GL1:XN XKGLF.Y 
 
 DUKE 
 
 UNIVERSITY 
 
 LIBRARY 
 
 treasure %oom 
 
 Glenn fi. Negley 
 
Digitized by the Internet Archive 
 in 2010 with funding from 
 Duke University Libraries 
 
 http://www.archive.org/details/towardsutopiabeiOOperr 
 
TOWARDS UTOPIA 
 
 BEING SPECULATIONS IN 
 SOCIAL EyOLUTION 
 
 BY 
 
 A FREE LANCE 
 
 AUTHOR OF 
 THE CRY OF THE CHILDREN, ASD ON THE ORGANISATION OF SCIENCE 
 
 NEW YORK 
 D. APPLETON AND COMPANY 
 
 1894 
 
Autliorised Edition. 
 
THIS, MY FIRST DEDICATION, 
 
 I NOW INSCRIBE 
 
 WITH ALL LOVE, LOYALTY, AND REVERENCE, 
 
 TO THE MEMORY OF 
 
 MY MOTHER, 
 
 "THE MORNING-STAR OF MEMORY." 
 
 " The blessing of my childhood's years, 
 
 Lost to me when a boy : 
 
 She gave me eyes, she gave me ears. 
 
 And humble cares, and delicate fears, 
 
 A lieart— the fountain of sweet tears, 
 
 And Love, and Thought, and iby." 
 
 P^f6, 
 
PREFACE 
 
 Everybody is familiav with the conception of Utop'a ; 
 and many among us believe that social evolution will 
 presently culminate in an Utopia where all shall be 
 >:ood, wise, cultured, and affluent : but, whilst we have 
 many popular imaginative descriptions of this comphUd 
 future state, it is perhaps somewhat less usual to enquire 
 what precisely are some of the individual natural pro- 
 cesses by whicli tiiat happy consummation can be brought 
 about ; what, if anything, can be done by us of to-day to 
 hasten the progress; and ivliat price^ if o.ny, must he paid 
 for Utopia. 
 
 The present essay is a sample of the kind of answer 
 which, as it seems to us, must be given to such questions ; 
 and is occupied with the attempt to trace out. to a cer- 
 tain extent, by what known processes, and by what modi- 
 fications of the present social state, such Utopia may be 
 brought about. Thro'out we have endeavored to steer 
 clear of chimerical and fanciful assumptions that, how- 
 ever legitimate in pure fairy-tales, and however necessary 
 thereto, are quite out of place in speculations concerning 
 an Utopia that is asserted to be the destined outcome of 
 a natural evohition of Society : and we have sought in 
 preference to shape our course by the polestar of science. 
 Of one thing we are convinced — and to this we need fear 
 little contradiction — that the prime factor in any revolu- 
 tion, or rather renovation, of society, must ever be a 
 change in the ideas, feelings, sympathies, and aspirations, 
 of the individuals who compose that society ; the first 
 step towards any advance must be to thoroly change the 
 mental atmosphere in which we live ; given so much, and 
 the rest must follow, for the world of men is ruled by 
 
vi ^ Preface. 
 
 thoughts and feelings. If now this brief essay should be 
 succssful in inducing any appreciable change in the ideals 
 and aspirations of its readers, if it should to any extent 
 induce them to look on the world of men with somewiiat 
 ditierent eyes and to reject any proffered social ideals 
 that involve darkened lives to some of their fellows, then 
 we shall deem our labor richly rewarded. 
 
 We may perhaps be permitted to observe that we have 
 never yet read Looking Backvmrd, or any other books 
 of that class, except, some years ago, More's Utopia : 
 whilst, with regard to Mr. Morris' LecUu-es on Art, as we 
 have explained in notes in tiie body of this work, we had 
 not the pleasure of reading that deligiiti'ul book until six 
 or eight months after the original dratt of this essay was 
 completed.^ In revising it, however, and in rewriting 
 chapters nine and ten, we have taken the opportunity to 
 introduce specifically in several places Mr, Morris' own 
 term, nmpUcity, which so thoroiy expresses the ideas 
 which had guided us thro'out : and we should perhaps 
 add that the reference at the close of chapter nine to 
 Love in a Cot was the outcome of a train of reflections 
 that had been started, partly by Mr. Morris' book, and 
 partly by studies of Greek life. It were clearly super- 
 fluous to express in detail our acknowledgments, in this 
 work also, to Herbert Spencer, for the general conceptions 
 of social evolution that wo have derived from his Study of 
 Sociology, his Data of Ethics, and iiis political and social 
 essays, 
 
 A FREE LANCE. 
 London, March 16, 1893. 
 
 P.S. — We have taken the opportunitv to insert several 
 fresh illustrations that have coaie under our notice during 
 tne last twelve mouths. 
 
 A2yril 4, 1894. 
 
 ' Tlie bulk of this essay was written in tlie sprinc; of 1892 ; but, 
 besides a general revision, the ninth eh.4)Lcr was almost eu- 
 tirely rewiit en with veiy considerable additions, and nearly the 
 waoie of tue luiuh cliapter added, early in 1893. 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 Chap. Pagq 
 
 I. r.itioductorv and Pessimistic - - - - i 
 
 II. On Utopias 5 
 
 III, Universal Honesty the Best Policy - - - lo 
 
 IV. The Great Servant-Question - - - - 26 
 V. A Digression upon Caste-Sympathy - - - 60 
 
 VI. The Servant-Question and the True Democratic 
 
 Spirit : including Advice upon Gardening - 71 
 VII. Manual and Mental Work, or the Utopian 
 Division of Labor ; with an Enquiry into 
 
 Genius 87 
 
 VIII. On Fame, Honor, and Glory - - - - 109 
 IX. On Choosing the Least Evil ; with Farther Re- 
 marks upon Luxury and Waste - - - 123 
 X. The Euthanasia of Certain Unnecessary Trades ; 
 the Functions of Middlemen ; the Readjust- 
 ment of Occupations ; and the Economics of 
 
 Unproductive Labor 177 
 
 XI. The Problem of Unpleasant Occupations ; and 
 
 the Apotheosis of Manual Work - - - 203 
 
 XII. On Co-operation .-.-.- 229 
 
 XIII. God the Almighty Dollar - - - - - 236 
 
" I will not cease from mental fight, 
 
 Nor shall my lance sleep in my hand, 
 Till we have bnilt Jerusalem 
 
 In England's green and pleasant land," 
 
 " I pray thee, then. 
 Write me as one that loves his fellow-men. 
 
TOWARDS UTOPIA. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 INTRODUCTORY AND PESSIMISTIC. 
 
 " What is all of it worth . . . . ? 
 ^^'hat is it all, if we all of us end, but iu being our own corpse 
 
 coffins at last, 
 Swallowed in vastness, lost in silence, drowned in the deeps of 
 
 a meaningless past ? 
 What but a murmur of gnats in tlie gloom, or a moment's anger 
 
 of bees in their hive — ? — " 
 
 " We have foreknown the vanity of Hope, 
 Foreseen our Harvest, yet— procede to live ! " 
 
 " Hope — and a renovation without end," were the 
 buoyant words that broke from Wordsworth's lips when 
 he gazed upon his child. " Hope — and a renovation 
 without end " ; do they not embody the dreams of every 
 parent whose loving pride pictures the unclosed vista of 
 an yet-to-be opening away before his dear one ? And 
 with characteristically human blindness to staring facts, 
 and with that extraordinary ability (at which one can 
 never cease wondering) to ignore the hugest and most 
 
2 Introductory and Pessimistic. 
 
 aggressively plain lesson of existence, we proclaim by 
 word and act onr faith in a renovation without end. 
 Sweet indeed it is to see a lovely bud unfolding daily 
 before our eyes, and daily yielding richer promise of 
 coming glories ; grand it is to train and guide the young 
 mind, feeling well assured that there awaits it a glorious 
 prime ; and inspiring and consolatory to him, whose own 
 life has been clouded and seared, to realise prophetically 
 the golden times that await his dear ones, and to paint 
 in fancy their joys — advanced how much by himself thro 
 toil and sorrow ! But here — in our rank idiocy — we 
 ever stop, satisfied when from the watch-tower of oar 
 aery castle we have descried our successor attain prime 
 manhooil, crowned with hT)iior, riches, love, and renown ; 
 and with obstinate pigheadedness we won't look any 
 farther. Yet in some inmost core of common sense we 
 know perfectly well that there is an inevitable sequel to 
 this joyous progress ; a stage when our hero, havini^ 
 reached with glory the summit of manhood, bej^ins his 
 decline into the hated shade of old age — when one by 
 one all his talents, faculties, honors, and strength, must 
 drop from him, and he slide into helpless paralysed 
 dotage consunmiated by death. All this we do really 
 know — if only we would allow ourselves to tell it to 
 ourselves ; but we won't : we prefer lies : we prefer to 
 ignore the luhole truth and to plan and plot for our child 
 as tho no certain Nemesis of age and death awaited his 
 happiness — acliieved. Are we not fools to exult for 
 him ? Where is the lasting good ? 
 
 Then reilect: as is an individual, so is finally the race: 
 common to both are childhood, youtli, prune manhood, 
 
Introductory and Pessimistic. 3 
 
 and decline into death ; and equally futile is it to con- 
 trive with anxious care the fleeting happiness of either ! 
 
 It follows then — alas ! how mournful a confession — 
 that all these succeding pages of buoyant hopes and 
 joyous prophecies are blind folly, imaging a futile 
 victory ; yet are such auguries, we confess, a very 
 constant theme with us — their fulfilment as earnestly 
 yearned for as is their foretaste sweet. But, being 
 unable to ignore staring facts, we are mournfully con- 
 sciuus how vain and illusory are our hopes ; since, once 
 the acme of humanity attained, there must follow (if not 
 from internal causes, at any rate from physical environ- 
 ments) decline, degeneration, and death. 
 
 Humanity's perfection will prove to be only the 
 halting halfway-house whence are beheld in retrospect 
 primeval barbarism, and in prospect terminal barbarism. 
 To use a favorite expression — Huxley's simile — existence 
 is a double cone. Once earth bore only infusoria : once 
 again she shall bear only infusoria : and then whirl thro 
 space a dead, cold, barren, world — another moon. To 
 the race as to the individual is assigned a certain death. 
 So that optimist and meliorist evolutionists, who paint 
 in such glowing colors the glories assigned to a future 
 humanity, are every wiiit as absurd and wilfully short- 
 sighted as the typical parent we have been instancing, 
 who indulges so freely in dreams for his children and 
 won't face the certainty that their bliss must be transient 
 and yield to death. 
 
 After all then, what is all of it worth % How much 
 better could we all altogether cease to-day by some 
 cosmic convulsion, and so die with " Hope and despair — 
 
4 Intrcductory and Pessiviistic. 
 
 the torturers " for five. Since however tliut cousuiinna- 
 tion is not vouchsafed, we must toil on wearily, and 
 mechanically perform our j^arts in this existence-farce ; 
 and, since hope and care are among our parts, we — who 
 non ignore the facts, and feel the full weariness of our 
 play — yet continue in the dull mechanic round of in- 
 dulging hopes that are vain tho fulfilled, and of labour- 
 ing to build for others an edifice that time shall wreck. 
 And so, in full consciousness of our absurdity, we nurse 
 our speculations of human happiness irrevocably denied 
 to us and our generation : and these disjointed dreams 
 and hopes have taken somewhat this form. 
 
CHAPTER TT. 
 
 ON UTOPIAS. 
 
 " To \yhom this world of Life 
 Ts as a garden ravaged ; and who e strife 
 Tills for the promise of a later birth 
 Tho wilderness of this Elysian earth.'' 
 
 "A brighter morn awaits tlie human day,' 
 
 _EvER since the days of Sir Thomas More, Utopia hag 
 been a familiar name: and "Utopian fa.ncy " is the 
 comment with which alike the heartless unimaginative 
 Philistine, and the cool-headed reasoner, dismiss the 
 enger schemes of too enthusiastic, too unpractical, 
 well - meaning — nay, best - meaning — philanthropists. 
 Yet tho More may have introduced' this name, he 
 did not introduce this conception of a model state 
 administered by philosophers. Two thousand years 
 before More, Plato had delineated his ideal Republic : 
 and Plato's Republic and More's Utopia have their 
 successors at the present day. 
 
 The tired heart of Humanity yearns mightily for 
 a happy, good, and peaceful, consummation to its 
 centuries of blood, persecution, torture, warfare, and 
 
 S 
 
6 On Utopias. 
 
 anguish ; and eagerly follows after those imaginative 
 prophets who soothe it with swoet fairy tales of perfect 
 states located in unknown seas. Humanity listens and 
 slumbers awhile to the harsh realities of actual life, 
 lapped in precious dreams of renovated Earth : but too 
 soon it reawakens and cries, " Ah yes — most sweet, 
 most tender — but only a dream; only Utupia ; only 
 fairy tales." 
 
 But must this ever be? Is it fated that the good, 
 descried by humanity's prophets from the Pisgah 
 heights of their prescient intellect, is but a mirage, 
 a phantasy, an unrealisal)le nonentity 1 A mirage it may 
 be — but a mirage is only possible if there be a reality 
 somewhere beyond : a mirage if you like ; and, like a 
 mirage, deceptive, in that the vision seems so very near, 
 whilst the reality is so far beyond : but yet it is beyond, 
 somewhere, however far, if only we have courage 
 enough to perseveringly press on, strength enough 
 to hew down the obstacles, intelligence enough to see 
 the right path, and purity and singleheartedness enough 
 to keep it. 
 
 That men have come to disbelieve in Utopia is not 
 altogether strange : for after centuries have flown we 
 find it all-unrealised. But do men sufficiently ask 
 themselves ivhy it is unrealised, or if it be really 
 imi'ealisable % Do they reflect that, tho it may be 
 difficult to correctly descry the characters of that 
 distant Utopia, it is still more difficult to define the 
 paths that alone can lead us to it ; that there are two 
 distinct dangers to avoid? Firstly, there is the danger 
 of thinking an impossible Utopia, of depicting an 
 
On Utopias. y 
 
 Utopia such as never can exist, heerlless of the fact 
 that even Utopians are, and ever must be, conditioned by 
 this life's environment, and that man can conquer 
 Nature only by Nature : and secondly, there is the worse 
 danger, that, having descried a vision of a real Utopia 
 from the mountain-eyrie of our intellect, we may 
 descending into the plains aud marching on, take 
 plausil)le, but utterly wrong paths, that not only 
 never never can lead us to Utopia, but must, on the 
 contrary, increase our toils and wanderings; so that, 
 after long years of stubborn persevering tracking thro 
 the dark woods and over the craggy passes, we find that 
 we are farther than ever, and must again ascend a 
 mountain-outlook and map again our course de novo. 
 
 The path to Utopia can never be discovered until we 
 have studied with earnest care the geography of that 
 intervening country: Utopia's towers themselves can 
 never be other than most vaguely viewed until we 
 have learned the secret of constructing non-refractin^. 
 telescopes, and dispelling the intervening mists : and 
 the army of humanity can never be transported across 
 the long interval of weary marching until we have 
 studied the characters of leaders aud soldiers alike, and 
 disciplined and educated our troops. 
 
 Utopia can never be rightly seen otherwise than 
 by the aid of science- and a true philosophv that teach 
 us to discriminate the possible aud practicable from 
 the mipossible: the route can never be tracked by 
 others than by pilots soundly trained in physical 
 psychological and social science: and the march can 
 never be performed by aa army not disciplined and 
 
8 On Utopias. 
 
 educated by the teachings of science, esthetics, and 
 ethics. Too long have we aheady been delayed, hindered, 
 and misled, by the blind paths pointed out by blind 
 leaders, who knew nothing of the ti-ue route even if they 
 knew anything at all of where Utopia lay : let us, in 
 the future, take good heed that none delude us again 
 into these false bypaths. 
 
 The one prime fallacy connected with so many schemes 
 of Utopia is that the Utopia is unscientific and impos- 
 sible ; or that, if possible, the means suggested for reach- 
 ing it are vicious and impossible because unscientific. 
 And we sliould remember that, having once approximately 
 satisfied ourselves as to what kind of place Utopia 
 probably is, our grand concern should then be trans- 
 ferred to scrutinising the means of access thereto. The 
 one emphatic duty of Utopian schemers now is to 
 rigorously criticise every suggestion that is made as to 
 the route. 
 
 Progress is — ah — how yearned for; and to remain 
 stationary, marking time, is tedious ; hiit so to remain 
 stationary were immensely better than to progress in 
 the -wrong direction, necessitating a tedious and weari- 
 some return. 
 
 Our only object in the following pages is to endeavour 
 to descry some few of the landmarks that point the path 
 to Utopia ; and^ once for all, let us say that our con- 
 ception of Utopia is not as the best imaginable world, hut 
 the best possible. Humanity can never transcend the 
 conditions of existence; and, while death exists. Perfect 
 Happiness is unattainable. Our concern is therefor 
 with the least p ssible Imperfect; and it necessarily 
 
 c 
 
On Utopias. 9 
 
 follows that, to our thinking, Utopia can be reached only- 
 after a long journey thro semi-Utopia. It will be found 
 that our chief immediate concern lies with this semi- 
 Utopia. 
 
CHAPTER III. 
 
 UNIVERSAL HONESTY THE BEST POLICY. 
 
 " Fe^ Human Spirit, bravely hold thy course ! 
 Let virtiie teach thee firmly to pursue 
 The gradual path of an aspirimi chanffe." 
 
 " And more, fhiiiJc well ; do-well will follow thought ; 
 And, in tht fatal sequence of this world, 
 An evil thought may stain thy children's blood." 
 
 It lias been pointed out by Herbert Spencer — who seenis to 
 have pointed out pretty nearly everything — that ideal men 
 are possible only in an ideal state ; and conversely that a 
 perfect social state is possible only when every unit has 
 achieved perfection. Perfect happiness and well being 
 are wholly incompatible with the existence of any vice. 
 This is one of those grand principles that we should do 
 well to keep ever present in our minds ; equipped with 
 this form of thought, we may find almost daily in our 
 walks and in our books, in our business and in our 
 pleasure, ample matter for reflection ; it co-ordinates and 
 illumines observations that are afforded by every journey 
 that we take, every article that we buy, every pleasure 
 that we enjoy, every hardship tha.t we compassionate, 
 every detail of our households, no less than by every 
 department of the social whole, by every social inequality, 
 and by every scheme of philanthropy and education. In 
 
Universal Honesty tJie Best Policy. 1 1 
 
 passing therefor to instance a few such examples, it is 
 only necessary to add that, whilst a perfect social state 
 implies not only moral perfection, but also the command 
 over natural forces that organised knowledge confers, so 
 for its attainment are requisite not only the moral 
 'Perfection of individuals but also a far more thoro 
 acquaintance on their part with the physical^ mental and 
 social sciences and their applications. Yet if only men 
 were unexceptionally virtuous, from what a vast incubus 
 of misery and discomfort (especially in little things ; and 
 happiness or uuhappiness so largely depends upon the 
 absence or presence of small worries) all of us would be 
 saved ! 
 
 For instance now, suppose, pro argumento, that we 
 were all of us decently honest; and consider tlien how much 
 misery would cease. And in all these illustrations we 
 have to estimate the hedonic gain from a twofold stand- 
 point ; fust as regards the generality of mankind, and 
 secondly as regards those units whose more or less un- 
 happy occupations are necessitated by the crimes of others. 
 Often, when speculating on a state in which all shall be 
 happy, the thought must ocour — " But happiness is im- 
 possible for men engaged in such and such occupations; 
 how can we solve this perplexity?" But the solution is 
 that such occupations will vanish when honesty is uni- 
 versal ; and thus we should attain this double hedonistic 
 gain. And, if you like, there is a third hedonistic aspect, 
 — that of those speculators who at present worry them- 
 selves into a despairful misery because they daily see so 
 many brother-men chained down to drudgery and blank 
 monotony. 
 
12 Universal Honesty 
 
 Now let us take a few illustrations. Suppose tliat we 
 are railway travellers. We arrive at the station, and, 
 having, after loss of time and temper, obtained our 
 ticket of the booking-clerk, we are stopped on our way 
 to the platform by a barrier where we have to show our 
 tickets to a ticket-collector who snips them : so too at 
 the end of our journey we are again stopped by a ticket- 
 collector who scrutinises our tickets to see that we have 
 not come t(io far. Now here there are at least three 
 distinct worries to be considered. First of all there are 
 the worries of the booking-clerks and ticket-collectors, 
 whose lives are one dreary tedious monotony, — doomed, 
 as they are, to a hopelessly uninteresting occupation, to 
 a lifework involving in itself (and not regarded as means 
 to the end of living) sheer hedonistic loss. Putting aside 
 altogether the worries of the ridiculous philanthropist 
 who worries himself because such worries exist, we have 
 secondly the worries of the rail way -travellers themselves, 
 who are perpetually losing trains because there is a long 
 queue of passengers at the booking-offices or the barrier, 
 and who are annoyed by being awakened at intervals to 
 show their tickets. Thirdly we have this very serious 
 fconomic worry, that many thousands are thus em})loyed 
 in utterly unpi-oductive labour : from an economic stand- 
 point their work is absolutely wasted, and there is no set 
 off of any sort, since neither themselves nor anybody else 
 gets the slightest satisfaction out of their labour. If 
 any one consider iiow many hundreds and hundreds of 
 railway stations there arc in England alone, and how 
 many ticket-clerks and collectors employed in each, he 
 will have vividly brought home to him the fact that 
 
The Best Policy. jj 
 
 many thousands of men, in this one direction alone, 
 are absorbed in absolutely unproductive labour: they 
 are a standing army of labourers who— from an economic 
 standpoint— do no work. Now it may sound rather 
 startling at first to those to whom it has never occurred 
 to reflect on these matters, but it is an indisputable fact 
 that this great army of unproductive workers, whose 
 work is a nuisance to themselves and to everyone else, 
 are a necessity imposed upon us simply and solely by our 
 own dishonesty ; that is, they are necessary because the 
 average honesty of civilised us is so low that, unless 
 there were a complicated system of checks and counter 
 checks, of ticket-granting and ticket-taking, no railway- 
 company could reckon on keeping out of the Bankruptcy 
 Court. 
 
 Now consider for a moment how different all this will 
 be when the whole nation (for here mark that a general 
 or universal minimum-standard of honesty must first be 
 reached) shall have become honest. All these human 
 ticket-appliances will be abolished along with the tickets: 
 at every railway station there will be conspicuously 
 posted a table of fares to every other station on that 
 system : each passenger will see at a glance how much 
 he is to pay for travelling a given distance in a giveu 
 class ; and he will put the requisite fare into a box, 
 either at the commencement or end of his journey — or 
 possibly in a box in the carriage. He will no more 
 dream of taking the opportunity to defraud the company 
 than he will feel tempted to cannibalism. See then 
 what an immense access of comfort and convenience we 
 shall thus achieve when we are honest; while the ticket- 
 
14 Universal Honesty. 
 
 mongering caste will be relieved from their miserable 
 occupation, and set free for work, which, while equally 
 bringing them their daily bread, will — as we may hope — 
 be also more profitable to the community. 
 
 It must be remembered that this whole set of men, 
 who do absolutely nothing useful, but are merely a 
 private police and detective force necessitated by the 
 general dishonesty, and are therefor in an utterly differ- 
 ent category from the enginedrivers, shunters, porters, 
 and others, who do actually useful and productive (in- 
 directly productive') work — that this whole army of many 
 thousands is simply — altho the un economically-cultured 
 mass never heed it — kejyt at the public cost.'- The 
 railway-companies keep them in the first place, and the 
 cost of their keep — of their wages — necessitates a per- 
 centage increase on the price of each fare : ultimately 
 therefor they are kept at the cost of the whole travelling 
 public — that is to say, practically of the nation. It just 
 comes to this then, that because the majority of us 
 cannot be trusted to abstain from thieving (for what else 
 is it), therefor every one of us has a certain tax put uiton 
 his income: that is to say, practically, he has to work a 
 percentage of our short life longer to gain — nothing ! 
 
 Yes : we have seen in this one simple instance how 
 considerable a gain in a threefold direction will be 
 
 ' We have endeavoured to obtain some statistics as to tlie 
 number of ticket-clerks and ticket-collectors — but, so far, in 
 vain : since however tlie census returns (18S1) the number of 
 railway eniployt's other than guards, drivers, stokers, pointsmen, 
 and level-ciossing-guardians, at 100,000, we might perliaps pro 
 visionally conclude that about 40,000 of these are ticket-clerks 
 and ticketcoUeclors, leaving tlie rciiiainiLig GO, 000 as porters. 
 
The Best Policy, 15 
 
 effected by a sufficient advance in the general honesty ; 
 or rather, as one should say, when the minimum honesty 
 shall have been sufficiently raised : for it must be re- 
 membered that in such matters our whole system must 
 be a function of the minimum honesty : so long as any 
 are dishonest enough to cheat the companies, the whole 
 public must be, for practical purposes, put upon the 
 same suspicion - level. What we need therefor is a 
 marked rise of the minimum honesty ; and how great a 
 moral advance this means it is almost needless to point 
 out. At present the popular standard of honesty in 
 little things is deplorably low ; for men and women who 
 would be horrified at any actual misappropriation of 
 another's goods will yet without compunction defraud a 
 public company. Taking any church, probably nine-tenths 
 of the " respectable worshippers," who perform their 
 eminently " respectable " devotions there every Sunday, 
 and thank God that they are children of grace and 
 neither Turks, Jews, Socinians, nor Infidels, would have no 
 scruple in cheating a railway-company on their way 
 home : probably very few indeed of them, were they 
 transplanted into the ti-avellers'-Utopia that we have 
 sketched above, would put the right fare itito the box.^ 
 We see then that, taking ourselves as one composite 
 
 ' At present there is really a very strong case for those travel- 
 lers — at least regular travellers — who seize every opportunity of 
 cheating a railway-company : for all or nearly all of the com- 
 panies swindle us in the most rascally fashion ; and since it is 
 hopeless for a private individual to commence litigation with a 
 rich company to recover the expenses which their unpunctualitj', 
 e.[/., has caused him, — it seems clearly defensible, morally, to pay 
 oneself by "cheating tliem." But this is not the leasouiug which 
 prompts many of the frauds to which we refer. 
 
1 6 Universal Honesty 
 
 whole — the public — we richly deserve all the annoyance 
 and expense to which the ticket-system puts us; since it 
 is simply the just reward of our corporate knavery and 
 dishonesty. Lot us then hasten to become honest ! 
 
 Well, let us continue souiewhat farther our travelling 
 reflections. In due time we arrive at our terminus, in 
 London, for instance, and perhaps avail ourselves of an 
 omnibus to reach a distant part of the city. Here again 
 the least reflection will convince us that the omnibus-con- 
 ductor is in very ndTirly the same category as the ticket- 
 staff of the railways, and his profession is open to pre- 
 cisely the same objections, except that he is not so great 
 an annoyance to us as is the ticket-collector. But he is 
 a worry to himself, since his occupation is detestable, and 
 a weary irksome monotony of idle hard work ; and the 
 existence of his calling is an economic worry, since here 
 again is a large staff of workers detailed for a perfectly 
 useless and unproductive occupation.^ Again, then, we 
 may reflect that the advent of general honesty will see 
 the omnibus and tram-conductors disappear — while pas- 
 sengers will put their rightful fares into a moneybox pro- 
 vided for that purpose. It is superfluous to point out 
 that — like the ticket-collector — the omnibus-conductors 
 are kept at the public expense. It may be observed that 
 the drivers are,^je?- contra, an useful class of workers ; and 
 since they must continue as long as horses are used, it is 
 some satisfaction to the philanthropist to reflect that 
 
 1 There does not seem any ready means of ascertaining the 
 number of omnihus-condactors in England ; but the London Gene- 
 ral Omnibus Co. alone employ about 1 ,000, whose wages vary from 
 4s. 6d. to 6s. per day : this represents about £80,000 per year 
 wasted on a private police by one company alone. 
 
The Best Policy. ly 
 
 their occupation is somewhat less monotonously tedious 
 than is that of the conductors. 
 
 The mention of omnibus-drivers suggests to one the 
 thought of their confreres the cab-drivers; and it may be 
 permissible to digress for a moment to consider them. We 
 hope that it is already understood by our readers that 
 two distinct considerations have prompted this investiga- 
 tion. In the first place, we have to consider what 
 occupations are intrinsically wearisome and distasteful ; 
 and — unpleasant work being nonconsonant with Utopia — 
 to enquire how far a general social advance will tend to 
 abolish these occupations — general honesty being an 
 essential component in any such advance ; from this 
 standpoint we consider the hedonic gain to the workers 
 in question. But in the second place, we have to reckon 
 with the general hedonic gain of the public, whether 
 direct, as when we are relieved from much inconvenience 
 by the abolition of ticket-regulations, or indirect, as when 
 tlie general wealth is practically increased inasmuch as a 
 demand is no longer made upon the public purse to sup- 
 port a large body of unproductive ■■• workers. 
 
 Very well then, returning to our friend the cab-driver, 
 
 we are willing to admit that there may be far worse 
 
 occupations than his: assuming the receipt of decent pay, 
 
 and the shortening of his hours of labour — assumptions 
 
 1 We need not stop to ask whether these devote themselves to 
 another luiprod active occupation, or become direct producers of 
 wealth. For, if the former, and supposing they become confec- 
 tioners even, this implies that we spend our practically extra 
 wealth upon extra sweetmeats ; so that tho our income and out- 
 come remain the same, our enjoyments are increased. And sup- 
 posing that they — or an equivalent number in a higher class — 
 become artists, or scientific discoverers or teachers ? {vide infra). 
 
1 8 Universal Honesty 
 
 which must be made regarding every occupation in even 
 approximate Utopias — then there might be far worse 
 occupations than cab-driving in fair weatlier. But, 
 nevertheless, we are inclined to think that the social 
 advance will see a great diminution in the number of 
 cab-drivers — to the hedonic gain of the quondam drivers. 
 For even if we put aside the weary intervals of waiting, 
 and assume that, one day, supply and demand will be so 
 well adjusted that every cabman will be empl(»yed 
 thro'out the whole of his (shorter) day's work, and that, 
 by some means, we shall contrive never to keep a cabman 
 waiting outside houses and theatres — which are rather big 
 assumptions — the fact still remains that, so far as we can 
 foresee, cabs will be constantly requited either very late 
 at night or very early in the morning — which involves 
 hedonic loss for the cabman, unless he be highly paid, ami 
 that involves hedonic loss by us. No, we prefer to show 
 how, without assuming anything more Utopian than 
 honesty (which we confess is a tolerable assumption), we 
 may satisfactorily solve the problem. In the first place 
 we will admit that cab-drivers may be always necessary 
 in crowded cities during the daytime — precisely the con- 
 ditions under which they are most likely to be constantly 
 employed — since considerable skill is necessary to safe 
 driving under such conditions ; but for the rest — for 
 suburbs, for night-work, and in all such cases — we might 
 have cabs withotit drivers. The case is simplj this : we 
 hire a cab in order that we may get rapidly and without 
 exertion from spot to spot ; under the present system, 
 however, we cannot hire a cab only ; we must hire the 
 cab-driver in addition. Now, as we have already seen, 
 
The Best Policy. 19 
 
 the cab-driver will probably remain for long a necessity 
 in our crowded streets, since the average layman is want- 
 ing in the necessary skill or nerve ; but in suburbs, and 
 at night-time, the great majority of travellers could 
 themselves drive if they had the chance ; that is, if they 
 could hire the cab alone ; that is, in effect, if besides the 
 " cab complet " there were for hire a number of cabs 
 minus drivers. Tiie gain hedonically would be as usual 
 several-fold; the fare would gain by paying less: the men 
 who at present follow the occupation of driving cabs at 
 uncomfortable hours would gain by exchanging this 
 occupation for a more pleasant one ; and the community 
 in general would gain, since so much, at present unpro- 
 ductive, labour would be set free and might become pro- 
 ductive. Why then can we not introduce, at least ex- 
 perimentally, this system? Simply because — the usual 
 answer — we are not honest enough ; because, as a com- 
 munity, we cannot be trusted to drive off in cabs without 
 a guardian; because so many of us would systematically 
 cheat the cab owner by giving him less than his due, or 
 even — worst of all — by stealing his cab ! So that again 
 the fact that our corporate honesty is below the necessary 
 minimum standard debars us from spending less for given 
 accommodation. But in a thoroly honest community we 
 take it that the organisation of a driverless-cab-systeni 
 will be excedingly simple. There will be large cal> 
 stands of driverless cabs, and at half-day one or two 
 ostlers will come up and change the horses. Any one 
 requiring such a cab will enter one and drive off. Arrived 
 at his journey's end, he will put the full fare into the box 
 provided, and then either the cab will be left on some 
 
20 Universal Honesty 
 
 other stand, or else so intelligent an animal as a horse 
 will at once start off home again. We must, however, 
 remember that at no distant date horse-cabs will probably 
 be partly or entirely superseded by electrical convey- 
 ances ; which change will, in many respects, greatly 
 simplify the system of driverless cabs. We do not, of 
 course, for a moment profess that the above scheme is 
 other than a very crude outline ; but it is sufficient to 
 show how greatly simplified this, among other social pro- 
 blems, becomes if we assume the whole public to be 
 honest. 
 
 To continue our travels, — why did we come up to 
 London ] Well perhaps to visit a theatre, or a picture- 
 gallery, or an exhibition, or some other place of amuse- 
 ment. Arrived here we find our moral at once pointed 
 afresh ; for, to whatever such place we go, we find an 
 array of checktakers or guardians of some sort, whose 
 occupations would at once be gone were the general 
 public sufficiently honest to be trusted : if we were so 
 honest that no one would dream of entering an exhibition 
 without putting his fee in a moneybox, or of taking a 
 more expensive seat than he had payed for in the 
 theatre, where would be the necessity for such officials ? 
 Perhaps it may be replied that after all there are not 
 many such employed : true ; but the sum total is ap- 
 preciable ; and theirs is so much labour locked up in an 
 employment not only unproductive of wealth but also 
 useless, since ministering (except negatively) to no one's 
 haj)piness. But we are not honest enough to dispense 
 with them. 
 
 We spoke just now of the whole body of ticket-ofEcials 
 
TJie Best Policy. 21 
 
 as being simply a police upon us : and that suggests a 
 reference to the national police. What could afford a 
 more striking comment upon the loss, the double loss, of 
 ■wealth entailed upon the community by the dishonesty 
 of some of its members, than this fact that in England 
 and Wales alone we require a total police-force of over 
 32^000 menl^ That is to say that the nation, as a 
 whole, is heavily taxed in order to provide a check on 
 the dishonesty, rowdyism, and violence, of a section of 
 its members. Verily, in the long run anyhow. Honesty 
 is the best Policy ! The direct losses caused by actual 
 deeds of violence and dishonesty seem almost trivial 
 when compared with the grand annual loss necessary in 
 order to prevent a reign of violence and fraud. We may, 
 however, admit that the case as regards the police is not 
 entirely on a par with that of the ticket-collectors and 
 conductors ; inasmuch as the need for police is mainly 
 due to the avowedly criminal classes ; whereas the 
 potential sinners against honesty in the matter of travel- 
 ling, etc., are to be reckoned in great numbers among 
 the highly "respectable" classes. 
 
 As an intermediate instance we may however point to 
 our legal organisation. Besides the stipendiary magis- 
 trates, who are simply an appendage to the police force, 
 we have to take into account the expenses of County 
 Court Judges, Judges of the Higher Courts — whether 
 Civil, Criminal, or Equity — with all their host of subor- 
 dinate officers, and the general expenses of the courts ; 
 and we then find tl)at the cost of law and justice in 
 
 ' According to the ISSl Ceusus — besides 3,000 women. 
 
22 Universal Honesty 
 
 the United Kingdom is about &ix millions annually I ^ 
 Now self-evidently this great annual burden is simply a 
 corollary to our general want of honesty. Because, 
 looked at as a nation, we have so scant a regard for 
 honor, honesty, and fairness, all tliis complicated 
 machinery of wigs, gowns and beadles is required — and 
 must be paid for.- Be it remembered too that this cal- 
 
 ' This includes £1,500,000 for the Irish constabulary, and 
 £500,000 for the London Police. As wi'l be sliowii sulisequentiy, 
 this Budget charge of £6,000,000 is very far from representing 
 the total expense to the nation. 
 
 ^ The grief of it all is that the rogues and sharpers, whose 
 evil-doings necessitate all this machinery, are not compelled to 
 ) ay for it : and one is sometimes inclined to despair of social 
 improvement when one observes the stolid pigheaded determina- 
 tion of our lawmakers to ignore the most crying abuses and to 
 leave chaos unrefornied. It is no exaggeration, but a simple 
 literal statement of fact, to say that our laws are specially con- 
 trived to leave honest men at the mercy of rogues and swindlers. 
 We pass by the bankruptcy laws — which enable scoundrels to 
 thrive by their roguery — and likewise that iniquitous enactment 
 which prevents both civil a)id criminal action being taken 
 against fraudulent company - promoters et id omne genus — an 
 enactment that enables them to snap their fingers at the victims 
 they have fleeced — we pass by all such scandals as these since 
 our present purport is to point out the disgracefully backward 
 condition of our law as compared with that of — Scandinavia ! 
 It is of no use for us Englishmen to plume ourselves upon leading 
 the van of civilisation when little Scandinavia can outstrip us 
 in commonsense laws, and in regard to justice puts us to shame. 
 There,, as it seems, a man who has been committed for trial is 
 compelled, if found guilty, to pay for the expenses of his keep 
 while awaiting trial and for the expenses incurred in bringing 
 him to justice — a most admirable and salutary proceding which 
 of course the "(ilorious English constitution " will not hear of. 
 Htre, the system is so arranged that (1) a man who has been 
 swindled and robbed may have no criminal redress at all : and 
 (2) if he have, and from public spirit avail himself thereof, he 
 must forego any attempt to recover his money of which he has 
 
TJie Best Policy. 23 
 
 culation embraces only the national law costs : add 
 thereto the costs for solicitors and counsel incurred by 
 every litigant, and what a total should we have ! 
 
 But after all, this vast expenditure on a machinery of 
 police, necessitated by the internal dishonesty and violence 
 of our fellow-countrymen, which compels us to impoverish 
 ourselves to this amount in order to safeguard person and. 
 
 been robbed ! — a monstrous and incredibly fatuous provision ; 
 wiiilst (3) if there be criminal redress, he himself is left to work 
 the expensive law-machineiy ; that is, having surrendered his 
 "natural right" to vindicate himself by force, and having paid 
 heavy taxes all his life, the return made by the State is to allow 
 him to do — himself — the State's work of public prosecution ! Is 
 not this an admirable arrangement that makes the honest 
 pay the costs incurred by the dishonest ? But (4) even if, as ia 
 rare cases, that national fraud the Public Prosecutor can be 
 kicked and cuffed into doing his duty, even then the rogue 
 whose prosecution entails all this expense pays not one farthincr 
 of the costs ! But, having thus shown itself far inferior to the 
 code of little Scandinavia as an instrument for punishing rogues, 
 English Law — in direct defiance of the maxim which it is ever- 
 lastingly cackling over— endeavours to square the account by 
 punishing the innocent. A man committed to prison to await 
 his trial is treated almost as tho he were a condemned mis- 
 creant : and, if found not guilty by the Jury, not one farthing 
 of reparation do we make him for loss of time, loss of liberty, 
 loss of money, and loss of home. In Scandinavia, however — 
 where possibly the inhabitants do not thank. Heaven quite so 
 fervently or ostentatiously that they are virtuous and religious, 
 and where apparently they devote some attention to acting 
 morally — we may again find a pattern — and blush ; for there, if 
 found not guilty, a prisoner is suitably compensated for the loss 
 of time, comfort, and money, which he has suffered. In fact 
 the difference is just this ; England affords manifold facilities 
 to rogues to escape from justice : and peremptorily refuses jus- 
 tice to innocent and wronged men ; Scandinavian law punishes 
 rogues and compensates innocent men. Compared then with 
 Scandinavia, England seems to be still in a semi-barbarous 
 condition 1 
 
24 Universal Honesty 
 
 property, is but small when compared with the terrible 
 drain made on our resources by the army and navy : 
 and what are these but a direct consequence of interna- 
 tional dishonesty, violence, rapine, and bloodthirstiness : 
 a consequence, and alas, too often a cause ! Assuredly, 
 if ever in the whole history of the world a glaring and 
 overwhelming proof has been experimentally furnished 
 demonstrative of the old adage that Honesty is the best 
 Policy, we have it now in the present condition of 
 Europe ; every state bowed down, groaning, and strength- 
 drained, by the terrible incubus of enormous armaments ; 
 the nations taxed and triply impoverished ; first by being 
 compelled to heep hundreds of thousands of idle men ; 
 secondly by losing exactly so many wealth-creators ; 
 thirdly by the expense of inaterial armaments — guns, 
 forts, ships, powder, etc., etc. : and all this awful waste 
 simply because every nation believes — and rightly — 
 pretty nearly every other nation to be — like itself — a 
 robber and a murderer ! The presence of standing 
 armies in Europe of today is the maddest of all in- 
 sanities ; the demarcations of kingdoms have long since 
 been mapped out ; and excepting on the Eastern frontier 
 of Germany, and along the Danubian frontier — wliere the 
 danger exists of an inroad by the hordes of ravening 
 savages who people that earthly hell ruled by devils 
 incarnate and called Russia — there should be not a 
 soldier in Europe. Look across the Atlantic and see 
 America — happy country — almost without a soldier, and 
 till lately perplexed how to dispose of her national 
 income; then look back at Europe groaning and writhing 
 in blood and impoverishment ! The English army cost 
 
The Best Policy. 25 
 
 (in 1887) 17 millions, its adjuncts 9| millions, and the 
 navy 12| millions, making a total of 39 millions — practi- 
 cally half our revenue spent on an international Robber- 
 police. Putting aside all the other loss entailed, there is 
 an average taxation of 6 or 7 pounds annually on every 
 householder in the United Kingdom in order to keep up 
 this Robber-police. Let any man of small income ask 
 himself bow much additional happiness this would mean 
 to him every year ; and yet this direct loss is the small- 
 est part of the total impoverishment so caused. Verily, 
 Honesty is the best Policy ! 
 
CHAPTER IT. 
 
 TUE GREAT SERVANT■QUESTIO^^ 
 
 •* But the heart, and the mind, 
 And the voice, of mankind, 
 Shall arise in communion ; 
 And who shall resist tliat proud union ?" 
 
 Now let us refer to a different category of occupations. 
 In the several preceding examples we have been anxious 
 to show how certain modes of labour, which are absolutely 
 unproductive of any pleasure to the public (being indeed 
 a nuisance), and are also in an economic sense absolutely 
 unproductive also, would at once disappear were men but 
 sufficiently honest. We want no Jules-Verne-inveutions 
 to render possible that much improvement in society^ 
 nothing but honesty ; in any honest society — let alone 
 Utopia — all police of every kind must disappear. But 
 our concern is now with certain occupations which are 
 not police-born at all, but which are simply the con- 
 comitants of our complex civilisation ; and altho most of 
 these be not productive in the economic sense, yet do 
 they minister to our comfort, meeting real or factitious 
 needs. The question is now — will such occupations 
 persist in a semi-Utopian society, or will tliey be 
 
 abolished] The truth is that, while they seem 
 
 26 
 
The Servaiit Question. 27 
 
 necessary to the comfort of the public— or of larye 
 classes thereof— they are undeniably unpleasant to the 
 workers : and moreover with the growing refiuement of 
 evolving society, and the raising of the general minimum 
 of refinement, these occupations may j9?-m5 facie be 
 expected to become more and more distasteful to the 
 workers. How then shall we reconcile the opposition, 
 smce, selt-evidently, there can be no unpleasant occu- 
 pations in any approximate Utopia % We do not propose 
 here to avail ourselves of Spencer's principle of adapta- 
 tion to the unavoidable, or to enquire whether, in spite 
 of growing refinement, men might become reconciled to, 
 and finally take great pleasure in, e.g. scavenging : since, 
 before falling back on tiiat last line of defence, it is at 
 least permissible to enquire whether the seemingly un- 
 avoidable may not be modified or dispensed with. 
 
