, "He is going to open his eyes. He +had better see but one person at first." Then you said, if I did not +dream it all, "Promise me, then, that you will not tell him." Your +father seemed to hesitate about promising, but you insisted, and your +mother interposing, he finally promised, and when I opened my eyes I +saw only him." +</P> + +<P> +I had been quite serious when I said that I was not sure that I had not +dreamed the conversation I fancied I had overheard, so incomprehensible +was it that these people should know anything of me, a contemporary of +their great-grandparents, which I did not know myself. But when I saw +the effect of my words upon Edith, I knew that it was no dream, but +another mystery, and a more puzzling one than any I had before +encountered. For from the moment that the drift of my question became +apparent, she showed indications of the most acute embarrassment. Her +eyes, always so frank and direct in expression, had dropped in a panic +before mine, while her face crimsoned from neck to forehead. +</P> + +<P> +"Pardon me," I said, as soon as I had recovered from bewilderment at +the extraordinary effect of my words. "It seems, then, that I was not +dreaming. There is some secret, something about me, which you are +withholding from me. Really, doesn't it seem a little hard that a +person in my position should not be given all the information possible +concerning himself?" +</P> + +<P> +"It does not concern you—that is, not directly. It is not about you +exactly," she replied, scarcely audibly. +</P> + +<P> +"But it concerns me in some way," I persisted. "It must be something +that would interest me." +</P> + +<P> +"I don't know even that," she replied, venturing a momentary glance at +my face, furiously blushing, and yet with a quaint smile flickering +about her lips which betrayed a certain perception of humor in the +situation despite its embarrassment,—"I am not sure that it would even +interest you." +</P> + +<P> +"Your father would have told me," I insisted, with an accent of +reproach. "It was you who forbade him. He thought I ought to know." +</P> + +<P> +She did not reply. She was so entirely charming in her confusion that I +was now prompted, as much by the desire to prolong the situation as by +my original curiosity, to importune her further. +</P> + +<P> +"Am I never to know? Will you never tell me?" I said. +</P> + +<P> +"It depends," she answered, after a long pause. +</P> + +<P> +"On what?" I persisted. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, you ask too much," she replied. Then, raising to mine a face which +inscrutable eyes, flushed cheeks, and smiling lips combined to render +perfectly bewitching, she added, "What should you think if I said that +it depended on—yourself?" +</P> + +<P> +"On myself?" I echoed. "How can that possibly be?" +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. West, we are losing some charming music," was her only reply to +this, and turning to the telephone, at a touch of her finger she set +the air to swaying to the rhythm of an adagio. After that she took good +care that the music should leave no opportunity for conversation. She +kept her face averted from me, and pretended to be absorbed in the +airs, but that it was a mere pretense the crimson tide standing at +flood in her cheeks sufficiently betrayed. +</P> + +<P> +When at length she suggested that I might have heard all I cared to, +for that time, and we rose to leave the room, she came straight up to +me and said, without raising her eyes, "Mr. West, you say I have been +good to you. I have not been particularly so, but if you think I have, +I want you to promise me that you will not try again to make me tell +you this thing you have asked to-night, and that you will not try to +find it out from any one else,—my father or mother, for instance." +</P> + +<P> +To such an appeal there was but one reply possible. "Forgive me for +distressing you. Of course I will promise," I said. "I would never have +asked you if I had fancied it could distress you. But do you blame me +for being curious?" +</P> + +<P> +"I do not blame you at all." +</P> + +<P> +"And some time," I added, "if I do not tease you, you may tell me of +your own accord. May I not hope so?" +</P> + +<P> +"Perhaps," she murmured. +</P> + +<P> +"Only perhaps?" +</P> + +<P> +Looking up, she read my face with a quick, deep glance. "Yes," she +said, "I think I may tell you—some time": and so our conversation +ended, for she gave me no chance to say anything more. +</P> + +<P> +That night I don't think even Dr. Pillsbury could have put me to sleep, +till toward morning at least. Mysteries had been my accustomed food for +days now, but none had before confronted me at once so mysterious and +so fascinating as this, the solution of which Edith Leete had forbidden +me even to seek. It was a double mystery. How, in the first place, was +it conceivable that she should know any secret about me, a stranger +from a strange age? In the second place, even if she should know such a +secret, how account for the agitating effect which the knowledge of it +seemed to have upon her? There are puzzles so difficult that one cannot +even get so far as a conjecture as to the solution, and this seemed one +of them. I am usually of too practical a turn to waste time on such +conundrums; but the difficulty of a riddle embodied in a beautiful +young girl does not detract from its fascination. In general, no doubt, +maidens' blushes may be safely assumed to tell the same tale to young +men in all ages and races, but to give that interpretation to Edith's +crimson cheeks would, considering my position and the length of time I +had known her, and still more the fact that this mystery dated from +before I had known her at all, be a piece of utter fatuity. And yet she +was an angel, and I should not have been a young man if reason and +common sense had been able quite to banish a roseate tinge from my +dreams that night. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap24"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Chapter 24 +</H3> + +<P> +In the morning I went down stairs early in the hope of seeing Edith +alone. In this, however, I was disappointed. Not finding her in the +house, I sought her in the garden, but she was not there. In the course +of my wanderings I visited the underground chamber, and sat down there +to rest. Upon the reading table in the chamber several periodicals and +newspapers lay, and thinking that Dr. Leete might be interested in +glancing over a Boston daily of 1887, I brought one of the papers with +me into the house when I came. +</P> + +<P> +At breakfast I met Edith. She blushed as she greeted me, but was +perfectly self-possessed. As we sat at table, Dr. Leete amused himself +with looking over the paper I had brought in. There was in it, as in +all the newspapers of that date, a great deal about the labor troubles, +strikes, lockouts, boycotts, the programmes of labor parties, and the +wild threats of the anarchists. +</P> + +<P> +"By the way," said I, as the doctor read aloud to us some of these +items, "what part did the followers of the red flag take in the +establishment of the new order of things? They were making considerable +noise the last thing that I knew." +</P> + +<P> +"They had nothing to do with it except to hinder it, of course," +replied Dr. Leete. "They did that very effectually while they lasted, +for their talk so disgusted people as to deprive the best considered +projects for social reform of a hearing. The subsidizing of those +fellows was one of the shrewdest moves of the opponents of reform." +</P> + +<P> +"Subsidizing them!" I exclaimed in astonishment. +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly," replied Dr. Leete. "No historical authority nowadays +doubts that they were paid by the great monopolies to wave the red flag +and talk about burning, sacking, and blowing people up, in order, by +alarming the timid, to head off any real reforms. What astonishes me +most is that you should have fallen into the trap so unsuspectingly." +</P> + +<P> +"What are your grounds for believing that the red flag party was +subsidized?" I inquired. +</P> + +<P> +"Why simply because they must have seen that their course made a +thousand enemies of their professed cause to one friend. Not to suppose +that they were hired for the work is to credit them with an +inconceivable folly.[1] In the United States, of all countries, no +party could intelligently expect to carry its point without first +winning over to its ideas a majority of the nation, as the national +party eventually did." +</P> + +<P> +"The national party!" I exclaimed. "That must have arisen after my day. +I suppose it was one of the labor parties." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh no!" replied the doctor. "The labor parties, as such, never could +have accomplished anything on a large or permanent scale. For purposes +of national scope, their basis as merely class organizations was too +narrow. It was not till a rearrangement of the industrial and social +system on a higher ethical basis, and for the more efficient production +of wealth, was recognized as the interest, not of one class, but +equally of all classes, of rich and poor, cultured and ignorant, old +and young, weak and strong, men and women, that there was any prospect +that it would be achieved. Then the national party arose to carry it +out by political methods. It probably took that name because its aim +was to nationalize the functions of production and distribution. +Indeed, it could not well have had any other name, for its purpose was +to realize the idea of the nation with a grandeur and completeness +never before conceived, not as an association of men for certain merely +political functions affecting their happiness only remotely and +superficially, but as a family, a vital union, a common life, a mighty +heaven-touching tree whose leaves are its people, fed from its veins, +and feeding it in turn. The most patriotic of all possible parties, it +sought to justify patriotism and raise it from an instinct to a +rational devotion, by making the native land truly a father land, a +father who kept the people alive and was not merely an idol for which +they were expected to die." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="footnote"> +[1] I fully admit the difficulty of accounting for the course of the +anarchists on any other theory than that they were subsidized by the +capitalists, but at the same time, there is no doubt that the theory is +wholly erroneous. It certainly was not held at the time by any one, +though it may seem so obvious in the retrospect. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap25"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Chapter 25 +</H3> + +<P> +The personality of Edith Leete had naturally impressed me strongly ever +since I had come, in so strange a manner, to be an inmate of her +father's house, and it was to be expected that after what had happened +the night previous, I should be more than ever preoccupied with +thoughts of her. From the first I had been struck with the air of +serene frankness and ingenuous directness, more like that of a noble +and innocent boy than any girl I had ever known, which characterized +her. I was curious to know how far this charming quality might be +peculiar to herself, and how far possibly a result of alterations in +the social position of women which might have taken place since my +time. Finding an opportunity that day, when alone with Dr. Leete, I +turned the conversation in that direction. +</P> + +<P> +"I suppose," I said, "that women nowadays, having been relieved of the +burden of housework, have no employment but the cultivation of their +charms and graces." +</P> + +<P> +"So far as we men are concerned," replied Dr. Leete, "we should +consider that they amply paid their way, to use one of your forms of +expression, if they confined themselves to that occupation, but you may +be very sure that they have quite too much spirit to consent to be mere +beneficiaries of society, even as a return for ornamenting it. They +did, indeed, welcome their riddance from housework, because that was +not only exceptionally wearing in itself, but also wasteful, in the +extreme, of energy, as compared with the cooperative plan; but they +accepted relief from that sort of work only that they might contribute +in other and more effectual, as well as more agreeable, ways to the +common weal. Our women, as well as our men, are members of the +industrial army, and leave it only when maternal duties claim them. The +result is that most women, at one time or another of their lives, serve +industrially some five or ten or fifteen years, while those who have no +children fill out the full term." +</P> + +<P> +"A woman does not, then, necessarily leave the industrial service on +marriage?" I queried. +</P> + +<P> +"No more than a man," replied the doctor. "Why on earth should she? +Married women have no housekeeping responsibilities now, you know, and +a husband is not a baby that he should be cared for." +</P> + +<P> +"It was thought one of the most grievous features of our civilization +that we required so much toil from women," I said; "but it seems to me +you get more out of them than we did." +</P> + +<P> +Dr. Leete laughed. "Indeed we do, just as we do out of our men. Yet the +women of this age are very happy, and those of the nineteenth century, +unless contemporary references greatly mislead us, were very miserable. +The reason that women nowadays are so much more efficient colaborers +with the men, and at the same time are so happy, is that, in regard to +their work as well as men's, we follow the principle of providing every +one the kind of occupation he or she is best adapted to. Women being +inferior in strength to men, and further disqualified industrially in +special ways, the kinds of occupation reserved for them, and the +conditions under which they pursue them, have reference to these facts. +The heavier sorts of work are everywhere reserved for men, the lighter +occupations for women. Under no circumstances is a woman permitted to +follow any employment not perfectly adapted, both as to kind and degree +of labor, to her sex. Moreover, the hours of women's work are +considerably shorter than those of men's, more frequent vacations are +granted, and the most careful provision is made for rest when needed. +The men of this day so well appreciate that they owe to the beauty and +grace of women the chief zest of their lives and their main incentive +to effort, that they permit them to work at all only because it is +fully understood that a certain regular requirement of labor, of a sort +adapted to their powers, is well for body and mind, during the period +of maximum physical vigor. We believe that the magnificent health which +distinguishes our women from those of your day, who seem to have been +so generally sickly, is owing largely to the fact that all alike are +furnished with healthful and inspiriting occupation." +</P> + +<P> +"I understood you," I said, "that the women-workers belong to the army +of industry, but how can they be under the same system of ranking and +discipline