by James Cowan
CHAPTER XXVI.
AN ENVIABLE CONDITION.
Our life in this cultured home continued to be as pleasant as were thesefirst days. There was always something new to show us or to tell us. Wewould walk out every day and often step into a carriage and take along ride. Our friends were famous walkers but were considerate ofour feebleness, and still our returning strength, added to the greatbuoyancy of our bodies on that smaller planet, soon gave us alsoremarkable walking powers.
Sometimes the children would accompany us on an all-day excursion, andthen the house would be left not only unlocked, but with the doors wideopen perhaps. When we remarked on this, Zenith told us that if anyonehappened along he would be at perfect liberty to go in and help himselfto anything in the house. This was always understood, whether the peoplewere at home or not, and one need not even go through the formalityof asking, if he could see what he wanted. This referred not merelyto bodily refreshment, of which one might be in need, but literally toeverything the house contained; and the reason why there was any sortof comfort living under such conditions was, that the members of thatsociety were all and severally of such ripe characters that it was wellknown one would not deprive another of anything he was using except fora reason which would be satisfactory to both.
"If we could communicate with the people on the earth," said the doctorto me when we sat alone conversing about these things, "and tell themhow the inhabitants here live, they would want to organize an expeditionand start for Mars right away."
"Yes, I think they would," I assented. "And yet, if what Thorwald saysis true, the earth will one day be as good as Mars. Do you believe it?"
"Well, the fact is," answered the doctor, "I am ready to believe almostanything now."
"Oh, I wish Thorwald could hear you say that."
"I should not object," he continued. "I am sure that some power, notcomprehended by our science or philosophy, has operated here to bringthese people to the condition in which we find them, and if the samekind forces are at work on the earth, let us hope they will do as muchfor us, no matter how much time it takes. If a belief in such a power isfaith, then perhaps I am beginning to have a little faith.
"I remember I used to hear our preachers in their public prayers ask Godthat every form of vice and crime might be banished from the earth, andthat the time might come when there should be no more sin, but only loveand beauty and happiness. I have heard such prayers a hundred times,and never thought much about them. But now I am forced to think, andit seems to me that these prayers would not be made continually unlessthere were a hope and expectation in the minds of religious people thatthey would some time be answered. It is not for me to assume that such ahope is unreasonable, drawn as it is from the book which so many believeis the word of God."
I rejoiced to hear my friend talk in this way, but it seemed very oddthat he should be preaching my own doctrine to me. I had had the samethoughts, and had been trying to find the right time to offer them tothe doctor. I am sure I was thankful that he was coming to such viewswithout a word from me, for he would probably be much more apt to holdto them.
The foregoing conversation was in the evening, and the next morning wewere all sitting comfortably in the music room, when Thorwald said:
"The other day I began to give you some orderly account of our history,but you see how it has been broken into by the relation of differentphases, in answer to your questions. It seems to me now that it will bemore interesting to you if I continue in the same way and take up onesubject at a time. And now that we have a little time before us, I wishyou would suggest some point upon which you would like to have me talk;that is, if it is agreeable to you."
To which the doctor replied:
"I like your plan very much and I am sure we both have plenty ofquestions which will keep you supplied with topics. I have desiredfor some time to ask you about your industrial system. I can see howelectricity has relieved you of the most arduous labor, but there mustremain much disagreeable work, as we would call it, to be done with thehand. In our busy life there are a thousand such tasks, which I cannotconceive of being performed by machinery, many of them hard onlybecause they are monotonous and awake no interest or enthusiasm in theperformer. Men and women are continually wearing themselves out withsuch work. You must have abolished all that, if everybody here iscomfortable and happy. I am very anxious to hear how it has been done."
"In answering your question," Thorwald began, "let me say, first, that Ipresume we have learned to employ machines in a great many ways which toyou would seem incomprehensible. The drudgery and much of the monotonyof labor have been removed, as well as its severity. But still, as yousurmise, there is plenty of work for all. Our higher civilizationdoes not require less work than yours, but rather more and of greatervariety. It is all done quietly, however, without friction or any of theunpleasant features of former times.