 It is not proposed to discuss in the present chapter a 
 number of such unpleasant occupations with a view to 
 determining their unavoidability or otherwise ; such a 
 discussion will be found in a subsequent chapter ; 1 but 
 for the present we shall find quite enough to occupy us 
 for a couple of chapters or so in the great Servant- 
 Question. 
 
 Everybody— both here and in America, and still more 
 in Australia —seems to be agreed that one of the most 
 pressing (minor) social problems of to-day is that of 
 domestic service. Now, on this score a good deal might 
 be said, and there are sundry aspects to the question. 
 In the first place, if any one expect from us an assent 
 
 ^ See chapter xi , to which the rtader may advanta"eouslv 
 refer at this juucture: ° 
 
28 Tlie Servant Question. 
 
 to the universal mistress-cry tliat this scarcity of 
 domestic servants is a grave evil, let iiini make u[) 
 his mind to be disappointed. We can not and will not 
 cry amen to this caste-prayer of " Give us tliis day our 
 old-fashioned servants." We will admit to the full the 
 annoyance and inconvenience caused to us — the em- 
 ployers — by the changes wrought in the servant-class 
 during the last half century ; and we very fully realise 
 the discomfort induced by repeated changes — tho here 
 it seems to us that the actual material discomfort and 
 worry caused are perhaps less serious than the emotional 
 evil — the impossibility of creating a feeling of personal 
 esteem and friendship between master and servant, of 
 making the servant one of the family as was the case 
 in former days, when the servant would speak of " our " 
 house, ^^ our" children, and so on. We admit to feeling 
 very strongly on tliis point, and to yearning for tlie 
 affectionate life-long ties of old days, when a maid 
 entered the service of a young mistress just married, 
 and grew old along with her — the mutual esteem and 
 fellow-feeling deepening from year to year ; or if anon 
 the maid married, she yet retained the kindly kinship- 
 feeling, and periodically visited her old mistress to talk 
 of the children and all household interests. 
 
 Yes ! We confess to a very poignant regret for tin's 
 old affectionate intercourse, the possibility of which 
 seems destroyed, or at least indefinitely suspended, now ; 
 but we can go no further with those who sigh for the 
 " old servants," nor can we endorse their indignant re- 
 proaches on the modern domestic. For, however happy 
 the results in individual cases under the old style, it 
 
TJie Servant Question. 29 
 
 must be remembered that the long unchanged service, 
 aud the docility aud submission, were all due to one 
 cause — viz., the inexperience, helplessness, and ignorance, 
 of the servants, and the general overawedness and 
 ahvay s-carry -yourself -lowly-and-reverently-tQ-yonr-betters- 
 ness inculcated upon the poorer classes by their caste-bora 
 and caste-bound superiors. Now — except in the country 
 where non-doffing to the squire and the parson is still high 
 felony — all such insolent nonsense is disappearing. The 
 *' revolt " of the servants is only another effect and 
 symptom of the same salutary social revolution that has 
 given us strikes,^ trade unions, extended franchise, and 
 labour-conferences : all alike mean the shaking-off of 
 thraldom, and the assertion of the independence of man. 
 But housekeepers and mistresses are, as a rule, little 
 given to philosophising on sociology — or on anything 
 else ; and they deplore as unmixed evil what is, in 
 great measure, very good. We have but scant patience 
 or sympathy with that intolerant caste-spirit which can 
 look on one side — its own side — only of tlie shield, and 
 judge the goodness or badness of any change simply by 
 the resultant effect on the comfort of the caste. On 
 the contrary, we cannot but rejoice — however much in- 
 convenience may at times be caused to ourselves 
 personally — that the class of domestic servants is now 
 hi so far better a position that it is able to insist on 
 higher wages, more extensive privileges, and the sus- 
 
 1 Not, of course, that we can otherwise than deplore the 
 frequency of strikes — the misery and loss entailed by them — tho 
 we rejoice that the w orkmen can assert tjiemselves and are no 
 
 lonircr sirfs. 
 
30 The Servant Question. 
 
 pension of vexatious and impertinent restrictions. The 
 modern mistress laments not only the loss of long- 
 service-servants, but the loss of that authority and power 
 in which her mother and grandmother gloried : the lust 
 of power is rampant in the human breast, and few have 
 the virtue willingly to resign the sceptre. Nowadays- 
 far otherwise was it in the past generation — servants are 
 awake to their own value, and no longer cleave to their 
 one situation ; for they know that their supply is below 
 their employers' demands, and that a good servant need 
 never want a berth. Similarly they will not tolerate 
 those arrogant and insolent caste-regulations which 
 forbade them to wear colors; and we hope that in a 
 very short time they will throw off the " cap " also to 
 which they are at present doomed in order to mark their 
 place below the salt. Caps may be suitable to age, but 
 we have no sort of patience with those people who insist 
 upon a young girl jjutting on these hair-extinguishers, 
 instead of allowing — or teaching — her to dress her hair 
 in the one mode in which any woman should wear her 
 hair.i To one thing these mistresses had better make 
 up their minds at once — viz., that if the servant-system 
 be fated to endure, it will be only in an abiuidantly 
 modified form. Tlie general re fining-process will give 
 us servants on a higlicr level of refinement ; and the 
 present insistence on a stern demarcation in personal 
 appearance between housemaid and daughter of the 
 house must collapse. Those who are horrified if a 
 servant, waiting at table, wear a watch and chain, and 
 who would faint instanto at seeing her minus a ca[), 
 * Viz., in ca coil on the top of the head. 
 
Tlie Servant Question. 31 
 
 may rest assured that the future maid will not only 
 appear thus, but also (in any family with a love for 
 esthetic graces) with flowers in her hair: for life is so 
 full of uglinesses that we can ill afford to scj^uander the 
 possibilities of beauty and grace. 
 
 Now it appears to us that one reason why the long- 
 service-system has practically disappeared with the old 
 cas^e-regime is this — that the employer.^, blinded and 
 heart-hardened by their intolerable caste-notions, have 
 steadfastly resisted, point by point and line by line, 
 ever}' advance of the servants, and, to the very best of 
 their — happily limited — ability, have hindered the 
 emancipation. It really seems absolutely impossible to 
 make employers understand — far less realise — that 
 servants are not a class specially brought into existence 
 by a divine Providence to minister to their comfort. 
 As long as they thus insist upon regarding every advance 
 of the servants as a wilful rebellion, every new departure 
 as both wicked and foolish, and — significantly— think 
 the whole question summed up by deploring the " grow- 
 ing independence " of the servant-class — so long it is 
 hopeless to expect any re-establishment of the old kindly 
 feeling. For servants know perfectly well in what light 
 their attempts at enfranchisement are regarded ; and the 
 patent, tho smouldering, resentment of mistress raises 
 inevitably an antipathetic feeling in maid. They know 
 perfectly well that every privilege of theirs has been won 
 in the teeth of opprobrium, opposition, and sarcasm, ^ 
 
 ' Tt has been most trutlifully saifl that, to really know — to 
 realise — tiie inner life of any age, we must study its liglit litera- 
 ture. Anyone who should wish to study the social hfe of the 
 
0- 
 
 TIic Servant Question. 
 
 and that, were it possible, probably ninety-nine em[)l()yers 
 out of every hundred would instantly combine to reduce 
 servants to the status of fifty years ago. 
 "But" — cries the injured mistress — "what has this to do 
 
 last half century would naturally turn to the pages of Punch, 
 the study of whicli is almost a liberal education by itself — at 
 least in that sense of " liberal " wliicli excludes the most valuable 
 of all knowledge, anyhow. Punch is usually read for amusement 
 merely ; but beneath tlie social satire and the humor lies a 
 motal which he who runs may read. Some fortj'-five years ago 
 there appeared in Punch a series of sketches entitled Seri'aiit(jal- 
 ism ; or, ivhat's to become of the Mistresses ? and here may be found 
 several apt illustrations of our contention — that the typical 
 mistress is hopelessly imbued with the notion that seivants are 
 a lower caste, specially created by Providence as ministrants to 
 the comfort of the weultliier ; and that any assertion of inde- 
 pendence or selfregarci on tlieir part is both wicked and absurd. 
 These sketches also illustrate our argument that part of the pre- 
 sent discord between servant and mistress is traceable to the 
 sarcasm and ridicule which the dominant class have heaped upon 
 their incipiently self-asserting servants. It would be rather a 
 rash assumption to make that the satirised servants never saw 
 Punch ; and, having seen themselves so satirised, they would be 
 something more, or something less, than human, did not their 
 relations with tiieir employers become embittered and dis- 
 cordant ; altho it is doubtful whether the evils thus wrought 
 were so great as the reflex-effect of the sarcasms on the minds of 
 the employer-class, who thus became only the more contirmed in 
 their prejudices as to the one duty of servants, and the more 
 disposed to scoi-n all notions of servants' rights. 
 
 First of all noting that the very title of Servantgalism ; oVy 
 what's to become of the Mistresses ? is itself eloquent testimony to 
 the truth of our indictment, and alone speaks volumes for tlie 
 mental attitude — the hopelessly prejudiced, caste-born, attitude 
 — assumed by the typical employer, we pass to one or two 
 examples (the references to Punch are thro'init to the 3 volume 
 edition of Leech's Cartoons published I8SG-1SS7 by Bradbury 
 Agnew & Co. ). 
 
 Here is one entitled An Impudent Minx (1852) (T. p- ^-l)- -^ 
 
The Servant Question. 33 
 
 with it] You admit that servants are iu a far better 
 position than formerly; and you equally admit that they 
 are nevertheless f^ir more dissatisfied, and that the old 
 affectionate relations cannot, under present conditions, 
 
 shoddng oH frump, with very scanty cu.ls at the sides of her 
 tace thus addresses a very pretty maul, mIio has combed some of 
 her luxuriant tresses into long curls surrounding her cheeks • 
 Go and put up those curls directly if you please. How daro 
 you imitate me in that manner? Impertinence!" And a 
 pnictically identical example is one entitled A Cau^efor Reproof 
 (184/) (I p. 257). Now in both of these cases we will franklv 
 admit that the point of the sarcasm is really directed at the 
 mistresses and that they, and not their blooming maidservants 
 are in reality gibbeted. In so far therefor one must exonerate 
 Leech from a charge of intensifying caste-iUwill. But we are 
 anxious, so far as concerns these two cuts, to draw attention to 
 there triithfidness: they exactly reflect the prejudiced intolerant 
 caste-spint ; and at least ninety-nine mistresses out of every 
 hundred who saw these sketches would consider the two pretty 
 maids to be acting with great impertinence, and the two 
 mistresses to be fully justified in their indignation. In fact so 
 thoroly typical of the employer-spirit are these sketches that it is 
 doubtful whether many mistresses would perceive the real 
 humor at all _ their attention being entirely occupied by the 
 m.sdeeds of the maids and the just wrath of their mistresses • 
 Ike the atter they would perhaps think that the whole absurdity 
 lay in the maids' attempt to imitate (!) their nustresses' hair- 
 dressing. 
 
 In otiier iWnstv^tiomoi Servantg alisrnhov, ever we find nothing 
 but gibes, ridicule, and sarcasm, at the expense of the servants^ 
 In No 7, or instance (1853) (I. p. 222), we find two violently 
 caricatured servants calling at the house where " Hann 
 Jenkins is employed, to leave their cards, and express a hope that 
 she got home all right after the ball. In No. 10 (1853) (I p 95) 
 an aggressively snub-nosed heavy-built girl remarks, ''With 
 mv beauty and figure I ain't agoing to stop in sarvice no longer " 
 In No 16 (1863) (III. p. 220) a smutty-faced, snub-nosed, re- 
 markedly awkward-looking, maid-of-all-work, being reproved 
 for wearing her crinoline in the morning, replies that the sweeps 
 
34 ^/-^^ Servant Question. 
 
 be re-established : then tliis just proves the truth of our 
 complaints — that the servant of to-day is far inferior to the 
 servant of our grandmothers' time." 
 
 This may seem phiusible, but the answer to it has 
 already been implied. Let us take a [mrallel from the 
 
 were coming, and she conhhi't think of opening the donr to 
 them — such a tigure as she would have looked without her 
 crinoline ! And finally in one entitled Servant rial Urn in 
 Australia — a Fact, a servant, of about as ungainly a buihl as the 
 preceding ons, .appears dressed in a riding habit (dreadful re- 
 sult !), and informs lier mistress that, having an hour to spare, 
 slie is "going to try her new horse." 
 
 Now the tirst point, to which we wish to draw attention in 
 these illustrations, is the intolerant and superciliou.s attitude 
 taken up with regard to any attempted advance of the servants. 
 The tacit assumption underlying all tiiese satires— and essential 
 to their very existence — is that dances, visiting cards, a good 
 figure, and horse-riding, are so selfevidently, so palpably, the 
 special endowment of th"^ ruling class only, that any mention 
 of them in connection with servants is essentially ludicrous : that 
 assumption once made, it needs only to point tiie satire by a mis- 
 placed H, a snub-nose, or a bad figure, and the farce is complete. 
 We are not for a moment denying the humour of Leech's satire — 
 we think that we appreciate it to the very fullest — but we do 
 emphatically protest against the intolerant caste-born mental 
 standpoint, — so admirably illustrated by Leech — from which tiie 
 struggles of the servant-class are regarded. We will go even 
 fartiier ; and, admitting tliat instances are to hand of genuine ab- 
 surdities committed by servants, we will ask — Is it kind, is it 
 chivalrous, to hold them up to scorn and contumely in a class- 
 journal — they being the weaker party ? Satirise tlie strong as 
 mucli as you like, vent your sarcasm on them to the top of your 
 bent — for you do it at your own risk ; but is it chivalrous, is it 
 brave, is it other than meanspirited, to satirise a class below, 
 wlio cannot retaliate, and whose absurdities and uncouthnesses 
 are due simply to the want of that education and that happier 
 social environment which you — thro no merit of your own — have 
 enjoyed? What other result can follow but uuiim;eaaary aud 
 irratuitous embilteruient ot feeling, aud illwill";; 
 
Tlie Servant Qiiesaon. 35 
 
 army. We read of certain great commanders addressing 
 Ineir soldiers as " Aly children," and we indulge in much 
 sentiment over the affectionate relations thus existing, 
 and deplore the fact that in our own army such relations 
 are impossible. But it has most truly been pointed out ^ 
 that such relations are symptomatic of an army where the 
 men have no rights : " My children " is the phrase of a 
 despot addressing soldiers whose lives are absolutely in 
 his hands, and who have no redress against his decrees 
 however arbitrary : it is the watchword of the " patri- 
 archal " rule. But things are different in our array, 
 where the lowest has legal rights and may obtain redress 
 lor injustice. "Respect for riglits " has superseded 
 patronage. 
 
 Now it appears to us that here is a strong analogy 
 to the household relations which we are considering. 
 Formerly a mistress, altho certainly not holding her 
 servant's life in her hands, yet had her very tolerably 
 under her thumb. The great difficulty of communication 
 and of travelling in those days naturally induced depend- 
 ence ; for a servant, having once secured a tolerable 
 situation, would put up with a good deal of tyranny 
 rather than risk her livelihood by leaving. ' How in those 
 pre- cheap-newspaper, and pre-registry-office, days could a 
 servant hear of a new situation, or how make her wants 
 known] Situations then were probably filled up on 
 personal recommendations, and " characters " went for 
 everything. In days when a cardinal article of faith was 
 that "Rebellion is as the sin of witchcraft," and any 
 
 1 We regret to have totally forgotten the author from wliom we 
 quote — and necessarily therefor we quote only in paraphrase. 
 
36 TJie Servant Question. 
 
 attempt to assert independence was regarded as atheistical 
 and republican, it may be well understood that a servant 
 who resented caste-tyranny, caste-usurpations, and caste- 
 restrictions, would stand but a poor chance of finding a 
 second situation ; for probably the supply of servants — 
 or of would-be-servants — then, was fully up to the 
 demand. In those days too the doctrines of humility 
 and of obedience to superiors were steadily engrained in 
 children's minds, and contentment in iJiat state of life in- 
 culcated, by caste-parsons wiio, themselves imbued with 
 the quint-essential spirit of caste, had yet the ett'rontery to 
 style themselves followers of Jesus of Nazareth, who — if 
 he taught anything — most emphatically tauglit (rightly 
 or wrongly) the fraternity and " equality " of man ! 
 
 Very well then : is it not now very intelligible that the 
 mistress, looking down from her lofty standpoii\t of 
 superiority, could easily condescend affectionately to her 
 servants — practically possessing no rights, and taught to 
 reverence her as a mistress ; while naturally too a lifelong 
 connection alone would in many instances superiuiiuce 
 feelings of affection. ^ 
 
 1 But it is higlily advisable to remember that, whilst our 
 grandmothers (hew for us touching pictures of the affectionate 
 relations between well-conditioned mistresses and servants, we 
 naturally hear nought of the sufferings of servants at tlie hands 
 of ill-conditioned mistresses. We linovv of no more ridiculous 
 example of the almost incredible lengths to which this precious 
 caste-arrogance may go, than is afforded by a passage iu one of 
 De Quincey's autobiographical sketches, Tht Female lujidd 
 — "My mother, by original choice, and by early training under 
 a very aristocratic fatlier, recoiled as austerely from all direct 
 communication v-ith her servants, as the Pythia at Delphi from 
 the attendants that swept out the temple." (Hee also a passage 
 in his lutrodacilon to the World of Strife— ''My motlier, wlio 
 
TJie Servant Question. 37 
 
 Tf may perhaps then be inferred that any possibility of 
 resuming the old aftectionate rehxtions is now doomed, 
 and that there will be a mutual standing-upon-one's- 
 rights until the end of the chapter : such, however, is — 
 we trust — not the case : and we 'ftitroduced the com- 
 ments on the caste-opposition to servants' emancipation 
 in order to mark what appeared to us the poison-fount. 
 The long-service-system, with its concomitant develop- 
 ment of affection, is not — we hope — incompatible with 
 servants' independence and servants' rights, but only 
 inrnmpatible tvith the mutual distrust and re&entynent born 
 of the bitter opposition, manifested, in tlie past and in 
 the present, to the advance of the servants. So long as 
 employers loill take the caste-view, so long as they will 
 insist that a servant is their god-appointed subject, so 
 long will any re-establishment of good feeling remain 
 impossible. 
 
 If this view be correct, employei's as a class have 
 mainly themselves to thank for all the present discom- 
 fort and irritation ; and a re-establisliment may be 
 effected when they meet the servants halfway — or more 
 than halfway — and, by taking trouble for their comfort 
 and by consulting their feelings, make tlifem feel them- 
 selves real members of the family. In other words, 
 affectionate relations were possible when servants had no 
 rights : and they will be possible when servants' rights 
 and privileges are fully and loyally recognised : but they 
 
 never chose to have any direct communicntion with her servants, 
 always had a housekeeper for the regulation of all domestic 
 business.") 
 
38 The Servant Question. 
 
 can lianlly be expected in this transition-time when tlio 
 rights are incomplete and are grudgingly conceded. 
 
 In the foregoing we may have seemed — almost neces- 
 sarily perhaps — to attribute all the faults to the 
 mistresses and all Uke virtues to the servants : but this 
 of course were absurd. With all our strong sympathies 
 for the weaker side, "we recognise fully — if only irom 
 personally unpleasant experience, 'twere enougu — the 
 abundant faults of many servants, which render it aimosc 
 impossible for the noblest-raiuded mistress to taste an 
 abiding interest in them, and almost preclude the possi- 
 bility of granting special indulgences — the granting of 
 which, so far from creating a reciprocal feeling of good- 
 will, would only be taken advantage of. We are also 
 free to admit that nowadays many young servants con- 
 stantly change their places from a mere sudden mania 
 for change, and often (as we can assert from personal 
 knowledge) very greatly to their own detriment ■, while 
 doubtlessly under the old system circumstances would 
 have coerced tliem into remaining in one situation — to 
 the advantage of themselves no less than of tlieir em- 
 ployers : but this does not justify us in yearning for the 
 return of a vicious system. For the rest, we must trust 
 to time, and to the effects of a real education, and to the 
 fact that the — far better-treated — servants of the future 
 will probably be drawn from a higher social stratum 
 than that which at present supplies us. Above all, let 
 it be remembered that the wise training and friendly 
 counsel given by a mistress to a maid in her first situa- 
 tion, may make ail the difference for good or ill to the 
 girl's after life : it is upon the early training given by 
 
The Servant Question. 39 
 
 mistresses that mistresses must in great measure relj for 
 the fashioning of their servants. 
 
 Now the whole of the foregoing may seem a mere 
 digression ; but it is really a necessary preliminary if one 
 desire to speculate on the probable position of servants in 
 a higher-evolved social state. We do not so much pro- 
 pose to enquire now whether domestic servants in any 
 form will exist in Utopia itself; for such enquiry were 
 somewhat futile and would have but small bearing on the 
 present : our concern in this essay, thro'out, is rather 
 with a social state, tho considerably in advance of, yet 
 evidently in touch with, our own ; and we wish to 
 examine how far we might at once realise it, if we — and 
 others — chose. 
 
 Now clearly some preliminary conditions must be laid 
 down. It appears to us that our efforts should be 
 directed to the enquiry (1) how far servants may be 
 dispensed with altogether, and (2) how far their work 
 may be so modified as to comprise nothing essentially 
 repugnant : — this latter condition with regard to every 
 occupation being very important if we would have a 
 happy social state. It is not clear — any exact data being 
 non-existent — whether we should anticipate a gi-eater 
 dearth of servants at a later time, or not. Arguing from 
 the present tendency, clearly we should ; and in that 
 case there were obvious reasons for enquiring how far we 
 may do without them. But nevertheless it appears to 
 us not improbable, and that for several reasons, that 
 there may yet be an abundance of domestic servants. 
 We take it for granted that their wages will continue to 
 rise, and this alone will of coarse prove an atti'actiou ; 
 
40 Tlie Servant Question. 
 
 while the great amelioration of their lot which we antici- 
 pate will not only reconcile to domestic service large 
 numbers who at present prefer the independence of, e.g., 
 factory-life, but will moreover bring into their ranks 
 many who now earn a miserable livelihood as tenth-rate 
 governesses, altho really wholly unfit for teaching. 
 Furthermore, for reasons which will be apparent later, it 
 seems to us that the number of servants employed in 
 any one household will rarely excede one or two, and 
 consequently, in so far, the demand (as compared with 
 the present) will be appreciably lessened and the supply 
 increased. However, since so many other and disturbing 
 factors enter into this problem, it is impossible to form 
 any conclusion at the present time. 
 
 Now anybody who will take the trouble to walk round 
 his house with his eyes open (instead of, as usually, &hu£) 
 may speedily discover various domestic duties which are, 
 in reality, wholly unnecessary, and could be dispensed with 
 at once if necessity arose. To begin with the beginning 
 of the day — what is a servant's first duty when she comes 
 downstairs? We understand that it is to clear up the 
 various fire-grates, and to generally prowl around with 
 ashes, cinders, and blacklead-pots-and-brushes — to the 
 no small detriment of her hands. Now it is absolutely 
 certain that this sj'stem is doomed — for our wasteful 
 English practice of heating by open hearths will be sup- 
 planted in favour either of a system of hot pipes connected 
 with one central huge fire, or of gas-stoves in each room : 
 either plan will abolish the whole dirty work of black- 
 leading. ^ 
 
 ' And anyone who does "keep Ins eyes open, aud observes how 
 
The Servant Question. 41 
 
 Again it is very usual to have white hearthstones, and 
 also an array of white doorsteps, which a housemaid is 
 compelled to periodically clean ; and it is surely a piteoufj 
 sight to see some young girl on a bitter bleak wintry 
 morning kneeling out in the open air and slaving at those 
 miserable doorsteps ! What sort of hands can one expect 
 to find her possessing after such work — what but coarse 
 rough chapped hands'? And why should fair hands be 
 confined to a lady ? No : rest assured that white 
 hearthstones and white doorsteps are also doomed — as 
 everything entailing useless work, ivorJc 'producing neither 
 pleasure nor profit, is doomed in a better social state. 
 
 The next duty of the servants, we presume, would be 
 to dust and sweep out the living-rooms ; and here we do 
 not see any escape : " matter in the wrong place " must 
 always be removed, and, since intolerance of dirt is de- 
 veloped pari 2->cissii. with civilisation, it is in no wise 
 probable that higlier-evolved man will remit the least 
 proportion of this de})artment of liousehold work. One 
 may possibly hope that advancing electrical science will 
 solve this problem by some sj'stem of dust-collectors, de- 
 pending on a polarisation of the dust particles; and it 
 is even conceivable that the dust might be collected into 
 a dust-suiallower by some merely mechanical contrivance 
 producing vortices or whirlwinds in each room: but since 
 such hopes are somewhat chimerical — certainly so at the 
 present time — we prefer not to rely upon them. One 
 
 things go in an ordinary English middleclass home when perhaps 
 several visitors are present in cold weather, and fires are required 
 in various rooms, will not depreciate the difference thus made in 
 the servant's work. 
 4 
 
42 The Servant Question. 
 
 may, however, make two observations on the snbjoct of 
 dusting aud sweeping : Firstly, that with tlie abulitiou of 
 smoke, the work in city-houses will be immensely de- 
 creased, m fact brouL'ht down almost to the country 
 minimum ; and secondly, that in this work there is 
 nothing actually unhealthy or repugnant (as in dirty 
 work) ; in fact, the sweeping is healthy exercise, and 
 many ladies allow none but their daughters to dust 
 drawing-room treasures. It seems to us especially for- 
 tunate that this department of household work, which 
 cannot as yet be superseded, is practically almost un- 
 objectionable. 
 
 Let us procede with the servant's daily duties. "What 
 would be her next task ] Probably to clean and black 
 the boots. Here again we may feel very well assured 
 that a change in the direction of abolition will occur anon. 
 It is — we presume — not known who was the miserable 
 idiot that first introduced the dirty and objectionable 
 practice of covering our boots with blacking ; but anyone 
 who likes to dip into the future may satisfy himself that 
 the boots for future wear will be either of patent leather 
 or brown, or at anyrate something other than blacked; so 
 that here again the quantity of domestic work will he 
 lessened, and the quality much improved. Knife clean- 
 ing, and the washing-up of glass aud crockery-ware, will 
 always be necessary ; but in such work there is — for- 
 tunately — nothing at all objectionable or onerous. 
 
 It were of course hardly feasible, and neither is it 
 necessary, to follow the servant thro every department 
 of the day's work ; our object is simply to show how 
 readily the quantity of household work, and consequently 
 
The Servant Question. 43 
 
 tlie need for servants, may be diminished, and also bow 
 the quality of it — by the deletion of unsavoury portions 
 — may be so improved that there may be nothing left in 
 household service repugnant to the feelings of a refined 
 and tolerably educated girl.i 
 
 Of course the intellectuaL girl will never be employed 
 on housemaids' work ; — 'twould be a wicked waste of her 
 brain-power: V)ut not all can be highly intellectual, and yet 
 all may be educated and refined. Now when such a con- 
 summation as that here depicted shall have been attained, 
 it is clear that tbe problem of how to admit servants to 
 
 1 To cjive one more example, — which is certainly necessary tho 
 unsavoury, — the most disgusting part of a housemaid's work 
 could and would he at once — now — abolished, had the girls only 
 the sense to " strike " against it. It is a disgrace to our civilisa- 
 tion that builders have not ages since been compelled to construct a 
 simplest possible arrangement in every bedroom that would en- 
 tirely obviate the necessity for this disgusting work — which we 
 lay upon yoinig cjirls. Now this, altho a disagreeable subject, is 
 really one full of instruction and carries a significant moral. It 
 typically illustrates that very peculiar product of tiie human 
 spirit -caste-sympathy. We deliberately ordain that j'oung girls 
 shall daily discharge an office of so repulsive a nature that even 
 the by-no means-very-refined lowermiddle-class Philistine man 
 would resent it, and consider himself degraded by the per- 
 formance of such work. Are we to assume that these young 
 girls — tho lowly born — are so destitute of any feelings of refine- 
 ment that they can adopt this phase of their work without re- 
 pugnance ? Surely no — in which case we are responsible for 
 systematically disrcfining and lowering them by habituating 
 them to such work. This however is only one of many cases in 
 point ; but for a further discussion of the subject we must refer 
 the reader to chapter v. — at the same time asking him to note 
 that, logically, the whole of that chapter is immediately sequent 
 to this note, altlio for liis convenience the discussion was relegated 
 to a separate chapter instead of being placed here as a lengtiiy 
 footnote. 
 
44 '^^'■^ Servant Question. 
 
 the " family," how to cultivate their friendsliip, will have 
 beeu solved for good. 
 
 But however that may he in the far future, we have 
 yet to do with the present and the near future ; and it is 
 advisable to enquire what amendments can be introduced 
 in varied ways into the present arrangements or dis- 
 arran<reraents — for servants' comfort — or discomfort. 
 
 In the first place — premising all the reforms, per 
 abolition, or otherwise, that we have ah'eady indicated — 
 we may take it that a very speedy reform will be made 
 in the fittings of the servants' bedrooms. Any considera- 
 tion at all of psychological effects, any regard at all for 
 the esthetic tinting of our sombre soul-life, would teach 
 us that the bedroom, whose aspect moulds our frame of 
 mind at night as we gradually fall off to sleep, and at 
 dawn when we wake, should be furnished and fitted with 
 the most scrupulous regard for picturesqueness and 
 c. imfort: yet the very common aspect of even " tlie 
 boys' " bedrooms in a normal middle-class household is 
 depressing and cold-blooded to a degree that rcidly 
 induces shuddering if one only think of it : fancy oneself 
 then daily experiencing it ! Instead of pictux-es, life, 
 light, warmth, color, we find only bareness, ugliness, and 
 desolation. If such then be the measure meted out to 
 our own boys, what regard was likely to be paid to the 
 servants 1 But we may rely upon it that the reform 
 must come here also, and that servants' bedrooms^ will 
 
 1 It is ofteu stated that in some West-end houses a servant 
 sleeps in the kitchen under the dresser ! As will be observed, 
 we do not refer to such l)arbarisin as this, but to the normal dis- 
 comfort of a servant's room. 
 
The Servant Question. 45 
 
 anon be furnished and fitted pleasantly, and wanned 
 rationally. ^ 
 
 Again, under our present regime, the servants have no 
 living-room other than the kitchen with its ever-present 
 culinary smells : no builder ever has the common-sense 
 or humanity to build, adjacent to the kitchen, a small 
 room which might be used as a servants' sitting-room : 
 and, if he did so, not one household in 100 would have 
 the sense or humanity to let the servants use it. And 
 yet how would any of us like to live in a kitchen ; what 
 chance is there of real comfort or refinement under such 
 conditions % But no one ever troubles to apply the 
 golden rule to his relations with servants. Yet it would 
 be so easy to alleviate so greatly a servant's life : wath a 
 cosy bedroom, a cosy, well -lighted, decently - fitted, 
 sitting-room, supplied with books — or at least book- 
 shelves — and dedicated wholly to the servants' use ; 
 with the abolition of dirty work as already indicated ; 
 and with the abolition also of ridiculous and insolent 
 restrictions, and with fair facilities for visiting and en- 
 tertaining her friends ; surely then a servant's life in an 
 ordinary English middle-class househuld would become 
 one that might well be envied and coveted by many a 
 young girl who must needs earn her own living. For 
 even with all the drawbacks which we have so fully 
 admitted, it must be remembered how immensely 
 superior is the lot of a housemaid, living in a large, 
 
 1 At present, people wlio pride themselves on their " common 
 sense " will sit all the evening in a room at 70°, and then widres.i 
 in a room at 35° ! So long as they are content witli this for 
 themselves, there is clearly no hope for servants. 
 
4^ The Servant Question. 
 
 airy, healthy, house, in a good neighborhood, and having 
 abundance of generous fare, to that of her sister hving 
 (sometimes perhaps with dithcultj) on far iulcriur fjod, 
 in a small stuffy unliealthy cottage or flat. 
 
 We spoke just now of liberty to receive friends ; and 
 that reminds us how cruel is the oftentimes-present 
 treatment of servants. Tlie doctrine (tacit or avowed) 
 that they are born simply to minister to our comfort and 
 not to their own, has sunk so deep into the employer- 
 mind that in many households it is looked upon as a 
 distinct piece of wickedness if a servant dare to receive 
 the visits of friends in the kitchen.^ Our own lives 
 would be intolerable without the sunshine of loving 
 
 ' Here again we may with advantage qnote from Punch, and 
 among Leech's drawings will be found two that are excedingly 
 pertinent to the subject. The tirst, "An Artful Excuse " (1847) 
 {I. p. 94), is a double cut, representing, on the one side, an ex- 
 terior, witli a sol ier waiting at the garden gate ; and on the 
 other an interior — a maid-servant entering the sitting-room with 
 a request, " Oh, if you please, could I go out for half an hour to 
 buy a piece of ribbon?" In the second, "Not Very Likely" 
 (1850) (I. 108), a sliocking old fright of a mistress, suddenly enti-r. 
 ing the kitchen, discovers there a redcoat (unmistakably from the 
 Emerald Isle). With a countenance expressive of the utmost 
 indignation and horror, she enquires, " Well ! I'm sure ! And 
 pray who is that?" "Oh, if you please, ma'am, it is only my 
 cousin who has called just to show me how to boil a potato.'' 
 We know not liow it may strike others, but there appears to us 
 to be a significant moral here. So little is it tolerated that a 
 m'.re servant should expect the ordinary joys of life, that to 
 receive a visit from a sweetheart is considered appalling 
 wickedness, and has to be schemeil for and lied for by her. Tlie 
 tone of the mistress and the expression of her face alike empha- 
 sise her unbounded horror and astonishment that a young 
 servant (living alono bythe-bye — weary life !) should desire any 
 youthful joys. 
 
 iie who ru/is may read ! 
 
The Servant Question. 47 
 
 faces ; but, that a mere servant (enjoying none of our 
 other sources of happiness, and perhaps living as a sin- 
 gle servant too) should presume to require friends, is a 
 shocking instance of domestique depravity ! Of course we 
 will very fully admit that, if the servants of near neigh- 
 bors associate, the manufacture of scandal regarding 
 their respective households will be something appalling 
 (tho in five cases out of six they be no whit worse than 
 their mistresses as regards either truth or charity) ; and 
 we would very greatly prefer that our own servants' 
 friends were not the servants of near neighbors ; but, for 
 the rest, we would insist upon the very heretical pro- 
 position that servants should, so far as possible, have — 
 not one evening a fortnight but — nearly every evening 
 to themselves, with full liberty to visit their friends or to 
 receive them. We fail to perceive anything inherently 
 absurd or depraved in this proposition ; or anything that 
 is not inherently absurd in the counter-proposition that 
 servants should have no companions, and inherently self- 
 ish in the current practice. 
 
 This brief discussion is perhaps sufficient to outline 
 the forms which domestic service may reasonably be ex- 
 pected to assume in the not very distant future. It will 
 be seen that, once having put aside the actually dirty 
 part of a housemaid's work, there is nothing that a girl 
 of tolerable education and refinement might not under- 
 take ; and we confidently anticipate that in the coming 
 time large numbers of girls of even "gentle" or fairly 
 " gentle " birth, who find it necessary to earn their daily 
 bread, may secure congenial and happy homes by under- 
 taking domestic service. We would most emphatically 
 
48 The Servant Question. 
 
 protest against the notion that there is anything " menial " 
 or " degrading " in a servant's occupation (reformed as 
 we have indicated), or anything that might not well be 
 undertaken by such girls. Most of all would we protest 
 against the notion that there is something particularly 
 humiliating in " waiting " at table : on the contrary, it is 
 a peculiarly gracious role to fill — a role formerly appro- 
 priated to the sons of noblemen and haughty knights : 
 and so strongly do we feel the many advantages accruing 
 to those who do thus " stand and wait," and so little do 
 we deem it an humiliating task, that, had we children, 
 we should delegate to them as much as possible the 
 duties of waiting upon our guests at dinner. AVhosoever 
 deems it humiliating or unpleasant to serve a lady with 
 food and drink must have a somewhat jaundiced habit 
 of regarding the world : and pray how would such an 
 one comport himself at a picnic ? 
 
 While thus anticipating abundant new recruits to the 
 domestique ranks by-and-bye, it must of course be ad- 
 mitted that such new recruits cannot possibly be ex- 
 pected yet : a mild revulsion of feelings and of manners 
 must precede their advent. Obviously there are indis- 
 pensable preliminaries : reforms such as we have indi- 
 cated, both as regards the work of servants, their 
 treatment, and their wages, must be instituted : con- 
 siderably more regard must be paid to their comfort (as 
 already pointed out), and far more liberty and independ- 
 ence must be accorded to them ; while lastly — or shall 
 we not say primarily — public opinion must be so far 
 revolutionised as to regard domestic service as honour- 
 able, and consistent with refinement, dignity, and inde- 
 
The Servant Question. 49 
 
 pendence : in fact domestic servants must finally be 
 elevated to the position now occupied by governesses.^ 
 It sliould however be clearly understood that to the 
 success of this scheme it is in no wise essential that we 
 should entirely cease to draw servants from — as at 
 present — the illiterate and peasant classes, or supersede 
 them wholly by drafts from classes that now, e.g., yield 
 us nursery -governesses. On the contrary : for, altho it 
 appears to us highly probable that this will be the final 
 condition — partly perhaps because (once the fashion is 
 
 ' A day or two after writing the above we chanced upon a 
 newspaper-par'agraph, from which it appears tliat some pro 
 gress is actually being made in this direction. It seems that a 
 Gentlewomen' s-Employmcnt-AsftociationvftiS started in Manoliester 
 in 1891 (apparently), and altho "it has met with soniepractical diffi- 
 culties, on the whole it seems to liave made a good start. Daring 
 the first week after opening tlie register th-^re was an extraor- 
 dinary rush of applicants ; but tliese gentlewomen betrayed 
 lamentable ignorance of the requirements of employers. A con- . 
 siderable number wanted to be lady-comp:inions, but no em- 
 ployer appeared to be in want of anything of this genteel kind. 
 On the other hand the Association has numerous vacancies for 
 ladies in other capacities, and the Committee are convinced that 
 tliere is a promising field for the employment of gentlewomen 
 who have only received a training in private households — all 
 that is needed being a reorganisation of domestic work, -so as to 
 bring it within the scope of a different class, and a recognition 
 on the part of all concerned that there is as little loss of dignity 
 involved here as in the work of governesses or iiospital-nurses. 
 The Committee complain that there is a strange notion abroad 
 that a lady should be remunerated on a lower scale than ia 
 usual in the case of an ordinary domestic servant." 
 
 Certainly it is most satisfactory to find our speculative 
 Bchemes re-echoed almost word for word by a practical associa- 
 tion. We need hardly add how desirable it is — and the more so 
 in face of this movement— to eliminate from our speech and our 
 minds, as quickly as possible, such phrases as "menial" and 
 " lackey." 
 
50 TJie Servant Question. 
 
 instituted) we should prefer the new class, whilst the 
 others would more and more continue to drift into 
 factory-work and such-like occupations, but even still 
 more, eventually, because the illiterate and unrefined 
 class will have disappeared, owing to the descendants of 
 those who now compose it having been levelled up to a 
 higher standard '^ — yet we anticipate the advent of tlie 
 new-era domestic servant long before then. Of course 
 it is obvious that two servants drawn from such very 
 diflferent classes cannot associate in the same house : and 
 in so saying we are not venting a caste-feeling bat 
 simply admitting a limitation, the necessity of which 
 must be patent to everybody ; for companionship be- 
 tween two persons in utterly diflferent stages of rellne- 
 ment is quite impossible : but, admitting tiiis, it by no 
 means follows that the tivo classes of servants cannot 
 co-exist: all that is necessary is to take care that in each 
 household only one class is represented. 
 
 Now taking into account all these conditions we ask 
 whether girls of the middleclass, who may be driven to 
 earn their living, would not find their life far happier, far 
 healthier — both physically and morally — far more 
 gracious altogether, if they lived as domestic servants in 
 (perhaps a country) home where their dignity and inde- 
 
 ^ It may be retorted that the higher classes would equally 
 have progressed, and thus the relative diti'erences remain the 
 same. But this we think were incorrect. In estimating tlie 
 possibilities of companionship we have to regard not so much 
 the amount of higher education possessed (for most real ladies 
 and real gentlemen of the present day are deplorably ignorant, and 
 almost wholly uneducated in a true sense) as the attainment of 
 a certain minimum stage of rejinement — winch however of cuursa 
 excludes " illiterateness ' or bucolicism. 
 
The Servant Question. 51 
 
 pendence were fully recognised, and where perchance a 
 good deal of tolerably intimate companionship with a 
 cultured and gracious "mistress" fell to their lot, than 
 if they slaved hard all day as clerks in some dark and 
 dingy city-office, or employed themselves in many other 
 of the methods by which such girls now earn a hard, a 
 bittei'ly hard, livelihood — in competition perchance with 
 men. It may retorted that the latter occupations are 
 paid so vastly better : but it is forgotten that " servants " 
 are paid chiefly in hind^ and that their money wages re- 
 present only a small balance of their total wages. A 
 servant, receiving twenty pounds a year, but boarded 
 gratis on good food, and lodged in a large and healthy 
 house, is incomparably better paid than her fellow, slaving 
 in the City for a miserable £50 per year — and never sure 
 of her situation. 1 
 
 It is scarcely necessary to continue farther this part of 
 the examination : taking as an example the housemaid, we 
 have seen how desirable a work hers might be : and it were 
 beyond our purpose to take in detail the duties of every 
 servant, and determine what reforms are necessary, or how 
 far the work may be already unimpeachable. It is suffi- 
 ciently clear that a servant's duties are very compatible 
 with the selfregard of gentle birth : whilst, since so many 
 ladies now study cookery, and insist on superintending, 
 or actually executing, the cookery of their own households, 
 
 ' Besides which it must be remeinbered — (1) that we anticipate 
 a somewhat higherrate of wages (and fewer servants in each home); 
 and (2) that if the worst come, a " servant " of such a character, 
 if living many years in one home, might confidently reckon on 
 her savings being supplemented — when she sliould be past work 
 — by a pension iu either money or board and lodging. 
 
52 The Servant Question. 
 
 it is clear that our iiew-adveut-servauta may very well 
 undertake this role also. -"^ 
 
 It will be convenient, before closing this chapter, to 
 offer one or two very brief suggestions as to a develop- 
 ment of family life, that may with some reason be ex- 
 pected in the future. Everybody will admit far greater 
 happiness and jollity to exist in a large household than in 
 a small one : and in a higher social state, when human 
 nature is less selfish and disagreeal)le individuals are 
 fewer, the happiness of large households will be consider- 
 5ibly increased. But now, since it may be regarded as 
 axiomatic " that in a comparatively rational and moral 
 society families of more than two or thi'ee childx'en will 
 
 ' Sometimes a cook's duties may become excediiigly unpleasant, 
 but one may anticipate reforms here : and after all, many ladies 
 now walk the hospitals and attend the dissection room : wliat 
 has the cook as bad as that ? Cf. iiijra the discussion on Vege- 
 tarianism, pp. 207, and 225-8. 
 