with the men, when the conditions of their labor are so +different?" +</P> + +<P> +"They are under an entirely different discipline," replied Dr. Leete, +"and constitute rather an allied force than an integral part of the +army of the men. They have a woman general-in-chief and are under +exclusively feminine regime. This general, as also the higher officers, +is chosen by the body of women who have passed the time of service, in +correspondence with the manner in which the chiefs of the masculine +army and the President of the nation are elected. The general of the +women's army sits in the cabinet of the President and has a veto on +measures respecting women's work, pending appeals to Congress. I should +have said, in speaking of the judiciary, that we have women on the +bench, appointed by the general of the women, as well as men. Causes in +which both parties are women are determined by women judges, and where +a man and a woman are parties to a case, a judge of either sex must +consent to the verdict." +</P> + +<P> +"Womanhood seems to be organized as a sort of imperium in imperio in +your system," I said. +</P> + +<P> +"To some extent," Dr. Leete replied; "but the inner imperium is one +from which you will admit there is not likely to be much danger to the +nation. The lack of some such recognition of the distinct individuality +of the sexes was one of the innumerable defects of your society. The +passional attraction between men and women has too often prevented a +perception of the profound differences which make the members of each +sex in many things strange to the other, and capable of sympathy only +with their own. It is in giving full play to the differences of sex +rather than in seeking to obliterate them, as was apparently the effort +of some reformers in your day, that the enjoyment of each by itself and +the piquancy which each has for the other, are alike enhanced. In your +day there was no career for women except in an unnatural rivalry with +men. We have given them a world of their own, with its emulations, +ambitions, and careers, and I assure you they are very happy in it. It +seems to us that women were more than any other class the victims of +your civilization. There is something which, even at this distance of +time, penetrates one with pathos in the spectacle of their ennuied, +undeveloped lives, stunted at marriage, their narrow horizon, bounded +so often, physically, by the four walls of home, and morally by a petty +circle of personal interests. I speak now, not of the poorer classes, +who were generally worked to death, but also of the well-to-do and +rich. From the great sorrows, as well as the petty frets of life, they +had no refuge in the breezy outdoor world of human affairs, nor any +interests save those of the family. Such an existence would have +softened men's brains or driven them mad. All that is changed to-day. +No woman is heard nowadays wishing she were a man, nor parents desiring +boy rather than girl children. Our girls are as full of ambition for +their careers as our boys. Marriage, when it comes, does not mean +incarceration for them, nor does it separate them in any way from the +larger interests of society, the bustling life of the world. Only when +maternity fills a woman's mind with new interests does she withdraw +from the world for a time. Afterward, and at any time, she may return +to her place among her comrades, nor need she ever lose touch with +them. Women are a very happy race nowadays, as compared with what they +ever were before in the world's history, and their power of giving +happiness to men has been of course increased in proportion." +</P> + +<P> +"I should imagine it possible," I said, "that the interest which girls +take in their careers as members of the industrial army and candidates +for its distinctions might have an effect to deter them from marriage." +</P> + +<P> +Dr. Leete smiled. "Have no anxiety on that score, Mr. West," he +replied. "The Creator took very good care that whatever other +modifications the dispositions of men and women might with time take +on, their attraction for each other should remain constant. The mere +fact that in an age like yours, when the struggle for existence must +have left people little time for other thoughts, and the future was so +uncertain that to assume parental responsibilities must have often +seemed like a criminal risk, there was even then marrying and giving in +marriage, should be conclusive on this point. As for love nowadays, one +of our authors says that the vacuum left in the minds of men and women +by the absence of care for one's livelihood has been entirely taken up +by the tender passion. That, however, I beg you to believe, is +something of an exaggestion. For the rest, so far is marriage from +being an interference with a woman's career, that the higher positions +in the feminine army of industry are intrusted only to women who have +been both wives and mothers, as they alone fully represent their sex." +</P> + +<P> +"Are credit cards issued to the women just as to the men?" +</P> + +<P> +"Certainly." +</P> + +<P> +"The credits of the women, I suppose, are for smaller sums, owing to +the frequent suspension of their labor on account of family +responsibilities." +</P> + +<P> +"Smaller!" exclaimed Dr. Leete, "oh, no! The maintenance of all our +people is the same. There are no exceptions to that rule, but if any +difference were made on account of the interruptions you speak of, it +would be by making the woman's credit larger, not smaller. Can you +think of any service constituting a stronger claim on the nation's +gratitude than bearing and nursing the nation's children? According to +our view, none deserve so well of the world as good parents. There is +no task so unselfish, so necessarily without return, though the heart +is well rewarded, as the nurture of the children who are to make the +world for one another when we are gone." +</P> + +<P> +"It would seem to follow, from what you have said, that wives are in no +way dependent on their husbands for maintenance." +</P> + +<P> +"Of course they are not," replied Dr. Leete, "nor children on their +parents either, that is, for means of support, though of course they +are for the offices of affection. The child's labor, when he grows up, +will go to increase the common stock, not his parents', who will be +dead, and therefore he is properly nurtured out of the common stock. +The account of every person, man, woman, and child, you must +understand, is always with the nation directly, and never through any +intermediary, except, of course, that parents, to a certain extent, act +for children as their guardians. You see that it is by virtue of the +relation of individuals to the nation, of their membership in it, that +they are entitled to support; and this title is in no way connected +with or affected by their relations to other individuals who are fellow +members of the nation with them. That any person should be dependent +for the means of support upon another would be shocking to the moral +sense as well as indefensible on any rational social theory. What would +become of personal liberty and dignity under such an arrangement? I am +aware that you called yourselves free in the nineteenth century. The +meaning of the word could not then, however, have been at all what it +is at present, or you certainly would not have applied it to a society +of which nearly every member was in a position of galling personal +dependence upon others as to the very means of life, the poor upon the +rich, or employed upon employer, women upon men, children upon parents. +Instead of distributing the product of the nation directly to its +members, which would seem the most natural and obvious method, it would +actually appear that you had given your minds to devising a plan of +hand to hand distribution, involving the maximum of personal +humiliation to all classes of recipients. +</P> + +<P> +"As regards the dependence of women upon men for support, which then +was usual, of course, natural attraction in case of marriages of love +may often have made it endurable, though for spirited women I should +fancy it must always have remained humiliating. What, then, must it +have been in the innumerable cases where women, with or without the +form of marriage, had to sell themselves to men to get their living? +Even your contemporaries, callous as they were to most of the revolting +aspects of their society, seem to have had an idea that this was not +quite as it should be; but, it was still only for pity's sake that they +deplored the lot of the women. It did not occur to them that it was +robbery as well as cruelty when men seized for themselves the whole +product of the world and left women to beg and wheedle for their share. +Why—but bless me, Mr. West, I am really running on at a remarkable +rate, just as if the robbery, the sorrow, and the shame which those +poor women endured were not over a century since, or as if you were +responsible for what you no doubt deplored as much as I do." +</P> + +<P> +"I must bear my share of responsibility for the world as it then was," +I replied. "All I can say in extenuation is that until the nation was +ripe for the present system of organized production and distribution, +no radical improvement in the position of woman was possible. The root +of her disability, as you say, was her personal dependence upon man for +her livelihood, and I can imagine no other mode of social organization +than that you have adopted, which would have set woman free of man at +the same time that it set men free of one another. I suppose, by the +way, that so entire a change in the position of women cannot have taken +place without affecting in marked ways the social relations of the +sexes. That will be a very interesting study for me." +</P> + +<P> +"The change you will observe," said Dr. Leete, "will chiefly be, I +think, the entire frankness and unconstraint which now characterizes +those relations, as compared with the artificiality which seems to have +marked them in your time. The sexes now meet with the ease of perfect +equals, suitors to each other for nothing but love. In your time the +fact that women were dependent for support on men made the woman in +reality the one chiefly benefited by marriage. This fact, so far as we +can judge from contemporary records, appears to have been coarsely +enough recognized among the lower classes, while among the more +polished it was glossed over by a system of elaborate conventionalities +which aimed to carry the precisely opposite meaning, namely, that the +man was the party chiefly benefited. To keep up this convention it was +essential that he should always seem the suitor. Nothing was therefore +considered more shocking to the proprieties than that a woman should +betray a fondness for a man before he had indicated a desire to marry +her. Why, we actually have in our libraries books, by authors of your +day, written for no other purpose than to discuss the question whether, +under any conceivable circumstances, a woman might, without discredit +to her sex, reveal an unsolicited love. All this seems exquisitely +absurd to us, and yet we know that, given your circumstances, the +problem might have a serious side. When for a woman to proffer her love +to a man was in effect to invite him to assume the burden of her +support, it is easy to see that pride and delicacy might well have +checked the promptings of the heart. When you go out into our society, +Mr. West, you must be prepared to be often cross-questioned on this +point by our young people, who are naturally much interested in this +aspect of old-fashioned manners."[1] +</P> + +<P> +"And so the girls of the twentieth century tell their love." +</P> + +<P> +"If they choose," replied Dr. Leete. "There is no more pretense of a +concealment of feeling on their part than on the part of their lovers. +Coquetry would be as much despised in a girl as in a man. Affected +coldness, which in your day rarely deceived a lover, would deceive him +wholly now, for no one thinks of practicing it." +</P> + +<P> +"One result which must follow from the independence of women I can see +for myself," I said. "There can be no marriages now except those of +inclination." +</P> + +<P> +"That is a matter of course," replied Dr. Leete. +</P> + +<P> +"Think of a world in which there are nothing but matches of pure love! +Ah me, Dr. Leete, how far you are from being able to understand what an +astonishing phenomenon such a world seems to a man of the nineteenth +century!" +</P> + +<P> +"I can, however, to some extent, imagine it," replied the doctor. "But +the fact you celebrate, that there are nothing but love matches, means +even more, perhaps, than you probably at first realize. It means that +for the first time in human history the principle of sexual selection, +with its tendency to preserve and transmit the better types of the +race, and let the inferior types drop out, has unhindered operation. +The necessities of poverty, the need of having a home, no longer tempt +women to accept as the fathers of their children men whom they neither +can love nor respect. Wealth and rank no longer divert attention from +personal qualities. Gold no longer 'gilds the straitened forehead of +the fool.' The gifts of person, mind, and disposition; beauty, wit, +eloquence, kindness, generosity, geniality, courage, are sure of +transmission to posterity. Every generation is sifted through a little +finer mesh than the last. The attributes that human nature admires are +preserved, those that repel it are left behind. There are, of course, a +great many women who with love must mingle admiration, and seek to wed +greatly, but these not the less obey the same law, for to wed greatly +now is not to marry men of fortune or title, but those who have risen +above their fellows by the solidity or brilliance of their services to +humanity. These form nowadays the only aristocracy with which alliance +is distinction. +</P> + +<P> +"You were speaking, a day or two ago, of the physical superiority of +our people to your contemporaries. Perhaps more important than any of +the causes I mentioned then as tending to race purification has been +the effect of untrammeled sexual selection upon the quality of two or +three successive generations. I believe that when you have made a +fuller study of our people you will find in them not only a physical, +but a mental and moral improvement. It would be strange if it were not +so, for not only is one of the great laws of nature now freely working +out the salvation of the race, but a profound moral sentiment has come +to its support. Individualism, which in your day was the animating idea +of society, not only was fatal to any vital sentiment of brotherhood +and common interest among living men, but equally to any realization of +the responsibility of the living for the generation to follow. To-day +this sense of responsibility, practically unrecognized in all previous +ages, has become one of the great ethical ideas of the race, +reinforcing, with an intense conviction of duty, the natural impulse to +seek in marriage the best and noblest of the other sex. The result is, +that not all the encouragements and incentives of every sort which we +have provided to develop industry, talent, genius, excellence of +whatever kind, are comparable in their effect on our young men with the +fact that our women sit aloft as judges of the race and reserve +themselves to reward the winners. Of all the whips, and spurs, and +baits, and prizes, there is none like the thought of the radiant faces +which the laggards will find averted. +</P> + +<P> +"Celibates nowadays are almost invariably men who have failed to acquit +themselves creditably in the work of life. The woman must be a +courageous one, with a very evil sort of courage, too, whom pity for +one of these unfortunates should lead to defy the opinion of her +generation—for otherwise she is free—so far as to accept him for a +husband. I should add that, more exacting and difficult to resist than +any other element in that opinion, she would find the sentiment of her +own sex. Our women have risen to the full height of their +responsibility as the wardens of the world to come, to whose keeping +the keys of the future are confided. Their feeling of duty in this +respect amounts to a sense of religious consecration. It is a cult in +which they educate their daughters from childhood." +</P> + +<P> +After going to my room that night, I sat up late to read a romance of +Berrian, handed me by Dr. Leete, the plot of which turned on a +situation suggested by his last words, concerning the modern view of +parental responsibility. A similar situation would almost certainly +have been treated by a nineteenth century romancist so as to excite the +morbid sympathy of the reader with the sentimental selfishness of the +lovers, and his resentment toward the unwritten law which they +outraged. I need not describe—for who has not read "Ruth Elton"?