"I suspect that the real secret of the change is in the elevation ofindividual character. This has done more to better our condition thanelectricity and all the material improvements and inventions of theage. You must believe me when I say that no sort of labor is considereddisgraceful, and, further, that one occupation is just as honorable asanother. The man who goes into the mine and superintends the machinewhich gathers the precious metal is esteemed as highly as he who,with an artist's brain and fingers, shapes it to its highest use. Thecarpenter who works with his hands in the building of the house can holdhis head as high as the architect who has spent many years in learninghow to create the design. Why not? Both are engaged on the same work,each one in his favorite, and so his best, way. Both are working,not for daily bread or other selfish end, but for the sake of doingsomething useful. The perfect content and satisfaction we all enjoyin our labor come partly from our abundant health and strength, andlargely, also, from our entire freedom from anxiety in regard to themeans of maintenance for ourselves and our families. In these respectswe are all equally fortunate. We are absolutely unconcerned about whatmaterial things we shall have for ourselves or leave to our children."
"Do you then all have equal pay for your work, and that so much that itplaces you above anxiety?" asked the doctor.
"Yes," answered Thorwald, "we are all paid equally, because we are notpaid at all. So, having no wages and owning no property, why should webe anxious? You know I have told you we can have for our use anythingthat is produced or made without even asking anybody for it. The merefact that we need a thing makes it rightfully ours."
"But what is the incentive to labor if you get nothing for it, and canlive just as well without it?"
"The incentive is in the love for our work and the consciousness thatwe are doing something to make someone happier and the world a littlebetter. Let me give you an illustration, a personal one, if you willexcuse me. A neighbor asks me to make him a plan for a house. He may bea writer of books or he may be a carriage maker, or what not, it makesnot the slightest difference. I enjoy that kind of work and, havingobtained his ideas in regard to a house, I do the best I can. I cannotconceive that I could do any better if I knew he would pay me for thework, as you say. In like manner he asks other neighbors to build hishouse for him, and he has no difficulty in finding enough men who enjoythat occupation as much as I do my part of the work, and the principlewhich governs them in their labor is as high as that which controls me."
"Then," said the doctor, "I should think the poor man--I beg yourpardon, I mean the hod-carrier--could have as grand a house as thearchitect himself."
"I don't know what a hod-carrier is," replied Thorwald, "but I get yourmeaning, and you are quite right. As an example of just that state ofthings, I will tell you that the man who tends the digging machine in mygarden lives in a larger and handsomer house than this one. Why not?He has a large family, and he and his wife are educated and refinedpeople."
"But with no physical wants to provide against, I should think some menwould find existence easier not to work at all. According to your theorythey could live
in as good style as the toilers and have no one to callthem to account."
"No one but themselves. Every man is his own monitor, and he needs noother. He knows his duty, and he has that within him which keeps him upto it more effectually than any outside influence could. In regard to aman's not caring to work, we have been through all that, and we have nowno such cases. We found out long ago that it is better to have some onestated employment and follow it. But this does not mean that the workbecomes a burden. One can rest as often and as long as he pleases.There is no one to intimate in any way that he should be at work, as thequestion is left entirely to him. The moment that work ceases to be anecessity it becomes a pleasure and the most natural thing in the world.The multiplication of mechanical inventions has greatly reduced thevolume of labor, so that there is really but little for each individualto do; and the truth is, there is never any lack of men. If anything,there is not enough work."
"Your words," said the doctor, "reveal a remarkable condition ofaffairs, and I fear it will be many, many years before we can begin tothink seriously of such a plan, so long as to make it almost hopeless;but there is one more question I would like to ask. With all thisfreedom of choice, how does it happen that all do not flock to the easyand pleasant occupations, and leave the disagreeable tasks undone?"
To this Thorwald replied:
"Let me ask you, Doctor, if you have not an answer to your questionin your own industrial system. Do you not always find men to do everyrequired work, no matter how hard and distasteful it may seem to you?I do not mean that the parallel is exact, but this seems to be governednow, as it has always been, by a dispensation of nature. We are bornwith different tastes and inclinations. Each one chooses his ownoccupation, and it comes to pass providentially, just as it did in theolden time, that all do not choose alike."
"Are all equally well educated?"
"No, but all have an equal opportunity. Everyone is given a broadfoundation of general information. The mind and hand are both trainedand prepared to do good work, and then the choice of occupation is madeand the special education begins. But one who has chosen some kindof manual labor as his vocation very often takes up literary or otherprofessional work in addition, and everybody has some kind of study onhand, by which the mind is kept employed. There is no uneducated classamong us."