 - As an abstract principle we are of coiirse strong advocates of 
 very snuiU families — -and that for many reasons too obvious to 
 require discussion here : whilst it seems certainly axiomatic to 
 us that whenever, in an ideal society, the population of the 
 world shall have reached the maximum desirable, then, assunang 
 every one to m.arry and no children to die young, the family will 
 invariably consist of two children only, thus exactly preserving 
 the balance of population. Moreover, even in this so excessively 
 7iOJi-ideal state, our leanings are also strongly towards small 
 families — not liowever as promoted by late marriages with all 
 their moral and emotional loss, but by temperance after eai'ly 
 marriage : but unfortunately the problem is, from tlie point of 
 view of social desiderata, terribly complicated. If Malthusian 
 precepts could be hammered into those who most need them and 
 never act upon them, viz., tiie poor and the ignorant, then we 
 ndght far more easily regenerate society : but unhappily, the 
 more we preach Malthusianism, the more do we affect the con- 
 duct of the conscientious, highminded, and intelligent, membera 
 
The Servant Question. 53 
 
 be unknown, it is cleai- that large households of one 
 family each cannot exist. The solution to this difficulty 
 is that several families of intimate friends will combine 
 to form one large household. Each family will have its 
 own particular suite of bedrooms, and at least one private 
 sitting-room ; whilst there will be a large common 
 dining-room and drawing-room, etc. The advantages of 
 this system are so manifold that it is indeed strange to 
 find it ahnost unknown among us : since, by such a 
 
 of society — wliile we may make but little headway among those 
 who pre-eminently oxujlit to adopt Malthus' canons. The result 
 is apt to be therefor that the prudent, intelligent, and generally 
 elevated, types of citizens have few children to inherit their good 
 qualities ; whilst the reckless, the stupid, the improvident, and 
 the clergy, have large families : so that at this rate the nation 
 would more and more tend to be swamped by lower types. 
 Here therefor is as terrible a social danger as that of over-popu- 
 lation to be guarded against : one must steer between Scylla and 
 Charybdis — but with a blind and mutinous crew ! Now in a 
 former work, the Cry of the Children, we were at pains to set 
 forth strongly the v\ickedness of begetting large families — for we 
 appealed especially to the poor, and the lower or average middle 
 classes, who usually cannot afford a family half as large as they 
 rear, and whose mental and other endowments are not usually 
 such as to make the preservation of a large posterity by any 
 means a source of gratulation to the State. But, lest this aspect 
 might receive undue prominence, we think it. highly important 
 to call the attention of intellectual readers, and anti-Philistines 
 generally, to the immense importance of increasing the numbers 
 of our intellectual races by encouraging their members to marry 
 early, and to rear more than only two or three children. The 
 vital importance of thus painlessly supplanting the lower social 
 types by the higher is admirably set forth by Mr. Francis Galton 
 in his Hereditary Genius, Xatural Inheritance, and Enquiry into 
 Human Faculty, to which books we refer our readers for the study 
 of thissuliject. Here we will merely quote from the last-named book 
 a calculation showing how thoroly and i-)aink»dy , in the natural 
 course of events, the weaker and lower types could be replaced 
 
54 
 
 The Servant Question. 
 
 scheme, each family would secure the inestimable advan- 
 tage of privacy whenever it wished it, with tlie concomi- 
 tant advantage of ample society at meal-times and when- 
 ever otherwise social intercourse were desired. Each 
 lady in turn, for a week or month at a time, would 
 
 by the higher, provided only that the latter marry early, and tiie 
 former either marry later or (as we should desire) refrain from 
 begetting children until a later age. 
 
 Age of Mother at 
 marriage. 
 
 17 
 22 
 27 
 32 
 
 Approximate average 
 fertility. 
 
 90 = 6 + 1-5 
 
 7-5 = 5 — 
 
 6-0 = 4 — 
 
 4-5 = 3 — 
 
 After 
 number 
 of years 
 
 as 
 below. 
 
 Number of female descendants who themselves 
 become mothers. 
 
 A. 
 
 100 Mothers whose mar- 
 riages and those of tlieir 
 daugliters all take place 
 at age of 20 years. 
 
 Ratio of increase in each 
 generation being 1-5. 
 
 B. 
 
 100 Mothers whose mar- 
 riages and those of tiieir 
 daughters all take place 
 at age of 29 years. 
 
 Ratio of decrease in each 
 generation being 0-S5. 
 
 108 
 2i6 
 324 
 
 175 
 299 
 635 
 
 61 
 38 
 2S 
 
 At the same time we must express our strong feeling that, to 
 suggest to such higher types families of five or six children, is to 
 impose upon the mother, at least, tlie duty of making a very 
 heavy personal sacritice for the sake of buaetittiug a tolerably 
 remote posterity. 
 
TJie Servant Question. 55 
 
 function as absolute mistress of the house ; and it is un- 
 necessary to point out liow greatly this arrangement 
 would economise labour and extend the leisure of all. 
 It is equally superfluous to point out that a house, large 
 and commodious enough to take say four or six small 
 families, would be very far from four or sis times as ex- 
 ])en;sive as a house suitable for one such family. In fact, 
 under this system eveiy one would have the satisfaction 
 of living in a large mansion at less than the cost of a 
 small house. 1 
 
 It is worth while also to point out that, not only will 
 
 ' And we might sug'^'est that when, with the advance of demo- 
 cratic feeling, it has become more and more distasteful to see a 
 large mansion monopolised by one family — as for instance all our 
 English castles and country-honses are — some such scheme as this 
 will he introduced to dispose of the trouble. We may rest fairly 
 assured then that, witli increasing democracy and continuous 
 levelling of wealth, stately architecture will not disappear, nor 
 English country-houses with their splendid parks become things 
 of the past : but that instead of ministering, as now, to the sel- 
 fi-<h pleasures of one family, they will then be enjoyed hy many. 
 We very confidently prophesy some such future for our English 
 historic piles. 
 
 Moreover, we may point out how admirable an opportunity 
 such a system would otfer for paying long visits without the 
 trouble and expense of, on the one hand, removing one's Lares 
 and Penates, or, on the otlier, entrusting • one's house to 
 caretakers : for what would be easier than periodically to ar- 
 range temporary exchange of house-room with others, so that a 
 f imilj% while retaining all the peculiarl3' sacred feelings that 
 attach to a permanent — (not-rented) — home, might yet gain all 
 the advantages of constant clianges of dwelling? When we re- 
 flect furtlier that at present our large country-houses are de- 
 serted for half the year, and our London houses for another half, 
 and consider how much selfish waste of the means of happiness 
 this implies, we may then look forward to a very bright and 
 happy future for home-life : for town and country livers respec- 
 tively will temporarily exchange with one anotiier. 
 
56 The Servant Questiun. 
 
 this scheme of joint-households minimise very considerably 
 the difficulties of the servant question — both because the 
 larger the household the fewer proportionally are the 
 servants required, and because so far as the domestic 
 work be done by the household themselves, the problem 
 is simplified by the large number of members, while the 
 trouble of setting aside a servant's sitting-room, tho it 
 may be serious in a small house, becomes ncdhing in a 
 large one, — but that it is attended with very great ad- 
 vantages as regards the children. For there is not only 
 always plenty of society for them on the premises, but 
 the system of hom6 teaching, by a governess charged with 
 a group of six or eight children, is greatly facilitated. 
 Of this probable development we have spoken elsewhere,^ 
 and we shall therefor not linger here on the subject ; 
 but it is clear that if these household-clubs usually con- 
 sisted of people of about the same ages, and having there- 
 for very probably children of about the same ages too, 
 these children would be far more companionable together 
 than would those of one large family. 
 
 From our discussion of the servant-question it may 
 have been inferred — and not unnaturally — that we ad- 
 vocated the system — very prevalent we believe in America, 
 and now not unknown in England — of employing a 
 class of domestics known as " Helps " who perform the 
 household work, but are admitted into the family circle. 
 But, altho the whole tendency of our suggestions was to 
 some such cousununatiim, yet we could not but see a 
 grave difficulty — which seemed to render this solution, 
 fur the sake of both parties, hardly desirable : for the 
 
 ' Cry of the Children, pp. 97, 93. 
 
The Servant Question. 57 
 
 regular intrusion of such an outsider might become very 
 irksou^e to tlie one ; while tliis very sense of " outsided- 
 ness and intrusion " would gall any independent-spirited 
 employe : some separation of sitting-rooms therefor 
 would seem desirable. But now it is clear that all these 
 difficulties are greatly lessened in a joint-household : for 
 there, the society of the " Helps " would not seem an 
 intrusion of outsiders as it would in a single small house- 
 hold, while they would have tlieir private sitting-room 
 just as would each family. 
 
 It would seem probable that this joint-household-system 
 will greatly inhibit the increase of residential clubs and 
 hotels for bachelors and spinsters : since the home-life 
 would be so far more marked, without involving on the 
 one hand the sacrifice of society, or the danger of being 
 thrown into the society of very disagreeable co-inmates 
 on the other — a danger to which one is always liable in 
 residential clubs and boarding-houses.^ 
 
 1 1t is very greatly to be hoped that in the near future English- 
 men will set themselves seriously to consider the social system 
 now in vogue, and the possible reforms. The terrible isolation 
 and solitariness of tlie man, who takes a house in a new district, 
 is a grave evil ; and even when he has " made " a small circle of 
 "friends" there he m;iy see very little social life. A keen ap- 
 preciation of the drawbacks of such isolation has led to a pio- 
 posal to form local clubs, thro tiie medium of which everyone 
 might come to know everyone else in the district. But the 
 Englishman's wholesome horror of being robbed of his privacy, 
 and his equally wholesome objection to be hail-fellow-well-met 
 with every chance neighbour, are likely to seriously handicap 
 any such scheme. The better remedy appeal's to us to be this— 
 that little colonies should be formed of intimate friends, tliat 
 a number of intimate friends and relatives should keep liouse 
 together or take hous(^s tolerably contiguous, so that they would 
 sulfer neither from isolation nor from " bad company," which is 
 often not " better " — but worse — " than none." 
 
58 The Servant Question. 
 
 POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 Reference may be made here to a short article on "A Refor- 
 mation in Domestic Service " contributed by Mrs. Lewis to the 
 Nineteenth Century for January, 1893. With the spirit that 
 prompts this article, with its denunciation of vulgar disphiy, 
 pomp, and wastefulness, we are of course in thoro accord ; but 
 we fear that Mrs. Lewis does not go far enougli with us. How- 
 ever, our present concern is not to criticise the article, but to 
 call attention to one liappy suggestion made by Mrs. Lewis that 
 had not occurred to us : she points out how beer-making, bread- 
 making, lauudry-work, and window-cleaning, all of which were 
 ffirmerly carried out by the permanent staff of household-servants, 
 are now relegated to outside agencies, with great economy and 
 greater efficiency. 
 
 Xow why — sa\-s Mrs. Lewis — " why must there be forty fires 
 kept up all day to boil fort\' saucepans of potatos (wlien one 
 larger vessel would suffice) and forty cooks, more or less, in one 
 small street ? Forty cooks, each with her accompanying waste, 
 peculations, and temptations from tradesmen, and with all tiie 
 expenses of kitchen and scullery w^are and a})pliances to be kept 
 up forty times over, while forty heads of households are racking 
 their brains to write the indispensable orders ? . ... As a 
 remedy against so much wastefid expenditure, anxiety, and 
 uncertainty, why should there not be a culinary depot in each 
 street from w'iiich the meals could be sent out after the fashion 
 of every foreign town where i-esianrateuri and trattori abound ?" 
 The suggestion is certainly well wortliy of serious consideration ; 
 and it is scarcely necessary for us to again point out iiow greatly 
 the possibility of a Social Utopia is advanced by the suppression 
 of all waste either of time or material. Mrs. Lewis' suggestion 
 involves, of course, simply one more application of the division 
 of labour, and we are inclined to think that it may be found very 
 feasible as regards cookery at any rate : but when Mrs. Lewis 
 further contemplates the advent of a "noble army of certificated 
 day-housemaids performing the matutinal house-duties with 
 promptitude, regularity, and thoroly trained skill," and disap- 
 pearing " when their fairy wands have done their office," so that 
 a couple or so of permanent house-servants per family would be 
 sufficient for waitinr/ purposes, etc. — then, while gladly acknow- 
 edging how great a reform on the present system Mrs. Lewis* 
 
Tlie Servant Question. 59 
 
 sclieme would imply, and while fully appreciating the moral ad- 
 vantages of " certificated day-housemaids," living in their own 
 lioines, over house-servants isolated from their own kinsfolk and 
 friends, yet we cannot avoid an uneasy suspicion that Mrs. Lewis 
 contemplates very considerably less levelliiui (up) tlian do we; 
 that her social ideal, tho far above the present real, is yet far too 
 much graduated into degiees of social status, (See chap. ix. ; 
 see also an article in the same periodical for Feb., 1S93, on "The 
 Doom of the Domestic Cook.") [We believe that several of 
 tnese trattori have already been instituted (189!).] 
 
CUAPTER V. 
 
 BEING A DIGRESSION UPON CASTE-SYMPATHY. 
 
 " But now the past is out of date, 
 The future not yet born ; 
 And who can be alone elate, 
 Whilst the world lies forlorn ? " 
 
 Before carrying farther our investigations into these 
 
 domestic economies, it may be permitted to us to break 
 
 off tlie direct argument and digress for a few minutes 
 
 into an enquiry that is pointedly suggested by sundry 
 
 reflections in the last chapter. We have had occasion to 
 
 point out how, under our present domestic system, there 
 
 is allotted to young girls of the housemaid-class a sphere 
 
 of duties involving very rough, or even thoroly repulsive, 
 
 work ; and yet the ordinary householder is conscious of 
 
 no imputation upon his chivalry in that he allots such 
 
 work to girls ; for the tone of his mind is dominated 
 
 by caste-sympathy. The ordinary Briton would never 
 
 dream of relieving a serving-maid who was struggling 
 
 along with a heavy scuttle of coals, altho he would 
 
 probably despise himself if he allowed his sister (or still 
 
 more a friend's sister) to carry a far lighter load for a 
 
 verj' short distance. So, too, without any compunction, he 
 
 60 
 
Caste- Sympathy. 6 1 
 
 condemns young girls to blacklead the grates and wash the 
 hearthstone and doorsteps at terrible cost to their hands ; 
 but what would he say of the youngster who should lie 
 snugly in bed while his own sister was washing a doorstep 
 on a bitter morning 1 He would probably say that flogging 
 were too gentle a treatment for such a mean-spirited cur. 
 Yet pray is not our housemaid also somebody's sister 1 
 Again our French neighbours excel in politeness and 
 courtesy ; yet anyone who has travelled in France will 
 have noticed that, if he arrive at or leave an inn where 
 there happens to be no Boots present, his heavy port- 
 manteau will be tackled and carried up (or down) stairs 
 by a chamber-maid ; a preceding which an Englishman 
 is apt to resent, preferring to function as luggage-porter 
 himself rather than let a weak woman do the work for him 
 — for he is not accustoyned to see women hauling portm,an- 
 teaus about; but he will find his polite and courteous 
 French co-traveller handing over his heavy portmanteau 
 as a matter of course to the maid, — for he is as accustomed 
 to see her so employed as we are to see our housemaids 
 carrying heavy coal-scuttles ; and in neither case does the 
 accustomed strike us as wrong — for custom has blunted 
 the edge of our sympathies. 
 
 Again, you are out, and you pass your housemaid, your 
 cook, or your children's nurse ; do you doff your hat or 
 salute her? "Of course not" — comes the indignant reply 
 — " what an absurd question ; as if one would bow to a 
 servant ! " Well, you meet your baker's wife, or your 
 greengrocer's wife ; she, at least, is not a servant ; do you 
 salute her? " Certainly not," is the angry retort. No, 
 precisely ; you stare straight befure you, and utterly 
 
62 Caste- Sytnpathy. 
 
 ignore her ; or, perhaps, even into her face with a stony 
 nescient disregard. Well, we know wliat you would say 
 if your son passed his own sister, or mother, or friend's 
 sister, without saluting her; but it would be interesting 
 to learn your opinion of the butcher, baker, candlestick- 
 maker, artisan, or farm-labourer, who should not hit his 
 hat when he met his own wife or sister. 
 
 Well, let us precede. You are in a London street, or 
 a country lane, and you meet a poor old woman, decrepid, 
 withered, tottering, soiled, staggering along thro the 
 mud, or against a bitter, biting, wind, or in the blazing 
 sunshine, with a heavy — oh for her how heavy ! — sack 
 of hard-gleaned fii-e-wood, or of some frowzy refuse 
 painfully and wearisomely collected from a score of 
 refuse-heaps — the ofl'ul of a great city. See ! she is 
 toiling wearily along, footsore, heavy-burdened, her 
 grey hair dishonored and besmeared by the refuse she 
 has collected: what a sight; what an occupation for 
 threescore-and-ten years! Yet will you ease her? willy(ju 
 carry her sack 1 will you even help her to i-aise it 1 Ko ! 
 Well perhaps you are — like ourself — a moral coward, and 
 cannot command sufficient courage so to assist a pariali 
 in the sight of even a countryside — far less of a great 
 city ! — Well, see here ; there is still an opportunity to 
 help her; yonder is a strong boy idling; for a copper 
 or two he will carry thai old woman's sack ; have you 
 twopenny worth of svmpathy'J No? Well at least have 
 you the grace to feel dissatisfied with yourself : has 
 a shadow come between you and the sun as — holiday- 
 making — you pass along that fair countryside, and 
 cluuded your liglitheartedness for a time ; or m the city 
 
Caste- Sympathy. 63 
 
 has the encounter rather spoilt the satisfuctiou with 
 which you liave been reflecting on your banker's boolv % 
 Do you not at least feel pained and distressed that 
 poor old women can be found in such a strait '? But 
 stay. — We will not wait your answer — tho we see it in 
 your unclouded face : We will first put you yet another 
 question. We are in the open country, in France, in 
 Italy, in Switzerland, or if you like, perhaps in Wales, 
 or Scotland, or even in an English market-garden. 
 There what do you see] a number of young women 
 working hard in the fields, weeding, mowing, reaping, or 
 whatnot. Approach a little nearer; take a good look 
 at them ; many are, or were, handsome ; there are dark 
 brunettes, and soft blundes with rounded faces; but the 
 sun and the wind and exposure generally have worked 
 havoc in their beauty ; and their faces bewray less the 
 soft womanliness than the seasoned manliness of ex- 
 pressiou : and then their hands — how rough — how 
 coarse — how thoroly and permanently ingrained and 
 stained ! But — but you see all this as plainly as we 
 do, yet you ate not moved : there is no sadness in your 
 face, and you seem quite satisfied. 
 
 Well, we will ask you one more question. Life has 
 nncertainties which may wreck even the greatest 
 prudence and forethonght. You have a mother ; she 
 is not yet extremely aged, but she is in years 3 three 
 score perhaps] Yes? We thought so. You are 
 tenderly and reverently attached to her : you are right. 
 More : you have sisters — fine, noble, tall, white-handed, 
 gently-nurtured, English ladies : and you have a wife 
 like unto them. iS'ow what if some terrible calamity 
 
64 Caste-Synipatliy. 
 
 reducer! you all to beggary? What if your aged mother 
 whom you reverence so lovingly, were compelled lor 
 very subsistence to scour the country-side for fuel or 
 to rake the city-offal-heaps in seai'ch of the unrefused 
 refuse, for which a few pence might somehow be ob- 
 tained : what if you saw her staggering along under this 
 frowzy load, her grey hair dishonored and soiled by the 
 refuse — and she is only threescore years of age you said. 
 What if your sisters and wife must needs spend the 
 day labouring in the field, and those fair white hands, 
 which you are wont to gallantly kiss, were begrimed, 
 and soiled, and made coarse, by the heavy work, and 
 the soft beauty of their faces hardened and streaked by 
 the inclement weather % But there is no need for you 
 to answer : one can see your answer in your face and 
 in your whole frame : your face is suflused and burning, 
 and your eyes are quivering with tears that you cannot 
 stem back, and your lips are tighrly drawn, and your 
 hands clenched, and every muscle and feature proclaim 
 that the few words, and the barely outlined verbal 
 picture, have stirred your heart to its lowest depths ; 
 and all your energy of deep love and tenderness is 
 throbbing in a passionate revolt against this conjectured 
 suffering of your dear ones. Yet it is oyxly conjectural — 
 very conjectural — and vanishingly improbable : whilst 
 the other pictures were true and real to the life : there 
 was no conjectured misery but sordid crying poverty ; 
 yet you were moved not. The poor old woman of seventy 
 staggering under her filthy burden stirred not even 
 a feeling of sorrow or remorse in your heart : and the 
 women working in the fields were viewed with utmost 
 
Caste- Sympathy. 6 5 
 
 indifference. TTAy is your sympathy so caste-hound : is 
 not she too somebody s mother : are there not men u'ho 
 lovingly call them also wives and sisters ? Alas : so 
 narrowed is sympathy by caste that a sights which 
 should suffice to poison all the pleasure of your day's 
 holiday, fails utterly to move you.-^ Yet we are all 
 alike flesh and blood, and the same passions, joys, and 
 soiTows, are common to us as one mankind. 
 
 Now by a train of reflections of this character one may, 
 we tliink, be enabled more truly and more sympathetically 
 to appreciate the emotional standpoint of those who rank 
 above us — and not to fall into the error of harshly judg- 
 ing their moral character, when we reflect how the poor 
 might with equal justice ra,te us as feelingless and purely 
 seltish — with equal justice, that is to say, with equally 
 ample injustice. We mean in this way for instance. An 
 average middle-class Englishman of this day, when he 
 reads or hears of (especially bygone) princes, and power- 
 ful peers, and notes the haughty expression of face and 
 manner, and the general antipathetic attitude of mind that 
 they seem to imply, is apt (especially if a good radical) to 
 hate and despise them cordially, and to insist that in 
 such men and women all human feelings pf love, gentle- 
 ness, and sympathy, are choked and killed by the caste- 
 
 1 A few ho\irs after writing out the bulk of the above, we 
 found — in re-reading Green's Short Hi-ttory of the English People 
 — a passage that seems exactly to illustrate these remarks. 
 " Cliivalry exerted on him (Edward I.) a yet more fatal influence 
 in its narrowing of his sympathy to the noble class, and in its 
 exclusion of the peasant and tlie craftsman from all claims to 
 pity. ' Knight without reproach ' as he was, he looked calmly 
 on at the massacre of the burghers of Berwick, and saw in 
 William Wallace nothing but a common robber." 
 
66 Caste- Sympathy. 
 
 born spirit of haughtiness and disdain ; and tli;\t to no 
 one could they possibly be lovable and tender, or display 
 a *' purple-veined humanity." We are sure that any one 
 — any thinking one we mean — who has luid the opp(;r- 
 tunity of, to some extent, observing (from his own middle- 
 class sphere) this class of whom we speak, whether 
 personally, or in the pages of fiction, or in the journalism 
 — especially the humorous journalism — of the day, but 
 mainly in the pages of history, must have been. seized by 
 this feeling of recoiling from, and repugnance towards, a 
 race so haughty and humanity-frozen, and must have 
 found himself deeming it well-nigh incredible that even 
 among themselves they could ever love with a hot pas- 
 sionate love, or be moved by keen human sympathy. 
 And yet the foregoing discussion should — we think — 
 make one very chary of adopting such a view : we think 
 that we have learned that men and women miiy be keenly 
 sympatlietic, passionately emotional, tender and amiable, 
 among those of their own caste, and yet callous (if only 
 thro custom and vnimaginative want of thought) to the 
 sorrows and sufferings of a lower caste. The result of 
 this enquiry is to tolerably satisfy us that sympathy may 
 be keen and perfect within the caste and yet almost un- 
 developed out of it. If this reading be correct, the 
 lesson is not without its value, both theoretically and 
 practically; and especially at a time when the transition 
 from the old caste-and-privilege-traditions to a wide 
 democratism is going on so rapidly. To estimate justly 
 and correctly the worth of all his fellows must be 
 the desire of every philosophic student : and to abstain 
 from unjust and uncharitable depreciation, that can only 
 
Cas te- Sympathy. 67 
 
 embitter and lengthen needlessly the already existing 
 class-feuds, should be the earnest endeavor of every re- 
 former. As to the justification for cliarges made by the 
 masses we say no more : but surely no middle-class radical 
 among us has a right to rail against the privileged classes 
 as being destitute of sympathy and natural affections, till 
 he have measured them by the standard that might be 
 applied to measure his own I'elations to the poorest. 
 
 Let us pause yet another moment before quitting these 
 phenomena of caste-sympathy and study them in yet an- 
 other aspect. We will not delay here to point out how 
 intimately bound up is such a restricted sympathy with 
 the moral evolution of all the lower races — who acknow- 
 ledge the obligations of right and wrong within only a 
 narrow sphere, and confine their sympathies to their own 
 clan or tribe or nation ^ — but we will point out the 
 excedingly marked development of this spirit in a mighty 
 people. 
 
 Perhaps the most striking illustration, that can be 
 found anywhere, of what may result from the workings 
 of a thoro and unequivocal caste-sympathy — how beautiful, 
 noble, and lovable, the caste may be ivhen viewed from 
 within ; how hateful, arrogant and cruel when viewed 
 from without — is to be found in the history of Greek life. 
 We have most of us caught some glimpses of that so- 
 beautiful Greece, glowing in the radiance of sunshine — 
 both sky-shine and soul-shine — and exultant in tlie jov- 
 ousness of life when this world was young ; and many a 
 one must often have yearned for the power to rull back 
 
 1 Cf. the author's Cri/ of the Children —o]icmng statoiututs. 
 
68 Caste- SympatJiy. 
 
 the centuries and exchange this fevered civilization of to- 
 day for the beauty and freshness and glow of that young 
 life. But it must never be forgotten, on the other hand, 
 that this joyous Greek life " i-ested upon the dark back- 
 ground of slavery " — that the noble life, which we picture 
 to ourselves, was possible, and xoas expressly intended to he 
 possible, only for Greeks of the Greeks. 
 I Compared with the warm and joyous humanity that 
 the Greek castes displayed inter se, and with the fervent 
 democratism that prevailed in, e.g., Athens, nothing can 
 be more striking than their absolute exclusion of " barbar- 
 ians " — i.e., foreigners — and slaves from the pale of their 
 sympathies. We have several " Utopias " bequeathed to 
 us by Greek literature ; and the modern reader — more or 
 less purified from at least this excessive caste-sympathy 
 — experiences a rude shock of surprise and disgust at 
 finding that these " Utopias," when depicting an ideally 
 perfect social state, dctined that perfection as consisting 
 in the perfection of a mere handful of Greek citizens, 
 whilst all the rest of Greece, and of the world, received, 
 perhaps, rather more cavalier treatment than would pigs 
 and oxen in a modern " Utopia." To contemplate — as 
 we practically can — this remarkable type of mind — both 
 from insi#, and from outside^ the narrow circle — to ex- 
 perience alternately a yearning love for this tender 
 human Greek life of beauty, and a loathing from that 
 hateful inhumanity in its crass selfishness of caste, is a 
 most valuable social and moral discipline. Such study 
 should preach a weighty lesson on the hatefulness of 
 caste — to those who even now live a caste-life ; and on 
 the lovableness and warm sympathies of caste-members 
 
Caste-SyuipatJiy. 69 
 
 inter se — to those who, standing without the pale, natur- 
 ally deem caste and sympathy to be incompatible, and 
 the members of a caste iutriusically hateful, inhuman, 
 and loveless.^ 
 
 ' To iHustrate and justify these remarks we subjoin two 
 or three quotations from Mahatfy's Hi'itory of Clas-^iic Gretk 
 Literature. " But with all this stran e modernness Plato is an 
 Hellene of the Hellenes. His prospect does not include any 
 non-Hellenic races. . . . He shares with Isocrates the old, I 
 had well-nigh said the vulgar, Greek admiration for the most 
 retrograde and narrow of the Hellenes — the Spartans ; nay, he 
 is .so exclusive and aristocratic in spirit, that he v:ill hardly con- 
 descend to consider the loiver classes; and conceives, like every 
 other Greek of that day, even his ideal society to be a select body 
 of equah amid a crowd of tniprivileged inferiors and of slaves. 
 This it is which gives to Plato's communism a character so radi- 
 cally distinct from all the modern dreams known by the same 
 name, or from the early Christian societj' described in the Acts 
 of the Apostles, It was essentially an aristocratic communism, 
 and ivas based, not iipon the equality of men, but upon their inher- 
 ent and radical disparity. It was really the Republic of the 
 select few, exercising a strict and even intolerable despotism over 
 the masses." (V'ol. ii., part i., pp. 208-209.) So too Isocrates' 
 panacea for the trouljle.s of his day was " an invasion of Persia, 
 — plundering its enormous wealth for the benefit of the Greeks. 
 . . . He held, indeed, that Culture, more than Race, was the 
 distinctive feature of real Greeks ; but, for all that, he would not 
 have hesitated to place tlie most ignorant Spartan far above the 
 most enlightened Macedonian or Egyptian." (Ibid. , part ii. , p. 5. ) 
 Again, as to Aristotle's Politics, Mahaff'y remarks : " Wliat we 
 rather wonder at is the narrow HeUenedom of Aristotle, who has 
 learned nothing from contemporary history, notliing from his 
 own studies in foreign politics, nothing from his varied foreign 
 residences, nothing from the Macedonian Court. .' . . With 
 Aristotle Greeks alone are worthy to be free and dominant, and 
 all foreigners are more or less adapted for slavery." . . . [Ibid., 
 p. 208.) "His reflections on slavery . . . [show] that there 
 were already Abolitionists in the world, who declared that 
 slavery was against Nature — a doctrine which Aristotle earnestly 
 combats, tho making several important concessions very damag- 
 
7 o Caste- Sympathy. 
 
 ins 10 his caTi«e.'' (Vnd., p. 206.) Finally, we may qnoto the 
 followini^ teiiiaiU with reference to Aristotle's Poetics: -'The 
 whole question must he reL^ardeil in relation to Aristotle's theory 
 of intel/ectvcU and refined leisure an the chief end of mam." (Ihid., 
 p. 199.) Now this grand (lesiileramlum was a possibility to the 
 Greeks— the select few— thanks to their institution of slavery ; 
 tlie problem for the modern Utopian is to secure the maximum 
 possible of such iulelkctual and refined leisure for each and all — 
 not for a select ferv only. We shall have frequent occasion to 
 n for to this implicit criterion in subseciueut pagts. 
 
CHArTEPv VI. 
 
 THE SERVANT-QUESTION AND THE TRUE DE\fOCRATIC SPIRIT : 
 INCLUDING ADVICE UPON GARDENING. 
 
 " Duty — where a man loves what he commands himself to do." 
 
 — Go the. 
 
 "To venture aii opinion is like moving a piece at chnss ; it may 
 be taken, but it foniis the beyinniiKj of a game that is won." — Ibid. 
 
 Returning now to the subject of domestic service, it has 
 of course been plain to trie reader that we have all along 
 been dealing with the economy of an English middle-class 
 household possessing two or three or so servants ; and 
 that we have steadily ignoreil the problem of millionaire 
 households.^ This has been intentional : not only do 
 the middle-class households incomparably ontiuimber the 
 others ; not only are the problems — in many respects — 
 simplified by this narrowing ; but, as has already been 
 intimated, we may hope that the average middle-class- 
 competency is destined to one day supplant, alike, lower- 
 class poverty, and the waste, prodigality, and lu.xuriance, 
 of both the " upper 10,000 " and the commercial million- 
 aire ; or that, at least, if wealthy capitalists continue to 
 exist (and their existence is in some resjoects desirable) 
 tliey will live no more extravagantly than their fellows. 
 
 ' Ad for instance we have said nntliing about servants' halls, etc. 
 71 
 
72 TJie True Dejnocratic Spirit. 
 
 It is clear then that, taking this view, there was small 
 need to discuss the position of servants who are mere 
 superfluous ornaments, or extravagant excrescences, and 
 in no wise uaefui. One can hardly go into the question 
 of luxuries and extravagances without trenching on a 
 division of this subject which is reserved for subsequent 
 discussion ; but it may perhaps be admissible here to 
 premise that the progress of social evolution will be 
 marked by a tendency to the continual approximation of 
 the respective wealth, wages, and comfort, of the various 
 classes : the big fortunes will become rare, and the low 
 wages equally disappear. It is assumed that, by no com- 
 munistic plunder but, by the beneficent working of those 
 natural processes whose laws are formulated by Political 
 Economy, there will be a tendency to an approximately 
 eipial distribution of wealth, and that this will be heralded 
 by the increase in price of labor and of those commo- 
 dities whose price is a function mainly of labor-price. 
 Without further anticipating here the details of this dis- 
 cussion it will be tolerably evident, on very slight reflec- 
 tion, that this increase of expenses will result in the 
 continuous abolition of those luxuries that are in no true 
 sense conducive to our happiness. Any readers who will 
 follow out in detail the process of reasoning here indi 
 cated will probably admit our assumption that unnecessary 
 servants will disappear: in so far as they minister merely to 
 pomp, display, and extravagance, they are, let us hope, 
 doomed ; and anyhow it is no part of our concern to show 
 how in semi-Utopia offices will be filled whose existence 
 Is an insult to Utopia : and similarly in so far as, altho 
 workers and not ornaments, they yet can be employed 
 
TJie True Democratic Spirit. 73 
 
 by none but millionaires, they may fairly be considered 
 outside the pale of our sympathies. 
 
 To make the matter quite plain we may indicate ladies'- 
 maids, valets, butlers, housekeepers, footmen (the very 
 -flunkies and anathema to every liberal-minded man), game- 
 keepers, and all such excrescences.^ We cannot under- 
 stand how any man, however rich, can be content to 
 lavish his wealth on a parcel of useless bipedal — or other 
 — luxuries, when all round him misery is rampant that he 
 might relieve, abuses are crying out to Heaven that he 
 might extirpate, and the beneficent schemes of broken- 
 hearted moneyless reformers are languishing for want of 
 his sqtiandered gold. In the name of all commonsense 
 what reasonable enjoyments could any man not get for 
 £2-3000 per year ^ — and what infinite good might not our 
 plutocrats do with their magnificent fortunes ! Even 
 putting such considerations on one side it is difficult to 
 realise how any man, who has at all been touched by the 
 bieath of democratism, and who feels the brotherhood 
 of man to be something more than an empty catchword, 
 who has studied sociology and anticipates the distant 
 Utopia — very distant, but yet not so unreal but that 
 each of us might by however little help to fashion it if 
 we would, — how any such man can tolerate the feeling 
 
 1 In one of Leech's sketclies (noted as a fact) a flunky, just 
 engaged, says, "Tliere's just one question I should like to ask 
 youi- ladyship. Ham I engaged for work ; or ham I engaged for 
 horn anient ! ! " 
 
 - Between 2-300 years ago Cowley wrote : "When you have 
 pared away all the vanity, what solid and natural contentment 
 does there remain which may not be had for £500 a year." Of 
 course £500 then represented a great deal more than now. 
 6 
 
74 The True Democratic Spirit. 
 
 that some dozen or more of his fellow-men spend their 
 whole lives simply in ministering to his — not needs but — 
 *' pleasures " or vanity. Never mind anything about their 
 wages, however good ; here are twelve men whose service 
 is absolutely devoted to one other man ; all are alike flesh 
 and blood ; how can the one man endure such a reflection : 
 'twere almost insupportable to us ! Indeed so strongly was 
 this feeling developed in our own case that we used to be 
 worried by the thought that in our own household there 
 lived two servants whose lives were devoted solely to 
 subserving the comforts of two other human beings : and 
 we overcame this worry — and that not completely — only 
 by the reflection that there was a sort of equitable division 
 of labor if two people, with the means of living, provided 
 a home for two others, without any means, who in return 
 discharged for their employers certain household services 
 — which by the way the latter could not have performed 
 for themselves. In fact we reconciled domestic service 
 to our democratic proclivities only by regarding the 
 servants as a constituent tho adopted and not native part 
 of our household, of our home, where naturally by a 
 division of labor each performed different duties. 
 
 Now, disregarding the retort that might be made by a 
 merely verbal logic, — that what is true of our two ser- 
 vants is equally true of milord's twenty — it appears to 
 us that altho this explanation will very fairly recon- 
 cile a democrat for the present to the employment of one 
 or two servants (something, of course, depending upon 
 the size of his family), such reconcilement becomes in- 
 creasingly difficult with the addition of every fresh 
 servant. Moreover such reconcilement may be en- 
 
The True Democratic Spirit. 75 
 
 dangered, not only by the gross total of the servants, but 
 
 also by the respective avocations of any given servants. 
 
 The employment of four or five servants in one large 
 
 household may be possibly quite compatible, while tlie 
 
 addition of a third servant to another may be highly 
 
 incompatible, with this understanding. It all depends 
 
 upon what work the servants perform— whether they 
 
 minister to necessities, or merely to extravagances and 
 
 luxuries : and moreover a servant who subserves a 
 
 luxury daily enjoyed by a score of people may be 
 
 approved of, while the same servant, subserving one man's 
 
 individual luxury, will prove a thorn in the flesh to a 
 
 consistent democrat. The criterion in fact must be 
 
 applied with discrimination. 
 
 Perhaps this proposition will be made clearer by an 
 example. We know of several households where in each 
 case the family, consisting of two persons, not only is 
 ministered to by two domestic servants, but further- 
 more employs a gardener. Now here is one man who 
 woiks hard (for bad pay) purely to minister to the 
 luxury of Urn people. We are not in any sense advo- 
 cating communism but we do feel that there is in this 
 picture something that would greatly worry us ; and we 
 cannot but think that such phenomena as 'this will have 
 become extinct long before Utopia is even sighted. Were 
 the gardener employed on the grounds of a school, so that 
 his labor gave pleasure to two or threescore boys or girls, 
 one might feel very well satisfied— for here would ''be I 
 division of labor such as we may expect will obtain 
 —in semi-Utopia anyhow : but that the whole lifework 
 of one man should simply subserve the luxdry of 
 
"j^ The True Democratic Spirit. 
 
 two other people — this dots stick in our throat abun- 
 dantly. 
 
 " Is it contended then that as Utopia approaches 
 gardens will cease to exist?" No; far from it : what is 
 contended for is simply that new methods of gardening 
 must supervene, and gardening by proxy become rare. 
 Gardening may be a pleasure in itself, or it may be 
 simply the means to an end — such end being the plea- 
 sure derived from looking at a fine parterre. To an 
 immense number the garden- work is in itself a pleasure,^ 
 
 ' There are even — af? we know from personal experience — some 
 extraoi'dinarj' individuals so constituted that they find pleasure 
 in mowing a lawn ! If such mental traits should persist, of 
 course the abolition of most professional gardeners in Utopia 
 would cause lis no trouble ; if not, there would seem no remedy 
 but for Utopians to do without lawns. Perhaps, however, 
 children might be turned to account, since they usually enjoy 
 racing about witli a mowing-machine. It may be worth while 
 to extend this discussion somewhat beyond the remarks in the 
 text, since it will afford a very good example of how very much 
 pleasure may still be retained even compatibly with the sacrifice 
 ot such appliances — human or otherwise — to pleasure as rcHection 
 may assure us cannot persist into Utopia. The pleasures de- 
 rived from a garden are fourfold (putting aside the pleasure of 
 gardening — where it exists) — 
 
 (1) The kitchen-garden ministers to our material comfort. 
 
 (2) The flower-garden is a beautiful sight 
 
 (3) There is so much large open space iu which to wander — 
 free from street-sights and street-noises. 
 
 (4) There may be included a recreation-ground— as, e.g., a 
 tennis-lawn. 
 
 Now the first consideration we put aside altogether, since, on 
 any large scale, kitchen-gardens are probably doomed — the 
 requisite produce being raised very far more cheaply, better, and 
 less wastefully, in large market-gardens, in accordance with the 
 general principle of the division of labor ; while, if anyone like 
 to amuse himself by a little kitcliengardcning on a small scale, 
 clearly that is a case for individual, or family, attention. 
 
The True Democratic Spirit. yy 
 
 and to this extent therefor proxy-gardening were 
 evidently absurd : for the rest — the question will finally 
 remain whether the loss of a garden, or the loss of time, 
 and the trouble involved, in doing the necessary but dis- 
 tasteful garden-work, be the greater evil. It appears to 
 us however that, in and near cities, the small private 
 gardens will be to a very great extent superseded by a 
 central park and recreation ground common to all the 
 houses built round it. This appears to meet our require- 
 ments very fully : for such a park, when once wisely laid 
 
 The tliu-d want is sufficiently met by the scheme of central 
 quasi-paiks alluded to in the text, where, by co-operation, each 
 may obtain the pleasure of a, large park, whilst incurring the 
 cost only of a garden. 
 
 The fourth want may almost be bracketed with the last, so 
 that we are reduced to the second want only ; that is to say, the 
 Utopians have to solve the problem of how to keep a small 
 flower-garden (and lawn perhaps ?) without employing a gardener ; 
 or, in other words, is the pleasure of sucli a garden in excess of 
 the trouble required by it? Remembering the existence of the 
 central park many people will vote for no private garden at all ; 
 but for the benefit of tliose who still want their own flower-garden 
 we may point out liow very greatly the problem is now simplified 
 by this reduction. 
 
 To begin witli, the first laying out of, planning, and planting, 
 a garden, cutting walks, piling rockery, and so on — in a word 
 the creative work of "landscape-gardening " — is pure pleasure, be- 
 sides being remarkably healthy work. Even tfurself — who never 
 do a stroke of gardening — can tlioroly enjoy thiii department of 
 work ; for here there is the keen pleasure of creating. The real 
 monotony and trouble commence when the garden is made, and 
 requires keeping up, weeding, sweeping, raking, and the rest of 
 it. But even here the majority of English gardeners— thanks 
 simply to their own folly, pigheadedness, and want of taste- 
 vastly increase their labors. A rational man would begin by 
 filling up by far the greater portion of his garden with evergreens, 
 and flowering bushes and shrubs, which persist, make au ad- 
 mirable show, require almost no attention, and clioke any 
 
78 The True Democratic Spirit. 
 
 out, could be kept up at a vanishingly small expenditure 
 of labor ; while — since a verj few gardeners would thus 
 minister to the pleasure of scores of people — there would 
 be a very fair division of labor, and their employment 
 need not upset the feelings of the wildest democrat. 
 Tt stands to reason that with the su[)ersession of so many 
 (in large part incompetent) gardeners, the wages of the 
 remainder could be very much increased — apart from the 
 influence exerted by other sociological factors : which 
 only shows once more huw all the parts of the social ma- 
 neighboring weeds. The border-space tliat remains he would 
 tlien fill lip witii hardy perennials tliat look after themselves, 
 and are dangerous ri%-als to the weeds ; so that, having once 
 planted his garden, liis gardening labor is reduced to a very 
 small minimum — consisting in little more than occasional sweep- 
 ing, clipping, and weed-slaughtering. Above all he would avoid 
 — as it were poison — that atrocious system of heddlng-out and 
 geometrical gardening, invented in an evil liour by some execrable 
 I'ooi who thus achieved a trinity of evils, in that he utterly 
 wrecked all the grace, poetry, and natural beauty, of an old 
 English garden, created a panorama of hideousness, and intro- 
 duced the practice of annually wasting an enormous amount 
 oi human labor in order to successfully present a hideous glare 
 of all incongruous colors and stiff forms during four months of 
 the year. 
 
 But in such a system of gardening, as is sketched above, it 
 will be seen that lialf an acre or more of ground may be kept 
 Jul! of blossom and perfume at the cost of almost no labor ; and 
 if a man have his own private half-acre full of ahnonds, lilacs, 
 viburnums, rhododendions, azaleas, roses, lilies, campanulas, and 
 other border-flowers, and evergreens,- — besides having the run of 
 a large central park— what more can he want? 
 