—how +different is the course which Berrian takes, and with what tremendous +effect he enforces the principle which he states: "Over the unborn our +power is that of God, and our responsibility like His toward us. As we +acquit ourselves toward them, so let Him deal with us." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="footnote"> +[1] I may say that Dr. Leete's warning has been fully justified by my +experience. The amount and intensity of amusement which the young +people of this day, and the young women especially, are able to extract +from what they are pleased to call the oddities of courtship in the +nineteenth century, appear unlimited. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap26"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Chapter 26 +</H3> + +<P> +I think if a person were ever excusable for losing track of the days of +the week, the circumstances excused me. Indeed, if I had been told that +the method of reckoning time had been wholly changed and the days were +now counted in lots of five, ten, or fifteen instead of seven, I should +have been in no way surprised after what I had already heard and seen +of the twentieth century. The first time that any inquiry as to the +days of the week occurred to me was the morning following the +conversation related in the last chapter. At the breakfast table Dr. +Leete asked me if I would care to hear a sermon. +</P> + +<P> +"Is it Sunday, then?" I exclaimed. +</P> + +<P> +"Yes," he replied. "It was on Friday, you see, when we made the lucky +discovery of the buried chamber to which we owe your society this +morning. It was on Saturday morning, soon after midnight, that you +first awoke, and Sunday afternoon when you awoke the second time with +faculties fully regained." +</P> + +<P> +"So you still have Sundays and sermons," I said. "We had prophets who +foretold that long before this time the world would have dispensed with +both. I am very curious to know how the ecclesiastical systems fit in +with the rest of your social arrangements. I suppose you have a sort of +national church with official clergymen." +</P> + +<P> +Dr. Leete laughed, and Mrs. Leete and Edith seemed greatly amused. +</P> + +<P> +"Why, Mr. West," Edith said, "what odd people you must think us. You +were quite done with national religious establishments in the +nineteenth century, and did you fancy we had gone back to them?" +</P> + +<P> +"But how can voluntary churches and an unofficial clerical profession +be reconciled with national ownership of all buildings, and the +industrial service required of all men?" I answered. +</P> + +<P> +"The religious practices of the people have naturally changed +considerably in a century," replied Dr. Leete; "but supposing them to +have remained unchanged, our social system would accommodate them +perfectly. The nation supplies any person or number of persons with +buildings on guarantee of the rent, and they remain tenants while they +pay it. As for the clergymen, if a number of persons wish the services +of an individual for any particular end of their own, apart from the +general service of the nation, they can always secure it, with that +individual's own consent, of course, just as we secure the service of +our editors, by contributing from their credit cards an indemnity to +the nation for the loss of his services in general industry. This +indemnity paid the nation for the individual answers to the salary in +your day paid to the individual himself; and the various applications +of this principle leave private initiative full play in all details to +which national control is not applicable. Now, as to hearing a sermon +to-day, if you wish to do so, you can either go to a church to hear it +or stay at home." +</P> + +<P> +"How am I to hear it if I stay at home?" +</P> + +<P> +"Simply by accompanying us to the music room at the proper hour and +selecting an easy chair. There are some who still prefer to hear +sermons in church, but most of our preaching, like our musical +performances, is not in public, but delivered in acoustically prepared +chambers, connected by wire with subscribers' houses. If you prefer to +go to a church I shall be glad to accompany you, but I really don't +believe you are likely to hear anywhere a better discourse than you +will at home. I see by the paper that Mr. Barton is to preach this +morning, and he preaches only by telephone, and to audiences often +reaching 150,000." +</P> + +<P> +"The novelty of the experience of hearing a sermon under such +circumstances would incline me to be one of Mr. Barton's hearers, if +for no other reason," I said. +</P> + +<P> +An hour or two later, as I sat reading in the library, Edith came for +me, and I followed her to the music room, where Dr. and Mrs. Leete were +waiting. We had not more than seated ourselves comfortably when the +tinkle of a bell was heard, and a few moments after the voice of a man, +at the pitch of ordinary conversation, addressed us, with an effect of +proceeding from an invisible person in the room. This was what the +voice said: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P CLASS="noindent"> +MR. BARTON'S SERMON +</P> + +<P> +"We have had among us, during the past week, a critic from the +nineteenth century, a living representative of the epoch of our +great-grandparents. It would be strange if a fact so extraordinary had +not somewhat strongly affected our imaginations. Perhaps most of us +have been stimulated to some effort to realize the society of a century +ago, and figure to ourselves what it must have been like to live then. +In inviting you now to consider certain reflections upon this subject +which have occurred to me, I presume that I shall rather follow than +divert the course of your own thoughts." +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +Edith whispered something to her father at this point, to which he +nodded assent and turned to me. +</P> + +<P> +"Mr. West," he said, "Edith suggests that you may find it slightly +embarrassing to listen to a discourse on the lines Mr. Barton is laying +down, and if so, you need not be cheated out of a sermon. She will +connect us with Mr. Sweetser's speaking room if you say so, and I can +still promise you a very good discourse." +</P> + +<P> +"No, no," I said. "Believe me, I would much rather hear what Mr. Barton +has to say." +</P> + +<P> +"As you please," replied my host. +</P> + +<P> +When her father spoke to me Edith had touched a screw, and the voice of +Mr. Barton had ceased abruptly. Now at another touch the room was once +more filled with the earnest sympathetic tones which had already +impressed me most favorably. +</P> + +<P> +"I venture to assume that one effect has been common with us as a +result of this effort at retrospection, and that it has been to leave +us more than ever amazed at the stupendous change which one brief +century has made in the material and moral conditions of humanity. +</P> + +<P> +"Still, as regards the contrast between the poverty of the nation and +the world in the nineteenth century and their wealth now, it is not +greater, possibly, than had been before seen in human history, perhaps +not greater, for example, than that between the poverty of this country +during the earliest colonial period of the seventeenth century and the +relatively great wealth it had attained at the close of the nineteenth, +or between the England of William the Conqueror and that of Victoria. +Although the aggregate riches of a nation did not then, as now, afford +any accurate criterion of the masses of its people, yet instances like +these afford partial parallels for the merely material side of the +contrast between the nineteenth and the twentieth centuries. It is when +we contemplate the moral aspect of that contrast that we find ourselves +in the presence of a phenomenon for which history offers no precedent, +however far back we may cast our eye. One might almost be excused who +should exclaim, 'Here, surely, is something like a miracle!' +Nevertheless, when we give over idle wonder, and begin to examine the +seeming prodigy critically, we find it no prodigy at all, much less a +miracle. It is not necessary to suppose a moral new birth of humanity, +or a wholesale destruction of the wicked and survival of the good, to +account for the fact before us. It finds its simple and obvious +explanation in the reaction of a changed environment upon human nature. +It means merely that a form of society which was founded on the pseudo +self-interest of selfishness, and appealed solely to the anti-social +and brutal side of human nature, has been replaced by institutions +based on the true self-interest of a rational unselfishness, and +appealing to the social and generous instincts of men. +</P> + +<P> +"My friends, if you would see men again the beasts of prey they seemed +in the nineteenth century, all you have to do is to restore the old +social and industrial system, which taught them to view their natural +prey in their fellow-men, and find their gain in the loss of others. No +doubt it seems to you that no necessity, however dire, would have +tempted you to subsist on what superior skill or strength enabled you +to wrest from others equally needy. But suppose it were not merely your +own life that you were responsible for. I know well that there must +have been many a man among our ancestors who, if it had been merely a +question of his own life, would sooner have given it up than nourished +it by bread snatched from others. But this he was not permitted to do. +He had dear lives dependent on him. Men loved women in those days, as +now. God knows how they dared be fathers, but they had babies as sweet, +no doubt, to them as ours to us, whom they must feed, clothe, educate. +The gentlest creatures are fierce when they have young to provide for, +and in that wolfish society the struggle for bread borrowed a peculiar +desperation from the tenderest sentiments. For the sake of those +dependent on him, a man might not choose, but must plunge into the foul +fight—cheat, overreach, supplant, defraud, buy below worth and sell +above, break down the business by which his neighbor fed his young +ones, tempt men to buy what they ought not and to sell what they should +not, grind his laborers, sweat his debtors, cozen his creditors. Though +a man sought it carefully with tears, it was hard to find a way in +which he could earn a living and provide for his family except by +pressing in before some weaker rival and taking the food from his +mouth. Even the ministers of religion were not exempt from this cruel +necessity. While they warned their flocks against the love of money, +regard for their families compelled them to keep an outlook for the +pecuniary prizes of their calling. Poor fellows, theirs was indeed a +trying business, preaching to men a generosity and unselfishness which +they and everybody knew would, in the existing state of the world, +reduce to poverty those who should practice them, laying down laws of +conduct which the law of self-preservation compelled men to break. +Looking on the inhuman spectacle of society, these worthy men bitterly +bemoaned the depravity of human nature; as if angelic nature would not +have been debauched in such a devil's school! Ah, my friends, believe +me, it is not now in this happy age that humanity is proving the +divinity within it. It was rather in those evil days when not even the +fight for life with one another, the struggle for mere existence, in +which mercy was folly, could wholly banish generosity and kindness from +the earth. +</P> + +<P> +"It is not hard to understand the desperation with which men and women, +who under other conditions would have been full of gentleness and +truth, fought and tore each other in the scramble for gold, when we +realize what it meant to miss it, what poverty was in that day. For the +body it was hunger and thirst, torment by heat and frost, in sickness +neglect, in health unremitting toil; for the moral nature it meant +oppression, contempt, and the patient endurance of indignity, brutish +associations from infancy, the loss of all the innocence of childhood, +the grace of womanhood, the dignity of manhood; for the mind it meant +the death of ignorance, the torpor of all those faculties which +distinguish us from brutes, the reduction of life to a round of bodily +functions. +</P> + +<P> +"Ah, my friends, if such a fate as this were offered you and your +children as the only alternative of success in the accumulation of +wealth, how long do you fancy would you be in sinking to the moral +level of your ancestors? +</P> + +<P> +"Some two or three centuries ago an act of barbarity was committed in +India, which, though the number of lives destroyed was but a few score, +was attended by such peculiar horrors that its memory is likely to be +perpetual. A number of English prisoners were shut up in a room +containing not enough air to supply one-tenth their number. The +unfortunates were gallant men, devoted comrades in service, but, as the +agonies of suffocation began to take hold on them, they forgot all +else, and became involved in a hideous struggle, each one for himself, +and against all others, to force a way to one of the small apertures of +the prison at which alone it was possible to get a breath of air. It +was a struggle in which men became beasts, and the recital of its +horrors by the few survivors so shocked our forefathers