"Before you reached such nobility of character," said the doctor, "thatpanacea for so many ills, I suppose you had troubles enough. You havealready intimated as much to us. I wonder if it would not help us toappreciate better your present condition if you should tell us brieflyof your experiences in solving so happily some of the problems of yourcareer. I am thinking now more especially of the difficulties of yoursocial and industrial reformation."
"I will attempt something of the kind," Thorwald replied, "if you aresure I shall not weary you. Remember to prompt me if I do not follow thelines of most interest to you.
"If you should prefer to read you would find the facts you wantfully set forth in our histories. The records are especially fulland exhaustive on the subjects you have mentioned, for the importantchanges, or, at least, the changes whose story will be most instructiveto you, came in a time of great intellectual activity. Of the earlierdays the history is unfortunately less complete, and still further backthe records become uncertain and many are merely legendary.
"Let us begin at a time when civilization was confined to a smallportion of the surface of our planet. Society was then crude andunformed. It was a rude, selfish age. But the germ of better things wasthere, for the gospel of Christ had been planted in the world and wassure to spring into life when its time should come. But meanwhile ourevil nature was strong and choked the good seed, and made advancementslow and uncertain. Power was divided among many rulers who weredespots, whose principal occupation was war. The people were valuedmerely for their fighting qualities and enjoyed only such rights andprivileges as their cruel masters allowed them. Being slaves themselves,they held in a still more bitter slavery every prisoner captured in war.
"Life was mere animal existence for most of the race, without enjoymentfor the present or hope for the future. Education being denied them,there was no mental stimulus to compensate for physical wretchedness,and even their meager religious privileges were accompanied with so manysuperstitious and unnatural rites that life was relieved of but a littleof its burden.
"Gradually power was concentrated in the hands of a few autocrats,nations were consolidated, and war began to be a science. Then someattention was paid to the comfort of the people for the purpose ofmaking them better soldiers. Soon it was found that intelligence was thebest weapon a man could carry, and so education, in a very stinted form,was encouraged. This was a fatal blunder on the part of the rulers, foras soon as the mind was unfettered the shackles began to fall from thebody, and the days of absolutism were numbered. The spirit of knowledge,once released from its imprisonment, became a dominant power in theworld, and as time went on the people demanded a voice in the managementof affairs. In this way came constitutional government, which for along time held sway, and under which there came immense benefits to all.Religion and learning flourished, science and art blessed the race withtheir bounties, and the world began to be a brighter and better place tolive in, comparing the times with the ages of ignorance and cruelty thatwent before.
"And now the stream of liberty broadened, and before long became a floodthat swept away thrones and scepters. Personal government ceased, andthe people became their own political masters. The right of suffragewas extended and slavery was abolished, while commerce and the spirit ofadventure carried civilization to many parts of the world. Then appeareda swarm of mechanical inventions to lighten the labor of mankind,electricity came with its strong arm and great promise, and easier andswifter transportation by land and sea brought the nations and peoplestogether to the mutual advantage of all.
"Education, once the possession of the rich and powerful only, now shedits benign influence over the whole people. Whereas, in the earlytimes, learning had caused the downfall of despotic power, it wasnow considered a principal safeguard of good government, and madecompulsory. Wealth was accumulated, luxuries multiplied, and greatstrides were taken in the material welfare of both nations andindividuals. It was an age of intense activity. So rapidly did eventsfollow each other, and such possibilities were anticipated, thatenthusiasts, whose heads were turned in the mad whirl, prophesied theimmediate opening of the millennium.
"Judged by all the race had previously known of freedom, of prosperity,and of happiness, it was a grand age, and that generation might well beproud of their timely birth. But, looked at from our present standpoint,we can see it was still a day of sadness and sin. We understand, whatit was more difficult for them to realize, that the revival of purereligion, awakening the conscience of mankind, had brought about allthat was good in their condition, while many evil tendencies had onlybeen exaggerated by their material prosperity. So it was still avery imperfect world. Political freedom they had, but there was noemancipation from the powerful thraldom of selfishness. That spirit helduniversal sway, governing not only individual action but also the policyof nations.
"One of the highest sentiments known to the times, and some writersplaced it even above religion, was love of country. Impassioned oratorywas fond of declaring that loyalty to one's native land was the loftiestemotion the heart could feel, and no voice was found to rebuke theutterance."