 Of gremhouses wc have said nothing hitherto. To a large ex- 
 tent greenhouses exist simply in order to winter the hideous 
 aitificialities destined for hcddimj-out — another example of the 
 enormous expense to which men will go in order to uglify their 
 possessions, anil defraud themselves of beauty and perfume, in de- 
 iereace to an insane and wicked fashion. For the rest, if people 
 
TJie True Democratic Spirit. 79 
 
 ohine work together, and how any one advance implies, 
 and is implied by, other and corelative advances. It 
 may farthermore afford some satisfaction to some of us to 
 note that, when garden-space is acquired mainly .by a 
 common park and but slightly by private gardens (the 
 existence of which in a small degree however would pre- 
 serve for us that privacy so dear — and rightly so dear — 
 to Englishmen) there will be nothing to provoke that 
 unpleasant consciousness of quasi-selfishness that worries 
 a social reformer when he reflects that several acres of 
 
 can find appreciable pleasure in a greenhouse, they may very 
 well be left to attend on it themselves in leisure moments : but 
 private hothouses on the large scale as a mere appanage of pomp, 
 and ministrant to plutocratic luxury, we consider of coui'se irre- 
 trievably doomed. One thing however must be carefully remem- 
 bered by those who cannot imagine themselves happy, even in 
 Utopia, without a garden, and yet cannot face the thought of ex- 
 [ending even this minimum of labor and time on it. They need 
 to be reminded that — practically — life will be far longer in 
 Utopia than here. We mean that the available leisure of each 
 one will he far greater than now. The bread-winner will work 
 but a very few hours daily ; so that, even after adding to this 
 W(jrk the work which he now delegates to others, he will have a 
 large balance to the good. It is highly important to remember 
 this factor in any hedonistic estimate. 
 
 We have followed out into this so much detail what may ap- 
 pear a very trivial subject, because it appears to us an excedingly 
 valuable type-illuntration for Utopian speculators. The conclusions 
 just reached only emphasise once more the truth of Spencer'a 
 doctrine that ideal arrangements and ideal men are possible only 
 in ideal environments : and that Utopia can be reached only by 
 a proportionable metamorphosis of the ivhole social system. For 
 in our gardening-example we find, in last resort, tliat tlie plea- 
 sure, which an Utopian regard for others' happiness indicates 
 can only be acquired by one's own labor, is yet possible, and 
 with a balance to our credit, if we have so much extra leisure as 
 is possible for all only in Utopia. Utopia is always consistent 
 with Utopianism. 
 
8o TJie True Democratic Spirit. 
 
 fine garden, with masses of blossom and glorious trees, 
 are dedicated to the exclusive use of perhaps himself aud 
 one or two children ; while scores of his surrounding 
 neighbors are cooped up in narrow cages, pining and 
 yearning for the couutry-sights-in-town that his garden 
 would afford them : so that at present two or three 
 people enjoy it — sometimes for only two or three hours 
 a week ; and at all times this immense potential pleasure 
 is to uineteen-twentieths of its extent unused. And 
 looking at it as statesmen, here is in any large town only 
 so much ground, covered by so many thousand people : 
 a.ad of this ground only so many scores of acres are 
 gardens — the rest being pavingstones, bricks, and 
 mortar. But this limited extent of garden-ground, 
 which might afford uiiflajging enjoyment to certainly 
 very many hundreds, if not to several thousands, is the 
 exclusive pleasure-monopoly of a very very few dozen — or 
 perhaps even units. Now whenever this reflection comes 
 home to a large-garden-owuer of genuine democratic^ 
 feeling — this animal being however, most unliappily, an 
 extraordinarily rare hybrid, but one nevertheless likely to 
 become comparatively common in the distant by-and-bye 
 — it will worry him to such an extent that the very sight 
 of his garden will altogether upset his peace of mind for 
 the rest of that day. How much happier will his repre- 
 sentative and descendant be in the future days of small- 
 gardened-houses built round a common park 1 
 
 1 We use democrat in its best sense as imply ng one to whom 
 all manhood is dear — wlio feels as a living reality the brut herhood 
 of man : ]>hUiinthro/>ist would exactly meet our requireiueuts but 
 the word has become too specialised. 
 
The True Democratic Spirit. 8 1 
 
 We are afraid that these remarks will seem but arrant 
 commimism to many ; but we cannot help it, and must 
 accept the risk. So far are we from any communistic 
 intentions however, that, in thus speculating, we not 
 only do not contemplate the "appropriation" (anglice, 
 robhery — if the communists, who do not thiuk it robbery, 
 will pardon us) of these large private gardens for more 
 general use, but we do not even look to the municipal 
 buying up of open spaces as the machinery for securing 
 "central parks "•'■ ; on the contrary we look merely to 
 the action of private unselfish impulse and private enter- 
 prise. Once succede in infecting people with this feeling, 
 and all will come easy : those fortunate possessors of 
 large gardens will give their friends and neighbors the 
 run of them : while public opinion will demand the new 
 style of house planning which is here indicated.^ 
 
 Well this question of the employment of gardeners has 
 led us into a long digression, which is however very use- 
 ful, as clearing up a typical case : to return — thei'e is 
 still remaining one class of servants somewhat difficult to 
 deal with — the class namely of grooms and coachmen, of 
 whom the 1881 Census records over 73,000 in England 
 and Wales alone : 73,000 domestic grooms and coach- 
 men or over 1 per cent, of the total male 2^o2)ulatioii of 
 
 ' Our central parks being— it must be observed — private, and 
 limited to a certain group of residents. 
 
 ^ The misfortune is that, as regards houses, we are the very 
 slaves of the builders, who build insane houses which we must 
 occupy — for there are no better. Now nobody with eyes will 
 question the evident truth that builders are — speaking generally 
 — the most dolorously UTiinventive, unprogressive, and unmiti- 
 gated, fools : the first reform therefor must be to abolish the 
 present builders-class. 
 
82 The True Democratic Spirit. 
 
 the country above 20 years of age ! We have conchided 
 that those miserable abortions footmen — mere useless 
 lazy lumber — will inevitably disappear; and it is not 
 diflBcult to foresee that coachmen, as such, coachmen 
 pure and simple, will follow them : men will prefer to 
 drive themselves rather than to incur the unnecessary 
 expense of a beliveried, befurred, bebigbuttoned, live 
 figurehead, who is required, not for use, but to meet the 
 ridiculous demands of an extravagant fashion. But there 
 is some difficulty in deciding whether grooms will disap- 
 pear in semi-Utopia and Utopia — the difficulty being 
 greatly due to the fact that their work is so distinctly 
 unpleasant : since, however, horses in abundance will 
 evidently be as necessary as now, we are inclined to 
 think that, to a very great extent, private possession of 
 horses will be superseded by the hiring of horses, when 
 required, from a large public establishment — this being a 
 far less extravagant procedure — and that those people 
 who are so fond of horses as to require the constant use 
 of one will do the grooming themselves.^ 
 
 To hark back now to domestic servants more particu- 
 larly, we have shown how, by the abolition of needless 
 and nasty work, the servants' position may be rendei-ed 
 one that there should be not the least difficulty in filling. 
 But there is yet another aspect of this great "servant- 
 question " that it is important not to neglect : we have 
 to face the possibility of two contingencies, either of 
 which would compel us to ask the question — Can we 
 
 ' It must again be noted that, their leisure-time being so much 
 greater than ours, there is really no such aggression on their hap- 
 piness as might be at first supposed. 
 
The True Democratic Spirit. 83 
 
 entirely dispense with servants, and yet live happily % 
 We have shown reasons for thinking that the existence 
 of servants is consonant with even se?/i^-Utopia anyhow ; 
 whether or no Utopia demand their abolition, and 
 negative their continuance with however great modifica- 
 tions, is a question that will come up for consideration 
 very shortly. But, however consonant with semi-Utopia 
 may be domestic service, it does not certainly follow that 
 we should be able to obtain servants — for other causes 
 now unforeseen might militate against this by drawing 
 off our possible servants to still more pleasant occupations 
 — or that we should think the game (of having them) 
 worth the candle (of paying for them). The question 
 thus arises whether we can imagine ourselves happy 
 without servants, and we think it is very easy to under- 
 stand that many families may find it far more pleasant 
 to dispense with servants altogether. It is obvious that 
 the very same reforms which will make it possible for — 
 well — young ladies to take service as cooks or house- 
 maids, will render it equally easy for the ladies of the 
 house to do this work themselves ; the same occupation 
 being far more beneficial and healthy to them, both 
 physically and morally, than their present frivolous 
 " pass-times " of reading trashy novels of of embroider- 
 ing impossible plants on unnecessary antimacassars : 
 whilst a comparatively rationalised, and less innately snob- 
 bish, public opinion will cease to think it impossible to 
 visit ladies who " keep no servants !"i 
 
 1 "There is hardly any part of the present constitution of 
 society more essentially vicious, and more morally injurious to 
 both parties, than the relations between masters and servants. 
 
84 The True Democratic Spirit. 
 
 Wlieii one considers that the social reconstitution going 
 on must finally result in making the cost of living far 
 more expensive than at present to the middle and upper 
 classes — the increased wages to labor necessarily in- 
 creasing the cost of building, of clothes, of food, and of 
 ornaments ; this being, as we take it, tlie main process 
 by which the apportioning of the national wealth will be 
 brought about — and when one computes the really very 
 considerable addition to the annual expenditure repre- 
 sented by the actual total wages of one servant, reckon- 
 ing not only her — by assumption, very appreciable — 
 money-wages, but also the cost of her board and the 
 increased house-rent necessitated; — then one may, we 
 think, see strong reason for deeming that, in a very large 
 number of cases, the household will prefer to dispense 
 with a servant altogether. And here we must take 
 cognisance of another factor, which only shows once more 
 how indissolubly bound up and mutually dependent are 
 all the component parts of social welfare. For, at pre- 
 
 To make tliia a really human and a moral relation is one of the 
 principal ilusidcrata in social improvement. Tlie feeling of the 
 vulgar of all classes tliat domestic service has anything in it 
 peculiarly mean, is a feeling tiian which there is none meaner. 
 In tlie feudal ages, youthful nobles of the highest rank tliought 
 themselves honoured by officiating in what is now called a 
 menial capacity, al)0iit the persons of superiors of both sexes, 
 
 for whom they felt respect Much of the daily physical 
 
 work of a houseliold, even in opulent families, if silly notions 
 of degradation, common to all ranks, did not interfere, might 
 very advantageously be performed by the family itself, at least 
 by its younger members ; to whom it would give liealthful exer- 
 cise of the bodily powers, which lias now to be sought in modes 
 far less useful, and also a familiar acquaintance with the real 
 work 01 tlie world," etc., etc. (J. S. Mill " On Comte," p. 1G7). 
 
The True Democratic Spbit. 85 
 
 sent, to wholly dispense with servants would produce 
 grave evils, since it would necessitate either always leav- 
 ing some one of the household at home to "take care" of 
 the house, or else leaving it empty, perhaps for hours at 
 a time. The former alteniative has the hedonistic draw- 
 back that the family is never able to go out together ; 
 while the latter has to reckon with the serious danger of 
 thieves. But by hypothesis in our semi-Utopia there are 
 no thieves : that is to say, only in so advanced a social 
 state as may render it necessary to dispense with servants 
 do we find that social environment (of honest people) 
 that annihilates the — at present — one remaining strong 
 reason for retaining servants. How very greatly a little 
 (general) honesty may simplify social troubles is well 
 instanced by the condition of Heligoland. According to 
 a recent newspaper-account, the effect of Heligoland 
 being a small isolated island is that burglars are un- 
 known : doors are left unbolted, and houses empty and 
 unguarded, simply because no thief could escape from the 
 island with his plunder, and, since everybody knows 
 everybody, rapid detection were certain. 
 
 This shows us clearly how very much expense, trouble, 
 and vexation, we might avoid, were only every individual 
 as honest as the Heligolanders — voluntarily or inevitably 
 are. 
 
 POSTSCRIPT. 
 
 Some months after writing this essay, we made the accjuaint- 
 auce of William Morris' delightful book, Hopta and Feamfor 
 Art : and — having a great reverence for the opinions of a trained 
 artist, or, indeed, of any trained specialist within his own sphere 
 
86 The True Democratic Spirit. 
 
 of work — we were not a little gratified to find Mr. Morris de- 
 nouncing Lieonietrical Gardening and the Bedding-out system 
 almost in our own words. For instance he remarks — " But 
 there are some flowers (inventions of men, i.e., florists) which are 
 bad color altogt;tlier and not to be used at all. Scarlet-ijeraniums, 
 for instance, or tlie yellow calceolaria, which indeeil are not un- 
 commonly grown together profusely, in oriler. I suppose, to show 
 that even flowers can he thoroly ugly" (p. 127). On many other 
 pointswefound Mr, Morris' opinions identical with those expressed 
 in various places in this essay : so much so indeed that, had we 
 read his work before writing, we should scarcely have dared to 
 express many of our own opinions for fear of being accused of 
 barefaced plagiarism. We need scarcely remark how great a 
 2ratificati(m it is to us to find so able an ally, and to learn that, 
 as regards the "arts" of life, even a wholly untrained and 
 artistically-ignorant writer may find salvation — by tlie help of 
 first principles, and a strong love of Beauty, only. 
 
CHAPTER VII. 
 
 MANUAL AND MENTAL WORK ; OE, THE UTOPIAN DIVISION 
 OF LABOUR : W:TH AN LVQUIKY INTO GENIUS. 
 
 " That any citizen may so behave as not to deduct from the 
 general welfare, it is needful tliat he slicill perform such function 
 Of share of function as is of value ec^uivaleac at least lo what he 
 consumes. " — Htrbtrt Speiictr. 
 
 Before finally quitting the subject which has already 
 occupied us for the last two or three chapters, it may, 
 however, be worth while to briefly enquire whether after 
 all — so far as we can see — there are likely to be any 
 " servants " of any kind in Utopia itself ; or, to put the 
 question quite generally, whether it is probable that 
 each man will then do for himself all stich work as he 
 would now pay — permanent or temporary — servants to 
 do for him — or whether he will continue so to employ 
 themi The answer to this question will be found, we 
 think, to depend upon the assumptions that we make 
 regarding Utopia, and the definitions by which we limit 
 it. 
 
 In the first place, it is abundantly clear from the pre- 
 ceding discussions that, long before Utopia be reached, 
 the amount of servant-performed-work will have been 
 reduced to a minimum. Not only will all the excres- 
 87 
 
88 Manual and Mental Work; and Genius. 
 
 cences and mere extravagances of display have disap- 
 peax-ed, but people will have learned to wait upon 
 themselves in a thousand matters for which they now 
 lazily rely upon ladies'-maids, valets, and waiters. But 
 beyond all these there lies the &olid residuuni of useful 
 and necessary, but purely mechanical and unintelligent, 
 work that must be done by somebody ; will each man do 
 his own share of it, or will it all be deputed to a class 
 of workers who do nothing else"? Here, after defining 
 Utopia, we must take for our guide the great 'principle 
 of the division of labor. If the definition of Utopia 
 admit that, altho all are equally happy, ^ yet not all are 
 equally gifted, but some are born geniuses, others born 
 mediocre — then the problem is, we think, settled at once. 
 Economics teach us the great advantages resulting from 
 a division of labor, when each concentrates his energies 
 on what he can best do ; and since upon the most econo- 
 mical — i.e. most efficient and speedy — possible produc- 
 tion of our requisites must depend the shortening of 
 our hours of labor, or in other words, our opportunities 
 for enjoyment, it seems clear that in Utopia, even as here, 
 will there be such a division of labor that the clever 
 man will do nothing {no wage-earning) but intellectual 
 labor, whilst the less gifted will do their share of the 
 manual work, and be well paid therefor. In addition to 
 this consideration — of the time-economy of such division 
 of labor — it will be clear that a considerably more 
 
 ' And by equality of happiness we slionld here nnderstand 
 that each exercised every function with a niaxiiniim hedonistic 
 effect — and was quite satisfied with such function-possibilities 
 as nature had allotted tq him. 
 
Manual and Mental Work; and Genius. 89 
 
 direct and tangible hedonistic loss to the community 
 must ensue if a portion of the "working-time of any great 
 artist-creator be spent in doing his share of manual 
 work : for the world will lose so much of the beauty that 
 he would otherwise have created. It seems to us, there- 
 for, that, if we assume inequality of genius in Utopia, 
 we are bound to assume that there will be such division 
 of labor as corresponds to our present condition, where 
 w e have hand-laborers and head-laborers ; and it will 
 at once be evident that in endeavoring to clear up a 
 very minor subject, viz., that of the persistence of ser- 
 vants in a narrow sense, we have really found an answer 
 to a very far broader question. We have oidy to reflect 
 for one moment on the utter chaos that would ensue 
 were we to commence disregarding the division of labor, 
 insisting that every man should be his own bootmaker, 
 tailor, haberdasher, haircutter, cook, builder, etc., etc., to 
 receive a most salutary lesson on the absurdity of sup- 
 posing that "Utopia" connotes the abolition of very 
 thoro specialisation. Why, were we to attempt any 
 so mad and preposterous a scheme as that just hinted 
 at, so far from life being made happier and leisure in- 
 creased, our lives would be exhausted after day-long 
 drudgery before we had learned our multifarious trades. 
 But if one thus admit that the specialised builder, 
 baker, tailor, doctor, schoolmaster, et id omme ge)ius, 
 must always exist in Utopia, in order to ensure eificient 
 and economic working, one must also, we think, admit 
 that besides the specialisation involving distinctions be- 
 tween builder and baker on the one hand, and between 
 medico and teacher on the other, there must also be that 
 
90 Manual and Mental Wurk ; and Genius. 
 
 twofold specialisation on which hangs the broad distinc- 
 tion between two great classes — ol' hand- workers and of 
 head-workers. The only possible alternative to this were 
 to hypothecate two trades, or rather one " craft " and one 
 ■' profession," to every man. One must then assume that 
 every baker is also, say, a music-master; every builder 
 also a doctor ; every tailor also a sculptor ; and so on. 
 But the difficulties, in which one thus becomes involved, 
 are manifest. In the first place such a very daring 
 attempt to circumvent the great principle of the division 
 of labor would incur its meet punishment; for our un- 
 fortunate doctor-builder, e.g., would find himself almost 
 as greatly troubled by his twufold office as was Pooh- 
 Bali, the Lord-High-Everything, of Gilbertian fame : 
 assuredly the physician would be perpetually wanted iu 
 one place and the builder in another. 
 
 Secondly, far more manual 1 iborers are wanted than 
 mental laborers : how are we to divide the offices when 
 there are perliaps three hand-workers and one brain- 
 worker requiied 1 If any one reply that each man should 
 be baker or builder, etc., for 3-to irtlis of his working-day, 
 and physician or music-master for the remaining I-fourth 
 — so that instead of having one whole physician we should 
 have four quarter-physicians — then the result is surely so 
 palpably absurd, so undeniably provocative of inefficiency 
 and muddling, as to condemn itself. 
 
 Thirdly, and most important of all, we cannot afford 
 to luaste. genius : and if a man have a genius for sculpture, 
 music, surgery, teaching, research, or what not^ then it 
 were the grossest folly to insist that he shall exercise his 
 special faculty for only a quarter of his working-time, 
 
Manual and Mental Work; and Genius. 91 
 
 while devoting the remaining 3-fourths to laying bricks or 
 making breeches, that would be every whit as efficiently 
 laid or made — probably far more efficiently — by a work- 
 man who has no gift at all for surj;ery, music, sculpture, 
 or teaching. 
 
 Fourthly, it is important to remember that if every 
 man had to learn two trades, there were so much the 
 less of his life left for genuine " living." for enjoying him- 
 self — we mean — intellectually, esthetically, and physi- 
 cally. It must be sedulously borne in mind that in no 
 Utopia can we escape a certain amount of hard work : 
 there will be for each and all of us so many hours a 
 day 1 of necessary work — all the glad remainder being 
 devoted to music, art, poetry, study, riding, walking, boat- 
 ing, swimming, dancing, talking, and so on. Now the one 
 grand thing to be aimed at in Utopia — and one grand 
 factor in Utopia — is to diminish to the lowest possible 
 minimum each one's daily ivork. But if every man had 
 to learn two professions it is clear that there were so 
 much more hard work (of learning) to do than would 
 otherwise be the case : in effect then his life-time were 
 shortened ^ and, besides this direct shortening of verit- 
 
 ' On an average, that is : thus if three hours a day suffice, 
 every one will really do — no doubt — five or «ix hours every 
 working-day : but then he will have one or two days complete 
 holiday every week : and long stretches of holiday for travelling : 
 and, in such a state, there will be a rational division and alter- 
 nation of holiday times tliro'out the week and the year. 
 
 2 This would perhaps be met if we adopted Spencer's principle 
 that every activity may become a source of pleasure to us after 
 sufficient moulding — so that the twofold apprenticeship would 
 cause twofold pleasure. But even so (and we are so far striving to 
 work out these problems without availing ourself of that prin- 
 ciple) the study of bricklaying and learning of Materia Medica— 
 
92 Manual and Mental Work ; and Genius. 
 
 able Nvinff-tlme, there is the indirect shortening that 
 must ensue if, by tliis dovetailing of professions, lesser 
 efficienc}' and less expedition are caused. 
 
 These arguments (which probably by no means ex- 
 haust the armoury of that arch-beneficent science of 
 economics) appear to us to amply demonstrate that in 
 Utopia (and a fortiori in semi-Utopia, which is far less 
 distant) there will be the same specialisation into head- 
 workers, heartworkers, and handworkers, that we see at 
 the present day : and for these reasons we feel bound to 
 entirely dissent from Prince Krapotkin's picture of the 
 future social state. Looking at the case in this light, 
 we cannot therefor admit that " whosoever he might be 
 — scientist or artist, physician or surgeon, chemist or 
 sociologist, historian or poet — he would be the gainer if 
 he spent a part of his life in the workshop or the farm 
 (the workshop and the farm) if he were in contact with 
 humanity in its daily work, and had the satisfaction of 
 knowing that he himself discharges his duties as an 
 
 imprivileged producer of wealth And how would 
 
 gain the poet in his feeling of the beauties of Nature, 
 how much better would he know the human heart, if he 
 met the rising sun amidst the tillers of the soil, himself 
 a tiller ; if he fought against the storm with the sailors 
 on board ship ; if he knew the poetry of labor and rest, 
 sorrow and joy, struggle and conquest." ^ 
 
 both nccetisary evils — are not .so pleasurable as leisure-time studies 
 and pursuits : so that the total possible pleasure is diminished. 
 Moreover the apprenticesliip to the medical profession is already 
 a long one : if the probation be doubled by the learner's time 
 being halved, then the suspense will become intolerably tedious. 
 •• Hope deferred " etc. (See also note to p. 213.) 
 ' Nineteenth Century, March, 1890. 
 
Manual and Mental Work; and Gcnijis. 93 
 
 No work is so exhausting as headwork ; and it is 
 therefor impossible (in any healthy society where the 
 genius is not sacrificed for the good of others) to get 
 more than a certain quantum of headwork per day from 
 each such worker. But if, furtliermore, his working day 
 is to be half or three-fourths occupied in bricklaying or 
 tailoring, then we shall have to wait a weary long while 
 for the fruits of his work. In fact, any such proposition 
 involves such an extravagant waste of hrain-power (the 
 most valuable motive-power of all) that we almost ven- 
 ture to think that it is only requisite to realise Prince 
 Krapotkin's scheme in order to reject it as an impossible 
 solution.* 
 
 We have not yet noticed one objection — which with 
 some would appear the gravest of all — against such 
 head-cum-hand-vvorking ; namely, that it almost neces- 
 sarily involves — or at the very least it subjects us to the 
 heaviest risk of — a governmental overlooking, a dragoon- 
 ing, an elaborate system of officialism, of restrictions, 
 commands, rules, regulations, and interferences, such as 
 are utterly incompatible with thoro spontaneity and 
 individualism, and clash harshly with our healthy 
 English notions of Liberty. We have not put this 
 objection in the forefront, and cannot expect it to have 
 
 1 In Prince Krapotkin's scheme the workei's are — we believe — 
 to divide not their days, between hand and head work, but tlieir 
 lives. Thus, after ten or fifteen years' sailoring, tailoring, or 
 bricklaying, the worker would take up teaching, surgery, or 
 what not. This scheme, whilst avoiding one minor absurdity, 
 to which we have drawn attention, escapes none of the chief 
 objections one whit, and encounters the graver objection that 
 youth is the time for learning, and that after years of this 
 manual woik it is too late to learn a profession. 
 
94 Manual and Mental Work ; and Genius. 
 
 any weight with our communistic friends — who think 
 notliing so delightful as to be ruled by the State for the 
 State's good : but we hope that our other arguments are 
 sufficiently satisfactory : and, since our object has been, 
 not to prove that manual and mental labourers must 
 co-exist in Utopia,^ but simply to enquire, purely dis- 
 passionately, whether they would or not, we can very 
 well afford to waive this last argument if the Communists 
 think it untenable. 
 
 But, having cleared up this perplexity, we are at once 
 met by another. Admitting that some will do only 
 headwork, and some only handwork, will all be paid 
 alike : in other words, will remuneration depend upon 
 value (or rarity) of result, or upon quantity of labor be- 
 stowed — as in the celebrated Owenite labor-exchange] 
 That it would be practicable in this present state of 
 society to make price a fimction simply of quantity-of-labor- 
 bestowed {i.e., of length of laboring-hours) seems almost 
 so transparent a fallacy that one wonders how an Owenite 
 exchange could ever have been instituted. But we are 
 inclined to think that in & perfect Utopia there will be, if 
 not this scheme, at least a very close approximation to it. 
 It is unnecessary to prove that Utopians would desire it 
 and, so far as possible, bring it about ; the only question 
 is whether it would come about as a natural process — in 
 
 ' If any communist accuse us of setting out to prove this con- 
 clusion, we can only reply that tlie accusation is false : we began 
 to think out the subject, and our train of reasoning is set down 
 exactly as it ran. We think that there is scarcely any such 
 caste- prejudice apparent in this essay as would justify the false 
 accusation : and we did not anticipate some of the wuclusiona to 
 wliich our reasoning has led us. 
 
Manual and Mental Woik ; and Genius. 95 
 
 which case alone it would flourish healthily ; for we have 
 the most profound distrust of all artificial schemes, by 
 which doctrinaires flatter themselves that they can 
 circumvent the inevitable Nemeses of Nature. We think 
 that— without going into details — since we hope at 
 another time to enquire fully into this subject — we may see 
 various indications pointing to such a state of things. The 
 mere fact that intellectual acquirements become commoner 
 will tend to depreciate their pay relatively to the pay of 
 manual workers ; whilst a possibly relatively decreasing 
 liking for manual work will inevitably force up the pay 
 by diminishing the supply of labor. Moreover, as 
 genius becomes commoner/ not only will the enormous 
 sums now paid for works of art, and to musicians and 
 surgeons, necessarily become smaller, but if the Utopians 
 get into their heads the notion that only labor and not 
 heaven-given brains ^ should be paid for, they will be on 
 
 ' Commoner both because more geninses will be born and be- 
 cause every genius that is born (and lives) will be made known. 
 ' Mute inglorious Miltons" will not exist in Utopia. 
 
 2 We trust that no reader will suspect us of anything so wildly 
 preposterous as a desii-e to depreciate the unique value of genius, 
 i.e., of heaven-given brains. We do not think that anyone can 
 more fully recognize than ourself how absolutely indispensable 
 is genius to progress in any direction, and how crying is our need 
 for more genius ; and equally do we appreciate, Mr. Galton's con- 
 clusions (see Hereditary Genius— a. golden book) that a greater 
 supply of genius per million inhabitants is correlated with a 
 heightening of each intellectual grade. But in the text we are 
 concerned with not backward to-day but — advanced Utopia ; 
 and, farther, in speaking of the disproportionate pay of head- 
 work, we refer only to certain kinds of work whicli to-day are 
 ridiculously over-paid in comnarixon with, not only simple 
 labor, but, with other work of e([ual or greater genius. Not 
 only do we think that the disproportion between the pay of, on 
 
96 Manual and Mental Work; and Genius. 
 
 that account also averse to paying so highly as at 
 present; in fact the mere desire to equalise the wages of 
 labor will at that stage operate as a natural factor in the 
 equalising tendency. And lastly, the mure that manual 
 
 the one hand, a celebrated painter or popular surt,'eon, and, on 
 the other, that of a philosoplier or scieutitic enijuirer, will be re- 
 latively reduced ; but we also suspect that tlie great incomes of 
 the lucky former few will be absolutely and considerably re- 
 duced. Most of all, too, do we consider as incongruous (in 
 Utopia) the huge payments made to a prima-donna, e.r/., who is 
 paid, not for brain-power even, but for tlie lucky natural gift of 
 a rare voice. It is in such cases that the payment is so glaringly 
 disproportionate to the labor. At the same time we may point 
 out that this question as to whether — in a strictly moral sclieme, 
 in an ideal state where men's actions will be presumably somewhat 
 otherwise than as at present formulated by Political Economy — 
 native Genius bestowed hy Nature, or personal Labor bestowed by 
 each man, should be reckoned pay-worthy, is an important one. 
 At present, of course, literally the best policy for the com- 
 munity is to heavily reward genius, and by every means to 
 encourage its exertion, since a constant supply of genius is the 
 sine qua non for progress in every sense, and to ill reward it is 
 suicidal ; but possibly by and bye Genius — arrived at a corre- 
 spondingly high moral stage— will decidedly ol)ject to being 
 heavily paid and rewarded for its own good luck in having been 
 born genius. The case is very analogous to that of the love of 
 fame and glory, concerning wiuch we must speak in a later 
 chapter. (See pp. 109-1-Jl). 
 
 We may incidentally remark here that such a conception of the 
 claims of Genius must react more or less on our attitude towards 
 Individualism (as opposed to Socialism) ; for tho we may admit 
 to the fullest, with Spencer, the general postulates of a man's 
 indefeasible right to benetit by his own labor, and furthermore 
 the practical necessity that, during the struggle for existence, 
 the best-endowed (luckiest) should profit by their natural endow- 
 ments, yet the case of naturally-gifted men in a comparatively 
 civilized society is very different. At any rate, we should 
 greatly like to see the point argued whether a born prima donna, 
 or born genius of any sort, can with i>erj'tct eqmly amass a fortune 
 by means of such lucky natural gifts. 
 
I 
 
 Manual and Mental Work; and Genius. 97 
 
 WDges go up, the more, that is, that the cost of living be- 
 comes increased, the less money will it be possible to pay for 
 valuable head work. It does, therefor, appear to us that 
 in perfect Utopia there is a strong probability of all labor 
 — manual or mental — being equally paid : and perhaps 
 this conclusion will tend to reconcile to us the communists, 
 who may resent our dissent from the propositions of 
 Prince Krapotkin. At the same time, it is highly 
 necessary to point out that this system of payment of 
 labor could work only in Utopia : in our present semi- 
 moral condition the effects of any such system (if it 
 could even be introduced — which, of course, it could not) 
 would be ruinous. If six hours bricklaying were paid as : J^ 
 well as six hours teaching or six hours carving or six 
 hours singing, very few would take the least trouble to 
 acquire difficult arts or to train natural gifts at an ex- 
 pense of hard study : all improvement, all progress, 
 would be abruptly checked, and the world might 
 choose — perhaps — between stagnation and degeneration. 
 The prospect of a big reward is to a large extent the 
 stimulus by which action, invention, and progress, are 
 born ; and, normally, only a very perfect man would be 
 so naturally moral and conscientious as to exercise, to the 
 very fullest, his talents and genius for the same reward 
 that a bricklayer gets. Therefor, we have been careful to 
 say that labor will probably be thus paid in a perfect 
 Utopia: in the preliminary semi-Utopia no such system 
 can prevail : tho of course we doubt not that the in- 
 equality of pay will be far less than now. 
 
 But it is time to remind the reader that for some 
 pages we have been arguiug upon the former of two 
 
08 Maiiual and Mental Work; and Genius. 
 
 assumptions as to, or rather definitions of, Utopia. We 
 agreed to assume, first of all, that in Utopia men are not 
 all equally gifted : if however we now make the second 
 assumption that all are equally gifted, what result will 
 follow ? Clearly then several objections to the non- 
 specialisation into manual and mental workers, will 
 vanish : and it becomes simply a question whether it 
 would be convenient to adopt the one system or the 
 other. Anyhow, it would seem certain that in this case 
 all wages would be equal. 
 
 But, as a matter of fact, the supposition appears to us 
 utterly improbable : for if all are equally gifted, no 
 geniuses can exist, or (what comes to the same thing) 
 all alike are geniuses. If anyone should seek to escape 
 this by hypothecating a certain limited number of 
 geniuses, and perfect equality of gifts among all the rest, 
 he can be at once shown to hypothecate a self-contra- 
 dictory proposition. A genius is not a soUtar}' fact, but 
 a correlate of very many preceding facts : a one genius 
 must be preceded and followed (it is a necessary con- 
 sequence of heredity) by many half and quarter geniuses : 
 so that the dead level of " gifteduess " is at once broken 
 up, and our second assumption vanishes. 
 
 It is — to take a physical analogy — just like the case 
 of a mountain-peak : a lofry peak always does, and 
 always must, imply a somewhat less lofty mountain- 
 I'ange: and we might far more reasonably expect a single 
 straight columnar peak to rise sheer 10,000 feet out 
 of a prairie, than expect isolated geniuses to rise from 
 an absolute dead level of clever men. But if any would 
 escape this dilemma by asserting that all alike are 
 
Manual and Mental Work ; and Genius. 99 
 
 geniuses, or that none are, he does not so get out of 
 the quagmire. Are we to understand that every man 
 is a Shakespeare, a Raphael, a Newton, a Shelley ? Then, 
 involuntarily, bursts forth the reflection, " What an 
 unmitigated nuisance we should all be to one another : 
 the nineteenth century would be almost preferable to 
 such an appallingly clever Utopia ! " But if— putting 
 aside this supposition for a moment — it be assumed 
 that in that high dead-level of Utopia no such geniuses 
 as these giants of the Past can again appear, then again 
 the assumption lands one in a contradiction. What 
 possible warrant can there be for assuming that the 
 highly gifted future is unable to produce what the 
 barbarous past has produced ? 
 
 This is exactly as absurd as to consider Shelley and 
 Milton more likely natives of Fiji or Australia than of 
 civilised England : it is simply to assert that a lofty 
 mountain peak is more likely to occur in England than 
 in the Alps : which is absurd. 
 
 We return, therefor, to the assumption that not only 
 are all equally gifted in Utopia, but that all are geniuses 
 at least equal to the greatest men of the past. But on 
 closer examination this will also, we think, be found to 
 involve a contradiction. What precisely do we under- 
 stand by equal gifts — equal genius'? Between two 
 geniuses of the same quality we may certainly institute 
 a quantitative comparison ; and we may decide that 
 Shelley was greater than Wordsworth, Mozart than 
 Haydn, Newton than Huygheus, Darwin than Lamarck, 
 and so on without very much trouble. But how are 
 we to quantitatively compare artistic or musical genius 
 
lOO Manual and Mt)ital Work; and Genius. 
 
 with scientific genius % How can we possibly ask whicli 
 was tlie greatest — Shelley, Mozart, Darwin, or Raphael % 
 It seems to us that here we are hopelessly stranded : we 
 want to measure — is it exact enough to say — "brain- 
 power " — or shall we say — " originality of thought " '] 
 Anyhow we want to measure some very complex and 
 rare Brain-function ; and the only possible scale (and 
 that a most unsatisfactory one) by which we may 
 measure it, is work produced.^ But when the works 
 are incommensurable we are left utterly helpless : 
 how then can we decide as to the greatness of 
 genius ? 
 
 It is a commonplace with some people that genius is 
 essentially the same, and that the particular direction 
 taken by the genius is merely a chance of the environ- 
 ment ; that Raphael and Newton, Mozart and Darwin, 
 might, under opposite conditions, and in opposite ages, 
 have taken each the other's place. But from this view 
 we must utterly dissent, since it appears to us flatly con- 
 tradicted both by psychology and biography : painting is 
 the outcome of an intensely concrete mind, mathematics 
 of an abstract mind, and so on. Surely it is sufficient to 
 even glance at the biographies of early genius, of Mozart a 
 musician at three or four years, and Shelley a poet at school, 
 and numbers more of similar cases, to be convinced that 
 music, poetry, or science, is no chance-wiot^^er, moulded 
 by the/orm of one same genius, but that genius is born 
 to its own peculiar object-matter. Again, a study of the 
 
 1 And not merely, either, absolutely, but relatively : that is to 
 say the value of tlie work pioduced — as a Brain-index — must be 
 estimated by the dilliculties to be overcome in producing it. 
 
Manual and Mental Work; and Genius. loi 
 
 biography of genius will show that in many, if not in 
 most, cases artistic genius is concomitant with a peculiar 
 unhingement, or at least unstable equilibrium, of the 
 mind : and Dryden's dictum that " Great wits are sure 
 to madness near allied " seems literally true of artistic 
 genius. The excess of passion, emotion, susceptibility, 
 that is essential to poets, artists, iBusicians, marks a 
 mind so strnng that there needs but a shock to jar it 
 altogether. The irritabile genus is especially a truthful 
 epithet of artistic geniuses. 
 
 But the scientific, mathematical, or philosophic, genius 
 is composed of very different mental elements : in him 
 calmness, abstraction, and balance, replace the passion 
 and unrest of the artist : and it is a striking testimony 
 to this difiterence that the Bicetre registers show that 
 maniacs of Hie more educated classes consist almost 
 entirely of priests, artists, painters, sculptors, poets, and 
 musicians ; but in no cases, it is said, of naturalists, 
 physicians, geometricians, or chemists. ^ It would be 
 easy to pursue this subject much further and bring for- 
 ward considerable evidence : but that would lead us out of 
 our path : our object is simply to point out that genius is 
 not one definite cast of mind, but that there are very 
 many very different forms of genius. It is sufficient to 
 
 1 Conolly as quoted by Abercrombie ; cf., too, Galton's 
 Hereditary Genius. According to Lombtoso, liowever, the man 
 of genms is nearly always more or less closely allied to insanity. 
 En passant we may suggest the great service to this branch of 
 psychology that would be done by a detailed critique of Loin- 
 broso's work by, e.g., Mi'. Francis Galtou, who holds such very 
 different views. 
 
102 Manual and Mental Work ; and Genius. 
 
 indicate the evidence that may be found, in biography 
 and psychology, to prove this point. 
 
 But if genius be thus so very different qitrditatively, it 
 will be found to follow necessarily that there are pro- 
 found quantitative differences making up this qualitative 
 difference. The mind is a complex of many elements, 
 any of which may be much or little developed, but in 
 one and the same gifted mind equal development of all 
 the elements is never to be found. 
 
 It is essential to the formation of an artistic genius 
 that the concrete elements of the mind should he pro- 
 minent and the abstract unmarked ; to the mathematical 
 genius precisely the opposite ; and so to every peculiar 
 shade of genius there must be a peculiar hypertrophy of 
 certain mental elements. It therefor appears to us 
 that qualitative differences of genius necessitate quantita- 
 tive differences of mind : but if so, then the arguments 
 already adduced will show that mental inequality miist 
 prevail thro'out tiie society — or, in otlier words, that in 
 no future society, not even in Utopia itself, can all men 
 be equally gifted. It does not appear to us sufficient to 
 assume that by such general processes as may be exem- 
 plified by tlie individual case of a poet's son marrying a 
 matliematician's daughter, an equable double-sided 
 genius would be produced : no doubt very clever, very 
 talented, offspring would be obtained, but it appears to 
 us that to produce a genius some one mental power must 
 be greatly, pre-eminently, if not, alas ! eiclusively, 
 developed.^ 
 
 ' We find our arguments as to the great variety of human genius, 
 and also as to the connection between qualitative and qiianti- 
 
Manual and Mental Work ; and Genius. 103 
 
 Moreover, there are very cogent biological reasons 
 rendering it doubtful whether this intellectual unity of 
 level can ever be reached ; and whether we may not 
 rather expect that the older grows the world the greater 
 variations will be found in its inhabitants. Individuality 
 is probably /ar more marked to-day, and mental diverg- 
 ence from type far greater, than was the case in the 
 Middle Ages, or than obtains now among savages ^ and 
 barbarians. 
 
 The slight insight, that we have already obtained into 
 the mechanism and results of heredity, seems to indicate 
 greater chance of variation the farther we go; and we 
 should imagine that, could the chances be calculated by 
 a mathematician, infinity were requisite to produce uni- 
 versal uniformity — if even infinity could. Perhaps some 
 might feel inclined to retort upon us that, in far less than 
 infinite time, some one or two types are bound to swamp 
 all the others ; just as Galtun has calculated that, starting 
 with so many different surnames in a confined community, 
 a certain number die out in each generation until, finally, 
 a veiy small number have obtained universal prevalence. 
 But the problem is really not nearly so simjile as this — 
 even putting aside the initial objection that, in the 
 
 tative differences, considerably strengthened byGalton's Enquiry 
 into Human Faculty and Bain's On the Study of Character re- 
 spectively — two works with which we were not familiar at the 
 time of writing the above. With regard to the (Helvetius) doc- 
 trine of the sameness of genius — referred to on p. 100 — we may 
 direct our readers' attention to Prof. Bain's Criticism of J. S. 
 Mill (passim) for animadversions thereupon. 
 
 ' One need not, however, attribute the sheep-like similarity of 
 euch (small) communities to their lowly character only : the 
 absence of interuiarria''e must be taken into account. 
 
104 Manual and Aleut al Work; and Getiins. 
 
 struggle for existence amonc? surnames, half the popula- 
 tion, i.e., all tiie women, are necessarily ignored. 
 
 Let us pause a moment to consider this problem. 
 What is the mechanism of heredity 1 So far as our 
 knowledge goes at present, the chromatin-threads in the 
 nucleus of the reproductive cells are the vehicles of 
 heredity : now these chromatin-threads contain thou- 
 sands of ancestral qualities of almost every conceivable 
 type ; and by the composition (whether qualitative or 
 quantitative, or both) of these chromatin-threads, the 
 character of the resultant organism will be determined. If 
 in both the mule and the female chromatin-threads there 
 were contained units of poetical or scientific faculty for 
 instance ; or if there were present in the two contribu- 
 tories units which, when brought together, resulted in the 
 production of, e.g., poetic and scientific faculty, tho 
 neither hind of unit had any such effect alone — and we do 
 not know but what this may be the chief and essential 
 process by which genius is gradually built up ^ — then 
 we can well understand how these units, re-enforcing one 
 another, could bring about t\\Q — apparently spasmodically- 
 occurrent — Ge7iins. " Well then" — it may be retorted — • 
 "given sufficient intermarriage, an unrestricted paiimixia, 
 and the uniformity is certain : for in a comparatively 
 few generations you get all these chroviatin-threads so 
 thoroly mixed up, that every generative nucleus will 
 contain equal proportions of every kind of 'unit' in 
 
 ^ Altho we are still abnost entirely in the rlaik as to tlie 
 actual facts, and can only speculate from scanty data, yet the 
 extraordinary phenomena of the distrib;;tion of genius seem to 
 us very strongly to indicate such a process ; but to discuss the 
 subject would lead us far into biography and lieredity. 
 