that for a +century later we find it a stock reference in their literature as a +typical illustration of the extreme possibilities of human misery, as +shocking in its moral as its physical aspect. They could scarcely have +anticipated that to us the Black Hole of Calcutta, with its press of +maddened men tearing and trampling one another in the struggle to win a +place at the breathing holes, would seem a striking type of the society +of their age. It lacked something of being a complete type, however, +for in the Calcutta Black Hole there were no tender women, no little +children and old men and women, no cripples. They were at least all +men, strong to bear, who suffered. +</P> + +<P> +"When we reflect that the ancient order of which I have been speaking +was prevalent up to the end of the nineteenth century, while to us the +new order which succeeded it already seems antique, even our parents +having known no other, we cannot fail to be astounded at the suddenness +with which a transition so profound beyond all previous experience of +the race must have been effected. Some observation of the state of +men's minds during the last quarter of the nineteenth century will, +however, in great measure, dissipate this astonishment. Though general +intelligence in the modern sense could not be said to exist in any +community at that time, yet, as compared with previous generations, the +one then on the stage was intelligent. The inevitable consequence of +even this comparative degree of intelligence had been a perception of +the evils of society, such as had never before been general. It is +quite true that these evils had been even worse, much worse, in +previous ages. It was the increased intelligence of the masses which +made the difference, as the dawn reveals the squalor of surroundings +which in the darkness may have seemed tolerable. The key-note of the +literature of the period was one of compassion for the poor and +unfortunate, and indignant outcry against the failure of the social +machinery to ameliorate the miseries of men. It is plain from these +outbursts that the moral hideousness of the spectacle about them was, +at least by flashes, fully realized by the best of the men of that +time, and that the lives of some of the more sensitive and generous +hearted of them were rendered well nigh unendurable by the intensity of +their sympathies. +</P> + +<P> +"Although the idea of the vital unity of the family of mankind, the +reality of human brotherhood, was very far from being apprehended by +them as the moral axiom it seems to us, yet it is a mistake to suppose +that there was no feeling at all corresponding to it. I could read you +passages of great beauty from some of their writers which show that the +conception was clearly attained by a few, and no doubt vaguely by many +more. Moreover, it must not be forgotten that the nineteenth century +was in name Christian, and the fact that the entire commercial and +industrial frame of society was the embodiment of the anti-Christian +spirit must have had some weight, though I admit it was strangely +little, with the nominal followers of Jesus Christ. +</P> + +<P> +"When we inquire why it did not have more, why, in general, long after +a vast majority of men had agreed as to the crying abuses of the +existing social arrangement, they still tolerated it, or contented +themselves with talking of petty reforms in it, we come upon an +extraordinary fact. It was the sincere belief of even the best of men +at that epoch that the only stable elements in human nature, on which a +social system could be safely founded, were its worst propensities. +They had been taught and believed that greed and self-seeking were all +that held mankind together, and that all human associations would fall +to pieces if anything were done to blunt the edge of these motives or +curb their operation. In a word, they believed—even those who longed +to believe otherwise—the exact reverse of what seems to us +self-evident; they believed, that is, that the anti-social qualities of +men, and not their social qualities, were what furnished the cohesive +force of society. It seemed reasonable to them that men lived together +solely for the purpose of overreaching and oppressing one another, and +of being overreached and oppressed, and that while a society that gave +full scope to these propensities could stand, there would be little +chance for one based on the idea of cooperation for the benefit of all. +It seems absurd to expect any one to believe that convictions like +these were ever seriously entertained by men; but that they were not +only entertained by our great-grandfathers, but were responsible for +the long delay in doing away with the ancient order, after a conviction +of its intolerable abuses had become general, is as well established as +any fact in history can be. Just here you will find the explanation of +the profound pessimism of the literature of the last quarter of the +nineteenth century, the note of melancholy in its poetry, and the +cynicism of its humor. +</P> + +<P> +"Feeling that the condition of the race was unendurable, they had no +clear hope of anything better. They believed that the evolution of +humanity had resulted in leading it into a cul de sac, and that there +was no way of getting forward. The frame of men's minds at this time is +strikingly illustrated by treatises which have come down to us, and may +even now be consulted in our libraries by the curious, in which +laborious arguments are pursued to prove that despite the evil plight +of men, life was still, by some slight preponderance of considerations, +probably better worth living than leaving. Despising themselves, they +despised their Creator. There was a general decay of religious belief. +Pale and watery gleams, from skies thickly veiled by doubt and dread, +alone lighted up the chaos of earth. That men should doubt Him whose +breath is in their nostrils, or dread the hands that moulded them, +seems to us indeed a pitiable insanity; but we must remember that +children who are brave by day have sometimes foolish fears at night. +The dawn has come since then. It is very easy to believe in the +fatherhood of God in the twentieth century. +</P> + +<P> +"Briefly, as must needs be in a discourse of this character, I have +adverted to some of the causes which had prepared men's minds for the +change from the old to the new order, as well as some causes of the +conservatism of despair which for a while held it back after the time +was ripe. To wonder at the rapidity with which the change was completed +after its possibility was first entertained is to forget the +intoxicating effect of hope upon minds long accustomed to despair. The +sunburst, after so long and dark a night, must needs have had a +dazzling effect. From the moment men allowed themselves to believe that +humanity after all had not been meant for a dwarf, that its squat +stature was not the measure of its possible growth, but that it stood +upon the verge of an avatar of limitless development, the reaction must +needs have been overwhelming. It is evident that nothing was able to +stand against the enthusiasm which the new faith inspired. +</P> + +<P> +"Here, at last, men must have felt, was a cause compared with which the +grandest of historic causes had been trivial. It was doubtless because +it could have commanded millions of martyrs, that none were needed. The +change of a dynasty in a petty kingdom of the old world often cost more +lives than did the revolution which set the feet of the human race at +last in the right way. +</P> + +<P> +"Doubtless it ill beseems one to whom the boon of life in our +resplendent age has been vouchsafed to wish his destiny other, and yet +I have often thought that I would fain exchange my share in this serene +and golden day for a place in that stormy epoch of transition, when +heroes burst the barred gate of the future and revealed to the kindling +gaze of a hopeless race, in place of the blank wall that had closed its +path, a vista of progress whose end, for very excess of light, still +dazzles us. Ah, my friends! who will say that to have lived then, when +the weakest influence was a lever to whose touch the centuries +trembled, was not worth a share even in this era of fruition? +</P> + +<P> +"You know the story of that last, greatest, and most bloodless of +revolutions. In the time of one generation men laid aside the social +traditions and practices of barbarians, and assumed a social order +worthy of rational and human beings. Ceasing to be predatory in their +habits, they became co-workers, and found in fraternity, at once, the +science of wealth and happiness. 'What shall I eat and drink, and +wherewithal shall I be clothed?' stated as a problem beginning and +ending in self, had been an anxious and an endless one. But when once +it was conceived, not from the individual, but the fraternal +standpoint, 'What shall we eat and drink, and wherewithal shall we be +clothed?'—its difficulties vanished. +</P> + +<P> +"Poverty with servitude had been the result, for the mass of humanity, +of attempting to solve the problem of maintenance from the individual +standpoint, but no sooner had the nation become the sole capitalist and +employer than not alone did plenty replace poverty, but the last +vestige of the serfdom of man to man disappeared from earth. Human +slavery, so often vainly scotched, at last was killed. The means of +subsistence no longer doled out by men to women, by employer to +employed, by rich to poor, was distributed from a common stock as among +children at the father's table. It was impossible for a man any longer +to use his fellow-men as tools for his own profit. His esteem was the +only sort of gain he could thenceforth make out of him. There was no +more either arrogance or servility in the relations of human beings to +one another. For the first time since the creation every man stood up +straight before God. The fear of want and the lust of gain became +extinct motives when abundance was assured to all and immoderate +possessions made impossible of attainment. There were no more beggars +nor almoners. Equity left charity without an occupation. The ten +commandments became well nigh obsolete in a world where there was no +temptation to theft, no occasion to lie either for fear or favor, no +room for envy where all were equal, and little provocation to violence +where men were disarmed of power to injure one another. Humanity's +ancient dream of liberty, equality, fraternity, mocked by so many ages, +at last was realized. +</P> + +<P> +"As in the old society the generous, the just, the tender-hearted had +been placed at a disadvantage by the possession of those qualities; so +in the new society the cold-hearted, the greedy, and self-seeking found +themselves out of joint with the world. Now that the conditions of life +for the first time ceased to operate as a forcing process to develop +the brutal qualities of human nature, and the premium which had +heretofore encouraged selfishness was not only removed, but placed upon +unselfishness, it was for the first time possible to see what +unperverted human nature really was like. The depraved tendencies, +which had previously overgrown and obscured the better to so large an +extent, now withered like cellar fungi in the open air, and the nobler +qualities showed a sudden luxuriance which turned cynics into +panegyrists and for the first time in human history tempted mankind to +fall in love with itself. Soon was fully revealed, what the divines and +philosophers of the old world never would have believed, that human +nature in its essential qualities is good, not bad, that men by their +natural intention and structure are generous, not selfish, pitiful, not +cruel, sympathetic, not arrogant, godlike in aspirations, instinct with +divinest impulses of tenderness and self-sacrifice, images of God +indeed, not the travesties upon Him they had seemed. The constant +pressure, through numberless generations, of conditions of life which +might have perverted angels, had not been able to essentially alter the +natural nobility of the stock, and these conditions once removed, like +a bent tree, it had sprung back to its normal uprightness. +</P> + +<P> +"To put the whole matter in the nutshell of a parable, let me compare +humanity in the olden time to a rosebush planted in a swamp, watered +with black bog-water, breathing miasmatic fogs by day, and chilled with +poison dews at night. Innumerable generations of gardeners had done +their best to make it bloom, but beyond an occasional half-opened bud +with a worm at the heart, their efforts had been unsuccessful. Many, +indeed, claimed that the bush was no rosebush at all, but a noxious +shrub, fit only to be uprooted and burned. The gardeners, for the most +part, however, held that the bush belonged to the rose family, but had +some ineradicable taint about it, which prevented the buds from coming +out, and accounted for its generally sickly condition. There were a +few, indeed, who maintained that the stock was good enough, that the +trouble was in the bog, and that under more favorable conditions the +plant might be expected to do better. But these persons were not +regular gardeners, and being condemned by the latter as mere theorists +and day dreamers, were, for the most part, so regarded by the people. +Moreover, urged some eminent moral philosophers, even conceding for the +sake of the argument that the bush might possibly do better elsewhere, +it was a more valuable discipline for the buds to try to bloom in a bog +than it would be under more favorable conditions. The buds that +succeeded in opening might indeed be very rare, and the flowers pale +and scentless, but they represented far more moral effort than if they +had bloomed spontaneously in a garden. +</P> + +<P> +"The regular gardeners and the moral philosophers had their way. The +bush remained rooted in the bog, and the old course of treatment went +on. Continually new varieties of forcing mixtures were applied to the +roots, and more recipes than could be numbered, each declared by its +advocates the best and only suitable preparation, were used to kill the +vermin and remove the mildew. This went on a very long time. +Occasionally some one claimed to observe a slight improvement in the +appearance of the bush, but there were quite as many who declared that +it did not look so well as it used to. On the whole there could not be +said to be any marked change. Finally, during a period of general +despondency as to the prospects of the bush where it was, the idea of +transplanting it was again mooted, and this time found favor. 'Let us +try it,' was the general voice. 