I was a little shocked to hear Thorwald, in his earnest manner, giveexpression to these words, as though he looked upon such views in a veryserious light. I was therefore bold enough to interrupt him with:
"Excuse me, Thorwald, but would not these orators, when their attentionwas called to their extreme language, acknowledge that love to God was astill higher sentiment?"
"Perhaps they would, for with all the selfishness of the period therewas a deep-seated belief in a divine being. But even so, I still wouldnot allow them to be right."
"Why," I asked, "is ther
e more than one motive higher than patriotism?"
"Yes, love is higher," answered Thorwald. "Let me explain. What didlove of country mean? At first one's country was a single family, thena tribe, and later a city, when the measure of one's patriotism was themeasure also of his hatred for everything foreign. In time a state wasformed from many cities and towns, and its citizens were taught to lookon all other states as enemies. Then these states that had been fightingeach other consolidated into a nation, made up, perhaps, of differentraces and languages. By this time patriotism became a lofty theme, butit was the same spirit essentially as that which prompts the members oftwo savage tribes to fight to the death through a blind and unreasoningdevotion to their leaders. So do you not think that love to all, whichcan only come from a generous heart, is more to be praised than loveto a part, which necessitates enmity to all the rest? I should thinkit would have puzzled the people of that age sometimes to tell of whattheir country really consisted. Was their highest allegiance due totheir city, or their county, or their state, or their nation?
"To what did this immoderate love of country lead? To a passionfor aggrandizement at the expense of others, and what was this butselfishness with a gloss so bright as to make it look like a virtue? Itled to the strangling of conscience in national affairs, so as to makewrong seem right, and, more than that, to persistence in a course whenit was well known to be wrong. It taught false ideas of honor and madethe world one grand dueling field, where the energy of nations was spentin watching for insults from their neighbors, and where the quick blowfollowed every real or fancied offense.
"Do not imagine, by what I have said, that I would have advised thesepeople to love their country less. On the contrary, I should tell themto love it so much that they could not see it do wrong; to love it somuch that they should have no room in their hearts for bitterness towardothers; so much that they should strive to have it lead the world in amarch toward universal brotherhood. Love for one's neighbor should notstop at state or national boundaries. Love should know neither castenor country, but should take in the world, and, I might add for yourbenefit, other worlds if necessary. Love is a condition of the heart,something within, not without, the man, and when fully developed reachesout to everything that God has made."
"It seems to me, Thorwald," I ventured to say, "that these sentiments,which I can see are admirable, belong to your present high development,while we of the earth have reached only about the condition of thepeople whose traits you have been describing."
"Then," resumed Thorwald, "you can perhaps understand another evil ofthose times. It did not grow directly out of love for country, but thattoo much lauded sentiment prevented the people from seeing its fullenormity. This was the practice of attempting by law to protect theinhabitants of one country by shutting out the goods of all others.This prohibition included both the manufactured articles and naturalproducts, and the means adopted was the placing of a high dutyon imports. If the political leaders of a people could succeed inconvincing them that such a course would raise wages, increase theopportunities for accumulating money, and make them in general moreprosperous, then it was forthwith adopted, entirely without regard tothe effect it might have on the rest of the world. It is not at allplain to be seen, from reading the history of those times, that thehappiest results always followed the passage of these laws, but theexperiment was tried whenever a majority felt that there was a fairexpectation of such benefits. The only question considered was whetherit would be good policy for their particular country. And if one resultof this selfish legislation was the closing of mills and the loss ofemployment to thousands of workmen in some other part of the world,these facts were paraded in the public prints as though they werematter for rejoicing. Men were yet to learn that the maxim which thepoliticians were fond of quoting, 'the greatest good to the greatestnumber,' should have a world-wide application to give it any meaning atall."
While my prejudices were receiving another shock, I knew the doctor wasreally enjoying this part of Thorwald's talk. So, in order to draw himout, I said to him, as Thorwald paused:
"Doctor, I think our friend must belong to your party."
"I should rather belong to his party," replied the doctor.
"Thank you," said Thorwald. "That is a compliment which I appreciate;and now I think I have talked long enough for one sitting. Let us getsome lunch, and then go out for a good walk."
Thorwald must have seen that the doctor's mood was softening, but heprobably thought it wise not to speak more directly to him at present.