Manual and Mental Work; ajid Genius. 103 
 
 the community ! " But is the actual case anything like 
 so simple as this, and not rather infinitely more com- 
 plicated ? Let us take a simple analogy. Here are a 
 thousand differently colored beads and a million kaleido- 
 scopes, and — to grant the most favorable case to the 
 objector — there are a million individuals of each bead, 
 and a thousand beads in each kaleidoscope. Now, look 
 thro some of the kaleidoscopes: you will find every 
 conceivable variety of design and color. Very well, let 
 these million kaleidoscopes with all their difi^erences re- 
 present the society of to-day ; and let certain 2ycitt€rns or 
 arrangements represent genius, and let a combination of 
 all the thousand differently-colored beads represent a 
 perfectly all-round man with eveiy human faculty. Now, 
 postulate as much time as you like, so as to institute 
 the most perfect panmixia, and we will concede that at 
 last you have contrived to get one bead each of every 
 color into each of the million kaleidoscopes ; so that, 
 as regards their composition, your kaleidoscopes are all 
 alike. But are you any nearer getting the same kaleido- 
 scopic effects manifested by your kaleidoscopes ] Scarcely 
 appreciably so ! for the pattern, the effect, depends n< t 
 upon color only but ujonn arrangement, and you ure 
 powerless to condition the arrangement — much less to 
 ensure that, shaking up j-our million kaleidoscopes in a 
 machine, you will produce a million copies of one and 
 the same pattern ; much less still to I'estore that or 
 another pattern to all the million after another agita- 
 tion : and so on. If, therefor, Genius be to any extent a 
 function of pattern or arrangement, as ivell as of composi- 
 tion — as we should imagine that most biologists and 
 8 
 
io6 Manual and Mental Work; and Genius. 
 
 psychologists will insist that it is — then this kaleidoscope- 
 analogy will help us to perceive how utterly futile it is 
 to expect uniformity of character as a result of however 
 much panmixia. 1 But the difficulty is really even far 
 greater than this kaleidoscope-analogy suggests, for the 
 generative nuclei with their chromatin-threads are the 
 analogue, not of a kaleidoscope, but of a specially segre- 
 gated, infinitesimally small, product of the kaleidoscope 
 and its contents, possessing the faculty of developing 
 another kaleidoscope and contents, and affected as to its 
 composition and character by a thousand and one varia- 
 tions in the environment ! Add to all this the yet far 
 greater complication that the living organism, unlike the 
 kaleidoscope, may, under the influence of the excedingly 
 variable stimuli, both external and internal, produce not 
 only varieties hut sudden .ymrts which may breed true, 
 which is as tho any of our kaleidoscopes could evolve 
 several new colors at any time, and, consequently, the 
 faculty of forming hundreds of new patterns — and the 
 case seems conclusive ! And note that we are ignoring 
 the possibility of acgMiVff?mental character being inherited;^ 
 which possibility with all its corollaries, if granted, would 
 alone annihilate the argument for uniformity. 
 
 ' Of course the difficulty were proportionately lessened if we 
 could suppose tliat the composition itself was a factor in deter- 
 mining the arrangement after agitation. 
 
 ^ The scientific reader will of course have perceived the refer- 
 ence to Weismann's work thro'out this argument. Any non- 
 biological reader interested in the subject is strongly advised to 
 read Weismann's E-'isays on Heredity and Germ Plasm. With 
 regard to the extraordinary ditf'ereiices of human character, ride 
 biographies, etc., generally, and Galton's Enquiry into Human 
 Faculty particularly. 
 
Manual and Mental Work; and Genius. 107 
 
 On the whole then, it seems fair to sum up by saying 
 that even after infinite time there seems no reason to 
 expect uniformity of mind ; and that a fortiori therefor 
 there is no ground for supposing that in semi-Utopia or 
 Utopia itself all will be equally gifted ; ^ but there is 
 very strong reason for supposing that then, as now, there 
 will exist varying degrees of talent ; and in favor of this 
 contention may be quoted the following passage from 
 Weismann : — 
 
 " When once individual differences have begun to 
 appear in a species propagated by this process (of sexual 
 reproduction) iiniformity among its individuals can never 
 again he reached. So far from this being the case, the 
 differences must even be increased in the course of 
 generations, not indeed in intensity but in number ; for 
 new combinations of the individual character will con- 
 tinually arise."2 
 
 And here perhaps it is well to point out, what ought 
 however to be already quite clear to the reader, viz., that 
 the Utopia (and the semi-Utopia) with which we are 
 concerned, is no arbitrary invention of one's own braiu, 
 which may be constituted exactly as its author's fancy 
 pleases, but, on the contrary, a distant society whose 
 
 ' It is therefor not worth while to follow out this supposition 
 in detail ; but supposing that there could possil)ly exist a society 
 of equally gifted (and equally industrious and moral) men, it is 
 clear that all wages would tend to equality, whether the manual 
 and mental laborers were distinct or not : for any such distinc- 
 tion, if made, could result only from some kind of arbitrary 
 division— as, e.r/. , by casting lots to decide who should be brick- 
 layer and who physician. Note that the relative agreeableness or 
 disagreeableness of difl'erent occupations would however exercise 
 a somewhat disequalising influencB. 
 
 ^ Estays in Heredity, vol. i., p. 282. 
 
io8 Manual a)id Mental Work; and Genius. 
 
 characters must be inferred by rigorous argument from 
 the data afforded by Evolutionism and Sociology. The 
 tellers of fairy-tales, and builders of purely imaginary 
 Utopias, might legitimately build entirely according to 
 their own fancies ; and, setting out with the premise 
 tiiat all men should be happy and equal, might arrange 
 their Utopia in such wise as to make them so. But our 
 procedure must be entirely different ; having learned from 
 Biology and Sociology what is possible in the way of 
 human development, and what tendencies are likely to 
 persist, we must endeavor to imagine — arguing from 
 these data — what sort of social state is likely, and what 
 happiness Man may expect there. In fact, the difference 
 is just this — that in the old anthropomorphic fairy-tales 
 the invariable assumption was always made that man was 
 the one and supreme aim of Nature ; consequently that 
 whatever conditions were necessary to ensure his perfect 
 happiness, these conditions must be postulated as a 
 possibility, probability, or certainty, of the Future. Tiie 
 fact that man hates death were a fair warrant for making 
 him immortal in the Utopia of fairy-tale — that he wants 
 to fly, for giving him wings. But we of to-day must take 
 a very different course ; having ascertained, to the best 
 of our ability, the limit of possibilities, our problem is to 
 determine how far man can adapt himself, and how much 
 hap])ines8 will ensue. We would therefor insist that 
 cwir Utopia is no wild dream, but that all our speculations 
 thereupon may have — or at least should have — a rigorous 
 scientific justification. 
 
CHAPTER VIII. 
 
 ON FAME, HONOR, AND GLORY. 
 
 " What shall I do, to be for ever known. 
 And make the age to come mine own ? " 
 
 •' There was a morning when I longed for Fame ; 
 There was a noontide when I passed it by ; 
 There is an evening when I think not shame 
 Its substance and its being to deny." 
 
 " Oh youth, men praise so, holds their praise its worth ? 
 Blown harshly, keeps the trump its golden cry ? 
 Tastes sweet the water with such specks of earth ? " 
 
 Perhaps, before passing to other divisions of our subject, 
 it may be worth while here to call attention to one some- 
 what interesting reflection that offers itself. We re- 
 marked above ^ that, in even semi-Utopia perhaps, the 
 effect of paying workers equally for equal hours of labor 
 would be most injurious and would inevitably result in 
 stagnation or rapid retrogression. Perhaps it may have 
 been thought that, in so saying, we were overlooking one 
 potent incentive to thoroness in working, that we were 
 ignoring " that last infirmity of noble minds " — the love 
 of Fame. Now, it is precisely regai'ding this love of 
 Fame that it seems desirable to say a few words. 
 
 ' See p. 97. 
 log 
 
Iio On Fame, Honor, and Glory. 
 
 We are very stronirly inclined to think that, as man- 
 kind approaches perfection, the love of and regard for 
 Fame of any sort, kind or condition will disappear, 
 inasmuch as — essentially — regard for Fame is incompat- 
 ible with Perfect Love : the more pure therefor grows 
 our love for our fellows, the more distasteful will Fame 
 — anti-Love — become to us. The psychology of Fame- 
 hunger is very peculiar. " Fame is Love disguised," 
 sang Shelley ; and so in one sense it is ; but this does not, 
 we think, affect our conclusion. As we have elsewhere 
 pointed out,^ the essence of Fame-quest is to be sought 
 in the strife-dement still latent — or rampant — in "civil- 
 ised " man. 
 
 The Love accorded to famous men by their fellows may 
 in some cases perhaps be pure : but usually it is probably 
 clouded either by some form of that fear which " Perfect 
 Love casteth out — for in Perfect Love there is no Fear " 
 — or (and this far more probably) by the most natural, 
 scarce avoidable, taint of envy. But however this be — 
 and tho in this sense Fame be Love disguised (Fame being 
 here used as equivalent to the homai^e of man), this is 
 not exactly that wherewith we are concerned : it is not 
 
 ' The essay referred to has, however, not yet been published. 
 Shortly after the MS. of this essay had been written out, we had 
 occasion to turn up to an old Coniinonplace-Book for some refer- 
 ences, and came across the following extract from Bacon — made 
 some years previously: — "The delight which men have in 
 popularity, fame, honour, submission, and subjection of men^a 
 minds, ici/ls, and affections, seemeth to be a thing in itself without 
 contemplation of consequences, grateful and agreeable to the 
 Nature of Man. . . . The best temper of minds desireth good 
 name and true honour ; the lighter, popularity and applause ; 
 the depraved, subjection and tyranny." 
 
On Fame, Honor, and Glory. 1 1 1 
 
 with Fame as Homage rendered to another, but with 
 Fame as sought for oneself, that we have to do ; for it is 
 here that the strife-factor, the anti-loveliness of Fame, 
 becomes apparent. 
 
 What is the desire for Fame : what but the desire for 
 Pre-eminence, for distinction heyo7id one's fellows, for 
 Victory over others : here truly we have the strife- 
 element rampant. Of course one must admit that 
 tliere are varied decrees of purity in Fame-seeking ; from 
 that yearning of the lonely scholar or poet who longs to 
 make his thoughts and projects known to others, and to 
 feel that thousands of his fellows sympathise with him 
 and share his thoughts and aspirations — from this, which 
 is probably the purest, but not an all-jmre, form of Fame- 
 seeking; thro that form in which Fame of any sort, no 
 matter what, is sought merely to gratify a personal 
 vanity — a vanity which is rejoiced to hear " there goes 
 that Demosthenes " ; down to the impnrest form in which 
 the would-be-famous yearns to be the one unrivalled 
 greatest man of his day — the Pre-eminent, intolerant of 
 every neighbor to his throne : and this is the typical 
 case, wherein one perceives clearly enough the strife- 
 element, the unsocial, the anti-love-like, character of 
 Fame. We do not deny that, in so far as Fame-seeking 
 be a desire for the love and approbation of our fellows. 
 Fame is Love disguised ; but we contend that this ele- 
 ment is altogether subordinated to and masked by the 
 strife-element, the desire for pre-eminence and distinction 
 above our fellotvs. 
 
 With the mutual hatred and jealousy of two suitors to 
 the same woman there is avowedly a very strong love- 
 
1 1 2 On Fame, Honor, and Glory. 
 
 element, bomul up : but wlio will deny that the rivalry 
 and jealousy are unlovely, unsocial, and inconsonant 
 with a high social state % Even so it is — but more 
 markedly — with Fame-seeking : all Fame-seeking in- 
 volves rivalry : there may be a love-element in so far as 
 we desire the approval of the multitude ; but there is a 
 strong strife-element, hate-element, in so far as we desire 
 this as a distinction granted to but few — in so far as we 
 desire pre-eminence both over other aspirants for public 
 favor, and over the general public who bestow the 
 favor. Anyone who doubts that Fame-seeking connotes 
 rivalry and tacit strife with others, need but ask himself 
 of what avail were a distinction which everybody 
 possessed, in order to be answered and convinced. From 
 the ancient conqueror, who enslaved a people, and fed 
 his proud heart witli the adulations and entreaties of a 
 fettered race that trembled before him and acknowledged 
 his prowess and victory, or from the heathen heroes who 
 contended as rivals in musical skill — and the loser was 
 slain hy the victor — there is a lineal descent to the 
 highbred cultured civilized European who joys to be 
 famous as artist, scientist, thinker, or statesman. In 
 every case alike, victory, suiieriority, on the one hand, 
 and defeat, submission, inferiority, on the other, are in- 
 volved. We think it is, therefor, scarcely needful to 
 further enforce our argument that Fame is incompatible 
 with a perfect social state, and that, as Utopia ap- 
 proaches, the regard for Fame will vanish; while we 
 may well expect that even in semi-Utopia Fame will be 
 very distasteful to men who are learning to regard as 
 bad and tabooed every deed or word that might imply 
 
0)1 Fame, Honor, and Glory. 1 1 3 
 
 pain or disquiet to a fellow-man, or superioriii/ to 
 self. 
 
 This being admitted, however, it is somewhat curious 
 to follow out one or two of the consequent results ; since 
 we are thus led to conclusions that would hardly other- 
 wise have occurred to us. 
 
 Admitting that Fame-worship will disappear (which 
 implies that not only will men no longer be so unsocial 
 as to seek for Fame, but also that they would be posi- 
 tively pained to wake \ip and find themselves famous — 
 since this connotes pain, actual or potential, to others — 
 we seem then compelled to infer that in Utopia (if not 
 before) all books that are published, all poetrj-, all music, 
 all scientific discovery^ all research, all painting, will be 
 anonymous : for to publish in one's own name a great 
 poem, or a grand discovery, were to seize on Fame and 
 to mark oneself as a man out of the common, a man who 
 is pre-eminent above his fellows. But this were intoler- 
 able to an Utopian who will be too loving and gentle to 
 stand upon a pinnacle built up of his fellows' deficiencies. 
 To the Utopian it were more than sufficient reward, it 
 were a chiefest joy, to know that he had been the means 
 of advancing human happiness or human knowledge : he 
 will desire no acclamations in life, neither will he permit 
 undying commemoration after death ; for since such indi- 
 vidual commemoration is impossible for the majority, 
 why should he seek for, or accept, a distinction that at 
 once assigns him a pre-eminence above his fellows 1 And, 
 paradoxical tho it at first may seem, this view is pro- 
 bably alone right. Could you object to him that it is 
 mireasonable and ungrateful for the world to forget its 
 
1 1 4 On Fame, Honor, and Glory. 
 
 benefactors, he would justly reply that no shadow of 
 credit attaches to him for having been gifted by Nature 
 with unusually fine brain-power, and rare talents. If 
 any credit belongs anywhere it belongs to far back un- 
 known ancestors wlio each, little by little, helped to 
 mould his brain : nay, if he were a thoro Weismannite, 
 he would rather refer the chief credit to climatic, nutri- 
 tive, photntactic, and similar, influences, acting on the 
 primeval protozoa! But, as for him, what possible 
 credit can reflect on him for simply using those Nature- 
 implanted brain-tools, which not to use were arrant sin, 
 and a functional impossibility besides? Is any credit 
 given to the ^■Eolian Harp because it resounds when the 
 wind sweeps along its strings? 
 
 And thus it would seem that in Utopia all intellectual 
 work will be — so far as possible — anonymous, and will 
 go down to later ages, not as the poetry of Tennyson, 
 the music of Chopin, the painting of Turner, the dis- 
 coveries of Darwin, the thought of Spencer, but as the 
 collective spoils of humanity. If this be so, biographical 
 dictionaries and obituary memoirs will be imknown to 
 Utopians, who would wonder at the incredible selfishness 
 of men who could allow their (nature-given) genius to 
 be commemonited and enshrined in history, while 999 
 fellowmen in every 1,000 live and die unknown : 
 Utopians could not tolerate such unsocial, unlovable, 
 fame. So too statues, portraits, and pictures, as com- 
 memorations, will lose their value to a race who love all 
 humanity so much that they would not insult it by 
 cherishing one individual's name to the exclusion of 
 thousands of his fellows : and it is open to us to specu- 
 
On FaiiiCf Honor, and Glory. \ 1 5 
 
 late whether they will not — on principle — wilfully de- 
 stroy every shred of biographical information, retaining, 
 of course, the psychological studies the the actual names 
 be lost, and take steps to ensure that the names of all 
 precedent immortals are erased ! They will insist that 
 they shall delight not in Slielley's poetry, Chopin's 
 music, Darwin's theories, Berkeley's philosophy, but in 
 the grand stream of knowledge and art that has flowed 
 down to humanity from an older humanity. To such 
 Utopians Positivist calendars will be, indeed, a strange 
 fantasy : and here, the conclusions as to the standpoint 
 of Utopians, to which we have been led by no positivist 
 leanings, but by simply deducing necessary conclusions 
 from — what seem — probable data, approximate very 
 closely to Comte's views on the celebration and worship of 
 collective hunianity — 
 
 "Thus the hidiviilual withers; and the world is more and more.' 
 
 After this it is but a very small thing to point out 
 that, even long before so advanced a stage as that just 
 depicted is reached, all such minor distinctions as uni- 
 versity-degrees, Fellowships of Royal Societies and of 
 Royal Academies, medals and titles, will have been 
 abolished. It is however worth while to bring this 
 category under attention since many will probably accede 
 to the proposition now advanced, and acknowledge its 
 truth so far, who will have been staggered by the more 
 sweeping conclusions just enunciated. 
 
 In all probability it will be readily granted that the 
 only value of a degree, an F.R.S., or an R.A., of a medal, 
 
Ii6 On FaniCy Honor, and Glory. 
 
 or a title, is that it is something possessed hy only a f^w, 
 and therefor marks out its possessor as more or less pre- 
 eminent and distinguished above his fellows. If every- 
 body possessed such degrees and distinctions, no one 
 would care a rap to have them : on the contrary one 
 sometimes hears the significant remark that it is a greater 
 distinction not to possess a given title than to possess it ; 
 which sufficiently points our moral — that the only value 
 of degrees and titles is due to their monopoly by a few : 
 they are essentially anti-social, and anti-brotherly : love 
 is very much disguised — disguised so thoroly as to be 
 transformed — in such form as this. Clearly this were 
 utterly inconsonant with Utopia. 
 
 This speculation will presumably be altogether re- 
 pugnant to — as perhaps unexpected by — many ; and it is 
 easy to imagine indignant protests being uttered against 
 such a levelling view. But one caution may well be 
 taken to heart by all such objectors. If the argument be 
 sound, and this consummation of anonymity be veritably 
 the destined lot for by-and-bye, then assuredly it is 
 utterly useless to kick against it, and object, and de- 
 nounce this " cold-blooded dispiriting " prophecy. The 
 question is simply one of fact — of future fact if you 
 like : eitlier this consummation is to be expected, or it is 
 not : if the former, then objection and denunciation and 
 resistance are equally futile, and resignation to. this 
 death-to-glory is as inevitable as resignation to individual 
 dying ; but if the latter, then denunciation is wasted. 
 
 To show that we are not exactly alone in indicating this 
 as the probable direction along which society will ad- 
 vance, it is worth while to quote a paragraph fi'om M. 
 
Cn Fame, Honor, and Glory. W] 
 
 Ribot. Referring, in his Co7itenipnrary English Psycho- 
 logy,^ to the necessity for a great mass of detail-work in 
 psychological science, he writes, " In this work of detail, 
 each might sliare according to his measure and strength. 
 
 A hundred workers might perhaps wear out 
 
 themselves over one obscure point. What matter if a 
 result be obtained. The science will accept their work, 
 and forget their names." 
 
 Lest it should erroneously be supposed that, because 
 we are arguing for the probability of this development, 
 therefor it is satisfactory and grateful to us, let us 
 frankly avow that such thoughts are apt to send a 
 shudder thro us, and compel a despairing assent to 
 Tennyson's mournful cry — 
 
 " We pass : the path that each man trod 
 Is dim, — or will be dim with weeds : 
 What fame remains for human deeds ?" 
 
 To US personally it has often seemed that his fa*^e was 
 most horrible, whosoever should come upon this earth, 
 live, and die, and yet leave no trace or mark behind him 
 —no " footprints on the sands of time." To live and 
 die, unknown and fameless — that has ever seemed a 
 horrible negation and mockery to us who anticipate no 
 personal hereafter. 
 
 But, altho the yearning for lasting commemoration, 
 which prompted Tennyson's lament, and which equally 
 repels us with a shuddering horror from the picture of 
 men laboring at new discoveries and new thoughts, but 
 
 ' English translation, p. .33. 
 
1 1 8 On Fame, Honor, and Glory. 
 
 yet for ever unknown and unackno\vled<;;ed as their 
 author, and from the picture of a dead level of privacy 
 whence tower up no " celebrities," and gleaming with no 
 sparkles of fame-light — altlio this be most natural and 
 inborn in each of us, and the consequent resentment and 
 opposition almost as innocent as they are intelligible, yet 
 not only, if the picture be truly drawn, is this resentment 
 useless, but we think that deeper reflection must show 
 the (assumed) Utopian state to be, on the whole, the 
 best possible. That it is profoundly m mrnful we do not 
 for a moment deny ; we are in hearty sympathy with — 
 for we ourself have shared in — that passionate anguish 
 aroused by the steady conviction that not even in the 
 sense of fame is there any immortality for tiie individual ; 
 timt ever 
 
 " The iiulividiial witliers anil the world is more and more." 
 
 We are no whit concerned to prove that this is abso- 
 lutely good and just — for we deem it to be, like most 
 other worldly institutions, hateful and cruel and accui'sed : 
 but we do think that it is relatively the least had, the 
 least wijust. People fail to see this simply because they 
 regard tlie question from the standpoint of the few 
 famous individuals, instead of from the platform occupied 
 by tiie whole surging world of humanity. The same 
 man who anathematises tliis prophecy as cold-blooded 
 and cruel, and passionately asserts tiiat ever as now great 
 and good men must and will be famous, forgets that tliis 
 present system, which is so dear and seems so good to 
 him, is one which condemns to utter oblivion and uou- 
 
On Fame, Honor, and Glory. 1 1 9 
 
 fame more than 999 men in every thousand in the most 
 advanced counti'v : taking the world we might pro- 
 bably say 99,999 in every 100,000 and be far below 
 the mark. Yet this murderous and cold-blooded nega- 
 tion-system is tacitly or avowedly approved as very good : 
 whereas the procedure prophesied for the future, which 
 puts every man on the same level of oblivion with his 
 broth erman, and ordains equal non-fame for the otld 
 100,000th man — this we are to be told is abominable 1 
 
 However difficult for us, let us strive to regard this 
 question from the standpoint of a higher wisdom, and 
 transcend the private cares and turmoils of our little life. 
 Is it not on the whole the best — or the least worst — that 
 all men, having deserved alike, should share alike ; and 
 that the immortality of fame — no less than the renown 
 of today — inexorably denied to the thousands, should 
 equally be denied to the units % At least then we are all 
 brothers in a common misfortune. The trouble is that 
 we of to-day are trying to judge a more or less Utopian 
 state with very non-Utopian eyes : and our vision is alto- 
 gether blurred by the motes of selfishness — and we are 
 not using the word with any specially bad connotation, 
 but simply to denote a certain selfward regard that will 
 disappear in the distant future. We must strive to 
 understand that, to a very highly developed man, it 
 would be an intolerable reflection that he was to be ele- 
 vated — thro no real deserts of his own, or ill deserts of 
 their own — to a pinnacle of glory and fame hopelessly 
 denied to his fellows. In Utopia, it is the quasi-famous men 
 who will insist on abolishing fame : not the mass, jealous 
 and envious of a distinction denied to them — for envy 
 
I20 On Fame, Honor, and Glory. 
 
 and jealousy are iucompatiLie with Utopia — but the dis- 
 tinguished few who will refuse to accept a di.'^tinction 
 that their fellows cannot share. 
 
 "But" — conies the indignant rejoinder — "3'ou are ignor- 
 ing the one salient point of difference. You are ignoring 
 — or rather flatly denying — that there is any difference 
 of deserts : whei'eas it is precisely because they have de- 
 served it that our great geniuses should inherit immortal 
 fame." 
 
 But this very plausible defence were really quite 
 beside the mark ; for " desert " has a double meaning. 
 In the lax and popular sense, no question but Genius 
 does deserve fame ; but we have only to go one step 
 further to see this desert vanish. We have but to ask, 
 " Could Genius, if it would, be not-Genius : and could 
 mediocrity or stupidity, tho it struggled ever so earnestly, 
 be Genius " — to see the inevitable answer. Genius is 
 Genius simply in virtue of the possession of certain 
 brains — with the preparation of which Genius had no 
 more to do than had the Man in the Moon : all that 
 Genius does is to use those brains which constitute 
 Genius : not to use which were almost criminal — besides 
 being impossible — for Genius, like Murder, will out : and 
 to use which is a highest pleasure, and in no sense, there- 
 for, morally '' creditable " — especially to an Utopian. 
 
 It is plain then that whoso approves the present 
 system constructively declares that it is highly desirable, 
 and very just, to confer immortality upon a given man, 
 because his parents, grandparents, great-grandparents, and 
 others, have bequeathed to him a most magnificent 
 brain : whilst it is equally just to consign to oblivion 
 
On Fame, Honor, and Glory. 121 
 
 both such ancestors and the majority of men whose 
 ancestors have not so endowed them. To cut away the 
 last support we will add that the popular definition 
 which declares Genius to be " an infinite capacity for 
 taking pains," however admirable and commendable as a 
 moral maxim, is hopelessly false as a scientific statement. 
 Genius is something inborn, inherent, inherited, and is 
 mit, nor ever will be, a product of " painstaking." 1 
 
 If the whole question be regarded from this stand- 
 point, it seems to us that one will be a good deal more 
 reconciled to what is anyhow probably inevitable. As it 
 is necessary so constantly to remark in striving to sketch 
 the outlines of an Utopian society, ont tuust ahvav& choose 
 the lesser evil. 
 
 APPEI^BIX. 
 
 The following passage, which we have hit upon in Galton's 
 Hertditary Genius, seems pertinent to this discussion. 
 
 "The fact of a person's name being associated with some one 
 striking scientific discovery helps enormously, but often unduly, 
 to prolong his reputation to after-ages. It is notorious that the 
 same discovery is frequently made simultaneously and quite in- 
 dependently by different persons. . . . It looidd seem that dis- 
 coveries are usually made when the time is ripe for them — that is 
 to say, when the ideas from which they naturally flow are fer- 
 menting in the minds of many men. ... A small accident will 
 often determine the scientific man who shall first make and pub- 
 lish a new discovery. There are many men who have contributed 
 
 ^ If anybody at this close of the nineteenth century still have 
 doubts on this point, he may be strongly recommended to study 
 a certain golden book entitled Hereditary Genius, by Francis 
 Gallon. 
 
122 On Fame, Honor, and Glory. 
 
 vast numbers of original memoirs, all of them of some, many of 
 great, but none of extraordinary, importance. 'J hese men have 
 the capacity of making a striking discovery, tho they had not the 
 luck to do so. This work is valuahle and remains, hut the worker 
 is forgotten " (p. 185). It is an old and true proverb that Kissing 
 goes by Jacor. 
 
 Of. also Shakspeare. 
 
 " By Heaven, metliinks, it were an eas}' leap 
 
 To pluck bright Honor from tiie pale-faced moon, 
 Or (live into the bottom of the deep. 
 Where fathomline could never touch the ground, 
 And pluck up drowned Honor by the locks : 
 So he, that doth redeem her hence, might wear 
 Without co-rival aii her diynititn." 
 
CHATTEn TX. 
 
 ON CHOOSING THE LEAST EVIL; WITH FURTHFR REMARKS 
 UPON LUXURY AND WASTE. 
 
 "The whole art of living consists in giving up existence in 
 order to exist." — Gothe. 
 
 ""Love in a cot, with water and a crust, 
 Is — Love forgive us — cinders, aslies, dust" — 7s it? 
 
 " Cursed be the social wants that sin against the strength of 
 youth ; 
 Cursed be the social lies that warp us from the living truth 
 Cursed be the hearts tiiat err from honest Nature's kindly- 
 rule ; 
 Cursed be the gold that gilds the straitened forehead of the 
 fool." 
 
 Now this principle — of choosing the lesser evil — to which 
 we have just referred, is really invaluable when we wish 
 to construct an Utopia that shall be scientifically possible 
 in our " temperate " climate, and that is not a mere un- 
 fettered impracticable South-Sea-dream.^ The case is 
 simply this : it is given in the definition .that in Utopia 
 
 1 We take this opportunity to point out that to hypothecate 
 the existence of any general and world-wide semi-Utopia neces- 
 sarily implies — as it appears to us — the abandonment of a con- 
 siderable portion of the earth's surface. We entirelj' dissent 
 from the notion that it is desirable to people every land, and we 
 protest against any population calculations based on the sup- 
 position that tlie humanity-supporting pov^ers of the world may 
 be determined by allotting so many acres per head, and then 
 dividing this number into the acreage of dry land. We assert 
 12.^ 
 
124 Luxury and Waste. 
 
 all of us are to enjoy the maximum possible happiness : 
 now happiness is a function of very many factors, of 
 which Love, Friends, Poetry, Knowledge, Music, Art, 
 Fine Scenery, Travelling, means of Physical Ptecreation, 
 in addition to comfortable houses and clothing, and a 
 sufficiency of plain and palatable food, are the chief. 
 Most of these factors are again functions of many sub- 
 factors ; but — not to carry the analysis into tedious detail 
 — it may suffice to point out that, to any highly-evolved 
 beings, Happiness depends in very large measure upon 
 
 that since Utopia connotes the liighesfc possible happiness and 
 refinement , and a life of esthetic grace, it is impossible to assign 
 as dwelling-places for Utopians any parts of the earth's surface 
 that are so situated as to render refinement and comfort difficult 
 or impossible : and we are convinced that such places as Iceland, 
 Siberia, much of Scandinavia, Russia, and Canada, etc., will be 
 unanimously deserted before semi-Utopia universally obtains. 
 We defy anyone to reconcile an Utopian life with the prolonged 
 cold of tliese regions ; and we feel no doubt that in Utopia a 
 large part of the earth's surface will be permanently wild and 
 deserted — ^except that tourists will visit it in the summer season 
 — just as many Alpine tracts are deserted, except for a 
 few montiis in tiie 3'ear. We even doubt — for our own part — 
 wiiether such high latitudes as Scotland will be permanently 
 inhabited in Utopian times — seeing that the Grecian life of briglit 
 sunshine, open-air living, light clothing, and abundant vegetation, 
 is probably the physical type of the coming age : but still we 
 express tliis opinion only with reservation, since into such pro- 
 phecies the personal equation must enter largely : and it is 
 possible that in Utopia many men may enjoy moderate cold just 
 as even now we believe that certain extraordinary people enjoy 
 a Scotch winter, whilst to ourself the Equator or India seems 
 to offer a climatically desirable residence. But that such miser- 
 able districts as Iceland, Orkney and many other Scotch isles — 
 we speak of them as winter-residences — Siberia, Northern Russia, 
 etc., etc., will be abandoned, we feel sure; and, to afford our 
 readers some notion of what capabilities Iceland must possess in 
 comparison with more temperate climes, we subjoin an extraot 
 
Luxury and Waste. 125 
 
 the possession of a number of " things," both material 
 and immaterial^ which are the products of our complex 
 civilisation : to put it in its briefest then, Happiness 
 connotes comparative wealth and leisure for all. 
 
 Now at present some few of us possess most of these 
 appliances to happiness ; most of us possess only some ; 
 and a terribly large proportion possess practically none ; 
 in Utopia all must (equally?) possess all such appliances : 
 and hence our difficulty in tracing the lines, along which 
 Utopia must be developed, arises from three sources : 
 
 (1) Many of the enjoyments, or the means of enjoy- 
 
 from Mr. Hutb's Marriage of Xear Kin (p. 172). "They eat 
 their food generally colil, often putrid, and always at irregular 
 times. They have no artificial means of warmth, and therefor 
 allow no ventilation in their miserable hovels, which are built of 
 damp earth, and where the whole family remains huddled up, 
 not only at night, but the greater part of the day also, during 
 six months in the year, with their cattle, sheep, dogs, and all the 
 live-stock they may happen to possess. Indeed the air in these 
 dwellings becomes so poisonous from the breath of the inmates, 
 their refuse, and the fuel they use composed of dung, rotten 
 bones, and anything that can be got to burn, etc., etc." 
 
 Can any ingenuity fashion such a hell-bound island into a 
 dwelling for Utopians ! On the other hand, here is a lesson for 
 us so civilised Westerns to profit by — Landor says, " I have 
 often noticed how easily affected the Mikado's subjects are by 
 atmospheric and geographical conditions, and how, before settling 
 to do their business, they make a point of finding some pleasant 
 spot where to cast anchor, thinkinr) more of the amenities of 
 -physical existence than of the facilities for successful trade " 
 (" Hairy Ainu," p. 74). Happy and wise are they ! 
 
 (Dr. A. Oppel has recently estimated that about 1,700,000 
 square miles of the earth's surface are uninhabited or ownerless, 
 about 5,000,000 square miles more without settled government, 
 and the remaining 45,000,000 square miles are occupied by 
 definite states— of which tlie eighteen largest make up 87 per 
 cent, of the whole urea [A^ature, 47/499].) 
 
126 Luxury and Waste. 
 
 nient, possessed by the happy ones of to-day, are citlier 
 obtained at the expense of sufferhig — not necessarily 
 acute, but massive — to the workers, or else are so ex- 
 pensive that their universal possession equally by all 
 men were an utter impossibility ; the former condition 
 were evidently incompatible with Utopia ; and the second 
 very naturally appears a grave obstacle to Utopia — for 
 how, it will be asked, could any of us be happy without 
 all these pleasuve-ai:)pliances ; whilst evidently mankind 
 at large can never be expected to enjoy them ! 
 
 (2) Wealthiness is a comparative term, and is partly a 
 function of the purchasing power of money : now the 
 man of to-day, possessing £1,000 per year, may be con- 
 sidered enviably comfortable ; but his comfort, depend- 
 ing — as it does — on what his £1,000 will buy, really 
 depends ultimately upon the fact that multitudes of 
 workmen are paid only £60-70-80-100 per year — happi- 
 ness therefor being acquired for the few at the expense 
 of the many. How then can one bring about an Utopia 
 where all shall enjoy as much happiness (in so far as 
 happiness be a function of purchasing power) as is at 
 present enjoyed by, e ff., the thousandaire ? 
 
 (3) Utopia connotes not only sufficient wealth, but 
 also abundant leisure, for all : but to make this latter 
 condition is practically — it may be thought — to reduce 
 the wealth-making labor of the world to one-half or 
 one-third of its present amount, thereby rendering the 
 solution of the two previous difficulties exactly twice or 
 thrice as difficult. 
 
 Now in reply to these difficulties we have to nr^e 
 several considerations; and, with regard to number '6, 
 
Luxury and Waste. 127 
 
 we will forestall its due turn in so far as to at once point 
 out that this diminution will be moi*e or less compensated 
 by the abolition of stupid and useless luxuries, and by 
 the scientifically inspired saving of wealth at present 
 wasted — as we are about to point out in some detail — and 
 also by the drafting off of tens of thousands of at present 
 entirely unproductive consumers into the ranks of the 
 wealth-creators — a consideration which we have already 
 had occasion to emphasise, '^ and must return to again pre- 
 sently. Here it will be sufficient to remark that when 
 the million or so unproductive consumers who are at 
 present kept at the expense of the nation, that is to say, 
 of the workers, come to be employed in creating wealth 
 themselves, then the wealth of each worker will be prac- 
 tically increased, in so far as he no longer has to keep, 
 in addition to himself and his own family, one-seventh or 
 more of another man and his family," as is at present the 
 case ; whilst he will further gain positively to some ex- 
 tent in so far as the labors of these new workers may 
 greatly increase the general national wealth. 
 
 To procede, we may perhaps fairly expect that there 
 are yet to come many ingenious inventions which may 
 materially increase the wealth of the world ; either posi- 
 tively by creating new and at present unsuspected 
 sources of wealth, or negatively by cheapening the pro- 
 cesses already in use, and by utilising the immense 
 amount of wealth that is at present annually wasted 
 owing to imperfect processes, etc. : the history of bye- 
 
 ' See chapter iii. 
 
 - See details and statistics in chapter x. : all over twenty are 
 reckoned as workers hi this calculatiou. 
 
128 Luxury ami Waste. 
 
 products in the chemical trade is a lasting monument to 
 the ability of scientific discovery to save otherwise- 
 squandered wealth. 
 
 To take one example — if the present wasteful, dirty, 
 and stupid, practice of burning coal as fuel could be 
 superseded by the use of coke or gas, there would not only 
 be an end to that terrible infliction — the London Fog — 
 but such an annual saving of wealth as will pn)bably 
 astonish our readers. Mr. Irvine has calculated that the 
 present idiotic system of house-warming pollutes the air 
 of London daily with GOO tons of smuts and 2000 tons of 
 tar and other coal products. He remarks, " As a chemi- 
 cal manufacturer I sigh when 1 think of all the valuable 
 material lost to us, either in the form of wasted heat- 
 producers, or valuable chemical products in the shape of 
 aniline colors, ammonia, burning-oils, paraffin-tvax, print- 
 ing-ink, etc., which are floating about in the atmosphere, 
 veiling the sweet sunlight, and choking the lungs of both 
 animal and vegetable life. Of course if we could over- 
 come our sentimental desire for the cheerful tho smoky 
 blaze of the coal tire, and burn carbonised coal [coke] in 
 our grates, these solid liquid and gaseous hydrocarbons 
 would be saved and made profitable use of. In this case 
 our chimneys might become ornaments to our houses, 
 while the jjroducts of combustion would pass from them 
 as colorless gases." ^ 
 
 With I'cgard to the mere waste of nitrogen, which 
 would otherwise appear as ammonia in the gas retorts 
 and be available lor agricultural purposes, the loss is 
 
 1 We stronglj' recommeml Mr. Irvine's admirable paper to tlie 
 perusal of our readers {Chemical Industry Journal, Dec. 1890 
 
Luxury and WiXite. 1 29 
 
 enormous; and finally Mr. Irvine quotes Macauley as 
 estimating, in 1888, the amount of coal annually wasted 
 in this country as " 45,000,000 tons, costing £15,750,000 
 at the pit's mouth" : this sum, is equivalent to over 1 per cent, 
 of the national income, or, if we add the expense of carriage, 
 about 2 per cent. Is not this an appalling testimony to 
 our national wickedness and stupidity in deliberately 
 wasting our substance 1 At present we are simply throw- 
 ing away in this one form alone a sum equal to one-third 
 of the hniierial hudget. 
 
 As a parallel Co this we may take the awful lesson 
 preached by our present sewage-system. That this 
 system — which is partly the expression of our mingled 
 incompetence and stupidity, paitly a supposedly " least 
 evil " safeguard against the barbaric uncleanliness of 
 certain classes, and partly the nemesis of our folly and 
 wickedness in crowding several million persons into a 
 few square miles — that this wretched system involves ttie 
 most appalling loaste is a commonplace among thinking 
 people ; but the extent of the calamity is but little 
 realised. Putting aside the outlay — i.e., waste — of un- 
 told millions sterling upon " main-drainage systems " 
 and all their accessories, and putting aside too the ruin 
 of our rivers and the conversion of " silver Thames " into 
 a filthy and stinking drain, let us see what loss is in- 
 volved to agriculture. Messrs. Rawson and Smithson 
 have recently calculated ^ that the human excreta pro- 
 duced in the United Kingdom would yield 237,500 
 tons annually of dry solid matter worth no less than 
 
 ' Chtmical Industry Journcd, 12/997 (Dec. 1893). 
 
130 Luxury and Waste. 
 
 £1,068,750.* They point out that "in order to com- 
 pensate for the mineral and nitrogenous matters that are 
 taken from the soil and subsequently washed down our 
 drains or otherwise destroyed, England imports arti- 
 ficial manures to tlie vahie of from £2,000,000 to 
 £2,500,000 per annum." They add — " In China no- 
 thing is alloived to go to ivaste ivhich might he useful to the 
 soil. Notwithstanding its vast population, China is 
 entirely independent of all otlier nations, not only for its 
 food-supplies but for the fertilising materials required by 
 the soil. Since England imports immense quantities of 
 wheat and flour and other foodstuffs, if the whole of the 
 excrement were returned to the land, it naturally follows 
 that the soil, instead of becoming impoverished, ivould 
 yearly become richer, without the importation and appli- 
 cation of any foreign manure."^ Similarly too it has 
 been recently contended that "if feecal matter were saved 
 in France to the extent of only 20 per cent, more than 
 is now the case, that country would not be compelled to 
 import iu some years £2,000,000 worth of grain ; but 
 would, on the contrary, export nearly £2,000,000 worth 
 per annum." ^ 
 
 Thirdly, we have to take into account the fact that, 
 
 ' This assumes that the sewage be presented to the farmer "in 
 the state of a concentrated powdery manure," and is based upon 
 an estimate of the late Dr. Voelcker's. 
 
 2 So that a reformed system would rid us simultaneously of 
 two objectionable features of modern life — viz., sewage and 
 Nitrate-Kings. 
 
 3 C. W. Shepard in Journal of American Chemical Society, 
 1893 : abstracted in Chemical Includry Journal, 12/1046: See 
 also an admirable paper on "The Conservation of Farm-yard 
 Manure " in Royal Ayrictdfural Society's Journal, Dec, 1S93. 
 
Luxury and Waste, 131 
 
 since as Utopia, approaches lunatics and criminals will 
 become scarce, we shall no longer see men bringing into 
 the world families of six ^ — much less eight, ten, or a 
 dozen — children. The normal family will doubtlessly be 
 far smaller than at present ; and in any individual case 
 therefor a man will, ceteris paribus, be relatively richer 
 then than now, since his expenses will be diminished. 
 Looked at nationally, a given amount of wealth will be 
 shared among fewer consumers.^ 
 
 We may also add here, in addition to what we have 
 just said regarding the prevention of waste by the 
 utilisation of bye-products, and to what we are about to 
 say regai'ding luxviries in detail, that an enormous 
 amount of wealth must be annunlly wasted by sheer un- 
 thrift or criminal carelessness of little things. Altho 
 highly necessary to salvation, one canon, least of all 
 understood or realised by the community at large, is the 
 downright wickedness of ivaste. Let us take one or two 
 
 ' Unless in the case of geniuses whose breed it is desirable to 
 rapidly increase (See note to p. 52.) 
 
 - This must not be confused with a different question, viz., 
 that (in countries not overstocked) the more workers there are, 
 the more wealthy becomes the country. The expense of children 
 is incurred during their infancy when they are not workers : 
 when they become of working — i.p., self-supporting — age they 
 pass from oar consideration. Taking the state of things at tijs 
 present day it is clear that, if families were halved, or reduced 
 2-thirds, all round, every pater-familias would be made relatively 
 considerably richer : his expenses would be lessened ; and — far 
 less national wealth being eaten and otherwise used up by these 
 children — there would be a national gain in addition, that is to 
 say, finally, more wealth for distribution to each citizen. (Note 
 that in this calculation a large number of adult women must be 
 included as " clukU'cn " — tiie unmarried unemployed (luuta to 
 wit.) 
 