'Perhaps it may thrive better +elsewhere, and here it is certainly doubtful if it be worth cultivating +longer.' So it came about that the rosebush of humanity was +transplanted, and set in sweet, warm, dry earth, where the sun bathed +it, the stars wooed it, and the south wind caressed it. Then it +appeared that it was indeed a rosebush. The vermin and the mildew +disappeared, and the bush was covered with most beautiful red roses, +whose fragrance filled the world. +</P> + +<P> +"It is a pledge of the destiny appointed for us that the Creator has +set in our hearts an infinite standard of achievement, judged by which +our past attainments seem always insignificant, and the goal never +nearer. Had our forefathers conceived a state of society in which men +should live together like brethren dwelling in unity, without strifes +or envying, violence or overreaching, and where, at the price of a +degree of labor not greater than health demands, in their chosen +occupations, they should be wholly freed from care for the morrow and +left with no more concern for their livelihood than trees which are +watered by unfailing streams,—had they conceived such a condition, I +say, it would have seemed to them nothing less than paradise. They +would have confounded it with their idea of heaven, nor dreamed that +there could possibly lie further beyond anything to be desired or +striven for. +</P> + +<P> +"But how is it with us who stand on this height which they gazed up to? +Already we have well nigh forgotten, except when it is especially +called to our minds by some occasion like the present, that it was not +always with men as it is now. It is a strain on our imaginations to +conceive the social arrangements of our immediate ancestors. We find +them grotesque. The solution of the problem of physical maintenance so +as to banish care and crime, so far from seeming to us an ultimate +attainment, appears but as a preliminary to anything like real human +progress. We have but relieved ourselves of an impertinent and needless +harassment which hindered our ancestor from undertaking the real ends +of existence. We are merely stripped for the race; no more. We are like +a child which has just learned to stand upright and to walk. It is a +great event, from the child's point of view, when he first walks. +Perhaps he fancies that there can be little beyond that achievement, +but a year later he has forgotten that he could not always walk. His +horizon did but widen when he rose, and enlarge as he moved. A great +event indeed, in one sense, was his first step, but only as a +beginning, not as the end. His true career was but then first entered +on. The enfranchisement of humanity in the last century, from mental +and physical absorption in working and scheming for the mere bodily +necessities, may be regarded as a species of second birth of the race, +without which its first birth to an existence that was but a burden +would forever have remained unjustified, but whereby it is now +abundantly vindicated. Since then, humanity has entered on a new phase +of spiritual development, an evolution of higher faculties, the very +existence of which in human nature our ancestors scarcely suspected. In +place of the dreary hopelessness of the nineteenth century, its +profound pessimism as to the future of humanity, the animating idea of +the present age is an enthusiastic conception of the opportunities of +our earthly existence, and the unbounded possibilities of human nature. +The betterment of mankind from generation to generation, physically, +mentally, morally, is recognized as the one great object supremely +worthy of effort and of sacrifice. We believe the race for the first +time to have entered on the realization of God's ideal of it, and each +generation must now be a step upward. +</P> + +<P> +"Do you ask what we look for when unnumbered generations shall have +passed away? I answer, the way stretches far before us, but the end is +lost in light. For twofold is the return of man to God 'who is our +home,' the return of the individual by the way of death, and the return +of the race by the fulfillment of the evolution, when the divine secret +hidden in the germ shall be perfectly unfolded. With a tear for the +dark past, turn we then to the dazzling future, and, veiling our eyes, +press forward. The long and weary winter of the race is ended. Its +summer has begun. Humanity has burst the chrysalis. The heavens are +before it." +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap27"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Chapter 27 +</H3> + +<P> +I never could tell just why, but Sunday afternoon during my old life +had been a time when I was peculiarly subject to melancholy, when the +color unaccountably faded out of all the aspects of life, and +everything appeared pathetically uninteresting. The hours, which in +general were wont to bear me easily on their wings, lost the power of +flight, and toward the close of the day, drooping quite to earth, had +fairly to be dragged along by main strength. Perhaps it was partly +owing to the established association of ideas that, despite the utter +change in my circumstances, I fell into a state of profound depression +on the afternoon of this my first Sunday in the twentieth century. +</P> + +<P> +It was not, however, on the present occasion a depression without +specific cause, the mere vague melancholy I have spoken of, but a +sentiment suggested and certainly quite justified by my position. The +sermon of Mr. Barton, with its constant implication of the vast moral +gap between the century to which I belonged and that in which I found +myself, had had an effect strongly to accentuate my sense of loneliness +in it. Considerately and philosophically as he had spoken, his words +could scarcely have failed to leave upon my mind a strong impression of +the mingled pity, curiosity, and aversion which I, as a representative +of an abhorred epoch, must excite in all around me. +</P> + +<P> +The extraordinary kindness with which I had been treated by Dr. Leete +and his family, and especially the goodness of Edith, had hitherto +prevented my fully realizing that their real sentiment toward me must +necessarily be that of the whole generation to which they belonged. The +recognition of this, as regarded Dr. Leete and his amiable wife, +however painful, I might have endured, but the conviction that Edith +must share their feeling was more than I could bear. +</P> + +<P> +The crushing effect with which this belated perception of a fact so +obvious came to me opened my eyes fully to something which perhaps the +reader has already suspected,—I loved Edith. +</P> + +<P> +Was it strange that I did? The affecting occasion on which our intimacy +had begun, when her hands had drawn me out of the whirlpool of madness; +the fact that her sympathy was the vital breath which had set me up in +this new life and enabled me to support it; my habit of looking to her +as the mediator between me and the world around in a sense that even +her father was not,—these were circumstances that had predetermined a +result which her remarkable loveliness of person and disposition would +alone have accounted for. It was quite inevitable that she should have +come to seem to me, in a sense quite different from the usual +experience of lovers, the only woman in this world. Now that I had +become suddenly sensible of the fatuity of the hopes I had begun to +cherish, I suffered not merely what another lover might, but in +addition a desolate loneliness, an utter forlornness, such as no other +lover, however unhappy, could have felt. +</P> + +<P> +My hosts evidently saw that I was depressed in spirits, and did their +best to divert me. Edith especially, I could see, was distressed for +me, but according to the usual perversity of lovers, having once been +so mad as to dream of receiving something more from her, there was no +longer any virtue for me in a kindness that I knew was only sympathy. +</P> + +<P> +Toward nightfall, after secluding myself in my room most of the +afternoon, I went into the garden to walk about. The day was overcast, +with an autumnal flavor in the warm, still air. Finding myself near the +excavation, I entered the subterranean chamber and sat down there. +"This," I muttered to myself, "is the only home I have. Let me stay +here, and not go forth any more." Seeking aid from the familiar +surroundings, I endeavored to find a sad sort of consolation in +reviving the past and summoning up the forms and faces that were about +me in my former life. It was in vain. There was no longer any life in +them. For nearly one hundred years the stars had been looking down on +Edith Bartlett's grave, and the graves of all my generation. +</P> + +<P> +The past was dead, crushed beneath a century's weight, and from the +present I was shut out. There was no place for me anywhere. I was +neither dead nor properly alive. +</P> + +<P> +"Forgive me for following you." +</P> + +<P> +I looked up. Edith stood in the door of the subterranean room, +regarding me smilingly, but with eyes full of sympathetic distress. +</P> + +<P> +"Send me away if I am intruding on you," she said; "but we saw that you +were out of spirits, and you know you promised to let me know if that +were so. You have not kept your word." +</P> + +<P> +I rose and came to the door, trying to smile, but making, I fancy, +rather sorry work of it, for the sight of her loveliness brought home +to me the more poignantly the cause of my wretchedness. +</P> + +<P> +"I was feeling a little lonely, that is all," I said. "Has it never +occurred to you that my position is so much more utterly alone than any +human being's ever was before that a new word is really needed to +describe it?" +</P> + +<P> +"Oh, you must not talk that way—you must not let yourself feel that +way—you must not!" she exclaimed, with moistened eyes. "Are we not +your friends? It is your own fault if you will not let us be. You need +not be lonely." +</P> + +<P> +"You are good to me beyond my power of understanding," I said, "but +don't you suppose that I know it is pity merely, sweet pity, but pity +only. I should be a fool not to know that I cannot seem to you as other +men of your own generation do, but as some strange uncanny being, a +stranded creature of an unknown sea, whose forlornness touches your +compassion despite its grotesqueness. I have been so foolish, you were +so kind, as to almost forget that this must needs be so, and to fancy I +might in time become naturalized, as we used to say, in this age, so as +to feel like one of you and to seem to you like the other men about +you. But Mr. Barton's sermon taught me how vain such a fancy is, how +great the gulf between us must seem to you." +</P> + +<P> +"Oh that miserable sermon!" she exclaimed, fairly crying now in her +sympathy, "I wanted you not to hear it. What does he know of you? He +has read in old musty books about your times, that is all. What do you +care about him, to let yourself be vexed by anything he said? Isn't it +anything to you, that we who know you feel differently? Don't you care +more about what we think of you than what he does who never saw you? +Oh, Mr. West! you don't know, you can't think, how it makes me feel to +see you so forlorn. I can't have it so. What can I say to you? How can +I convince you how different our feeling for you is from what you +think?" +</P> + +<P> +As before, in that other crisis of my fate when she had come to me, she +extended her hands toward me in a gesture of helpfulness, and, as then, +I caught and held them in my own; her bosom heaved with strong emotion, +and little tremors in the fingers which I clasped emphasized the depth +of her feeling. In her face, pity contended in a sort of divine spite +against the obstacles which reduced it to impotence. Womanly compassion +surely never wore a guise more lovely. +</P> + +<P> +Such beauty and such goodness quite melted me, and it seemed that the +only fitting response I could make was to tell her just the truth. Of +course I had not a spark of hope, but on the other hand I had no fear +that she would be angry. She was too pitiful for that. So I said +presently, "It is very ungrateful in me not to be satisfied with such +kindness as you have shown me, and are showing me now. But are you so +blind as not to see why they are not enough to make me happy? Don't you +see that it is because I have been mad enough to love you?" +</P> + +<P> +At my last words she blushed deeply and her eyes fell before mine, but +she made no effort to withdraw her hands from my clasp. For some +moments she stood so, panting a little. Then blushing deeper than ever, +but with a dazzling smile, she looked up. +</P> + +<P> +"Are you sure it is not you who are blind?" she said. +</P> + +<P> +That was all, but it was enough, for it told me that, unaccountable, +incredible as it was, this radiant daughter of a golden age had +bestowed upon me not alone her pity, but her love. Still, I half +believed I must be under some blissful hallucination even as I clasped +her in my arms. "If I am beside myself," I cried, "let me remain so." +</P> + +<P> +"It is I whom you must think beside myself," she panted, escaping from +my arms when I had barely tasted the sweetness of her lips. "Oh! oh! +what must you think of me almost to throw myself in the arms of one I +have known but a week? I did not mean that you should find it out so +soon, but I was so sorry for you I forgot what I was saying. No, no; +you must not touch me again till you know who I am. After that, sir, +you shall apologize to me very humbly for thinking, as I know you do, +that I have been over quick to fall in love with you. After you know +who I am, you will be bound to confess that it was nothing less than my +duty to fall in love with you at first sight, and that no girl of +proper feeling in my place could do otherwise." +</P> + +<P> +As may be supposed, I would have been quite content to waive +explanations, but Edith was resolute that there should be no more +kisses until she had been vindicated from all suspicion of precipitancy +in the bestowal of her affections, and I was fain to follow the lovely +enigma into the house. Having come where her mother was, she blushingly +whispered something in her ear and ran away, leaving us together. +</P> + +<P> +It then appeared that, strange as my experience had been, I was now +first to know what was perhaps its strangest feature. From Mrs. Leete I +learned that Edith was the great-granddaughter of no other than my lost +love, Edith Bartlett. After mourning me for fourteen years, she had +made a marriage of esteem, and left a son who had been Mrs. Leete's +father. Mrs. Leete had never seen her grandmother, but had heard much +of her, and, when her daughter was born, gave her the name of Edith. +This fact might have tended to increase the interest which the girl +took, as she grew up, in all that concerned her ancestress, and +especially the tragic story of the supposed death of the lover, whose +wife she expected to be, in the conflagration of his house. It was a +tale well calculated to touch the sympathy of a romantic girl, and the +fact that the blood of the unfortunate heroine was in her own veins +naturally heightened Edith's interest in it. A portrait of Edith +Bartlett and some of her papers, including a packet of my own letters, +were among the family heirlooms. The picture represented a very +beautiful young woman about whom it was easy to imagine all manner of +tender and romantic things. My letters gave Edith some material for +forming a distinct idea of my personality, and both together sufficed +to make the sad old story very real to her. She used to tell her +parents, half