132 Luxury and Waste. 
 
 examples only. How much paper is annually burnt 
 or otherwise destroyed as sheer wa&te—'Si% tho it 
 possessed no value at all ! So little realised are the 
 canons of social economy that people who — as, e.g., 
 Darwin and Pope — oliject to waste, and insist on utilising 
 half sheets of paper or backs of envelopes, are either 
 cliafFed as crotchety or stigmatised as parsimonious ! 
 A few comparatively thrifty people, it is true, make 
 a practice of collecting the waste-paper of the household 
 into sricks, and periodically selling it to the paper- 
 makers ; but their number, we fear, is very small. Tbe 
 amount of paper that is devoted to sheer waste, as e.g., 
 by being " thrown on the fire," must reach a gigantic 
 annual total : and yet — as a thoughtful friend connected 
 with a paper-making firm once said to us — if one con- 
 siders the amount of paper tlmt is annually required for 
 the millions and millions of newspapers alone, one must 
 wonder how the continuous demand is to be supplied. 
 This is only one more example of the curse that gi-eat 
 wealth may prove to be to an imperfectly moral nation 
 like our own — in that it encourages ivaste. As another 
 example, how many people ever take thought of the 
 enormous waste of wealth and labor involved in our 
 destruction of matchboxes ! Many will laugli at us for 
 worrying about such trifles ; but they are ill advi>ed ; 
 for such a laugh merely advertises their own profuund 
 ignorance, semi-barbarism, and — we say it advisedly — 
 very imperfect morality. They are probably unaware 
 that the firm of Bryant & May alone manufacture about 
 500 million ivooden matchboxes anmially, not one of which 
 is ever used for matches a second time. Yet there is no 
 
Luxury and Waste. 1 33 
 
 reason why these boxes should not be used over and over 
 again, had we only enough sense and morality to in- 
 stitute a simple system of returning them to the makers 
 or the " hands." This— be it noted— excludes the con- 
 current waste on boxes for wax vestas — of which we have 
 no statistics. Again the actual waste both of wood, 
 and of phosphorus or other chemicals, must be some- 
 thing appalling— simply because to half-moral men 
 cheapness is a curse : if matches were expensive we 
 should find no trouble in reducing our use of them to 
 a fifth or a tenth of the number. As it is, we might 
 abolish, almost entirely, the waste of the wood by 
 collecting the "burnt" matches and sending them to 
 the papermakers as materials for wood-pulp: but we 
 are content to continue the present wicked " .system," 
 altho told that Bryant & May alone manufacture al)out 
 34,000 million wooden matches annually, besides about 
 4,500,000 "vesuvians : " 1 and that "for the production 
 of wooden matches, whole forests are denuded to supply 
 the raw material, and Bryant & May are among the 
 largest timber merchants in the world." Then again, 
 do any of us realise the waste upon wax matches? The 
 same firm, we read, manuftxcture 900 riiiles of these 
 daily — which involves an annual consumption of "750 
 tons of wax and over 250 tons of cotton." What the 
 total waste of wax and cotton, by this means, in the 
 United Kingdom, may amount to, we do not know ; but 
 
 ' Some being of course for export : but this ileduction must 
 be far more than counterbalanced by the home-use of matches 
 made by other firms, English and foreign. As to the latter, it 
 is said that we spend £400,000 annually upon imported matches. 
 
131- Luxiuy and Waste. 
 
 it is certain that by far tlio greater fart of this waste 
 might be avoided. We strike a wax-match to light 
 pipe or lamp, and then throw away practically all the 
 cotton and wax : yet by a -simple provision of " waste-" 
 boxes in every house, restaurant, railway carriage, and 
 street, all these used matches might be collected : the 
 wax could be melted out of tliein and used again, and 
 the cotton, even if useless to tlie match-maker, would be 
 welcome to the paper-maker. But here, as everywhere 
 else, we all aid in the national amusement of squander- 
 ing millions annually, and then complain of the chronic 
 burden of pauperism, and lament that Utopia remains 
 a mere dream. No wonder ! Utopia is not likely to be 
 realised by fools and sinners, but only by men with 
 clear heads and sound hearts. *■ • 
 
 Finally, let us consider the wicked wa^te of tohacco-ash. 
 The annual consumption of tobacco in the United Kingdom 
 now amounts to over 62,000,000 lbs. The percentage 
 of potash (KgO) in this may be taken on a very rough 
 
 1 ^Yo may point ont tliat, on any theory of government, the 
 Legislature art; iiiuler a moral obligation to discourage this terrible 
 waste. So far as concerns matchboxes, it could remedy the 
 evil at once by imposing a tax of Id. or 2d. on each ntxo match- 
 box. As a result, the wasteful manufacture of wooden match- 
 boxes would be immediately discontinued, and their place taken 
 by tin ones. For tliese the consumer would he charged the price 
 of the tax and the cost of manufacture, and allowed an equivalent 
 rebate on returning them : consequently the boxes, like wine- 
 bottles, would do duty over and over again ; and when once a 
 sufficient stock had been made, practically no more would be 
 required. 
 
 We have taken ro account :il>o\-n of the wanton waste — involved 
 in the use of superHuous matc'.ies — of phosphorus that would 
 otherwise be available tor agricultural use. 
 
Luxury and Waste. 135 
 
 average as 5 per cent., and this gives us an annual xoa^te 
 of 3,100,000 lbs of an essential constituent of our crops. 
 Here again it is plain that by the mere provision of ash- 
 boxes in all our houses, hotels, railway-carriages, streets, 
 etc, the whole of this invaluable manure might be col- 
 lected and saved ; ^ for any appreciable quantities of it 
 the farmers would be willing to pay a fair price ; and, 
 even if they were not, any man with a grain of morality 
 would rather give it to them than let it be wantonly 
 wasted. 
 
 Innumerable further examples of this wicked waste, in 
 which we all indulge, might easily be quoted ) but, since 
 our object is not to compile a catalogue, but rather to 
 offer examjjles and hints, we will leave our readers to 
 exercise their brains and consciences for themselves — 
 merely remarking that one essential element in promoting 
 the advent of semi-Utopia is the cultivation of thrift, 
 both in great things and small ; and that in semi-Utopia 
 there vvill be in every house a " glory-hole " full of 
 receptacles for every species of "waste," whether paper, 
 matches, tobacco ash, or what not, where this now-wasted 
 wealth may accumulate uutil there be a sufficient quan- 
 tity for removal.^ 
 
 ' We commend the hint to railway-empluytJs, who are fre- 
 quently enthusiastic gardeners. 
 
 2 We haVe said nothing of the waste of gas, wliether in private 
 houses, etc., thro the sheer stupidity of people wiio won't turn 
 down the gas when leaving the room, or in streets and elsewhere 
 on the occasion of illuminations in honor of some royal parasite 
 or equally worthless person — nor of the waste of various articles 
 consigned to the rubbish-heap On the latter point we will 
 quote again from Messrs. Rawson & Smithson, who tell us 
 
136 Luxury and Waste. 
 
 Having thus accounted for a really very considerable 
 portion of the wealth required hy Utopia in apparent 
 excess of its supply, we now have to consider how far we may 
 balance the remaining deficit, i.e., increase the Utopians' 
 wealth to any pitch required by tlie cnnditions of Utopia 
 — without shortening tlieir leisure. Here it is that we 
 
 (Chemical Industnj Journal 12/90S) that in Chelsea, 1000 tons 
 of refuse (sifted and picked by boys) have yiehled en an average 
 
 Tons. 
 Coal and coke (pieces over li inches) ... 8 
 
 )) ,, ( >> under ,, ,, ) ... 799 
 
 Rags, paper, string, etc., ... ... 76 
 
 Vegetable matter, ... ... ... 44 
 
 Tins, ... ... ... .. ... 7 
 
 Iron, ... ... ... ... ... 2 
 
 Bones, ... ... ... .. 5 
 
 Crockery, ... ... ... ... 5 
 
 Glass 2 
 
 (About JOOO unbroken bottles) • 
 
 948 
 
 In other words only 5 per cent, at most of the refuse was 
 true waste ! What an awful example of untlirift such facts 
 preach to us. Similarly " London " recently told us that " tlie 
 bottle exchange, which exists to collect and return bottles to 
 their various owners, recovered no fewer than 391,516 dozen 
 bottles, 12,568 boxes, 3,572 syphons, and 112 casks. Out of that 
 number there came from dustyards, chiefly in London, 233,124 
 dozen bottles, 318 boxes, and 565 syphons. Previous to the 
 establishment of the exchange almost the whole of this supply 
 from the dustyards was wasted. If it is worth while conducting 
 a system for the collection of bottles, it would certainly be to the 
 advantage of some enterprising person to organise a system for 
 the collection of one or other of tlie various articles in London's 
 refuse which are as yet practically untouched." We would ask 
 why so much labor sliould be wasted on the filthy work of 
 picking refuse-lieaps, and why everj' householder should not have 
 hi.s " waste " stored into several bins and removed at intervals. 
 We do not yet understand the mondity of economy in little things. 
 
Luxury mid Waste. 137 
 
 must precede to apply our principle of choosing the least 
 evil. 
 
 Now it is obvious that there are two methods by which 
 a man may become relatively wealthier, viz., (1) By adding 
 to his actual wealth; (2) by circumscribing his wants. 
 Of two men with equal incomes, families, and necessary 
 house-expenses, etc., clearly that one is decidedly and de- 
 servedly the poorer who considers it proper to keep a 
 couple of ridiculous and useless flunkeys, and to drink cham- 
 pagne: the other, relatively to his lunatic neighbor, increases 
 his wealth by discountenancing such extravagant absurd- 
 ities. Now the question that we have to answer is 
 simply this : how far are our expenses of the present day 
 lumecessarily high owing to our consumption, in one sense 
 or another, of practicallj' useless luxuries — luxuries, that 
 is to say, that yield us no appreciable happiness, or even 
 that are distinctly irksome, but yet are ordained by that 
 archfiend Fashion ? At the same time we must, in accord- 
 ance with our principle of choosing the lesser evil, call 
 especial attention to many luxuries that, we do not deny, 
 were very tolerably pleasant in themselves if they could 
 be had for nothing, but are decidedly not ivorth the candle 
 employed in getting them. So far as we can discover any 
 such sources of ex{)ense — and they are probably far more 
 numerous than one would a />?'zoW anticipate — so far may 
 we see our way to relatively increasing our wealth without 
 extra work. 
 
 Now, as exemplifying these stupid and unnecessary ex- 
 penses, the maintenance of large staffs of servants has 
 already been several times alluded to : here is a luxury 
 that — prompted as it is in large measure by a mere vulgar 
 10 
 
138 Luxury and Waste. 
 
 love of pompous display — is doomed to go. Nowadays — 
 when reasonable people are still excedingly scaice — it may 
 be thought only a right and dignified proceding that a 
 gentleman, taking riding exercise, should be followed, at 
 a "respectful " distance, by a groom — not for companion- 
 ship but for display ; or that an old lady, taking an airing 
 in the Park, should be similarly followed by a gorgeous 
 flunkey armed with an equally gorgeous staff as tall as 
 himself; or that the same old lady, proceding to church 
 in order to express in the most solemn wording lier sense 
 of humility, her contempt for the pomp and vanit}- of 
 the world, and her acknowledgments of human brother- 
 hood, should be similarly escorted in high state by the 
 flunkey carrying her prayerbook (!) ; or that another 
 estimable old lady, retiring to Florence for a few weeks' 
 rustication, should be accompanied by a retinue of fifty 
 servants ; ^ all such procedings may indeed be thougiit 
 very right and proper now ; but in a semi-Utopian age 
 they would be scorued as contemptible examples of arrant 
 stupidity and vulgar snobbishness. Here then is one 
 type of luxury that may be ruthlessly eliminated ; but we 
 have already said so much on the subject of servants 
 generally that it is unnecessaiy to go farther into details 
 now. 
 
 In the very forefront of all however we would place the 
 wicked waste of wealth that is annually swallowed up by 
 the Augean stomach of mankind : and among the very 
 first luxuries to go must be the wines and liqueurs, the 
 ridiculous extravagance of hothouse-fruits, and all the 
 sickening extent of gorging-material displayed at a big 
 
 * See Daily Papers, February, 1893, d propos of the Queen's visit. 
 
Luxury and Waste. 139 
 
 dinner. It seems clear to ns that a highly-civilised 
 Utopian society will know as little of such luxuries as do 
 we of long jpig. 
 
 Perhaps however it may be as well, in order to avoid 
 misunderstandings, that we should explain our position 
 as to wine-driuking somewhat more fully. We are in no 
 sense advocating Teetotalism ^^^r se ; and our argument 
 is addressed to all rational men alike, whether Teetotalers 
 or not. It is true that personally we must rank — tho 
 unchartered, and much against our physical inclinations 
 — among the Teetotalers ; since it seems to us the duty of 
 all for the present to range themselves on this side, in 
 order by example and influence to fight against our 
 country's awful curse: but, since before even semi-Utopia 
 be reached, drunkenness will have disappeared, one may 
 incline to doubt whether Teetotalism will prevail then, 
 and to consider it probable that in Utopia all will be moder- 
 ate drinkers — alas for the fanatics ! Tlie many esthetic 
 advantages sacrificed by Teetotalers — putting aside the 
 physical gratification — are so clear that we might well 
 hesitate to ascribe Teetotalism, and deny red wine, to an 
 arch-esthetic society of too high a moral development to 
 fear drunkenness or any excess. However this be, we 
 will provisionally concede that cheap beer and light wines 
 may be moderately consumed in Utopia, altho the subse- 
 quent course of our argument may tend to considerably 
 discredit this assumption : but we wish to understate 
 rather than to overstate our case ; and, if Utopia must 
 after all be ranked as practically Teetotal, then is our 
 farther argument only strengthened. It seems certain 
 however that all — even moderately — expensive wines, all 
 
140 Luxury and Waste. 
 
 except the mere vins ordinalres, will be unknown — as we 
 will now precede to show. 
 
 If this declaration raise an angry outcry that Utopia 
 without fine wines would be no Utopia, and that therefor 
 we are diminishing its happiness below that of the present 
 day instead of giving to all Utopians wine of the best, our 
 retort is -very simple. We must reiterate that (1) we 
 have nothing to do with an impossible Utopia but only 
 with a strictly feasible one ; and (2) we are depicting the 
 Utopia not of a privileged few — a Greek aristocracy sup- 
 ported by a world of slaves — htd of the all ; and we should 
 greatly like to know how our objectors would propose to 
 give every Utopian abundance of expensive wine con- 
 sistently with any scheme of short work-time, abundant 
 leisure, and general affluence, for all. At present not one 
 man in one hundred drinks choice wines, and yet the total 
 expense of wine-drinking is sufficiently appalling : what 
 will it be if one hundred in one hundred must be supplied? 
 
 The average man never reflects on at all — or in the 
 least understands — the enormous annual loss of wealth en- 
 tailed by such unproductive consumption. Thanks to 
 our venerable school-system, which instructs boys in 
 athletics, Latin verse, royal divorce-cases, and such-like 
 rubbish, but steadfastly refuses them the rudiments of 
 Political Economy, the nation consists for the most part 
 of men who are absolutely ignorant of the fundamental 
 principles on which society hinges ; whilst — worst per- 
 haps of all — they are usually too pig-headedly and 
 insanely conceited of their own vast superiority, as " men 
 of practical common-sense," to all " mere theorists," to be 
 susceptible of any instruction. Such men are intellectually 
 
Luxury and Waste. 141 
 
 incapable of understanding that consumption of luxuries 
 is a purely unproductive consumption, and that in wine- 
 drinking they are simply pouring so much wealth — t.e., 
 the product of so much human labor — down their 
 several and respective gullets. ^ ' 
 
 It is sufficient for such men — that is, for the nation 
 generally — that such an industry as wine-making " em- 
 plo3's many thousands of people " : and they are too 
 ignorant and too stupid to see that, not only is the 
 whole work of these thousands, strictly speaking, ivasted, 
 but that they are all of them kept at the public expense. 
 
 When we reflect on the immense area occupied by the 
 vines — the area in Europe alone being sufficient to raise 
 yearly food enouc/h to support 80,000,000 men for a year ^ 
 
 ' Thro'out we ignore the nutritive vahie of wine, since the 
 amount of carbo-hydrates present (as alcohol, etc.) can be re- 
 placed by bread or fat at a mere fraction of the cost, and M'ith 
 great benefit to the digestion. 
 
 " According to a report compiled by the French Statistical 
 Bureau, the vineyards of Europe cover 22,973,902 acres. The 
 annual average production of the European vineyards is put at 
 2,652,300,000 gallons. Spain exports most wine (200,000,000), 
 but it is chiefly common wine, and it is estimated at only 
 £12,000,000 ; while the value of the 56,000,000 gallons exported 
 from France is put at nearly as much. Italy comes tliird with 
 exports of 45,000,000 gallons, estimated at £'-',800,000 ; while 
 Austria and Hungary exported only 16,500,000 gallons worth 
 £1,720,000. (The annual average production of wine in the 
 whole world during the five years 1886-90 is estimated at 
 2,811,600,000 gallons.) Again, " the Chamber of Commerce at 
 Rlieims has published the statistics of the trade in champagne 
 since 1844. In 1844-5 the value of the trade was £265,000, and 
 in the following year it exceded £280,000. In 18(J8-9 it 
 amounted to nearly £640,000, but fell to £360,000 in 1870-1, and 
 then rose in 1871-2 to £800,000. The value in 1872-3 was £880,000, 
 
142 Luxury and Waste. 
 
 — and calculate the immense amount of capital and 
 labor so locked up, even now, we shall be forced to con- 
 elude that, of the two alternatives, Toetotalism is after 
 all a far more probable habit than costly-wine-drinkinj^ in 
 Utopia. Now, if it should still be contended that the 
 loss of champagne, hock, madeira, and port, is a distinct 
 hedonic loss, it must suffice in I'eply to invoke our 
 principle of least evil. It were surely better tliat all 
 
 ami it oscillaterl between this 55nm and CG^O.nnO until ISSO Of>, 
 when it beciiine £9.'0,000. The li:,'ures were £1 ,0:!l,000 in ISUO-I : 
 £970,000in 1891-2. Thenuniber of botth-susedin P'rancerosefioin 
 2,225,000 in 1844-5 to 4,558,000 in 1891-2; while the number ex- 
 ported rose during the same period from 4,380,000 to 16,685,000 " 
 (Nature, 47/157, 614). If we calculate, by a process of averaging, 
 the value for the 23 years 1845-1868, and then a(hl together all tiie 
 figures, we shall obtain approximately £50 mill ion as the value (at 
 Rheims — not to the final purchasers) of 50 years' champagne. 
 Fifty million pounds for less than fifty years' growth of one wine 
 in one country: liow immensely richer, therefor, the world woidd 
 quickly become if champagne and other such luxuries were dis- 
 carded and their manufacturers and the land otherwise employed ! 
 Referring back now to the earlier extract, which gives us 
 23,000,000 acres of vineyards, let us see what this means. To 
 make the calculation as simple as possible we will suppose the 
 whole acreage to be rtclaimcd from wine-growing and devoted to 
 wheat : then assuming the average English yield of 30 bushels 
 per acre, and that each bushel represents only 40 lbs. of flour, 
 then since 2 "5 lbs. of flour per day will form a sufficient diet 
 for a man (less than 2 lbs. yield sufficient carbo-hydrates, but 
 2"5 is necessary for nitrogenous fooil) we get tins result 
 
 /23,000,0'00x30x40\ ,, , , ,. . ^,,^^ «^ ™,-7/.v„ 
 
 I — ! ^ 1 — that a population of over 30 million 
 
 \ 2-5x360 / ^ ^ 
 
 adults could be entirely supported by the yearly wheat-produce 
 of the present European vineyards. Of course we do not for a 
 moment suppose that it would pay to grow wheat witlioub 
 rotation, or that wheat could be grown on all the vine-soils ; but, 
 whatever crops were grown, the result, calculated in terms of 
 wheat, is that a population of 30 million adults could be fed by 
 tae acreage at present wasted on this luxury of wiue. 
 
Luxury and Waste. 143 
 
 should suffer the slight — the very slight — deprivation 
 implied, than that, as now, the indulgence should be con- 
 tinued at so terrible an expense of toil and treasure. 
 
 Secondly, we may point out the very important quali- 
 fication that a generation, which had never seen, tasted, 
 or smelt, any alcoholic drinks — or, taking our qualified 
 supposition, anything but vins ordinaires and beer — 
 could suffer no possible unhappiness thro the deprivation 
 of a physical pleasure that it had never experienced — any 
 more than our happiness is marred by our inal;ility to 
 obtain nectar and ambrosia. 
 
 No doubt, during the transition, those, who had been 
 in the habit of drinking such wines, would suffer some- 
 what : but when the Inst bottles of champagne and 
 madeira had disappeared from the world, and their last 
 surviving consumers had followed them, then all the 
 trouble would be at an end ; and semi-Utopia would find 
 its wealth immensely increased — both directly and in- 
 directly — without any payment of unhappiness there- 
 for.'' Such considerations are — as it seems to us — of 
 great importance to the discussion of the abolition of any 
 similar luxuries. 
 
 Thirdly, it is well to bear in mind that the modifica- 
 tions impressed upon a progressively evolving race may 
 not improbably involve a continually lessening regard for 
 the merely sensual pleasures of the palate, concomitantly 
 
 ■" There is so little ideal perxitfence in wine that merely to read 
 of its pleasures would, we think, excite no craving for it. As to 
 this, see discussion in note on tobacco, p. 171, and compare the 
 experience of reclaimed drunkards — who feel the temptation 
 chiefly when they see or taste wine. But one may also remark 
 that chastity involves pliysical denial : is ittlierefor un-Utopian! 
 
144 Luxury and Waste 
 
 with an increasing rcgarl foi* intellectual and esthetic 
 pleasures. We can see, perhaps, some indications of the 
 same sort even now ; for among ourselves aldermen, 
 liverymen, and vestrymen, are notoriously ranked as the 
 most contemptible and hog-like members of society ; and 
 it is precisely these men who find their chief happiness 
 and satisfaction in guzzling and gorging — whilst the 
 cultured few regard them with much the same feelings 
 of loathing and disgust as filled ^Eneas' mind when he 
 beheld the harpies' foul and filthy feasting.^ If, there- 
 for, this suggestion be valid, our way is made still 
 smoother. 
 
 ' Readers will of course recall Tliackeray's description of a 
 City dinner : and we may p^-rhaps sul)j<iin here a cutting from a 
 recent paper chronicling a few days' City-feeding. (Star, Feby. 
 1st, 1893.) 
 
 London gives a little diary of City-company activity within 
 
 the last fortnight : — 
 
 Wednesday, 1st Feb. — A court dinner of the Worshipful Leather- 
 sellers. 
 
 Tliursday, 2nd — The Blacksmiths' Company dine. 
 
 Friday, 3rd. — Dinner of the Committee of the Cooks' Company. 
 
 Friday, 3rd. — The Hoi-ners' Company dine. 
 
 Saturdaj', 4th Clockmakers' Company. Luncheon at Guild- 
 hall Tavern. 
 
 Monday, 6tli. — The Carmen's Company. Dinner at Cuildhall 
 Tavern. 
 
 Monday, 6th. — Bakers' Livery met. 
 
 Tuesday, 7th. — Merchant Tailors' Company. Meet to admit the 
 Duke of York and dine. 
 
 Tuesday, 7th. — Butchers' Company meet and dine. 
 
 Tuesday, 7th. — Coopers' Company go a coopering at the Hotel 
 Metropole. Business : " One of those recherche dinners for 
 which the Hotel Metropole proprietary is justly celebrated." 
 
 Wednesday, Sth. — Paviors' Company dine together. 
 
 Thursday, 9th. — The Worshipful Basket-Makers — none of whom 
 could make a basket— hold a winter banquet. 
 
Luxury and [Vaste. j^r 
 
 We may next glance at a few gastronomic luxuriea 
 other than wines: and, in order to safe-guard our 
 argument, both here and hereafter, from the retort that 
 of course it is easy enough to sketch an Utopian scheme 
 giving comfort and wealth to all, if one put the standard 
 of that wealth and comfort low enough and premise a 
 Spartan simplicity of life-in order to obviate this 
 danger, let us state at once that we do not look to any 
 such ideal of Spartan or cynical simplicity. It is true 
 that one main object of tiiis essay is to advocate an 
 
 Again, as another example of this disgusting stomach-worship, 
 note the provision made for, not feeding but, luuieeessarily stuff- 
 ing the sons and daughters of Bebul (and others) that thronged 
 to the Imperial Institute conversazione in 1893- " Four hundred 
 lady attendants will wait upon the guests, 1000 of whom can be 
 suppbed with refreshment every minute. To give some idea of 
 the provision which has been made for accommodating this great 
 party, we n,ay mention that there have been prepared 40 000 
 sandwiches 130,000 ices, tons of cakes, confectionery crystallised 
 fruits, and fruits from Tasmania and South Australia (sent by 
 the respective Governments), 400 gallons of champagne cup, and 
 600 gallons of claret cup. It is estimated that 7001b. of coffee 
 will be consumed, together with 3001b. of tea, 15 cwt of butter 
 and scores and hundreds of apples, pineapples, and every kind of 
 ^•mt. a great deal of which has been rec.ned from theLws 
 Tons of strawberries and cream have been prepared. To meet 
 the great demand, there have been laid in 40,6oO glasses, 30 000 
 cups and saucers, and 30,000 plates for san.hviches and ices" 
 KSiar, May 17th, 1893). Yet again we are told that fsOO 
 guineas were to be thrown away by the City Corporation on a 
 rf ;.j„.rto the Duke of York, and 2000 on a simikr tribute to 
 he Kmg of Denmark just as, in 1881, 2000 guineas were thrown 
 way in feting the King of Greece (,S7ar, July, 1893). Bu^ 
 these Items are mere insignificancies when compared with the 
 g^antic total oi nearly a .nUlion sterlln, which we are told t a^ 
 the twelve great Cty-Companies alone have dissipated in Un 
 y^ar. on EntatauunenU and m grants to the Courts of Assist" 
 
146 Luxury and Waste. 
 
 earnest and beautiful simplicity/ of life ; but our siiuplicity 
 is very different from that of Sparta or of the Cynics — 
 as different as is day from night. For us, the Spartan 
 life, with its incessant hardship, rigid discipline, ceaseless 
 governmental interference, and cruel inhumanity, its 
 narrowness, bareness, and unamiabilitv, has none of the 
 attractions which it has offered to some foolish senti- 
 mentalists who profess to long for such " wholesome " 
 living: to us Lvcurgean Sparta rather suggests devildom ^ 
 let loose on a saturnalia of repression ; whilst the coming 
 
 ants {Star, Jan. 15th, 1S94). The blood boils with indignation 
 to tliinli of the incalculable good that might have been, and 
 bhould have been, wrought with the wealth that these high 
 priests of sensuality have crammed into their own hog-like 
 stomachs. We ourself have private information of a certain 
 small City-Company that spends four-fifths of its income on two 
 half-yearly banquets — the tickets for which are priced at Iwo 
 guineas each ! 
 
 As one example of the effects of drinking, this item of news- 
 paper intelligence is notewortliy : — 
 
 " Tiie Swiss Feileral Council recently instituted an inqnii-y as 
 to the best means to be emploj'ed for diminishing the con- 
 sumption of spirits, in the course of which it was shown that the 
 population of Switzerland, numbering 2,500,000, drink 27,000,000 
 li.res of brandj' j'early, the result being that every year tlie 
 number of men unfit for military service increases ; that 44 per 
 cent, of lunatics have lost their reason by the abuse of spirits ; 
 that of every 100 criminals 45 are given to drink ; that a mini- 
 mum of 254 deaths per annum are caused bj' alcohol ; and that 
 the great majority of the suicides — UOO a year — are attributed to 
 the same vice." 
 
 In addition to the moral and physical evils, what an awful 
 waste of the means to material happiness does this represent I 
 
 1 Presumably the nearest modern parallels to the spirit of 
 Spartan life are offered by the Redskin savages, and the public- 
 Bchuulbuy savages, respectively. 
 
Luxury and Waste. i^y 
 
 life, that we picture, is warm, glowing, bright, human, 
 cultured, refined, beautiful, and unrestrained, beyond 
 anything that most of us to-day can realise. Yet — tho 
 inconceivable, wnthout a thousand adjuncts such as only 
 culture and refinement can give — it is in one sense nobly 
 simple — simple as devoid of stupid or useless excrescences: 
 and we do claim the right to provide for its necessary ex- 
 penses and its necessary leisure by abolishing costly and 
 more or less stupid luxuries that are most appreciated by 
 the leas"^ cultured members of society. Of course we do 
 not deny that very many luxuries are really very plea- 
 sant — if one could have them for nothing. If cham- 
 pagne and madeira, winter-pine-apples and peaclies, were 
 cheap as daisies, mankind would be very absurd not to 
 enjoy such delicacies ; but we do contend tliat since 
 these luxuries can be had only at a great expense of toil 
 and treasure, since the pleasure afforded by them is 
 essentially fleeting and of the moment — the pleasures of 
 taste having least of all our pleasures any ideal persist- 
 ence — since in fact the consumption of such luxuries 
 means the mere emptying down our gullets of so much 
 wealth and labor that would otherwise — Proteus-like — 
 have appeared in the form of esthetic intellectual or 
 material gains, or prolonged leisure, that si'nce in fact we 
 have to pav pretty heavily for such luxuries, the game is 
 most emphatically not worth the caudle.^ But in 
 
 ' One of the most disgraceful sides of this stomach-worship is 
 the malversation of trust-tunds and endovvinents to kitchen- 
 expenses : see the late review - charges against Oxford Uni- 
 versity of crippling education by heavy disbursements for the 
 table. 
 
148 Luxury aud Waste. 
 
 addition to all these table-luxuries, and many others that 
 •were pleasant enough if they could be had for nothing, 
 but are not worth one hour per day's extra labor, and can 
 be dispensed with without any discomfort — in addition 
 to these there are a multitude of downright stupid and 
 useless luxuries which nobody really wants, but which a 
 tyrannous fashion or a snobbish love of display dictates 
 as " indispensable to every gentleman's household " — to 
 which matters we will return anon. In short we contend 
 that the result of the general worship of luxury and dis- 
 play is to ruin half our happiness — half our lives being 
 devoted to working for things that we don't want and 
 that we are none the really happier for obtaining : and 
 the nett result of this follow-the-bell-wether-like muuibo- 
 jumbo worship is — what '] — 
 
 " That chasing drenm^, that dreamlike cVia'sed, 
 Thro lapse of years our life doth icaatt." 
 
 To conclude our gastronomic survey however — we are 
 quite ready to admit of course that in senii-Uto|)ia the 
 daily dinners of all will be triumphs of artistic and scien- 
 tific effort, and — to adopt the cook's jargon — pre- 
 eminently recherches. But it is a morrd certainty that 
 they will not include a dozen courses, nor be com- 
 pounded of rare and expensive materials. The lady of 
 the future — devoting somewhat less time to trumpery 
 novels and wearisome fashionable lounges — will pride 
 herself on her skill in devising a dinner fit for a prince 
 from materials little costlier tlian now supply the food of 
 a peasant. In fact, here as everywhere, we must aim at 
 refined simiiUcity, at skilUd treatment of simjile material^ 
 
Luxury and Waste. 149 
 
 and eschew extravagance and vulgar display. For how 
 much frightful and criminal waste is not that detestable 
 custom responsible which, not content with simply 
 enjoying cheap luxuries in their due season, insists on 
 having the same things as dear luxuries in their very 
 anti-season ; which scorns strawberries and green peas in 
 summer at a few pence per pound, but insists on them in 
 midwinter at many shillings ;i and so on thro'out. 
 
 This is one of the most indefensible forms of waste, 
 and one that cannot excite too much reprehension : 
 however they be obtained, whether by purchase or by 
 private rearing, the consumption of all such out-of-season 
 fruits is a sinful waste : and we may be verv sure that 
 the pineries " and peacheries of the present are doomed 
 luxuries. 
 
 ^ "The vegetables called Peas were excedingly scarce, and 
 cost '2(Js. a (juart. . . . ' There are 200 quarts of peas,' said the 
 old fellow, winking with bloodshot eyes, and a laugh that was 
 perfectly frightful. And goodness gracious — said I — what can 
 be the meaning of a ceremony so costly, so uncomfortable, so 
 savory, so luiwholesome, as this ? Who is called upon to pay 
 two or three guineas for my dinner now in this blessed year of 
 1847 ? Are there no poor : is there no reason : is this monstrous 
 belly-worship to last for ever? " (Thackeray.) 
 
 - Mrs. Fawcett put the point very neatly wlien she wrote 
 {Political Economy, p. 28) : "If two tons of crtals are consumed 
 in producing a pineapple in March, the wealth represented by 
 that coal is wanted, or at any rate it produces i nly the very 
 inadequate return of giving two or three people a pleasant taste 
 in their mouths for a few minutes. If the same coal had been 
 used to smelt iron, or to make gas, it would have had a much 
 more productive result." Perhaps it may be useful to those un- 
 ver.sed in economics to point out the difference between the 
 reckless squandering of an individual's fortune and actual waste : 
 a man may ruin himself utterly, and yet he guilty of no waste; 
 whilst a rich man, livhig bareiy up to his income, may yet be 
 
150 Luxury and Waste. 
 
 But eating and drinking are far from being the only 
 inediiun of waste, or the only department where a return 
 to far simpler living is essential : for our national amuse- 
 ments afford ample scope for reform, and imperatively 
 demand some notice here. Englishmen are wont to 
 pride themselves on their pre-eminence in sport; and, 
 were we polytheists, there can be no doubt that the 
 devilgod of Sport would rank second only — if, indeed, 
 second — to Zeus : but we think that few men have any 
 conception of the frightful was^e entailed by several of our 
 national pass-times. We propose here to pass by all the 
 more trifling items, and confine our attention to two 
 divisions only of "le Sport" — viz., hunting and shooting: 
 and we tiiink that the unanimous verdict of all men, 
 who really care for the progressive evolution of Humanity, 
 will be, that in our pleasures as in our feeding we must 
 aim at far greater simplicitt/ and far less extravagance. ^ 
 
 guilty of frightful waste. Waste is ineasured by the amount of 
 labor or weahli tliat you (directly or indirectly) consume by 
 using hixuries : but expert siveness may be a function of rarity 
 also ; and the mere transfer of wealth, or destruction of wealth- 
 symbols, involves no waste — no national loss. To give £.100 for 
 an unique postage-stamp, to lose a fortune at pitch-and-tnss, or 
 to light a cigar with a bank-note, may be hopelessly idiotic, but 
 is not wa-'^te: to give £5 for a hot le of wine is waste — for so 
 much labor has been employed merely to get a pleasant taste 
 in the mouth for a few minutes. 
 
 1 A note may, however, be added with regard to Football — 
 the cult of which game involves (as the Archbishop of (Canter- 
 bury is reported to have said — we know not on what authority) 
 an annual cost of £1,000,000. The author of an article "On 
 Football" in the Fortniyhtlji Recitiv for January, 1S94, states 
 that " £200 or f 250 per annum lias in many cases been paid to 
 some particularly etiicient plaj'rr ' ; and that " the receipts of a 
 club are very large, ptiha^is 12,000 or £3,000 a year, but the 
 
Luxury and Waste. 151 
 
 With regard to hunting now we will quote the statis- 
 tics furnished by Lord Yarborongh. He states that 
 there are 330 packs of hounds in England, Scotland, 
 and Ireland : assuming the cost of fox-hoinids to be 
 £650 for one day per week per year, stag-hounds to cost 
 ■£550, and harriers £200, keeping up hounds in the 
 United Kingdom causes the expenditure of £114,850 ; 
 and estimating 100 men Iiunting with each pack, each 
 man having three horses, that means that 99,000 horses 
 are engaged. Putting the cost of each horse at 15s. per 
 week this comes to considerably over £3,500,000 ! 
 Therefor, as Lord Yarborough maintains, the cost of 
 keeping hounds and maintaining the hunts in the United 
 Kingdom comes altogether to over four millions (!) in- 
 dependently of the expense of carriage-horses, cover- 
 hacks, travelling-expenses, etc. Making certain allow- 
 ances^ it seems fair to reckon, on this presumably good 
 
 expenditure is almost always equally great. ... A high autho- 
 rity on football finance gives the average wage of a professional 
 player at £3 a week in winter, and £2 a week in summer." 
 
 We commend this article also to those who wish to realise the 
 social results of this pernicious cult, which finally turns men 
 loose on the world at 30 years of age without any craft or trade. 
 We are also happy to find the writer thoroly at one with ourself 
 as to the true, raiaoii d'etre of foolbull and all other games aud 
 recreations. 
 
 ' If we assume hunting to be dropped, it does not follow that 
 a I these horses would be set free for other work : but if we 
 assume that each (juondam huntsman retained one of his three 
 horses for rational use, this would set free two, and save about 
 2.3 millions : adding to this the cost of dogs we get 3 millions ; 
 then all the incidental expenses must lie added. We presume 
 that the entire cost of human labor uasted in supplying these 
 aniusempnts is included in the above calculations of Lord 
 Yarborou;:h. 
 
152 Luxury and Waste. 
 
 anthoril-y, that about 3 millions are annually toas'eil on 
 this very selfish and destructive amusement of a very 
 few : 3 millions yearly — in good sooth here is a doomed 
 luxury ! It is clear that we may appreciably accelerate 
 the approac'i of Utopia by abolishing such wicked waste 
 as this — a waste the more indefensible in that it involves 
 cruel sufferings to dumb animals, and keeps vigorously 
 alive the barbarous instincts of mankind : it stands to 
 reason that a fox-hunter, still more a harrier, is by many 
 removes nearer to primitive savagery than is the average 
 Englishman. ^ 
 
 ^Unhappily, the "sporting" spirit is not only a barrier to 
 advance but actually a cause of retrogression. Fox-hunting is 
 bad enough ; hare-hunting is far worse ; but now we have the 
 sickening practice of tame-deer-huuting, with all its attendant 
 brutalities, blttei ly defended ; and a recent development has 
 given us the cockney butchery of rabbit-coursing. We may take 
 the opportunity here to protest against the steady training of 
 Certain youngsters in fox-hunting, and tlie boorish practice of 
 regarding that occupation as the only serious business of life. 
 Here again Leech's cartoons show us, beneath all their humor- 
 ous exaggeration, a very striking picture of English life : and 
 the knickerbockered urchin who is galloping over ploughed ground 
 because his second pony is waiting for him ; the " old fox- 
 hunter," aetat perhaps ten, who finds Rotten Row rather dull, 
 having been accustomed to go across country all his life ; the 
 enthusiast of a similar age who deems it such a bore that school 
 begins just as one's hunters are in sucli splendid condition ; no 
 less than tiie grown men who get thro a wet day by an imita- 
 tion steeple-chase in the dining-room, or by playing cat's-cradie 
 with their cousins, or by functioning as Aunt Sally to have choco- 
 late thrown into their mouths ; all these instances alike pieach 
 an eloquent lesson against that wealth-wasting, labor- wasting, 
 life-wasting, worship of Sport— to whose votaries apparently 
 any kind of intellectual or esthetical occupation is utterly im- 
 possil)le. Oil tempora, oh moref ! 
 
 We subjoin, as pertinent to this subject, a letter that recently 
 appeared in an evening paper — 
 
Liixiuy and Waste. 153 
 
 So much for hunting. Shooting entails a parallel 
 system of waste — waste of labor to a shocking extent, 
 waste of powder and shot, and waste of land : whilst the 
 moral aspect of it, at least so far as concerns the sense- 
 less butchery of the battue, is, if possible, worse than 
 that of hunting — and, indeed, one shudders to think of 
 the suiFerings of merely-wounded birds, that linger on in 
 pain and die slowly of starvation perhaps. Unfortun- 
 ately we have no statistics to hand concerning the annual 
 outlay on this form of waste, and can only fall back on 
 the census, which returns (1881) the number of game- 
 
 " HARE- HUNTING AT ETON. 
 "to the editor of the 'star.' 
 
 "Sir, — It may interest some of your readers to know that 
 while ' calf-hunting ' is in full swing around the royal horough, 
 the youthful scions of aristocracy are being carefully educated 
 in brutality. From the Eton Golh<jQ, Ghronide of 2 Fel)., a paper 
 written by boys for a schoolboy puljlic, it appears that during 
 the week ending 28 Jan. the school Beagles were out no less 
 than four times, four out of the six working days being eitlier 
 half or whole holidays ! We read how a hare, after a run of one 
 hour 20 minutes, ' was so stiif she couldn't go a yard, and was 
 pulled down ; ' and again, in another case, ' we then bustled her 
 along into Orkney Cottage garden, wliere, after being raced 
 round the garden, she was killed in the gateway.' ' ^^'hile we 
 were breaking her up,' adds the youthful writer, 'another iiare 
 was viewed away,' etc. 
 
 "Now, sir, I would ask any right-minded person, is it not 
 simply horrible that boys should be thus brought up and en- 
 couraged in brutal cruelty by those who are supposed to have 
 charge of their moral welfare? It is well known that hare- 
 hunting is one of the most cruel of all sports, the heart of the 
 victim being often burst by the strain of panic and exertion. 
 The idleness tolei-ated by our puljlic school system is sufficiently 
 disgraceful, but it is far worse that organised inhumanity should 
 be sanctioned by the school authorities. Does Dr. Warre, so 
 zealous for the ' manly training ' of Englishmen, regard this 
 11 
 
154 Luxury and Waste. 
 
 keepers in England and Wales alone as 12,000 — an 
 astonishing figure. The whole labor of these 12,000 
 men is, of course, utterly wasted: like so many other 
 luxury-mongers they are simply kept at the public ex- 
 pense, and it is certain that the abolition of the whole 
 12,000 will be an inevitable item in the preparation for 
 semi-Utopia. Shooting then is also a doomed luxury ; ^ 
 and, like hunting, must be replaced by simpler, cheaper, 
 and morally healthier, amusements — by boating, rowing, 
 ■walking, riding, skating, cricket, and a score other 
 available recreations. 
 
 There are countless other devices of fashion and custom 
 for ensuring waste by frivolous and stupid expenditure, 
 at which we can only glance. We very greatly doubt 
 
 cowardly torture of innocent animals as forming part of that 
 curriculum ?" 
 
 The following passage has come under our notice just in time 
 for insertion : — 
 
 "It is a result of Teutonic conquest that the landud gentry of 
 Europe arc lai gely descended from this race — Goths, Loinljards, 
 Normans, Franks, Saxons, Angles — and they preserve with 
 singular persistency the physical characteristics and the mode of 
 life of their remote ancestors. It is, as an acute writer (Hamer- 
 ton) has remarked, ' a strange result of tlie wealth and intelli- 
 gence of the modern world to give the upper classes tlie pursuits 
 of the savage, without the necessity whicii is the excuse for 
 them. They are barbarians armed with the complicated ap- 
 pliances of civilisation. Their greatest glory is to have killed a 
 large quantity of big wild beasts. Field-sports are good for 
 keeping up the eneigy of semi-barharous aristocracies'" (Taylor; 
 Orighi of the Aryans, p. 245). With every word of this we most 
 heartily concur. 
 
 ^ Just as hunting gives us rabbit-coursing, so, too, shooting 
 gives us the cockney butchery of pigeons, and of larks and other 
 siuL'in',' birds. 
 
Litxury and Waste. 155 
 
 whether the Utnpians will tolerate the professional 
 cricketers who turn a splendid recreation into a busi- 
 ness ; and we are sure that they would scorn the ab- 
 surdity of sending teams of cricketers all over the world 
 to play international matches, or the parallel absurdity 
 of allowing some scores of " county-cricketers" to devote 
 their whole energies, summer after summer, to playing 
 cricket as the business of life. 
 
 So, again, with dancing. We suspect that Utopians 
 will greatly prefer the simple quasi-family dances among a 
 score or so of friends to the waste and display of a grand 
 public ball ; and we are sure that they would be aghast 
 equally at the wickedly wasteful expense, and the weari- 
 some stupidity, of fashionable reciplions and routs, and 
 of royal drawing-rooms and levees. What Utopia would 
 say to the crassly stupid and ser.ile flunkeyism of people 
 who waste several hundred pounds ia temporarily " de- 
 corating" — save the mark — the streets thro which a 
 serene highness ^ is to drive, or even iu the crowning 
 folly of the annual city-circus in honor of an ungram- 
 matical alderman, can only be surmised ; but it is very 
 certain indeed that Utopia will be far too wise to waste 
 wealth and labor in such fasliion, and especially on such 
 tawdry tinsel ! So, too, the coming age of reason will 
 find it scarcelv credible that in the civilised and human- 
 ised nineteenth century, with poverty and want crying 
 
 ' From one of Ly ell's early letters it appears that the educa- 
 tional enterprise of Oxford had been seriously crippled by the 
 enormous outlay (reckoned in thousands) devoted to the reception 
 of the allied sovereigns at Oxford ! So that funds intended for 
 education were utterly wasted by these lickspittles in their eager 
 cringing before several despicable monarchs- 
 
156 Luxury and Waste. 
 
 out on every side, and innumerable scliemcs of philnn- 
 thropist3, educationalists, and artists, languishing for 
 Avant of a few miserable thousands, " sane and sober " 
 men could waste millions on such childish, ephemeral, 
 and objectless, extravagances as international exhibitions, 
 worlds' fairs, Watkin towers, and Antwerpian castles-in- 
 the-air — the nett result of all which is a vast squandering 
 of toil and treasure to gain — truly speaking — nothing ! 
 These things are the portentous visible signs of a terrible 
 and desperate social and moral disease.^ These are 
 sights to make the angels weep. 
 
 Now, a very great deal of the pi-esent waste is due to 
 that snobbish and servile worship of fashion, and vulgar 
 love of display, that lead men into so much wrong-domg. 
 Let us for instance glance at dress. So far as concerns 
 men there is not in the present day much waste, in all 
 conscience ; for men take so great pains to make their 
 dress hideous and absurd that there is scant I'oora left 
 for waste ; and perhaps the only marked instaiice of 
 
 '^ The first international exhibition, we doubt not, was produc- 
 tive of great good, material and moral, and especially at a time 
 when men travelled far less, and were far move foreign to each 
 other than now ; but their constant repetition is absolutely in- 
 excusable. They may benefit certain individuals by increasing 
 their piles oi Mthy lucre, but they wreak a terrible injury on the 
 world at large. They may make the rich richer, but, indirectly, 
 they must make the poor yet poorer. It was asserted that the 
 World's Fair at Chicago cost seven million sterlinrj, of which at 
 least a million sterling was spent in building a temporary suburb 
 of lodging-houses, etc. {Daily News, 23rd June, 1S93.) It would 
 be superfluous to point out that all such expense, as well as tlie 
 unknown and incalculable expeuses of travelling and freight, 
 involve an absolute loss of the world's wealth, however mucli 
 certain manufacturers and restaurateurs may have benefited. 
 
Luxury and Waste. 1 57 
 
 wasteful expense in man's dress is that, in deference to 
 an insane fashion, he buys a hard chimney-pot-hat which 
 is hideously ugly, excedingly uncomfortable, and ab- 
 surdly inconsequential, instead of — at a tenth of the 
 price — some light cap which were excedingly comfortable 
 and becoming. At the same time we may express our 
 own strong suspicion that in the esthetic, rational, and 
 economic, atmosphere of semi-Utopia, starched cuffs and 
 collars may entirely disappear, to be replnced by some- 
 thing far more becoming and far less troublesome. We 
 may also point out that, even now, a very appreciable 
 expense might be saved, and a large amount of discom- 
 fort and deformity avoided, did not a pigheaded custom 
 absolutely forbid us to go barefooted, no matter how 
 warm the climate or how soft the path. As it is, we are 
 compelled to hice up our feet in hot and heavy boots, 
 endure much discomfort — and p ly for our suiferings ! 
 Often have we envied the barefooted children of Scotland 
 and Italy; and we are sure that, before very long, 
 children at least will invariably go barefooted in the 
 house during mild weather; and we have little doubt 
 that the nearer modern society approaches to the 
 Greek love of beauty, especially the beauty of humanity, 
 the more desirous will it be to save our feet from dis- 
 tortion, and the more imperatively will it insist on every- 
 one minding his own business and leaving others to mind 
 theirs — so that if any find it agreeable to walk about 
 London barefooted, they shall be free to do so without 
 exciting the monkey-grimaces of an ill-bred brainless 
 crowd. 
 
 Nothing more painfully evidences the innate intoler- 
 
158 Luxury and Waste. 
 
 ance of mankind tlian tlie insufferable imperf inenco and 
 ostentatious consciousness of vast " superiority " winch 
 they display towards those who wear an unconventioua 
 dress ; and no sadder proof could be asked of the rarity, 
 in England anyhow, of good breeding and politeness, 
 than the fact that no one can publicly wear a somewhat 
 unconventional costume without running the gauntlet of 
 barely veiled or overt insults from, not merely ill- 
 mannered servant-girls, street boys, and loose women, but 
 also from "educated" and "respectable" self-styled 
 ladies and gentlemen. Recognising, as one must, that 
 good breeding and courtesy are merely the outward and 
 visible signs of truly gentle and noble dispositions — and 
 converselv — one must admit with a heavy heart that 
 primeval clownishness and boorishness are very prevalent 
 beneath a vanishingly thin cover of " manners." The 
 irony of the situation however — and one must admit 
 that this renders it distinctly comic — is that these 
 aggressively supercilious people who are so vastly 
 •* superior" to "fads" and "outre" costume, are in 
 reality — could they but be made to realise it — the 
 veritable dregs or scum of society — ^judged that is by 
 any esthetic and intellectual standard ; whilst their 
 butts are, in this aspect, the tirst approximations to the 
 semi-Utopians.^ 
 
 ' Bain aptly remarks, "The love of Influence, Intcrftrpnce, and 
 Control, is so extensive ami salient as to be a great fact in the 
 constitution of society, a leading cause of social plienomena. lb 
 prompts to Intolerance ami the Suppre.tsion of Individuality. 
 Many are found willing to submit to restraints tiiemselves, pro- 
 vided thoy can impose the same upon their unwilling neigh- 
 bors" {MtntcU Science, p. 259: italics ours). The wearing of 
 
Luxury and Waste, 159 
 
 But preceding now to women's dress, we may find 
 luxury and waste galore. It is not so much that the 
 expensiveness is a necessary function of the beauty of the 
 dress, as it is that, from an ill bred desire for displaying 
 their wealth, or from deference to a tyrannical fashion, 
 or from pure love of expensive fabrics jwa expensive, tliey 
 choose the costliest materials. Now so far as concerns 
 the beauty of their dresses, the women of the future will 
 far outshine the average women of to-day : for then, 
 every woman will wear a dress of purely artistic make — 
 both in shape, set, color, and combination — instead of 
 caricaturing her natural beauty of form by all the in- 
 credible and hideous absurdities that some crack-brained 
 milliner in Paris dictates as the next fasliion — or instead 
 
 stove-pipe hats, black coats, and trousers, is, of course, a case in 
 poait — the last mentioned abominations having been, as we 
 surmise, invented V)j' some wooden-legged or spindle-shanked 
 man-milliner wlio desired to impose on mankind a fashion that 
 would emible him to conceal his natural or acquired deformities. 
 Unhappily — so slight is the moral courage of mankind — we could 
 mention artists and philosophers who rail eloquently against ail 
 these hideous abominations, and, having done so, conform 
 scrupulously to " fashicm," leaving a few other and more courage- 
 ous rebels, who are neither artists nor philosopliers, and are 
 tlierefor far more exposed to obloquy and far less able to effectu- 
 ally set an example, to practise the true faith 'which the great 
 men content themselves with preaching ! In this connection 
 we may quote an excellent pas-ag^j from Bagehot, who remarks, 
 " You may talk of the ty^ranny of Nero and Tiberius ; but the 
 real tyranny is the tyranny of your next-door neighbor. Wliat 
 law is so cruel as the law of doing what he does ? What yoke is 
 Bo galling as the necessity of being like him ? What espionage 
 of despotism comes to your door so eli'ectually as the eye of the 
 man that lives at your door ? Public opinion is a permeating 
 influence, and it exacts obedience to itself : it requires us to 
 think other men's thoughts, to speak other men's words, to 
 
I Co Luxury and Waste. 
 
 of wearing the sombre and depressing blacks and browns 
 that mournfully characterise an English assemblage to- 
 day. "Women have yet to learn that the beauty of the 
 dress (and indirectly therefor of the wearer) depends 
 almost entirely upon tlie graceful and flowing draperies, 
 and upon the artistic combination of colors : given these 
 two elements, and a dress of serge or cotton will be 
 beautiful and the wearer winsome ; without these, the 
 most expensive silks, satins, and brocades, are thrown 
 away, and afford no pleasure to the beholder. Not that 
 we anticipate the disappearance of silks and satins and 
 other beautiful materials in Utopia ; far from it ; but we 
 do anticipate that far less regard w^ll be paid to the 
 material of the dress, and far more to the beauty ; and 
 
 follow other men's habits. Of course if we do not, no formal 
 law issues, no corporal pain, no coarse penally of a barbarous 
 society, is inflicted on the offender ; but we are called ' ec- 
 centric'; there is a gentle murmur of 'most unfortunate ideas,' 
 ' singular young man,' * well-intentioned, I dare say, but 
 imsafe, sir, quite uiimfc' The 27nul('iU of course conform" 
 (Biographical Slxulita, p. 4). Doubtless the priulent do con- 
 form ; but there are higiier virtues than worldly prudence. 
 Had not earnest-minded men and women in all ages scorned the 
 selfish dictates of woildly prudence, freethought and liberty 
 luul never been achieved, and a parcel of bigoted, ignorant, and 
 intolerant, old women in trousers — or rather in cassocks and 
 petticoats — would have stifled progress with their own nasty 
 clutches ; and here, in our own dear island, the banner of English 
 liberty would never have been emblazoned with the imperishable 
 glory of Oliver Cromwell's name, nor our anuals have boasted 
 the felon's-death of one royal scoundrel, and the ignominious 
 dismissal of another. All these things, all our liberties hardly 
 wrung from despots and bigots, we owe to men who scorned 
 prudence, and for the world's sake poured out their lives like 
 water. "The prudent of course co:ifurm" — aye; but "the 
 ivorld has need of martyrs." 
 
Luxury atid [Vaste. l6\ 
 
 that all such wickedly wasteful and stupidly expensive 
 absurdities as we now see in court-dresses, and in so many 
 ballroom-dresses, as well as in the unnecessary multipli- 
 city of costumes involving /o«r or Jive changes a day, will 
 utterly disappear.^ 
 
 Closely akin to this subject is that of jewelry — which 
 must of course be ranked among the truly tiseless, and 
 very expensive, luxuries. In so far however as the value 
 of jewels is less a function of labor bestowed than of 
 intrinsic rarity-cum-beauty, it may be difficulc to surmise 
 whether or no they will be sought after or worked in 
 semi-Utopia : but that any one individual's wealth of 
 jewelry will be almost incommensurable with many 
 ladies' jewel-accumulations of to-day, goes without say- 
 ing. No Utopian could understand either the selfishness 
 or the stupidity which are involved in the possession of 
 many thousand poundo' worth of jewelry by a single 
 person ; and his only verdict on a burglary which carried 
 oft' the whole collection at one fell swoop would be — 
 Serve her right ! In speculating on tiie jewelry of 
 Utopia we must therefor remember that there is already 
 an enormous quantity of jewels in the world ; were these 
 equally divided, probably everyone would possess as many 
 jewels as he or she could reasonably desire or find use 
 for : therefor, since jewels are practicall)' immortal, and 
 since the various natural processes so frequently alluded 
 to already will probably tend to bring about a distribu- 
 tion of such jewels among the commonalty, it seems a 
 
 ^ To read an account of the dresses and jewels at a royal draw- 
 ing-room, or a description of a royal trousseau, is simply heart- 
 breaking to a sociologist. 
 
l62 Luxury and Waste. 
 
 tenable supposition that, even were the search for new 
 jewels to be entirely abandoned very soon, the world 
 •would have sufficient to meet all its reasonable require- 
 ments.' 
 
 Anyhow it is certain that at the present day there is 
 a great and unnecessary waste of wealth and labor on 
 jewelry generally : and, were it not for the vulgar love 
 of display and ostentation, each one of us might save 
 him or her self considerable unnecessary expense (and in 
 the aggregate appreciably lighten the currency problem) 
 by substituting silver for gold in articles of necessary 
 jewelry. Almost the only such really necessary articles 
 of jewelry are watches and chains ; and — given equally 
 good timekeeping — a silver watch is every whit as good,^ 
 vanity and display excepted^ as a gold one : whilst to 
 almost everyone a silver chain should be as acceptable as a 
 golden. So too for rings, bracelets, brooches, pencil-cases, 
 and the like, silver might perfectly well replace gold ; a 
 vast amount of expense would be saved and the currency 
 benefited, and at the cost only of mortifying vanity and 
 vulgar ostentation. It is worth while remembering that 
 silver has a higher esthetic value than has gold ; and this 
 intrinsic ditference is accentuated by the extrinsic con- 
 sideration that silver jewelry is pure, whereas gold jew- 
 elry is always, and necessarily, largely alloyed. 
 
 • To say nothing of the probability that chemists will soon be 
 able to manufacture jewels to any extent in their laboratories; 
 whether these will be as much prized when plentiful and cheap 
 is quite another thing ; but probably diamonds will always be 
 valued. 
 
 2 If silver watches, of the hcsf timekeeping qualities, were gen- 
 erally demanded, they would be made. 
 
Luxury and Waste. 163 
 
 One reform which we should greatly like to see — re- 
 garding it as a symptom of a healtliier public feeling — 
 would be the abolition of that despicably servile practice 
 of heaping up gold bracelets, gold caskets, •"■ gold all- 
 
 ^ Ouida asserts that these are currently understood to be turned 
 into hard oasli at once by their recipients. See her scathing article 
 on the " Sins of Society" (in Fortnightly Reriew for December, 
 1S92), with much of which we cordially coincide, altho we must 
 take serious exception to one or two passai;es. In tliis connec- 
 tion too we may remind our readers of the fulsome toadyism dis- 
 played by the nation at large on the recent marriage of the Uuke 
 of York, when not only the wealthy, but ragged schoulcliildren, 
 sailors, and soldiers, were all rolibed to swell the wealth of a 
 young man wlio had no single tittle of a claim on his country- 
 men's gratitude, and who, by encouraging this miserable system, 
 demonstrated nothing so convincingly as his kinship Co the other 
 royal " guinea-pigs," and his absolute unfitness for the post of 
 " tirst geiideman" in the kingdom. It is the sight of such 
 wealth-squandering on unworthy recipients that converts men to 
 Socialism in thousands and prompts such speeches as those of 
 Mr. Keir IJardie, who is reported to have said : " It was a dis- 
 grace when poverty was so rampant that men should make a 
 parade of their pomp and their wealth. Recently an appeal was 
 made to the nation on behalf of the poor widows and orphans who 
 suffered liy the failing of the Liberator Building Society. The 
 sum of £100,000 was aske(i for, but it was never raised. But 
 when an ap[)eal was made for wedding gifts to Princess May and 
 the Duke of York, the toadyism of the nation responded to the 
 extent of £250,000." 
 
 We sulijoiu one or two other extracts from the daily papers on 
 these topics. 
 
 " PRESENTS TO PRINCESS MAY. 
 
 " Yesterday afternoon a deputation waited upon the Princess 
 May at White Lodge to present to her a very handsome revolv- 
 ing bookcase containing the works of Kingsley, Scott, Byron, 
 Dickens, George Eliot, Lamb, Cliarlotte Bronte, Macaulay, and 
 otiier autliors, the gift of the children attending some of tlie ele- 
 mentary schools of London. The Duke and Duchess of Teck and 
 Princess May recei\ ed the deputation in the drawing-room, and 
 Princess May expressed her warm thanks lor such a haudsome 
 gift." 
 
164 Luxury and Wasfe. 
 
 manner-of-absuivlities, upon tlie idle royalties who set so 
 evil an example of waste and extravagance to society. 
 When corporations and committees cease to fawn 011 
 
 "the city and royalty. 
 
 "A Collective View of tlie Corporate Generosity to the Royal 
 Family. 
 
 "Here is the City's expenditure on the Royal Family during 
 the preseut reiyn : — 
 
 Jubilee — 
 
 Her Majesty £5,000 
 
 Wedding Gifts — 
 
 Princess of Wales £10,000 
 
 Duchess of Edinburgh 3,150 
 
 Princess iVIay 2,1)25 
 
 15,775 
 
 Gold Boxes (sometimes wedding gifts) — 
 
 Prince of Wales 275 
 
 Duke of Clarence 250 
 
 Princes Consort, Alfred, Leopold, Artliur, 
 George of Wales, Duke of Fife. Prin- 
 cess Louise of Wales, Duke of C.im- 
 
 bridge (100 guiueus each) 840 
 
 1,365 
 
 AIemokials, &c. — 
 
 Prince Consort 644 
 
 Princess of Wales (Imperial Institute model) . 525 
 
 Duke of Cambridge (sword, 1857) 218 
 
 £23,527 
 "This does not take into account moneys expended by tlie mem- 
 bers of the Corporation upon themselves in connection with 
 royal events. Thus, on the occasion of each of these presenta- 
 tions, there was a civic gorge, and when it is realised that the 
 sum of £1,500 is to be expended upon a mere midday lunch 
 when the Duke of York and the Princess May come to receive 
 their gift, it will be understood that a considerable sum should 
 be added to that just mentioned in order to cover the total ex- 
 penditure. No account is here taken of presentations to foreign 
 notables, such as Kaiser, Tsar, Sultan, and Shah, nor does this 
 statement, which we have compiled from Corporation documents, 
 bear any reference to moneys expeiuled by iudividual guilds, 
 such as the Saddlers' which preS'^Ued its freedom to the Duke oi 
 CoiinaugliL on Monil.iy." 
 
Luxury and Waste. 165 
 
 these expensive excrescences with the adulation at pre- 
 sent fashionable, moral progress will be evidenced. 
 
 Whilst speaking of these matters we had better in- 
 clude all tliat need be said of the precious metals in 
 manufactured form generally ; and, therefor, we will 
 point out that all such luxuries as silver serviette-rings, 
 silver teapots and coffeepots, silver milk-jugs, silver toast- 
 racks, silver candlesticks, silver salvers, silver cups, and, 
 in short, silver plate generally, are mere expensive frivoli- 
 ties and wasteful exciescences of modern life that will 
 probably disappear presently. People will become too 
 sensible, and too averse to display, to waste their labors 
 on acquiring what can be perfectly replaced by good 
 china at a fraction of the cost.^ In conclusion, we may 
 note as significant for the present day that the less plate 
 one owns, the less temptation is there to burglars, and 
 the freer from anxiety is the householder. 
 
 If now it be asked how much waste is caused nationally 
 by this over-indulgence in jewelry, we must point out 
 that since jewelry is not — like wine— consumed in the 
 iise, and since all the gold, at least, that is now worked 
 up into jewelry, would otherwise be snapped up by the 
 mint, the best measure of such waste must be found in 
 the amount of labor absorbed in the work. Now the 
 census- returns (for 1881) number the workers in precious 
 stones and jewelry at 23,622 ^ — besides 6,010 women. 
 
 1 Emphatically we liave not included in this account silver 
 spoons and forks, which belong to another category entirely — to 
 that, viz., of useful and necessary domestic furniture. Above all 
 things we would iiave that lijiufj practice of plating abolished — 
 to say nothing of the fact that it is dearer in the long run. 
 
 2 It is not clear how many of these may be also shopkeepers 
 — i.e., sellers of jewelry, nor wiietlier watchmakers are included. 
 
1 66 Luxury and Waste. 
 
 Disregarding' the latter, we have as a result that the 
 luxury of jewels and silverplate costs the nation annually 
 (a) the keep of 23,G0O men, and (6) the wealth which 
 might otherwise be created by such men. If their wages 
 be reckoned to average only £2 per week thro'ouL we get 
 (23,622 X 2 X 52) close on two and a half millions as the 
 direct cost of this luxury, besides the loss of wealth (to 
 be valued considerably higher than this figure) which 
 these men would otherwise create if employed in pro- 
 ductive work ; at this rate the national charge for the 
 luxury of jewels might very well reach at least seven or 
 eight millions apparently ! Now, if we take into account 
 all the quite unnecessary jewel-like luxuries tiiat have 
 just been indicated, it will seem a very reasonable sup- 
 position that this large class of unproductive workers 
 may be reduced by certainly 15 or 18 thousand — thus 
 effecting an annual saving — according to our calculation 
 --of five or six millions. Calculations of this sort — 
 however necessarily rough and approximate only — are yet 
 very nseful in assisting us to realise what a terribly large 
 propoi-tion of our national work-time, that is of Life, is 
 frittered away upon useless luxuries — 
 
 •' So chasing dreams, so dreamlike chafed, 
 Thro lapse of years our Ule doth icaste." 
 
 ■ — but things will be far otherwise in Utopia.^ 
 
 1 The reason for consistently disregarding the women in thes'? 
 calcuhitions is tlie assumption that in semi-Utopia women will 
 1)6 suthciently occupied in liousehohl work and childward care — 
 and, therefor, must not be regarded as wage-earners. 
 
 2 In a recent article in the Fortnightly Bevieiu we read — " The 
 fact that there are in India 400,000 jewellers, and only 300,000 
 smiths, is eloquent as to oiw cause of poverty." So say vve. 
 
Luxury and Waste. 1 67 
 
 Before passing on to our next heading — or rather per^ 
 haps as a transition from jewehy thereto — we may 
 instance, as exemplifying in a comparatively trifling way 
 the general spirit of wastefuluess which pervades Society, 
 the thousand and one more or less useless and absurd 
 giracracks of every description that may be fonnd in 
 " fancy "-shops and bazaars, especially in the West-end of 
 London. It would be an interesting thing to catalogue 
 the contents of a few shop-fronts, with their prices, and 
 then determine how small a pei'centage would be really 
 missed were a general massacre of these trifles carried 
 out. How much labor is annually wasted on amassing 
 useless bits of (supposedly ornamental) crockeryware 
 that are of no imaginable service for any purpose and do 
 nothing but lumber up a house, and innumerable other 
 such trifles — all of which absurdities may be bought, 
 either by noncompotes for themselves, or by people generally 
 when called npon to make wedding or birthday presents.^ 
 But in Utopia common-sense will be less uncommon. 
 
 And now as a closing instance of wasteful luxury in 
 excelsis we may point to house-" decoration " and house- 
 furnishing generally — a waste the more unpardonable in 
 that the costly effects are often enough so hideously in- 
 artistic ; for " decoration " and beautifying are very far 
 indeed from being synonymous terms. Ruskin has an 
 excellent passage in one of his works deprecating the 
 opinion that a small house cannot be — architecturally — 
 beautiful : we wish that men generally could be made to 
 
 1 It is very regretable that in making such presents so many 
 people prefer to choose some absolutely useless and cumbersome 
 article (of crockeryware for instance) that only puzzles the un- 
 fortunate recipient to dispose of it. 
 
1 68 Luxury and Waste. 
 
 understand that mere size — size for the sake of ostenta- 
 tion and display — is the very last thing to aim at ; and 
 that similarly in decorating and furnishing the interiors 
 it is necessary to start by absolutely ignoring all the 
 traditions of decorators, upholsterers, aud other vulgar 
 and pigheaded human shams, and to make a clean sweep 
 of all their proposals. The waste of work and money 
 annually entailed by the absurd and tyrannous traditions, 
 that Mrs. Grundy expects everybody to observe, ia 
 something painful to contemplate: aud while "decora- 
 tion " is still laid on by housepainters and their like at 
 the cost of several hundred pounds for a single room, and 
 the " decorated " room is then handed over to the pur- 
 veyors of vulgar upholstery fur furnishing on a similar 
 scale — so long is social ini|)rovemeiit yet very far to 
 seek. All this will be altered in semi-Utopia ; there, the 
 decorations will consist in, not vulgar stucco and gilt, but 
 beautiful pictures and flowing draperies ; and tho per- 
 chance many houses there might boast true decorations 
 that we should think cheaply bought at hundreds of 
 pounds, that will be only because, year after year, loving 
 hands have labored joyfully at frescos and carviug, to 
 beautify in their leisure their own home — their own, and 
 not a stranger-landlord's, house. But at pre-ent we 
 are stupidly dominated by the Gruudy-upholsterer-de- 
 corator league, and waste our money on the lying 
 vulgarisms of gilt picture-frames, gilt cornices, gilt 
 mirror-frames, on troublesome lustres, on ornamental but 
 never-to-be-used fireirons, on expensively and uncomfort- 
 ably upholstered chairs, impossible candlesticks,! in- 
 1 Perhaps carefully covered up under glass shades 1 1 
 
Luxury and Waste. 169 
 
 credible vases, shelves of old china, and china plates, 
 cups and saucers to be hung up as ornaments on the 
 •walls but of course never used (!), and a multitude of 
 similar absurdities ; simply because it is thought fashion- 
 able and proper and respectable so to waste one's money 
 on these fooleries ; whilst any self-willed sensible man 
 who should insist on substituting wooden-framed mirrors 
 and wooden picture-frames for their present gilded rej)re- 
 sentatives, and on abolishing gilt cornices and all the 
 otlier absurdities we have noticed, would be considered a 
 very odd man, quite outside society don't you Tcnow. The 
 standards of common sense, independence, and estheticism, 
 are so terribly low that probably ninety -nine people in a 
 hundred would prefer gilt cornices and gilt mirrors to 
 a liouseful of beautiful pictures — were tiiey otiered the 
 choice of either exclusively.'- 
 
 But we need not linger longer on this topic : enough 
 has been said to show that here again is another depart- 
 ment of useless expense that may be considerably cur- 
 tailed with advantage : it were superfluous to follow the 
 subject into further details ; suffice it again to indicate 
 the lines along which reform may travel.^ 
 
 ^ We may remark that here again we have liaci tlie pleasure of 
 finrling Mr. Morris' views ou house-decoration and its reforms 
 strikingly concordant with our own : we may especially recom- 
 mend his lecture on " Making the best of it " [Hopes and Fears 
 for Art) as affording abundant details of reforms that might be 
 adopted : but we dissent entirely from his dislike to gas. 
 
 - In connection with these expenses, one should take count of 
 all the stupid and wasteful expenditure that is lavished on the 
 fittings and " decorations " of ocean-steamers, of traines-de-lnxe, 
 and especially of theatres ; this last expense being particularly 
 cruel since the result is to increase the prices of admission, i.e., 
 to render it more ditiicult for nnuiy to eiijiiy an esthetic gratifica- 
 
170 Luxury and Waste, 
 
 Lastly, as a sct-ofF to all the fore.;oing economics of 
 expense and wealth, it must not be forpjotteii tliat lu 
 othtr directions the Utopians' expenses will outstrip ours: 
 
 tion : hence it is -tho the extravagant sums paid by English- 
 men and Americans to operatic and dramatic artists represent 
 another factor in the expense — that men who have lived abroad 
 justly complain that, not the necessities but, tlie amu'iements of 
 life are so ruinously expensive in liOndon ; and tell us that in 
 Dresden, e.gr. , they can enjoy for two or three shillings vvliat 
 costs them eiglit or ten in London. We must be pardoned for 
 adding that, great as may be the services rendered by Henry 
 Irving to the English drama, we cannot but deem his influence 
 ruinously disastrous in that he has educated theatregoers to a 
 ruinous extravagance of altogether superfluous stage-scenery, 
 stage-dress, and meretricifius glitter, that, while enormously in- 
 creasing the expense, liave not one iota of value in increasing the 
 artistic illusion, but can only— so far as they are effectual at all 
 — distract the attention from the acting. VVe had scarcely ex- 
 pected to see Henry VIII. converted into a series of circus- 
 pageints suggesting nothing so much as a vulgar Lord Mayor's 
 Show — and at the cost too of excising a large portion of the play 
 and rendering the conclusion logically meaningless — and, tho it 
 be soniewliat invidious to draw comparisons, we could not avoid 
 contrasting the comparativflj' simple settings of Hamlet at the 
 Hay market and Twdfth Night at Daly's theatre- -where there 
 were sufficient scenic effects to complete the illusion and atl'ord 
 graceful stagepictures, but without such extravagance of glitter- 
 ing "supers" — with the recognised style of the Lyceum. 
 
 As other examples of tliis wicked cult of sheer waste we may 
 mention tlie practice of issuing editions de hixe, and distiibutiu'j 
 the type when 250 or 125 copies are printed — as if human toil 
 and luiman wealth were valueless as water — in order that a few 
 unprincipled persons may enjoy the selfish and stupid luxury q/ 
 possessing something that hardly anyo7ie else has. That the same 
 fatal disease is sapping every branch of social life is evidenced 
 by such trifling phenomena as the absurd extravagance with 
 which barbers' shops are fitted up, and by the preposterous 
 luxuries provided on the steamers which now perforin fortnightly 
 cruises to Norway and other parts — the efl'ect of whicii is of 
 course to double the expense and prevent thousands from enjoying 
 Buch cruises ! 
 
Luxury mid Waste. I^r 
 
 while despisiuo- so many of our stnpid and sensual 
 luxuries, tliej will require far far more thin we do of 
 esthetic luxuries. Pictures, music, statues, aye and such 
 minor esthetic properties as scent, flowers, draperies, and 
 the like, will be far more necessary to Utopians than to 
 ourselves. 1 What a happy and gracious halcyon-life will 
 theirs be ! 
 
 1 It may be matter of surprise that in condemning the^e 
 luxuries we have said nothing of tobacco- on >.'hich, excludin-^ 
 c.gars, m 1892, I6i millions were expended in the United Kin-alom 
 alone: surely this is a luxury as much as Mane, and equally, 
 here is unproductive consumption. Some years ago we had 
 denounced tobacco as being as useless and needless as wine • but 
 we are wiser now. Then we were without the pale : now we 
 worship at the shrine of " oure gracious ladye Nicotine " Seri- 
 ously however, there is a great difference between sn.okinc and 
 wme-dnnking. In the first place, of the 16^ millions expended no 
 kss than about 9i were duty-Government tax, thus leaving only 
 . Mulhons as actually spent on tobacco-whilst, as every econ'omist 
 knows, this sum would again be enormously reduce,! but for the 
 various middlemen's profits on the amount of the duty which is 
 evied on the imports : as a matter of fact the declared value of 
 the tobacco at the customhouse Mas under 2 million 
 
 Cigars however we regard as exactly upon a level with ex- 
 pensive wines ; while tobacco answers to beer and clarets. Now 
 just as we defended the drinking of beer and claret in Utopia, so 
 now far more strongly do we defend smoking, both in Utopia 
 and here. Of course economically smoking is- waste, but so is 
 every thing-including all esthetic properties-that is not neces- 
 sary to hfe-sustentation ! But the true moral criterion can 
 be obtained only hy comparing amount and character of pleasure 
 with amount and character of expense. Now if we consider how 
 much real happiness may be obtained from smoking, and that 
 supposing a man to smoke 4 ounces a week-which were tolerably 
 heavy smoking,- the expense (minus duty) would be only 30s 
 a i/ear to him, it seems to us that tlie charge of wastefulness falls 
 utterly to the ground ! 
 
 It may be retorted that, according to onr own showing in the 
 
1^2 Luxury and Waste. 
 
 We must once more emphatically protest against the 
 selfish objection so apt to be raised against such specula- 
 tions as these, that (grumblinglj) '''■toe want servants and 
 wines, expensive dresses and big dinners, to make us 
 happy : of what use is it to prove that they are wasteful ; 
 
 case of wine, if a coining generation had never tasted the pleasure, 
 they would be none the less happy, since smoking is, like drink- 
 ing, a mere passing physical pleasure, with no ideal persistence, 
 so that even reading of it would produce no regrets in a tobacco- 
 less race. But here there are several errors ; smoking, we think, 
 has a strong ideal persistence, and is capable of being ideally 
 represented in such wise as to induce desire for it : the pre-emi- 
 nently dreamy character of smoking should be remembered also. 
 With regard to this marked ideal-representability of smoking, 
 and its ability to impress the imagination, we are able to speak 
 somewliat from our own experience. Every one is familiar with 
 such novtl phrases as "knocking the ashes out of his pipe" — 
 "reflectively filling and lighting his pipe" — "drawing at his 
 pipe with an expression of deep satisfaction " — "wreathed in a 
 cloud of smoke" etc., etc. — in fact with all the innumerable 
 pictures of tobaccaceous content and happiness that our novelists 
 have painted for us. Now an abiding result of these word- 
 paintings (strengthened no doubt by the daily sight of scores of 
 actualities corresponding thereto) may be to call up frequent 
 ideal representations in the mental picture-galleries of those even 
 who have never yet experienced the pleasure of smoking. Long 
 before we had commenced smoking, and at a time when we 
 rather objected to the practice than otherwise, yet if we were 
 day-dreaming and amusing ourself by painting a mental picture 
 of mankind under various imaginary circumstances, the tobacco 
 woidd crop up and claim to be included in the picture : the ideal 
 persistence of the well-known weed was strong : and if finally we 
 refused to include it, the picture was apt to look untinislied to 
 our mental eye, and perhaps in visualisinr) it the pipe or cigar 
 would enter the mouth whether we desired it or not. No doubt, 
 thousands could bear out our experience in this direction, and 
 this indicates that an age which had never smelt or tasted tobacco 
 might yet experience a strong desire for the pleasure which is in- 
 cidentally portrayed so frequently in our light literature. Bvt 
 
Luxury and Waste. 173 
 
 you cuu't prove that they are not very pleasant." Now 
 against all this it is sufficient to reply that we do not 
 deny that they are very 'plea&ant : but the question is 
 whether those who enjoy these luxuries would propose to 
 
 we have observed little or no such ideal persistence with regard to 
 wine. 
 
 Again there is unmistakably a distinct physical craving for 
 some such employuieut of the mouth as smoking affords. Dogs 
 perhaps satisfy the same craving by gnawing bones : certainly 
 chilch-en (and to a less extent probably women) experience a 
 similar craving which they satisfy by chewing sweetmeats or pen- 
 holders : and in our own experience— and we have heard a similar 
 declaration from otliers — in pre-smoking days of manhood there 
 was a constant craving for employing the mouth somehow. This 
 fact, of the physical craving of the mouth for some such employ- 
 ment as smoking affords — in addition to the strong nervous 
 appi'eciation of some species of narcotic, as testified by the 
 prevalence of betel-chewing and many similar practices in parts 
 where tobacco is not used, and by the disgusting practice of 
 snuff-taking among many who do not smoke — seems to us one 
 that should by no means be neglected in any discussion upon the 
 ethics of tobacco. That smoking is an incomparably better 
 sohition of the difficulty tlian incessant eating goes without 
 saying ; and we may point out the special advantage of smoking 
 in that it may be so long continued : smoking can in no sense be 
 described as a passincj pleasure ; and herein consists another 
 marked distinction between smoking and drinking — which latter 
 is decidedly momentary. A man may be steadily smoking for 
 many hours at a stsetch, and experiencing massive pleasure all 
 the while : whereas such persistence in drinking were clearly 
 impossible. 
 
 Whether or no smoking be injurious to health, is another 
 qr<estion altogether, and one tliat must be left to the experts. If 
 sufficient proof could be obtained of its injurious influence, that 
 might be a sufficient reason for giving up tobacco ; but it is well 
 to remember tlie — too often forgotten — truth that health itself is 
 valuable only as a means to the end of happiness ; and some 
 might think ill health and happiness preferable to tobaccoless 
 health minus hai:)piness. 
 
174 Luxury a)id Waste. 
 
 retain them at tl)e cost of discomfort, siifTpriiif*, and 
 poverty, to the many : or whether tliey can muster 
 sufficient unselfishness to admit that a social state in 
 whicii all are comfortably rich is incomparably superior 
 to one in which a few are rolling in wealth, and many 
 are heart-hungry, soul-hungry, even body-hungry, very 
 poor. It is very pleasant to be waited on by a dozen 
 slaves ; but will it be asserted that to deny this pleasure 
 to Utopians is to deny them happiness 1 We admit — freely 
 — that to achieve Utopia we Truist forgo many pleasures 
 and luxuries of to-day ; but is not the loss many times 
 over counterbalanced by the gain? Over and over again 
 we have — as our only course we have — to choose the 
 lesser evil ; and an Utopia for which a few must sacrifice 
 luxuries is far superior to our present miserable social 
 state in which a few have luxuries — and many nothing ! 
 To give up slaves may doubtlessly be painful to the 
 slaveowner : but what about the hedonistic gain of the 
 slaves; are we to neglect that] We must strive — 
 however diflBcult it be — to view all tliese tilings unsel- 
 fishly, to "legislate" not for our few selves, but for all 
 our brethren, when we deliberate upon Utopia. The 
 selfish complaint, " Oh, / don't want an Utopia in whicli 
 1 shall have to do so and so " must disappear. 
 
 Now many, perchance, may feel inclined to ask ; how 
 far are these reforms a matter for by-and-bye, and how far 
 for the present : are they merely prophesied, or in addition 
 preached for present use : assuming these speculations 
 on tlie ultimate disappearance of many luxuries to be 
 correct, what ought a man to do now in this present 
 social state ; ought he to forgo — however rich — expensive 
 
Luxury and Waste. 175 
 
 wines, expensive houses, expensive " decorations," a large 
 retinue of servants, and in fact expensive living generally ; 
 or may he continue his present state undisturbed, leaving 
 Utopia to bring about Utopian conditions % Before 
 definitely answering this question we must make two 
 provisos. Firstly, in using the word ought, in the present 
 connexion, we do not use it in the sense of the categorical 
 imperative, implying tliat to disregard it is a distinct 
 breach of duty ; but rather in the milder and popular 
 sense of what is highly advisable, desirable, or to be 
 recommended as " good deeds." We make this reserva- 
 tion for reasons that we cannot explain without going 
 into a fundamental ethical discussion that would be out 
 of place here, and we must content ourselves, for the 
 present therefor, with simply stating this reservation. 
 Secondly, we are by no means oblivious of what Spencer 
 has emphasized — that an ideal life is impossible except 
 in an ideal state ; this, however, is very far from saying 
 that one should fold one's hands and be content Avith 
 the actual present ; but, nevertheless, we have intimated 
 that many of these luxuries will be abolished willy iiilly 
 by the natural processes of economics, viz., by the increas- 
 ing price of labor rendering their cost prohibitive. 
 
 Granting, however, their full importance to these 
 reservations, we do think it urgently necessary that a 
 reform should be set going at cmce, instead of waiting 
 contentedly for time to unfold his own developments ; 
 and, since men might so immensely expedite the advent 
 of Utopia if they would, we do hold that men, however 
 rich, emphatically ought to cease indulging in numberless 
 wasteful luxuries such as wg have specified, and set an 
 
176 Luxury and Waste. 
 
 example to tlicii' fellows of living simply and moderately. 
 " However rich " — yes ; and the richer, or the higher m 
 social standing, the better ; for then by so much more 
 would their example be effectual. It cannot be too 
 often reiterated that what we primarily want is a simpler 
 and healthier individual social life : and we may point 
 out one inestimable advantage that would at once accrue 
 to every young man — (and to the young we must mainly 
 look for reform) — who would adopt this ideal of simple, 
 unwasteful, unluxurioiis, life. It cannot be doubted that 
 both physicallv, morally, and emotionally, it is bad for 
 man to live alone ; and that compulsory celibacy is a 
 deadly social disease responsible for cruel sufferings : but, 
 nevertheless, thousands of men are compelled to defer 
 their marriage thro weary years until — life's first flush 
 and romance, alas, now vanished for ever ! — they can 
 afford the expenses of a married life. Now, that we are 
 deadly opponents of improvident marriage, that is to say, 
 chiefly, of improvident child-bearing, lias already been 
 made sufficiently el ear; but — putting aside the preposterous 
 superstitions usually prevalent — children need never be 
 born until they can be afforded ; for the rest, any man 
 and woman, who are willing to adopt the simple ideal of 
 refined but non-luxurious and non-conventional life that 
 we have set forth, might probably marry with assurance 
 at twenty-three on an income of £150 — and wait a few 
 years before bringing children into the world — instead of, 
 as at present, starving their hearts for years in ]uning 
 isolation. In this sense Love in a cut is a true, real, 
 and practicable, ideal of life 1 
 
CHAPTER X. 
 
 THE EUTHAlSrASTA OF CERTAIN UNNECESSARY TRADES ; AND 
 THE FUNCTIONS OF MIDDLEMKN : THE READJUSTMENT 
 OF occupations; and THE ECONOMICS OF UNPRODUC- 
 TIVE LABOR. 
 
 " The World's great age begins anew, 
 The golden years return ; 
 Tlie Earth doth, like a snake, renew 
 Her winter weeds outworn : 
 Heaven smiles, and faiths and empires gleam 
 Like wrecks of a dissolving dream." 
 
 In connection with the discussion of the luxuries that we 
 may expect to disappear, and of the new forms of social 
 life that will appear, in Utopia, it is very well worth 
 while to consider how many of the various typical trades 
 we may expect to die out — to the promotion of general 
 happiness and at the expense of no real desideranda. 
 
 First of all, it has been already pointed out that 
 soldiers, policemen, law officials, and numbers of other 
 functionaries, will nearly or quite disappear in semi- 
 Utopia : but it has not yet been remarked that the 
 abolition of these occupations will entail the co-relative 
 disappearance of many trades which at present use up an 
 enormous amount of wealth, and the concomitant setting- 
 free of another large body of laborers who, at the pre- 
 177 
 
178 Ujiproductive Labor, &c. 
 
 sent time, are (directly or indirectly) heiit by the com- 
 munity : here again, as iias been so repeatedly urged 
 already, tiie community at large will gain, not only by 
 being freed from the burden of keeping these men. but 
 also by the fresh wealth that will be created when they 
 become productive workers. 
 
 Now, for instance, the ab(;lition of soldiers will put an 
 end to the trades of the sword-and-bayonet-maker, the 
 rifle-maker, the cannon-founder, and in large measure tlie 
 powder-and-buUet-maker. All the labor employed iu 
 Government and private factories in manufacturing 
 wealth-iva^ting contrivances — in practically making the 
 nation so much poorer — will theu be diverted into use- 
 ful channels. Further, all the great administrative 
 stafT, at present required for the organisation of array, 
 navy, and police, will likewise be liberated : and all the 
 labor employed in tent-making and barrack-building 
 wdl further swell the record. So too it is clear that the 
 millions annually spent in building and in maintaining war 
 vessels will be left clear for our mei'cantile marine : that 
 is to say, that, for the same annual national expenditure 
 as at present, we should have at our disposal a largely 
 mcreased number of fully-equipped ocean-going steamers ; 
 or, if not so many be required, we should annually save 
 several millions sterling. 
 
 If we again take the trade of wine-making and enquire 
 how much labor would be Sf't free by abolishing the 
 greater part of tbis trade, we should probably get an 
 appalling result. Since, however, wine is not made in 
 England, and since, on the hypothesis, we have provi- 
 sionally retained beer and vins ordinaires as Utopian 
 
Unproductive Labor, &c. 179 
 
 drinks, we cannot here avail ourselves much of this 
 argument. But it is clearly relevant to include in our 
 estimate the majority of the wine-merchants and their 
 clerks and servants who are at present employed in the 
 distribution of the wine : and also— since it is clear that 
 semi-Utopians who drink beer will not drink it in pot- 
 houses — we may include the publicans, barmen, and 
 barmaids, employed in the majority of public-houses, 
 and in all the giu-palaces, as among the at-pi'esent- 
 nseless laborers. It may startle some to learn 
 that the total number of publicans {i.e., landlords 
 alone) in the United Kingdom in 1881 was 12,855 
 (besides 3,728 female dittn), there being no fewer than 
 about 4,000 included in the London directory alone: 
 whilst the census-returns farther show (in England and 
 Wales) 5,758 cellarmen and 7,467 wine-mercliants and 
 agents : we might add that, altho, ex-hypothesi, beer, 
 like light wine, is accorded to our Utopians, yet the ex- 
 cessive beer-drinking of to-day will certainly be diminished, 
 and therefor the census-returns of 24,196 brewers and 
 9,473 maltsters (England and Wales) must be very 
 largely in excess of the country's real requirements. 
 When it is considered that many of these figures must be 
 multiplied by several so as to include, i.g., the barmen 
 and barmaids, and also the wine-merchants' clerks, it will 
 be seen that the total amount of labor locked up here 
 is very considerable indeed. 
 