jestingly, that she would never marry till she found a +lover like Julian West, and there were none such nowadays. +</P> + +<P> +Now all this, of course, was merely the daydreaming of a girl whose +mind had never been taken up by a love affair of her own, and would +have had no serious consequence but for the discovery that morning of +the buried vault in her father's garden and the revelation of the +identity of its inmate. For when the apparently lifeless form had been +borne into the house, the face in the locket found upon the breast was +instantly recognized as that of Edith Bartlett, and by that fact, taken +in connection with the other circumstances, they knew that I was no +other than Julian West. Even had there been no thought, as at first +there was not, of my resuscitation, Mrs. Leete said she believed that +this event would have affected her daughter in a critical and life-long +manner. The presumption of some subtle ordering of destiny, involving +her fate with mine, would under all circumstances have possessed an +irresistible fascination for almost any woman. +</P> + +<P> +Whether when I came back to life a few hours afterward, and from the +first seemed to turn to her with a peculiar dependence and to find a +special solace in her company, she had been too quick in giving her +love at the first sign of mine, I could now, her mother said, judge for +myself. If I thought so, I must remember that this, after all, was the +twentieth and not the nineteenth century, and love was, no doubt, now +quicker in growth, as well as franker in utterance than then. +</P> + +<P> +From Mrs. Leete I went to Edith. When I found her, it was first of all +to take her by both hands and stand a long time in rapt contemplation +of her face. As I gazed, the memory of that other Edith, which had been +affected as with a benumbing shock by the tremendous experience that +had parted us, revived, and my heart was dissolved with tender and +pitiful emotions, but also very blissful ones. For she who brought to +me so poignantly the sense of my loss was to make that loss good. It +was as if from her eyes Edith Bartlett looked into mine, and smiled +consolation to me. My fate was not alone the strangest, but the most +fortunate that ever befell a man. A double miracle had been wrought for +me. I had not been stranded upon the shore of this strange world to +find myself alone and companionless. My love, whom I had dreamed lost, +had been reembodied for my consolation. When at last, in an ecstasy of +gratitude and tenderness, I folded the lovely girl in my arms, the two +Ediths were blended in my thought, nor have they ever since been +clearly distinguished. I was not long in finding that on Edith's part +there was a corresponding confusion of identities. Never, surely, was +there between freshly united lovers a stranger talk than ours that +afternoon. She seemed more anxious to have me speak of Edith Bartlett +than of herself, of how I had loved her than how I loved herself, +rewarding my fond words concerning another woman with tears and tender +smiles and pressures of the hand. +</P> + +<P> +"You must not love me too much for myself," she said. "I shall be very +jealous for her. I shall not let you forget her. I am going to tell you +something which you may think strange. Do you not believe that spirits +sometimes come back to the world to fulfill some work that lay near +their hearts? What if I were to tell you that I have sometimes thought +that her spirit lives in me—that Edith Bartlett, not Edith Leete, is +my real name. I cannot know it; of course none of us can know who we +really are; but I can feel it. Can you wonder that I have such a +feeling, seeing how my life was affected by her and by you, even before +you came. So you see you need not trouble to love me at all, if only +you are true to her. I shall not be likely to be jealous." +</P> + +<P> +Dr. Leete had gone out that afternoon, and I did not have an interview +with him till later. He was not, apparently, wholly unprepared for the +intelligence I conveyed, and shook my hand heartily. +</P> + +<P> +"Under any ordinary circumstances, Mr. West, I should say that this +step had been taken on rather short acquaintance; but these are +decidedly not ordinary circumstances. In fairness, perhaps I ought to +tell you," he added smilingly, "that while I cheerfully consent to the +proposed arrangement, you must not feel too much indebted to me, as I +judge my consent is a mere formality. From the moment the secret of the +locket was out, it had to be, I fancy. Why, bless me, if Edith had not +been there to redeem her great-grandmother's pledge, I really apprehend +that Mrs. Leete's loyalty to me would have suffered a severe strain." +</P> + +<P> +That evening the garden was bathed in moonlight, and till midnight +Edith and I wandered to and fro there, trying to grow accustomed to our +happiness. +</P> + +<P> +"What should I have done if you had not cared for me?" she exclaimed. +"I was afraid you were not going to. What should I have done then, when +I felt I was consecrated to you! As soon as you came back to life, I +was as sure as if she had told me that I was to be to you what she +could not be, but that could only be if you would let me. Oh, how I +wanted to tell you that morning, when you felt so terribly strange +among us, who I was, but dared not open my lips about that, or let +father or mother——" +</P> + +<P> +"That must have been what you would not let your father tell me!" I +exclaimed, referring to the conversation I had overheard as I came out +of my trance. +</P> + +<P> +"Of course it was," Edith laughed. "Did you only just guess that? +Father being only a man, thought that it would make you feel among +friends to tell you who we were. He did not think of me at all. But +mother knew what I meant, and so I had my way. I could never have +looked you in the face if you had known who I was. It would have been +forcing myself on you quite too boldly. I am afraid you think I did +that to-day, as it was. I am sure I did not mean to, for I know girls +were expected to hide their feelings in your day, and I was dreadfully +afraid of shocking you. Ah me, how hard it must have been for them to +have always had to conceal their love like a fault. Why did they think +it such a shame to love any one till they had been given permission? It +is so odd to think of waiting for permission to fall in love. Was it +because men in those days were angry when girls loved them? That is not +the way women would feel, I am sure, or men either, I think, now. I +don't understand it at all. That will be one of the curious things +about the women of those days that you will have to explain to me. I +don't believe Edith Bartlett was so foolish as the others." +</P> + +<P> +After sundry ineffectual attempts at parting, she finally insisted that +we must say good night. I was about to imprint upon her lips the +positively last kiss, when she said, with an indescribable archness: +</P> + +<P> +"One thing troubles me. Are you sure that you quite forgive Edith +Bartlett for marrying any one else? The books that have come down to us +make out lovers of your time more jealous than fond, and that is what +makes me ask. It would be a great relief to me if I could feel sure +that you were not in the least jealous of my great-grandfather for +marrying your sweetheart. May I tell my great-grandmother's picture +when I go to my room that you quite forgive her for proving false to +you?" +</P> + +<P> +Will the reader believe it, this coquettish quip, whether the speaker +herself had any idea of it or not, actually touched and with the +touching cured a preposterous ache of something like jealousy which I +had been vaguely conscious of ever since Mrs. Leete had told me of +Edith Bartlett's marriage. Even while I had been holding Edith +Bartlett's great-granddaughter in my arms, I had not, till this moment, +so illogical are some of our feelings, distinctly realized that but for +that marriage I could not have done so. The absurdity of this frame of +mind could only be equalled by the abruptness with which it dissolved +as Edith's roguish query cleared the fog from my perceptions. I laughed +as I kissed her. +</P> + +<P> +"You may assure her of my entire forgiveness," I said, "although if it +had been any man but your great-grandfather whom she married, it would +have been a very different matter." +</P> + +<P> +On reaching my chamber that night I did not open the musical telephone +that I might be lulled to sleep with soothing tunes, as had become my +habit. For once my thoughts made better music than even twentieth +century orchestras discourse, and it held me enchanted till well toward +morning, when I fell asleep. +</P> + +<BR><BR><BR> + +<A NAME="chap28"></A> +<H3 ALIGN="center"> +Chapter 28 +</H3> + +<P> +"It's a little after the time you told me to wake you, sir. You did not +come out of it as quick as common, sir." +</P> + +<P> +The voice was the voice of my man Sawyer. I started bolt upright in bed +and stared around. I was in my underground chamber. The mellow light of +the lamp which always burned in the room when I occupied it illumined +the familiar walls and furnishings. By my bedside, with the glass of +sherry in his hand which Dr. Pillsbury prescribed on first rousing from +a mesmeric sleep, by way of awakening the torpid physical functions, +stood Sawyer. +</P> + +<P> +"Better take this right off, sir," he said, as I stared blankly at him. +"You look kind of flushed like, sir, and you need it." +</P> + +<P> +I tossed off the liquor and began to realize what had happened to me. +It was, of course, very plain. All that about the twentieth century had +been a dream. I had but dreamed of that enlightened and care-free race +of men and their ingeniously simple institutions, of the glorious new +Boston with its domes and pinnacles, its gardens and fountains, and its +universal reign of comfort. The amiable family which I had learned to +know so well, my genial host and Mentor, Dr. Leete, his wife, and their +daughter, the second and more beauteous Edith, my betrothed—these, +too, had been but figments of a vision. +</P> + +<P> +For a considerable time I remained in the attitude in which this +conviction had come over me, sitting up in bed gazing at vacancy, +absorbed in recalling the scenes and incidents of my fantastic +experience. Sawyer, alarmed at my looks, was meanwhile anxiously +inquiring what was the matter with me. Roused at length by his +importunities to a recognition of my surroundings, I pulled myself +together with an effort and assured the faithful fellow that I was all +right. "I have had an extraordinary dream, that's all, Sawyer," I said, +"a most-ex-traor-dinary dream." +</P> + +<P> +I dressed in a mechanical way, feeling light-headed and oddly uncertain +of myself, and sat down to the coffee and rolls which Sawyer was in the +habit of providing for my refreshment before I left the house. The +morning newspaper lay by the plate. I took it up, and my eye fell on +the date, May 31, 1887. I had known, of course, from the moment I +opened my eyes that my long and detailed experience in another century +had been a dream, and yet it was startling to have it so conclusively +demonstrated that the world was but a few hours older than when I had +lain down to sleep. +</P> + +<P> +Glancing at the table of contents at the head of the paper, which +reviewed the news of the morning, I read the following summary: +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +FOREIGN AFFAIRS.—The impending war between France and Germany. The +French Chambers asked for new military credits to meet Germany's +increase of her army. Probability that all Europe will be involved in +case of war.—Great suffering among the unemployed in London. They +demand work. Monster demonstration to be made. The authorities +uneasy.—Great strikes in Belgium. The government preparing to repress +outbreaks. Shocking facts in regard to the employment of girls in +Belgium coal mines.—Wholesale evictions in Ireland. +</P> + +<P> +"HOME AFFAIRS.—The epidemic of fraud unchecked. Embezzlement of half a +million in New York.—Misappropriation of a trust fund by executors. +Orphans left penniless.—Clever system of thefts by a bank teller; +$50,000 gone.—The coal barons decide to advance the price of coal and +reduce production.—Speculators engineering a great wheat corner at +Chicago.—A clique forcing up the price of coffee.—Enormous land-grabs +of Western syndicates.—Revelations of shocking corruption among +Chicago officials. Systematic bribery.—The trials of the Boodle +aldermen to go on at New York.—Large failures of business houses. +Fears of a business crisis.—A large grist of burglaries and +larcenies.—A woman murdered in cold blood for her money at New +Haven.—A householder shot by a burglar in this city last night.—A man +shoots himself in Worcester because he could not get work. A large +family left destitute.—An aged couple in New Jersey commit suicide +rather than go to the poor-house.—Pitiable destitution among the women +wage-workers in the great cities.—Startling growth of illiteracy in +Massachusetts.—More insane asylums wanted.—Decoration Day addresses. +Professor Brown's oration on the moral grandeur of nineteenth century +civilization." +</P> + +<P> +It was indeed the nineteenth century to which I had awaked; there could +be no kind of doubt about that. Its complete microcosm this summary of +the day's news had presented, even to that last unmistakable touch of +fatuous self-complacency. Coming after such a damning indictment of the +age as that one day's chronicle of world-wide bloodshed, greed, and +tyranny, was a bit of cynicism worthy of Mephistopheles, and yet of all +whose eyes it had met this morning I was, perhaps, the only one who +perceived the cynicism, and but yesterday I should have perceived it no +more than the others. That strange dream it was which had made all the +difference. For I know not how long, I forgot my surroundings after +this, and was again in fancy moving in that vivid dream-world, in that +glorious city, with its homes of simple comfort and its gorgeous public +palaces. Around me were again faces unmarred by arrogance or servility, +by envy or greed, by anxious care or feverish ambition, and stately +forms of men and women who had never known fear of a fellow man or +depended on his favor, but always, in the words of that sermon which +still rang in my ears, had "stood up straight before God." +</P> + +<P> +With a profound sigh and a sense of irreparable loss, not the less +poignant that it was a loss of what had never really been, I roused at +last from my reverie, and soon after left the house. +</P> + +<P> +A dozen times between my door and Washington Street I had to stop and +pull myself together, such power had been in that vision of the Boston +of the future to make the real Boston strange. The squalor and +malodorousness of the town struck me, from the moment I stood upon the +street, as facts I had never before observed. But yesterday, moreover, +it had seemed quite a matter of course that some of my fellow-citizens +should wear silks, and others rags, that some should look well fed, and +others hungry. Now on the contrary the glaring disparities in the dress +and condition of the men and women who brushed each other on the +sidewalks shocked me at every step, and yet more the entire +indifference which the prosperous showed to the plight of the +unfortunate. Were these human beings, who could behold the wretchedness +of their fellows without so much as a change of countenance? And yet, +all the while, I knew well that it was I who had changed, and not my +contemporaries. I had dreamed of a city whose people fared all alike as +children of one family and were one another's keepers in all things. +</P> + +<P> +Another feature of the real Boston, which assumed the extraordinary +effect of strangeness that marks familiar things seen in a new light, +was the prevalence of advertising. There had been no personal +advertising in the Boston of the twentieth century, because there was +no need of any, but here the walls of the buildings, the windows, the +broadsides of the newspapers in every hand, the very pavements, +everything in fact in sight, save the sky, were covered with the +appeals of individuals who sought, under innumerable pretexts, to +attract the contributions of others to their support. However the +wording might vary, the tenor of all these appeals was the same: +</P> + +<P> +"Help John Jones. Never mind the rest. They are frauds. I, John Jones, +am the right one. Buy of me. Employ me. Visit me. Hear me, John Jones. +Look at me. Make no mistake, John Jones is the man and nobody else. Let +the rest starve, but for God's sake remember John Jones!" +</P> + +<P> +Whether the pathos or the moral repulsiveness of the spectacle most +impressed me, so suddenly become a stranger in my own city, I know not. +Wretched men, I was moved to cry, who, because they will not learn to +be helpers of one another, are doomed to be beggars of one another from +the least to the greatest! This horrible babel of shameless +self-assertion and mutual depreciation, this stunning clamor of +conflicting boasts, appeals, and adjurations, this stupendous system of +brazen beggary, what was it all but the necessity of a society in which +the opportunity to serve the world according to his gifts, instead of +being secured to every man as the first object of social organization, +had to be fought for! +</P> + +<P> +I reached Washington Street at the busiest point, and there I stood and +laughed aloud, to the scandal of the passers-by. For my life I could +not have helped it, with such a mad humor was I moved at sight of the +interminable rows of stores on either side, up and down the street so +far as I could see—scores of them, to make the spectacle more utterly +preposterous, within a stone's throw devoted to selling the same sort +of goods. Stores! stores! stores! miles of stores! ten thousand stores +to distribute the goods needed by this one city, which in my dream had +been supplied with all things from a single warehouse, as they were +ordered through one great store in every quarter, where the buyer, +without waste of time or labor, found under one roof the world's +assortment in whatever line he desired. There the labor of distribution +had been so slight as to add but a scarcely perceptible fraction to the +cost of commodities to the user. The cost of production was virtually +all he paid. But here the mere distribution of the goods, their +handling alone, added a fourth, a third, a half and more, to the cost. +All these ten thousand plants must be paid for, their rent, their +staffs of superintendence, their platoons of salesmen, their ten +thousand sets of accountants, jobbers, and business dependents, with +all they spent in advertising themselves and fighting one another, and +the consumers must do the paying. What a famous process for beggaring a +nation! +</P> + +<P> +Were these serious men I saw about me, or children, who did their +business on such a plan? Could they be reasoning beings, who did not +see the folly which, when the product is made and ready for use, wastes +so much of it in getting it to the user? If people eat with a spoon +that leaks half its contents between bowl and lip, are they not likely +to go hungry? +</P> + +<P> +I had passed through Washington Street thousands of times before and +viewed the ways of those who sold merchandise, but my curiosity +concerning them was as if I had never gone by their way before. I took +wondering note of the show windows of the stores, filled with goods +arranged with a wealth of pains and artistic device to attract the eye. +I saw the throngs of ladies looking in, and the proprietors eagerly +watching the effect of the bait. I went within and noted the hawk-eyed +floor-walker watching for business, overlooking the clerks, keeping +them up to their task of inducing the customers to buy, buy, buy, for +money if they had it, for credit if they had it not, to buy what they +wanted not, more than they wanted, what they could not afford. At times +I momentarily lost the clue and was confused by the sight. Why this +effort to induce people to buy? Surely that had nothing to do with the +legitimate business of distributing products to those who needed them. +Surely it was the sheerest waste to force upon people what they did not +want, but what might be useful to another. The nation was so much the +poorer for every such achievement. What were these clerks thinking of? +Then I would remember that they were not acting as distributors like +those in the store I had visited in the dream Boston. They were not +serving the public interest, but their immediate personal interest, and +it was nothing to them what the ultimate effect of their course on the +general prosperity might be, if but they increased their own hoard, for +these goods were their own, and the more they sold and the more they +got for them, the greater their gain. The more wasteful the people +were, the more articles they did not want which they could be induced +to buy, the better for these sellers. To encourage prodigality was the +express aim of the ten thousand stores of Boston. +</P> + +<P> +Nor were these storekeepers and clerks a whit worse men than any others +in Boston. They must earn a living and support their families, and how +were they to find a trade to do it by which did not necessitate placing +their individual interests before those of others and that of all? They +could not be asked to starve while they waited for an order of things +such as I had seen in my dream, in which the interest of each and that +of all were identical. But, God in heaven! what wonder, under such a +system as this about me—what wonder that the city was so shabby, and +the people so meanly dressed, and so many of them ragged and hungry! +</P> + +<P> +Some time after this it was that I drifted over into South Boston and +found myself among the manufacturing establishments. I had been in this +quarter of the city a hundred times before, just as I had been on +Washington Street, but here, as well as there, I now first perceived +the true significance of what I witnessed. Formerly I had taken pride +in the fact that, by actual count, Boston had some four thousand +independent manufacturing establishments; but in this very multiplicity +and independence I recognized now the secret of the insignificant total +product of their industry. +</P> + +<P> +If Washington Street had been like a lane in Bedlam, this was a +spectacle as much more melancholy as production is a more vital +function than distribution. For not only were these four thousand +establishments not working in concert, and for that reason alone +operating at prodigious disadvantage, but, as if this did not involve a +sufficiently disastrous loss of power, they were using their utmost +skill to frustrate one another's effort, praying by night and working +by day for the destruction of one another's enterprises. +</P> + +<P> +The roar and rattle of wheels and hammers resounding from every side +was not the hum of a peaceful industry, but the clangor of swords +wielded by foemen. These mills and shops were so many forts, each under +its own flag, its guns trained on the mills and shops about it, and its +sappers busy below, undermining them. +</P> + +<P> +Within each one of these forts the strictest organization of industry +was insisted on; the separate gangs worked under a single central +authority. No interference and no duplicating of work were permitted. +Each had his allotted task, and none were idle. By what hiatus in the +logical faculty, by what lost link of reasoning, account, then, for the +failure to recognize the necessity of applying the same principle to +the organization of the national industries as a whole, to see that if +lack of organization could impair the efficiency of a shop, it must +have effects as much more disastrous in disabling the industries of the +nation at large as the latter are vaster in volume and more complex in +the relationship of their parts. +</P> + +<P> +People would be prompt enough to ridicule an army in which there were +neither companies, battalions, regiments, brigades, divisions, or army +corps—no unit of organization, in fact, larger than the corporal's +squad, with no officer higher than a corporal, and all the corporals +equal in authority. And yet just such an army were the manufacturing +industries of nineteenth century Boston, an army of four thousand +independent squads led by four thousand independent corporals, each +with a separate plan of campaign. +</P> + +<P> +Knots of idle men were to be seen here and there on every side, some +idle because they could find no work at any price, others because they +could not get what they thought a fair price. I accosted some of the +latter, and they told me their grievances. It was very little comfort I +could give them. "I am sorry for you," I said. "You get little enough, +certainly, and yet the wonder to me is, not that industries conducted +as these are do not pay you living wages, but that they are able to pay +you any wages at all." +</P> + +<P> +Making my way back again after this to the peninsular city, toward +three o'clock I stood on State Street, staring, as if I had never seen +them before, at the banks and brokers' offices, and other financial +institutions, of which there had been in the State Street of my vision +no vestige. Business men, confidential clerks, and errand boys were +thronging in and out of the banks, for it wanted but a few minutes of +the closing hour. Opposite me was the bank where I did business, and +presently I crossed the street, and, going in with the crowd, stood in +a recess of the wall looking on at the army of clerks handling money, +and the cues of depositors at the tellers' windows. An old gentleman +whom I knew, a director of the bank, passing me and observing my +contemplative attitude, stopped a moment. +</P> + +<P> +"Interesting sight, isn't it, Mr. West," he said. "Wonderful piece of +mechanism; I find it so myself. I like sometimes to stand and look on +at it just as you are doing. It's a poem, sir, a poem, that's what I +call it. Did you ever think, Mr. West, that the bank is the heart of +the business system? From it and to it, in endless flux and reflux, the +life blood goes. It is flowing in now. It will flow out again in the +morning"; and pleased with his little conceit, the old man passed on +smiling. +</P> + +<P> +Yesterday I should have considered the simile apt enough, but since +then I had visited a world incomparably more affluent than this, in +which money was unknown and without conceivable use. I had learned that +it had a use in the world around me only because the work of producing +the nation's livelihood, instead of being regarded as the most strictly +public and common of all concerns, and as such conducted by the nation, +was abandoned to the hap-hazard efforts of individuals. This original +mistake necessitated endless exchanges to bring about any sort of +general distribution of products. These exchanges money effected—how +equitably, might be seen in a walk from the tenement house districts to +the Back Bay—at the cost of an army of men taken from productive labor +to manage it, with constant ruinous breakdowns of its machinery, and a +generally debauching influence on mankind which had justified its +description, from ancient time, as the "root of all evil." +</P> + +<P> +Alas for the poor old bank director with his poem! He had mistaken the +throbbing of an abscess for the beating of the heart. What he called "a +wonderful piece of mechanism" was an imperfect device to remedy an +unnecessary defect, the clumsy crutch of a self-made cripple. +</P> + +<P> +After the banks had closed I wandered aimlessly about the business +quarter for an hour or two, and later sat a while on one of the benches +of the Common, finding an interest merely in watching the throngs that +passed, such as one has in studying the populace of a foreign city, so +strange since yesterday had my fellow citizens and their ways become to +me. For thirty years I had lived among them, and yet I seemed to have +never noted before how drawn and anxious were their faces, of the rich +as of the poor, the refined, acute faces of the educated as well as the +dull masks of the ignorant. And well it might be so, for I saw now, as +never before I had seen so plainly, that each as he walked constantly +turned to catch the whispers of a spectre at his ear, the spectre of +Uncertainty. "Do your work never so well," the spectre was +whispering—"rise early and toil till late, rob cunningly or serve +faithfully, you shall never know security. Rich you may be now and +still come to poverty at last. Leave never so much wealth to your +children, you cannot buy the assurance that your son may not be the +servant of your servant, or that your daughter will not have to sell +herself for bread." +</P> + +<P> +A man passing by thrust an advertising card in my hand, which set forth +the merits of some new scheme of life insurance. The incident reminded +me of the only device, pathetic in its admission of the universal need +it so poorly supplied, which offered these tired and hunted men and +women even a partial protection from uncertainty. By this means, those +already well-to-do, I remembered, might purchase a precarious +confidence that after their death their loved ones would not, for a +while at least, be trampled under the feet of men. But this was all, +and this was only for those who could pay well for it. What idea was +possible to these wretched dwellers in the land of Ishmael, where every +man's hand was against each and the hand of each against every other, +of true life insurance as I had seen it among the people of that dream +land, each of whom, by virtue merely of his membership in the national +family, was guaranteed against need of any sort, by a policy +underwritten by one hundred million fellow countrymen. +</P> + +<P> +Some time after this it was that I recall a glimpse of myself standing +on the steps of a building on Tremont Street, looking at a military +parade. A regiment was passing. It was the first sight in that dreary +day which had inspired me with any other emotions than wondering pity +and amazement. Here at last were order and reason, an exhibition of +what intelligent cooperation can accomplish. The people who stood +looking on with kindling faces,—could it be that the sight had for +them no more than but a spectacular interest? Could they fail to see +that it was their perfect concert of action, their organization under +one control, which made these men the tremendous engine they were, able +to vanquish a mob ten times as numerous? Seeing this so plainly, could +they fail to compare the scientific manner in which the nation went to +war with the unscientific manner in which it went to work? Would they +not query since what time the killing of men had been a task so much +more important than feeding and clothing them, that a trained army +should be deemed alone adequate to the former, while the latter was +left to a mob? +</P> + +<P> +It was now toward nightfall, and the streets were thronged with the +workers from the stores, the shops, and mills. Carried along with the +stronger part of the current, I found myself, as it began to grow dark, +in the midst of a scene of squalor and human degradation such as only +the South Cove tenement district could present. I had seen the mad +wasting of human labor; here I saw in direst shape the want that waste +had bred. +</P> + +<P> +From the black doorways and windows of the rookeries on every side came +gusts of fetid air. The streets and alleys reeked with the effluvia of +a slave ship's between-decks. As I passed I had glimpses within of pale +babies gasping out their lives amid sultry stenches, of hopeless-faced +women deformed by hardship, retaining of womanhood no trait save +weakness, while from the windows leered girls with brows of brass. Like +the starving bands of mongrel curs that infest the streets of Moslem +towns, swarms of half-clad brutalized children filled the air with +shrieks and curses as they fought and tumbled among the garbage that +littered the court-yards. +</P> + +<P> +There was nothing in all this that was new to me. Often had I passed +through this part of the city and witnessed its sights with feelings of +disgust mingled with a certain philosophical wonder at the extremities +mortals will endure and still cling to life. But not alone as regarded +the economical follies of this age, but equally as touched its moral +abominations, scales had fallen from my eyes since that vision of +another century. No more did I look upon the woful dwellers in this +Inferno with a callous curiosity as creatures scarcely human. I saw in +them my brothers and sisters, my parents, my children, flesh of my +flesh, blood of my blood. The festering mass of human wretchedness +about me offended not now my senses merely, but pierced my heart like a +knife, so that I could not repress sighs and groans. I not only saw but +felt in my body all that I saw. +</P> + +<P> +Presently, too, as I observed the wretched beings about me more +closely, I perceived that they were all quite dead. Their bodies were +so many living sepulchres. On each brutal brow was plainly written the +hic jacet of a soul dead within. +</P> + +<P> +As I looked, horror struck, from one death's head to another, I was +affected by a singular hallucination. Like a wavering translucent +spirit face superimposed upon each of these brutish masks I saw the +ideal, the possible face that would have been the actual if mind and +soul had lived. It was not till I was aware of these ghostly faces, and +of the reproach that could not be gainsaid which was in their eyes, +that the full piteousness of the ruin that had been wrought was +revealed to me. I was moved with contrition as with a strong agony, for +I had been one of those who had endured that these things should be. I +had been one of those who, well knowing that they were, had not desired +to hear or be compelled to think much of them, but had gone on as if +they were not, seeking my own pleasure and profit. Therefore now I +found upon my garments the blood of this great multitude of strangled +souls of my brothers. The voice of their blood cried out against me +from the ground. Every stone of the reeking pavements, every brick of +the pestilential rookeries, found a tongue and called after me as I +fled: What hast thou done with thy brother Abel? +</P> + +<P> +I have no clear recollection of anything after this till I found myself +standing on the carved stone steps of the magnificent home of my +betrothed in Commonwealth Avenue. Amid the tumult of my thoughts that +day, I had scarcely once thought of her, but now obeying some +unconscious impulse my feet had found the familiar way to her door. I +was told that the family were at dinner, but word was sent out that I +should join them at table. Besides the family, I found several guests +present, all known to me. The table glittered with plate and costly +china. The ladies were sumptuously dressed and wore the jewels of +queens. The scene was one of costly elegance and lavish luxury. The +company was in excellent spirits, and there was plentiful laughter and +a running fire of jests. +</P> + +<P> +To me it was as if, in wandering through the place of doom, my blood +turned to tears by its sights, and my spirit attuned to sorrow, pity, +and despair, I had happened in some glade upon a merry party of +roisterers. I sat in silence until Edith began to rally me upon my +sombre looks, What ailed me? The others presently joined in the playful +assault, and I became a target for quips and jests. Where had I been, +and what had I seen to make such a dull fellow of me? +</P> + +<P> +"I have been in Golgotha," at last I answered. "I have seen Humanity +hanging on a cross! Do none of you know what sights the sun and stars +look down on in this city, that you can think and talk of anything +else? Do you not know that close to your doors a great multitude of men +and women, flesh of your flesh, live lives that are one agony from +birth to death? Listen! their dwellings are so near that if you hush +your laughter you will hear their grievous voices, the piteous crying +of the little ones that suckle poverty, the hoarse curses of men sodden +in misery turned half-way back to brutes, the chaffering of an army of +women selling themselves for bread. With what have you stopped your +ears that you do not hear these doleful sounds? For me, I can hear +nothing else." +</P> + +<P> +Silence followed my words. A passion of pity had shaken me as I spoke, +but when I looked around upon the company, I saw that, far from being +stirred as I was, their faces expressed a cold and hard astonishment, +mingled in Edith's with extreme mortification, in her father's with +anger. The ladies were exchanging scandalized looks, while one of the +gentlemen had put up his eyeglass and was studying me with an air of +scientific curiosity. When I saw that things which were to me so +intolerable moved them not at all, that words that melted my heart to +speak had only offended them with the speaker, I was at first stunned +and then overcome with a desperate sickness and faintness at the heart. +What hope was there for the wretched, for the world, if thoughtful men +and tender women were not moved by things like these! Then I bethought +myself that it must be because I had not spoken aright. No doubt I had +put the case badly. They were angry because they thought I was berating +them, when God knew I was merely thinking of the horror of the fact +without any attempt to assign the responsibility for it. +</P> + +<P> +I restrained my passion, and tried to speak calmly and logically that I +might correct this impression. I told them that I had not meant to +accuse them, as if they, or the rich in general, were responsible for +the misery of the world. True indeed it was, that the superfluity which +they wasted would, otherwise bestowed, relieve much bitter suffering. +These costly viands, these rich wines, these gorgeous fabrics and +glistening jewels represented the ransom of many lives. They were +verily not without the guiltiness of those who waste in a land stricken +with famine. Nevertheless, all the waste of all the rich, were it +saved, would go but a little way to cure the poverty of the world. +There was so little to divide that even if the rich went share and +share with the poor, there would be but a common fare of crusts, albeit +made very sweet then by brotherly love. +</P> + +<P> +The folly of men, not their hard-heartedness, was the great cause of +the world's poverty. It was not the crime of man, nor of any class of +men, that made the race so miserable, but a hideous, ghastly mistake, a +colossal world-darkening blunder. And then I showed them how four +fifths of the labor of men was utterly wasted by the mutual warfare, +the lack of organization and concert among the workers. Seeking to make +the matter very plain, I instanced the case of arid lands where the +soil yielded the means of life only by careful use of the watercourses +for irrigation. I showed how in such countries it was counted the most +important function of the government to see that the water was not +wasted by the selfishness or ignorance of individuals, since otherwise +there would be famine. To this end its use was strictly regulated and +systematized, and individuals of their mere caprice were not permitted +to dam it or divert it, or in any way to tamper with it. +</P> + +<P> +The labor of men, I explained, was the fertilizing stream which alone +rendered earth habitable. It was but a scanty stream at best, and its +use required to be regulated by a system which expended every drop to +the best advantage, if the world were to be supported in abundance. But +how far from any system was the actual practice! Every man wasted the +precious fluid as he wished, animated only by the equal motives of +saving his own crop and spoiling his neighbor's, that his might sell +the better. What with greed and what with spite some fields were +flooded while others were parched, and half the water ran wholly to +waste. In such a land, though a few by strength or cunning might win +the means of luxury, the lot of the great mass must be poverty, and of +the weak and ignorant bitter want and perennial famine. +</P> + +<P> +Let but the famine-stricken nation assume the function it had +neglected, and regulate for the common good the course of the +life-giving stream, and the earth would bloom like one garden, and none +of its children lack any good thing. I described the physical felicity, +mental enlightenment, and moral elevation which would then attend the +lives of all men. With fervency I spoke of that new world, blessed with +plenty, purified by justice and sweetened by brotherly kindness, the +world of which I had indeed but dreamed, but which might so easily be +made real. But when I had expected now surely the faces around me to +light up with emotions akin to mine, they grew ever more dark, angry, +and scornful. Instead of enthusiasm, the ladies showed only aversion +and dread, while the men interrupted me with shouts of reprobation and +contempt. "Madman!" "Pestilent fellow!" "Fanatic!" "Enemy of society!" +were some of their cries, and the one who had before taken his eyeglass +to me exclaimed, "He says we are to have no more poor. Ha! ha!" +</P> + +<P> +"Put the fellow out!" exclaimed the father of my betrothed, and at the +signal the men sprang from their chairs and advanced upon me. +</P> + +<P> +It seemed to me that my heart would burst with the anguish of finding +that what was to me so plain and so all important was to them +meaningless, and that I was powerless to make it other. So hot had been +my heart that I had thought to melt an iceberg with its glow, only to +find at last the overmastering chill seizing my own vitals. It was not +enmity that I felt toward them as they thronged me, but pity only, for +them and for the world. +</P> + +<P> +Although despairing, I could not give over. Still I strove with them. +Tears poured from my eyes. In my vehemence I became inarticulate. I +panted, I sobbed, I groaned, and immediately afterward found myself +sitting upright in bed in my room in Dr. Leete's house, and the morning +sun shining through the open window into my eyes. I was gasping. The +tears were streaming down my face, and I quivered in every nerve. +</P> + +<BR> + +<P> +As with an escaped convict who dreams that he has been recaptured and +brought back to his dark and reeking dungeon, and opens his eyes to see +the heaven's vault spread above him, so it was with me, as I realized +that my return to the nineteenth century had been the dream, and my +presence in the twentieth was the reality. +</P> + +<P> +The cruel sights which I had witnessed in my vision, and could so well +confirm from the experience of my former life, though they had, alas! +once been, and must in the retrospect to the end of time move the +compassionate to tears, were, God be thanked, forever gone by. Long ago +oppressor and oppressed, prophet and scorner, had been dust. For +generations, rich and poor had been forgotten words. +</P> + +<P> +But in that moment, while yet I mused with unspeakable thankfulness +upon the greatness of the world's salvation and my privilege in +beholding it, there suddenly pierced me like a knife a pang of shame, +remorse, and wondering self-reproach, that bowed my head upon my breast +and made me wish the grave had hid me with my fellows from the sun. For +I had been a man of that former time. What had I done to help on the +deliverance whereat I now presumed to rejoice? I who had lived in those +cruel, insensate days, what had I done to bring them to an end? I had +been every whit as indifferent to the wretchedness of my brothers, as +cynically incredulous of better things, as besotted a worshiper of +Chaos and Old Night, as any of my fellows. So far as my personal +influence went, it had been exerted rather to hinder than to help +forward the enfranchisement of the race which was even then preparing. +What right had I to hail a salvation which reproached me, to rejoice in +a day whose dawning I had mocked? +</P> + +<P> +"Better for you, better for you," a voice within me rang, "had this +evil dream been the reality, and this fair reality the dream; better +your part pleading for crucified humanity with a scoffing generation, +than here, drinking of wells you digged not, and eating of trees whose +husbandmen you stoned"; and my spirit answered, "Better, truly." +</P> + +<P> +When at length I raised my bowed head and looked forth from the window, +Edith, fresh as the morning, had come into the garden and was gathering +flowers. I hastened to descend to her. Kneeling before her, with my +face in the dust, I confessed with tears how little was my worth to +breathe the air of this golden century, and how infinitely less to wear +upon my breast its consummate flower. Fortunate is he who, with a case +so desperate as mine, finds a judge so merciful. +</P> +<BR><BR><BR><BR> + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Looking Backwards from 2000 to 1887, by +Edward Bellamy + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK LOOKING BACKWARDS FROM 2000 TO 1887 *** + +***** This file should be named 624-h.htm or 624-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/6/2/624/ + +Produced by Charles Keller. 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