 One more instance. Among the commercial tendencies 
 of the present day a strong one is that which sets towards 
 the abolition of middlemen and agents. More and more 
 the wholesale dealers or producers seem inclined to deal 
 
i8o Unproductive Labor, &c. 
 
 directly with the consumer, thus supplanting the inter- 
 mediary. In spite of the indignation thus excited in the 
 middleman, and the suffering often perhaps inflicted upon 
 him, it can scarcely be doubted that, so far as workable, 
 this tendency is eminently beneficial, saving loss to both 
 jiroducer and consumer, and setting free so much more 
 labor. Anyone who will calculate the number of agents, 
 merchants, and other middlemen, in the London directory, 
 and then multiply by several to estimate the clerks, and 
 then add in similar estimates (or all the otherlarge business- 
 towns in the kingdom, will perhaps be somewhat aston- 
 ished to find how much labor is locked up in this one 
 kind of middleman-work alone. Add thereto all the 
 retail shopkeepers and their assistants, and then sum the 
 total ! 1 Now of course it is not for one moment con- 
 tended that all this vast array of middlemen .is likely to 
 be supplanted : but it is contended that there is an im- 
 mense superfluity of such workers for the work to be 
 done •; and that it would be in every way a healthy 
 symptom could one see a considerable thinning of their 
 ranks. To take but one class — tlie insane desire of almost 
 everyone in the lower middleclass near London to get his 
 sons into a city-office where they will slave at an un- 
 healthy occupation for bad pay, instead of teaching them 
 a handicraft or emigi'ating them — this insane procedure, 
 we say, makes it every year more difficult for London 
 agents, brokers, and such like middlemen (whose ranks 
 are steadily swollen by this stream of recruits) to obtain 
 a living ; and leads to the cut-throat-competition that we 
 all know of. It is vital to remember that, altho the more 
 ' Sec infra, p, 1S7. 
 
Unproductive Labor, &c. i8i 
 
 manual laborers and other productive workers that there 
 are, the richer grows the nation, and the more wealth 
 there is to be distributed among them, yet almost the 
 inverse holds with regard to the middlemen. For these 
 create no iota of wealth, but merely assist in its distribu- 
 tion. Obviously there can be only a certain grand total 
 available as wages for their work ; and clearly this total 
 must be a function of the total wealth created, and of the 
 difTerence that is possible between the cost of producing 
 it, and the price that the consumer is willing to pay. 
 Clearly,therefor,the more middlemen that there are anxious 
 to obtain a share of the "middlemen's wage-fund," the 
 less will there be for every individual : whilst as to the 
 obvious remedy, viz., to increase this total " wage-fund " 
 by raising the price to the consumer — the possibility of this 
 is negatived by the very eagerness of coinpetitiun among 
 the middlemen. 
 
 Now it is obvious that, however necessary middlemen 
 may be, the nation would be so much the richer if it were 
 possible to get the same distribution without them ; for 
 then there would be so much extra labor set free for 
 wealth-creating, and so many the fewer to be hept by the 
 nation. Probably, however, in a large measure, this is 
 not possible ; and middlemen are to sonle extent indis- 
 pensable ; but clearly every additional superfluous middle- 
 man represents a twofold loss to the nation. Now it is 
 probable that, were the competition less furious, a city- 
 broker would earn £400 a year as easily as {i.e., with no 
 more labor than) he now earns £50. If this be so, the 
 inference seems clear that when, as now, owing to the 
 superfluity of middlemen, this £400 is divided among 
 
i82 Unproductive Labor, &c. 
 
 eight men at £oO each, there is a \'G\'y large waste of 
 labor that ought to be employed in wealth-producing or 
 in research — with concomitant want and discomfort to all. 
 A precisely similar calculation may be applied to the 
 shops. Whether shops will ever be superseded by some 
 better mode of distribution it is difficult to say ; but we 
 may take it as a safe inference that they are indispensable 
 to such a state of society as ours. Granting this however 
 it must be admitted that there is a ridiculous superfluity 
 of shops at present. Just as in the city, so too here, 
 wherever it seems possible for a fourth man to snatch a 
 living by proportionately diminishing the profits of three 
 established shopkeepers, we find a fresh shop opened. In 
 the same road, often within a few doors of one another, 
 we may find two or throe butchers, bakers, fruiterers, 
 grocers, and so on : whereas it is quite certain that one 
 of each trade would fully suffice to the wants of i:he 
 neighborhood, and with a far greater profit to the shop- 
 keepers. Let anyone who cares to follow up this argument 
 make a census of all the shops in his own village or town 
 of so many thousand inhabitants ; and then calculate 
 wlietlier even a third of them are necessary — even tlio 
 he leave two or three of each trade so as to ensure healthy 
 competition, and to preclude inattention, overcharging, 
 and incivility. Here again if we mnltiply by the number 
 of towns in the kingdom we shidl find a truly considerable 
 quantity of labor that may be set free for wealth- 
 producing.^ 
 
 ' There is often a ridiculous denunciation of the middleman, 
 qiia middleman, as a rnpacious tiend who robs the producer of 
 his luodts. Clearly there is uo uiorai question necessarily in- 
 
Unproductive Labor, &-c. 183 
 
 Tf now all the siipplan table trades and occupations 
 referred to be considered, and the numbers employed in 
 each estimated, it will be found that a truly gigantic 
 total is obtained — and all these men are at present truly 
 being kept by the nation generally : regarded thus, how 
 gigantic a tax do we not labor under ! Now if the keep 
 of these men were simply taken off our hands, the rela- 
 tive wealth of each one of us would be very greatly 
 increased; but when we reflect that the majority of this 
 great body of workers would also become ivealth-creators, 
 we shall see how much increase were then added to the 
 national wealth : whilst by the work of the remainder, 
 set free for teaching, for scientific research, and for art- 
 production, a vast indirect increase would be (eventually) 
 made to the national wealth, and a great immediate 
 increase to the national happiness. 
 
 And now let us endeavor to sum up the results that 
 we have obtained with reference to the numbers of the 
 vari(His tiseless-and-unproductiue^ classes, in order to 
 ascertain how many of the nation are kept at the expense 
 of the workers, when they ought to be working at wealrh- 
 creating themselves. It seems almost superfluous to 
 remark that these results will be excedingly rough and 
 approximate only — even more so of course than the 
 figures on which they are based — and can make no kind 
 of pretension to any statistical accuracy. Were we 
 
 volverl. So long as no better machinery of distribution be 
 invented, tlie middleman is a necessity — and must liave his 
 prorits. Find a better method of distribution, and he disappears. 
 
 ^ An unproductive worker inay be more useful than 100 pro- 
 ductive workers— if he be an intellectual or ardstic genius : we 
 Sjji.'uk uf the useieds aon-proclucers. 
 
184 Unproductive Labor, &c. 
 
 engaged on a professedly statistical investigation tliis 
 would amount to a confession of unpardonable inac- 
 curacy : but since our business is not with a quantitative 
 statistical enquiry into the actual facts of to-day, but 
 rather with a qualitative enquiry into the feasibility of 
 an improved social state — into which enquiry we have 
 introduced these present-day approximate statistics only 
 to show that we have a good general basis for our 
 general calculations ; to indicate the kind of procedure 
 wliich, as it seems to us, should be adopted in specula- 
 tions on the advent of Utopia ; and to render our argu- 
 ment less vague and more real to the reader ; since 
 finally many of our figures are necessarily ten years 
 behind date, whilst the rapidly increasing population 
 must introduce continual errors into not only the absolute 
 numbers, but, probably into the projiortions also — it seems 
 to us that the probability of introducing errors of even, 
 for instance, 20 per cent, into the results, need not deter 
 us from summing up our estimates in this preliminary 
 and te tative enquiry. 
 
 Let us procede then with our figures. We first, evidently, 
 knock ofl:' the whole of the army, which we will take to 
 be represented by 105,000 ^ men from England and Wales; 
 
 1 To make these estimates correctly, without details of which 
 we are not in possession, is a matter of difhculty. The census- 
 returns for 1881 report, for the army, 87,000 men actually in 
 England and Wales at that time ; but this figure seems to in- 
 clude certain non-effectives. On the other hand, Whittaker 
 states the total etTective force of the British army (1886), includ- 
 ing drafts abroad and in the colonies (but excluding the Indian 
 regular establishment), at 141,000. Now, since the men — wher- 
 ever stationed — are drawn from, and paid for by, Britain, it seems 
 clear that this latter figure is the proper basis for our calculations. 
 
Unproductive Labor, &c. 185 
 
 and the navy, which will be similarly represented by 
 53,000 men. The police-force is returned (1881) at 
 32,500 (besides female detectives, etc.): if we retain 
 the odd 2,500 for municipal organising-purposes, etc., 
 this represents a balance of 30,000 men wasted. Then 
 we have the " irregular police " of ticket-clerks, ticket- 
 collectors, omnibus-conductors, etc., whom we have al- 
 ready estimated at about 50,000 : to this — for the 
 reasons already explained ^ — -we may add perhaps half of 
 the present cabmen, or 15,000 men. 
 
 Next, with regard to the absurd excess of merely wasteful 
 servants, we find 72,000 domestic grooms and coachmen, 
 74,000 domestic gardeners, and 56,000 " indoor-male- 
 servants" — that is, we suppose, flunkies. Now, it seems 
 to us that if we knock off, as merely wasteful excres- 
 cences, 50,000 of the first, 55,000 of the second, and 
 50,000 of the third, -vre are dealing very gently with 
 these non-producers : ^ to these we must, of course, add 
 the complete tale of 12,600 gamekeepers. 
 
 But' then the army is recruited from England, Scotland, and 
 Ireland, whilst — for simplicity — we are at present estimating 
 only for England and Wales : this being so, the army-tigures 
 should be reduced in order to correspond with the population of 
 England and Wales only. This reduction we have made in the 
 ratio of the respective populations, thus obtaining as the result 
 for England and Wales about 105,000 men. By a similar 
 process we have reduced the navy-figures from 70,000 to 53,000. 
 'i hat, anyhow, our estimates in this case err by understatement 
 rather tliau by overstatement is plain if we take into account the 
 large number of militia, etc., whose time is partly occupied — i.e., 
 wasted — by their annual turn of soldiering. Probably, to do our 
 argument full justice, we should need to add several thousands to 
 this estimate of 158, GQO soldiers and sailors. 
 
 1 F. 18. 
 
 * Of the million and a quarter women-servants we take no 
 
1 86 Unproductive Labor y &c. 
 
 We next", come to the class of men encraired in the 
 manufacture and sale of alcoholic drinks. Since wine is 
 not made — or rather not grown — in England, of course 
 we are unaffected by what would become an immense 
 item in a parallel French or Italian calculation : and 
 since we have provisionally admitted beer and light wines 
 into Utopia, we cannot knock off all the brewers and 
 wine-merchants; but we can, nevertheless, very consider- 
 ably diminish their numbers. If we admit that at least 
 three or four times as much beer is drunk as should be 
 (which is probably very much understating it), and that 
 semi-Utopians will not sit in a pot-house to drink any 
 beer that they may require, we may fairly reckon that 
 out of the 9,500 maltsters, and 24,200 brewers, at least 
 6,000 and 16,000 respectively may be eliminated in 
 company with the whole 13,000 male-beersellers.^ Then 
 as to the 7,500 wine-merchants, and 5,700 cellai'men, 
 these may probably be i-educed to say 2,500, and 1,700 
 respectively, thus yielding vis 8,000 more superfluities. 
 We must specially point out, however, that, for various 
 reasons, these intoxicant-estimates absurdly understate 
 the real strength of our argument ; for we have no means 
 of estimating, for instance, the large number of carmen 
 and others engaged in the conveyance of drink : whilst, 
 if after all it should be concluded that Utopia will be 
 
 count for the present : anil we also leave the hotel-servants, 
 male ami female, entirely alone : wliich is a very geueious and 
 self-denying proceding ou our part. 
 
 1 Of course, this figure ought to be very much increased to take 
 count of potmen and other assistants ; but we have no data. In 
 addition to these 13,000, there are a large number of womeu re- 
 turned as beersellers, who, of course, ecj^ually ret^uire pi/trnen. 
 
Unproductive Labor, &c. 187 
 
 entirely teetotal, our figures must be increased propor- 
 tionately. In obvious connection, however, with these 
 drink-estimates, we must add on the enormous total of 
 180,000^ in-door paupers to the list of superfluities. 
 
 Next as regards tlie disposal of middlemen. The 
 census (1881) returns 30,700 brokers and agents, 175,000 
 clerks, etc., besides 35,470 commercial travellers ; and, 
 on the principles that we have already explained, we 
 propose to knock off certainly two-thirds of these figures, 
 viz., 20,000 and 115,000 respectively; while with regard 
 to the travellers, since we are quite sure that in a healthier, 
 less greedy, and better informed, social state these men 
 will be in a twofold sense unnecessary, we propose to 
 eliminate practically all of them^^.e., 30,000. As to the 
 shops, we are in a considerable difficulty, owing to the 
 want of data. The census returns the general or in 
 definite shopkeepers at 29,500 (besides 17,000 women), 
 but this is only one item, and we are no nearer to the 
 mark. We have, however, been favored with a private 
 calculation which puts down the shopkeepers in a certain 
 town as two per cent, of the population. If we assume 
 only half of these to be men, and that for the country 
 at large the proportion shall be 1 man in 150, this 
 would' give us for England and Wales a total of 160,000 
 shopmen. Considering, however, that the census returns 
 80,000 butchers and meat-salesmen alone, this calculation 
 would appear to be absuidly below the mark. We must, 
 however, take it, such as it is, and if the similar propur- 
 
 ' This includes an unknown number of pauper-children in 
 scliools • l)nt this e' cor must be more than balanced by the 
 600,000 uut-door paupers who are partly kept by the nation. 
 
1 88 Unproductive Labor^ &c. 
 
 tion of two-thirds be eliminated hence also — which seems 
 a very mild estimate — we get a saving of 107,000 men. 
 To this we may add the 1G,000 jewellers already referred* 
 to, and obviously 7,000 at least out of the 7,522 gun- 
 smiths : whilst equally clearly we may add the whole 
 29,500 costermongers and streetsellers,i who earn a pre- 
 carious existence in a society where they are "kept" to 
 no sufficient purpose. 
 
 Besides tliese main groups there must be an immense 
 number more of non-producers distributed in larger or 
 smaller proportions among a multitude of trades and 
 occupations from which it would be impossible to disinter 
 them ; ^ e.g.^ the builders, " decorators," painters, etc., 
 etc., employed on useless or wasteful work, but who can- 
 not be disentangled from the general assemblage of such 
 workers ; we can, therefor, only entreat our readers to 
 bear in mind that our total estimates, large as they may 
 appear, must be ridiculously helow their legitimate figure. 
 As a concluding item we will put on 25,000 for the rich 
 unemployed who have to be keipt by the community, and 
 do no adequate intellectual, esthetic, or philanthropic, 
 work in return. 
 
 Now let us tabulate these fiaures : — 
 
 Labor wasted in the Army in England 
 
 10.">.000 
 
 Navy , , 
 
 53,000 
 
 Police ,, 
 
 .30,000 
 
 Cabmen and ■ 
 Ticket-coUee- \ ,, 
 
 
 65,000 
 
 tors, etc. 1 
 
 
 Grooms and / 
 Coachmen \ " 
 
 50,000 
 
 ' There were, in ISSl, 17,000 women similarly engaged also. 
 - Besides many small groups such as the 700 artificial-flower- 
 makers — an utteily useless class of anti-esthetic purveyors. 
 
Unprodicctive Labor, &c. 189 
 
 Gardeners „ 55^000 
 
 flunkies „ 50^000 
 
 Gamekeepers „ 12,000 
 W]ne and Beer ) 
 
 Trade \ '» 43,0n0 
 
 Indoor Paupers „ 180,000 
 
 Commercial 
 
 I 
 
 (wholesale) ( " 165,000 
 
 Shops, etc. „ ]3o,ooO 
 
 btreet-sellers ,, oy ^qq 
 
 " Upper 10 ) " ' 
 
 Thousand" | '» 23,000 
 
 993,000 
 In round numbers tlien, it would seem that somewhere 
 about one million men, with their loives and children, have 
 to be kept by the community in order that they may be 
 employed in police work, in producing or purveying waste- 
 ful and unnecessary luxuries, in functioning as superfluous 
 middlemen, in ministering to the selfish and wasteful 
 amusements of a few, or in doing nothing. Now what 
 proportion do these million "drones" bear to the workers 
 -the wealth-creators at large? We presume that a<.ri- 
 cultural.sts, industrialists, railway employes and carters 
 with fishermen and sailors, may be taken as a fairly ex- 
 haustive account of them. Tlie fioures for the last two 
 classes are not in our possession, but they must be com- 
 paratively small when placed alongside of the other items 
 which are 1,318,344, 4,795,178, and something like 
 500,0001 respectively, giving us, therefor, a total of 
 > Tne censns.f5gures for the last item were (1881) as follows — 
 Conveyance of men, goods, and messages— 
 Railways ... ... y^^f^^ 
 
 ^^^^ - ... 165,854 
 
 Jf'''"''^?^ , - ... 27,847 
 
 Messages and porterage ... 136,775 
 
 652,000 
 
190 Unproductive Labor, &c. 
 
 about 6,613,000 me/i^ engaged in the creation of material 
 wealth. At this rate, then, every worker has to keep 
 not only himself and his famil}" but also one-sixi h-and-a-half 
 of another man and his family — that is to say that about 
 one hour and a half per day of his work goes to support- 
 ing useless non-pruducers. But really there are two 
 (fortunately opposing) disturbing elements to be taken 
 into account : firstly, that in addition to the men there 
 ai'e over one and a half million women engaged in in- 
 dustrial pursuits, and 64,000 in agricultural — which 
 fact not only increases the workers to over 8 millions, 
 but entirely disarranges our method of calculating by 
 men as representing families : secondly, however, an im- 
 mense 'proportion of these ivorkers, both agricultural and 
 industrial, are enga<jed in the production of luxuries of one 
 sort or another that are destined to he unproductively and 
 wastefidly consumed : these men clearly are really in the 
 same category as the ivine-growers, gardeners, jewellers, and 
 other suj)erjtuities ivhom ive have struck out : they do not 
 permanently increase the national wealth, but are ultim- 
 ately kept at the expense of the nation just as are their 
 confreres. Now, to introduce this correction would not only 
 enormously duninish the 8,000,000 true " workers " {i.e., 
 wealth-creators), but would equally increase the 1,000,000 
 
 The item 011 icate.r w-oulil inclmle some, but only some, of the 
 mercantile marine. Tiiese figures are, however, in every case, 
 far too high for tlie purpose of our calculation, which requires the 
 actual wealth-creating acctasorits only: theiefor we liave ttiUen 
 5UU,00U at hazard. 
 
 ^ According to a very recent calculation the total workers of 
 the United Kingdom, including women and children, number 
 13,200,000. 
 
Unproductive Labor ^ Src. 191 
 
 superfluities, so that the ratio ivould he doxihly al^ected. 
 Unfortunately it is utterly impossible for us to make any, 
 however approximate, estimate even of the result that 
 would thus be obtained : but as a mere guess — to which, 
 of course, no objective value whatever attaches — we 
 should think it highly possible that the ratio niiglit be- 
 come 7: 2, or even 6: 3, in which latter case every 
 worker (i.e., every wealth-creator) spends a third of his 
 working time in supporting useless or superfluous other 
 jDeople ! How vital is the bearing of such enquiries upon 
 the promotion of Utopia becomes very evident : for, as- 
 suming an 8 hours' day to suffice as an average workmg- 
 day now, it could be replaced by a 5| hours' day ! ^ 
 
 But really, however, we have so far been concerned 
 with only one of several components ; for we have shown 
 merely that these million superfluities entail an increase 
 of X hours on the general working-day to supply their 
 keep : their simple removal would lighten the working- 
 day by X hours ; but there is more to account for. First, 
 if they became direct wealth-creators themselves, the 
 national wealth would be increased 12 per cent, at once; 
 secondly, if the unknown Y number of the 8,000,000 
 workers, who are at present making luxuries only, were 
 similarly told ofi" for useful work there would be an annual 
 increase of 2Y per cent, more wealth ; thirdly, in addition 
 to the labor at present wasted on producing luxuries, there 
 is a huge waste of material wealth— && cual, iron, manures, 
 
 1 It is very much to be desired that some competent statistician, 
 with the data at his command, would undertake an exact quanti- 
 tative investigation of thic character . his resuhs would be iiivaiu- 
 able to sociolo;j;ists. 
 
192 Unproductive Labor ^ &c. 
 
 etc., etc. — and of land ; this being saved would represent 
 another Z per cent, more added (i.e., saved) to the 
 national wealth. We thus get at this rate an annual 
 wealth-increase of 12 + 2Y + Z per cent, more than at 
 present — where Y and Z cannot be excedingly small 
 figures : but since the increase of wealth is cumulative, 
 and waste would be greatly circumscribed, the nation 
 would tend to double its wealth at short intervals. 
 
 "But" — will probably be the retort — "what is to be the 
 good of hoarding up and continually increasing the 
 national wealth if it must not be wasted on luxuries 1 
 You would presently be overburdened by your wealth and 
 have no use for it." Exactly so — if the nation were to 
 keep on steadily increasing its wealth at so much per 
 cent, per year; but it would not — in a semi- Utopia. Altho 
 necessarily emphasising this tendency of wealth to ac- 
 cumulate, under the conditions postulated, we do not 
 anticipate that play would be allowed to such tendency, 
 but rather that it would be taken advantage of to de- 
 crease the working-day until wealth no longer tended to 
 accumulate — until the annual increment of wealth exactly 
 balanced the annual consumjytion, given a definite scale of 
 expense. Such margin of wealth measures the possibility 
 of reducing the length of work-time; or, in other words, 
 the abbreviation of the general working-day must be a 
 function of the diff"erence l)etween the total wealth that 
 would annually accrue at the present time with the 
 present working-day (supposing all idlers and all useless 
 non-producers or producers of wasteful luxuries to be 
 engaged in productive work) and the total wealth that 
 would be annually required for the expenses of such 
 
Unproductive Labor, &c. 193 
 
 simple and refined living as we have already pointed to 
 — populations being supposed numerically identical and 
 new inventions of labor-economising machinery being 
 ignored.^ 
 
 To render this quite clear we will take a supposititious 
 concrete example of the simplest character. Let us 
 hypothecate a nation whose annual increment of wealth 
 may be valued at 2,000 millions sterling, created by the 
 labors of 6 million adult workers employed for 8 hours 
 net per day, and supporting, in addition to themselves 
 and their families, 2 million idlers, useless non-pi'oducers, 
 and luxury-mongers, and their families ; and let us farther 
 suppose that the total annual wealth-increment of the 
 nation, if equally divided and all carefully applied, would 
 more than suffice for all the wants of a simple semi- 
 UtojMan life. Now, supposing that the 2 million idlers 
 and useless woi-kers are diverted to useful and productive 
 work, and that they create on the average the same 
 amount of wealth as any other 2 million of their coun- 
 trymen, then it is clear that the total annual increment 
 of wealth becomes raised from 2,000 millions to 2,666^ 
 millions odd. But in consonance with our hypothesis we 
 must furthermore remember that indulgence in waste 
 and luxury involves a great loss of material ivealth — a 
 consumption of material wealth — as well as a waste of 
 labor : ^ this amount we will put down as represented 
 by a sixth of the annual wealth-income, viz., by 333 
 
 ' Clearly any such inventions would additionally shorten the 
 working-day. 
 
 2Six millions raise £2000 millions;therefor, 2 raise -""' ' millions. 
 
 ' E.g., the loss of coal and iron in manufacturing luxuries and 
 war-material, etc. 
 
194 Unproductive Labor, &€. 
 
 millions odd. We arrive, then, at this result : the annual 
 wealth-income under present conditions is taken at 2,000 
 millions, of which a sixth is wasted — the remainder being 
 sufficient, if equally divided, to maintain the given popu- 
 lation in a state of semi-Utopian comfort : by the labor 
 of the 2 million fresh productive workers the wealth- 
 income is further increased from 2,000 to 2,066 millions. 
 Now since a general 8-hours-day is given as producing 
 in this reformed state 2,666 millions, and since 1,667 
 (2,000 — 333) millions are sufficient for the wants of the 
 population, it is clear that the w-orking-day may be re- 
 duced in this proportion, viz., from 8*hours to 5 hours ! 
 This very crude and hypothetical example m;\v suffice to 
 show the kind of reasoning upon which speculations con- 
 cerning such social amelioration should — as it seems to 
 us — pi'ocede. Whatever new inventions or discoveries may 
 be made, whatever fresh sources ^ of wealth laid open — 
 
 'In England the average total yearly income of each member 
 of the nation is said to bj £83 {For/iiiijh/li/, Aug., 189.3). As- 
 suming an average family to consist of tive persons, this would give 
 an average yearly income of £16.) per family. Assuming all the 
 economies proposed in the text, the elimination of the million or 
 two useles.-i and unproductive drones or workers— witii the 
 consequent great increase of wealtii — it seems very far from im- 
 possible to raise this average income witliin a very reasonable 
 time from £165 to a satisfactory Utopian minimum — could we 
 only render the average and every actual the same. According 
 to Mr. Giffen the annual savings of the United Kingdom are 
 about 16 per cent, of the annual income of the nation now : it 
 seems to us that, were the millions wasted on drink and other 
 useless luxuries and frivolities alone, added to our savings, these 
 would be perhaps doubled at once — and that would be sufficient 
 to raise the average wages of every ivorker in the United Kingdom 
 from £48 to £66. It is stated that loo millions are annually 
 spent on drink in the United Kingdom. This item alone would 
 nearlj- supply the doubling required. 
 
Unproductive Labor, &c. 195 
 
 by so much may the advent of a minimum working-day 
 be expedited : but without any other machinery than we 
 ah-eady possess, we can thus clearly perceive the feasibility 
 of an approximation toward semi-Utopia — if only men 
 would be moderately unselfish, unwasteful, and rea- 
 sonable.-^ It is mainly human nature that has to be 
 changed. 
 
 But here, returning from our supposititious state to 
 England, a difficulty at least must be conceded that, no 
 doubt, the thoughtful reader sighted many chapters ago: 
 how far it may be satisfactorily met is now to be con- 
 sidered. We have accounted for at least a million 
 living superfluities who are kept at the general expense 
 of the workers ; and we have dwelt upon the great in- 
 crease that would be made in the national wealth were 
 only all these men to become wealth-producers likewise : 
 but we may be met by the retort that to turn these 
 men into the labor-market would be to inflict a cruel 
 injury, and not a benefit, upon the workers — that al- 
 ready every craft or trade is overcrowded, and every- 
 where men are crying out for employment — 
 
 "Every gate is thronged with suitors ; all the markets overflow." 
 
 1 It may not be superfluous to utter a warning against the 
 fallacies into which one is very apt to fall in such speculations — 
 unless one be very careful to avoid confusion between the proper- 
 ties of wealth and wealtli-symbols — i.e., money — and also to avoid 
 arguing by mere multiplication — the fallacy of composition — from 
 one man to a nation and a world. Perhaps we may be allowed 
 to point out by the way how the labors of one generation may 
 render possible a permanent diminution of l.ibor for future gene- 
 rations—we mean by the construction of railways, docks, etc., 
 by works of irrigation and reclamation, and, in short, by the 
 execution of practically indestructible works. 
 
196 Unproductive Labor, &c. 
 
 — so that to turn a million more loose would make cou- 
 fusion worse confounded ; that, therefor, altho our 
 present social practice of employing superfluous servants, 
 etc., be very wasteful, yet — looking at the individuals — 
 it offers a method of distributing national wealth rather 
 less unevenly than would otherwise be the case : and, 
 finally, that our assumptions implicitly involve the 
 fallacy that the more men, the richer the nation, whereas 
 a population may easily outgrow its means of subsistence. 
 Now in reply to these objections we have first of all, 
 of course, to fully admit — as everyone since Malthus has 
 necessarily admitted — that a population may very well 
 increase beyond its means of subsistence — in a wide 
 sense ; that, therefor, conceivably there might, perhaps, 
 be a limiting case found when it would be of no benefit 
 to the national wealth to make its idlers woi'k — biit we 
 deny that England has reached this stage : and we also 
 admit that the difficulty is complicated by the fact that 
 our social ideal is not the mere increase of the total 
 national wealth, but its more equal distribution. If 
 everybody were ideally unselfish, and if the " Laws " of 
 Supply and Demand, Competition, etc., did not exist, 
 then to double the number of the workers by knocking 
 off an equivalent number of idlers would — in a society 
 where wealth had reached its maximum annual yield- — 
 simply halve the working-days of all : but in our society 
 of the present it would also at first — one might think — ■ 
 halve the wages too, and benefit only the capitalists and 
 millionaires : but, nevertheless, altho conceding these 
 difficulties, we must set off several considerations against 
 them. 
 
Unproductive Labor, &c. 197 
 
 Firstly, to be merely rid of so many drones, whom 
 they at present have to keep, would be a great gain to 
 the workers, even were there no room for a single extra 
 workman ; for this would render possible — as will appear 
 in a moment — the ultimate raising of their wages. 
 
 Secondly, even if our own country afforded no more 
 scope for increasing the annual output of wealth, yet it 
 were still possible to colonise with great profit many — 
 at present — unoccupied or insufficiently occupied portions 
 of the earth's surface : the wealth that is annually wasted 
 on, e.g., useless servants, would more than suffice for 
 their emigration-expenses ; and the wealth created by 
 them in their new land would enable them to repay 
 their expenses, and would, of course, react beneficially 
 upon trade at home.^ 
 
 But, thirdly, neglecting the possibility of emigration, 
 and supposing that a demand for luxuries and extrava- 
 gances no longer exists, and that their former ministrants 
 are to be distributed among the ranks of the workers 
 with the intention of lessening the day's work fur the 
 output of so much total national wealth, is it so certain 
 that wages must be generally lowered in accordance with 
 the usual processes formulated by economics ? The 
 assumptions upon which we are preceding must not be 
 forgotten. Let us take now a group of men with £500 
 a year each, who at present spend £300 sensibly, £100 
 wastefully, and save £100: now, under the new regime, the 
 
 1 We are not assuming any system of State-aided emigration, 
 but simply tliat the wealth, which capitalists at present waste 
 upon luxuries, would enable them to assist the emigration of the 
 ex-luxury-produuers to u colony — as a commercial speculation. 
 
198 Unproductive Labor, &c. 
 
 only thinj^ they can do with their formerly wasted £100 is 
 to save it. But the sum of all these savings constitutes 
 tiie ivages-fund or capital of the country; and, if that be 
 so much increased, the wages of the laborers can be 
 affurded an increase, or the same wages can be continued 
 to an increased number of laborers working a shorter 
 day and producing only the original total wealth. But 
 it may be retorted that our friends will be quite content 
 now to earn only £4u0 a year, and will, therefor, shorten 
 their own day's-work by a fifth : or that by saving £200 
 a year they will be enabled to retire from work and live 
 on their investments so much the earlier. True — and in 
 so far the sum total of happiness will be increased, and 
 an approximation made by so much to an Utopian state 
 — but are these £500-a-year-men supposed to be wealth- 
 creators themselves or professional men, merchants, and 
 what not 1 If the former, then as every one of them 
 X'etires there is room for an ex-superfluity to take his 
 place as wealth-creator : but if the latter, then his work- 
 ing more or less does not affect the national wealth but 
 merely the distribution:^ we must beware of that prime 
 fallacy of confusing wealth and wealth-symbols. 
 
 But, indeed, fourthly and lastly, we may point out 
 that the causes to whose ethcacy we have all along attri- 
 
 ' Really all these questions are very complicated, in that each 
 interweaves with several others : it is, however, vital to remember 
 what assumptions one is aiguing from and to admit no fresh 
 assumptions that are contradictory to them : if we start from a 
 postulate of semi-Utopian general morality we cannot allow later 
 assumptions of motives, such as greediness, etc., incompatible 
 with semi-Utopian morals. This caution emphatically applies to 
 the discussion now in hand. 
 
Unproductive Labor, &"€. 199 
 
 buted the future disappearance of waste-mongers and the 
 shorteuinof of the working day, partly by means of the 
 influx of fresh workers, are themselves incomjyatible with 
 this alleged difficulty of preventing a corresponding grand 
 fall in wages. For, firstly, we have prophesied a gradual 
 abandonment of luxuries in that the rising wages of 
 labor will render them too expensive ; in whicii case 
 clearly the assumed tendency of wages to a steady rise 
 will cover the wages of the fresh workers : and, secondly, 
 we have appealed to men, as a matter of ethics, to give 
 ixp these wasteful and stupid luxuries; now self-evidently, 
 if a class of men have sufficient love for social good and 
 human welfare to give up their luxuries, they are not 
 the men to cut down their employes' wages along with 
 their working-hours. So that after all, however we look 
 at it, this difficulty of employing ex-waste-suppliers really 
 vanishes if we conceive the somewhat complicated pro- 
 blem clearly and distinctly — above all avoiding the fatal 
 fallacy of assuming contradictory premises and crediting 
 a semi-Utopian state with anti-Utopian attributes. As 
 we have already said, Utopianism is alivays consistent with 
 Utopia. For the rest — without doubt the great master- 
 key to all these problems is a vivid realisation of the 
 truth that a demand for commodities is not a demand for 
 labor. '^ 
 
 ' Altho we have not followed up the emigration-question 
 fartlier, it is of course clear that, in any country, the greatest 
 prosperity and happiness will result from a definite population, 
 any increase or decrease of which would be injurious to happi- 
 ness. For instance (with a fixed maximum possible output of 
 Wealth already attained) the more workers the less for each to 
 do; hut if each is to be clothed, fed, housed, etc., in the same 
 
200 Unproductive Labor, &€. 
 
 But now, to take a new departure, it may have ap- 
 peared strange to the reader that in summing up all 
 the wasted labor such as that of grooms, flunkies, soldiers, 
 etc., we omitted to add in the lawyers and parsons. This 
 omission was, however, quite intentional, since we assume 
 that these men — or rather the really intellectual members 
 of the profession/ together with other intellectual men 
 whom it is convenient to represent, as to numbers, by 
 the remaining lawyers and parsons, — will ip a semi- 
 Utopian state be represented by an army of headworkers. 
 As we have already pointed out, the abolition of such 
 time-wasting, Utopianly-useless, labors, as those of the 
 parson and lawyer, will enable an immense accession to 
 be made to the ranks of the plastic artists, actors, and 
 musicians — thus securing largely increased means of en- 
 joyment for the community — and also to the number of 
 teachers and of professional scientific researchers and 
 philosophers, whose work will not only enormously in- 
 crease the happiness of a cultured and intellectual race, 
 but may indirectly react vastly on their material gains. 
 
 Now by way of a concluding concrete instance we will 
 consider the effect on teaching. Tliere are at present 
 44,000 men (beside several thousand women) wasting 
 tlieir time and keep on preaching an obsolete, discredited, 
 and [)artly immoral, theology ; whilst there are an equal 
 
 style, the more workers, the more woi-k to be done. Tlie de- 
 sideraudiim is to tind where these two lines intersect — and then 
 act upon MaUhusian principles, tvithoiU ivhich there is iio possible 
 social salvation. (See, however, pp. 52-54.) 
 
 ' We do not for a moment mean to imply anything so absurd 
 as that the parsons as a class are a gifted or intellectual set of 
 men ; but it is convenient to take the numbers afforded by a census 
 of the "learned" professions. 
 
Unproductive Labor, &c. 201 
 
 nnmber employed, as barristers, solicitors, and lawyers' 
 clerks, in the work of making the worse appear the better 
 cause, or of defending us against our neighbors' aggres- 
 sions : clearly both these occupations are incompatible 
 with Utopia. Besides lawyers and parsons, however, 
 we have over 26,000 doctors : this large number is pro- 
 bably a good deal in excess of the real demand, whilst in 
 a healthier and better informed social state one may 
 fairly expect illness to be far rarer, and therefor doctors 
 fewer. If we grant Utopian England 15-16,000 doctors 
 we set free 10-12,000 men who are, most of all, strikingly 
 fitted for the work of scientific research. If we further 
 add the odd 18-19,000 lawyers and parsons to the ranks 
 of the artists — this being equivalent to increasing them 
 by 50 per cent, of their present numbers — we have a 
 residuum of 70,000 men left to increase the ranks of the 
 teachers : and, seeing that the male teachers in England 
 at present number only 47,000, some idea may be formed 
 of the prodigious impetus that would thus be given to 
 intellectual training. 
 
 Since — within certain limits — the fewer boys in a class 
 the more does each one learn in a given time — the more 
 chance he has, that is, of being taught and not scamped 
 — it is clear that to so largely increase the number of 
 (well-trained and capable) teacliers would be to grandly 
 invigorate the intellectual life of the nation. ^ 
 
 1 According to the census (1881) there are about 12.000,000 
 persons under twenty years of age, of whom we may reckon per- 
 haps 9,000,000 as the student portion in an Utopian state where 
 all learn. Xow we have already explained in a previous work 
 (Cry of the Childi-en, p. 98) that pi-obably women will more and 
 more encroach upon the sphere of men as teachers of youngsters, 
 and that probably, up to about fourteen, boys and girls will be 
 14 
 
202 Unproductive Labor, drc. 
 
 And here we must close this discussion that has already 
 carried the chapter far beyoud tlie limits tliat we had 
 originally anticipated for it, noting that in the foregoing 
 calculations we have not made any estimate of the vast 
 amount of wealth annually wasted through unthrift, in- 
 capacity, or carelessness with regard to petty trifles.^ 
 
 taught by private governesses in groups of six or eight. Now if 
 we reckon 4,500,000 of our students to be of tliis class, and the 
 remainder of the University and High School class, what results 
 do we get ? 
 
 The census returns 124,000 female teachers — whereas to supply 
 the governesses at the rate of one to eight children we should 
 require about four and a half times as many ; this, however, 
 need not disturb us, siuce a sphere of work for otlierwise idle 
 women is thus opened out. We then find the total force of 
 48,000male teachers left for distribution among4,500,000students, 
 boys and girls, above the age of fourteen — a ratio of 1 to 93 or 
 94 ! Adding on, however, our additional force of 70,000 derived 
 from the abolition of lawyers and parsons, we get the classes 
 reduced within something like reasonable limits. Of course, at 
 the present time, only a small proportion of the nation is really 
 educated : this calculation shows us that the whole nation might 
 be thoroly educated up to the age of twenty at no more cost to 
 the nation than is now incurred by paying and keeping parsons 
 and lawyers and the existing staff of teachers. 
 
 1 We had hoped to supplement our I'ough estimate of the use- 
 less workers by a parallel estimate of the wasted wealth ; but 
 this latter design is impracticable. We know for instance that 
 £136,000,000 are annually spent on drink by the United Kingdom; 
 over six and a quarter millions on the administration of Law and 
 Justice plus all the private expenses of solicitors and advocates ; 
 something between perhaps seven and ten millions on tiie main- 
 tenance of theological performances ; £14,500,000 on paupers in 
 England and Wales ; £200,000,000 on the armies of Europe; and 
 so on ; but we do not know how much of this is, in final resort, 
 absolutely wasted, and how much goes towards sustaining, cloth- 
 ing, and housing, the economically useless laborers, their wives 
 and children, and so on thro'out. Therefor to estimate the 
 annual literal waste of wealth is impossible without other data 
 tlian we possess. 
 
CHAPTER XT. 
 
 THIS PROBLEM OP UNPLEASANT OCCUPATIONS : AND TQE 
 APOTHEOSIS OF MANUAL WORK. 
 
 " Whilst the plowman, near at hand, 
 Whistles o'er the furrowed land ; 
 And the milkmaid siiigeth blithe ; 
 And the mower whets his scythe ; 
 And every shepherd tells his tale 
 Under the hawthorn in the dale. 
 Straight mine eye hath caught new pleasures, 
 Whilst the landscape roiiud it measures." 
 
 " But as for hazarding the main results 
 By striving to anticipate one-half 
 Of th' intermediate process — no, my friends." 
 
 We will now turn to consider some other trades and 
 from a somewhat different standpoint ; from that, viz., 
 indicated at the commencement of Chapter IV., when we 
 spoke of the happiness or unhappiness inherent in cer- 
 tain occupations. On that occasion the problem was thus 
 stated: "The trouble is that, while such occupations 
 seem necessary to the comfort of the public, or of large 
 classes thereof, they are undeniably unpleasant to the 
 workers ; and moreover, with the growing refinement 
 of evolving society, and the raising of the general 
 
 minimum or threshold of such refinement, these occupa- 
 203 
 
204 Unpleasant Occupations. 
 
 tions may be expected to become more and more distaste- 
 ful to the woikcrs. How tlicn shall we reconcile this 
 opposition — since evidently there should be no actually 
 unpleasant occupations in even an approximate Utopia ? " 
 
 It is now proposed to rapidly pass in review some 
 dozen or so typical trades, in order to note how many of 
 them are really necessarily distasteful or injurious to 
 health : and, of these, whether any may be dispensed 
 with. To take now as our first example the occupation 
 of the scavenger, to which we have already alluded, we 
 will first of all observe, by way of a practical suggestion 
 for tho present day, that if long-handled brooms were 
 substituted for the present ridiculous brushes, the 
 scavenger's lot would be ameliorated, not only by the aboli- 
 tion of that terribly hack-aching work, but also by the 
 concomitant diminution of personal uncleanliness. Since 
 this, however, is admittedly only a slight modification, we 
 will go a good deal further : and if the need should arise — 
 as, e.g., owing to a scavengers' strike — we will undertake by 
 the assistance of the simplest possible (quasi-) mechanica| 
 device, plus a little deodoriser, to abolish for ever the 
 necessity for scavengers and their accessories and allies : 
 nay more, to keep by this means a country lane as well 
 scavenged as Piccadilly. 
 
 We should take warning from this unsavory but 
 necessary example how we conclude that any occupation 
 is indispensable to a complex civilisation, since so vei-y 
 many reforms are made directly we are compelled to dis- 
 cover them. It is superfluous to point out how, once 
 more, we achieve an hedonic and economic gain by 
 abolishing scavengers : a quantity of labor is set free for 
 
Unpleasant Occupations. 205 
 
 more productive work, the rates are reduced; and the 
 scavengers find a less unpleasant occupation. 
 
 All work at present carried on with regard to the dis- 
 posal of sewage — and eqvially the agriculturists' work so 
 far as concerns carting and depositing farmyard-manure 
 — is emphatically beastly work : but nobody supposes 
 that a future race of comparatively rational men will 
 make so pitiable an exhibition of incapacity as we of this 
 generation have as regards the sewage problem^: as to 
 the fcirmyard-manure, it is probable that a race, with 
 more refined noses than our present agriculturists pos- 
 sess, will avail themselves of certain simple expedients 
 to make a farmer's work as unobjectionable as it is 
 glorious. 
 
 Taking another miserable occupation, that of the 
 sweeps, we may safely predict here that semi-Utopia will 
 solve the problem by abolishing the need for these men : 
 our present wasteful and clumsy system of chimneys can 
 hardly be tolerated much longer Aere — far less there. 
 
 And with regard to such dirty occupations in general 
 we may well take a lesson of hope and trust from the 
 result of the great gas-strike of 1891. The life of the 
 gas-stoker, qua stoker, can hardly have been — one would 
 think — other than a lugubrious one : bu-t nobody ever 
 troubled to find a remedy — urged by mere eudaemonistic 
 motives only. One first result of the strike, however, was 
 the invention of gas-stoking machinery — a true labor- 
 saving appliance. We are hopefully inclined to think 
 that many of our philanthropic puzzles and perplexities 
 will be solved by the introduction of labor-saving 
 ^ We iiave already referred to the awful luaste entailed. 
 
2o6 U?ipleasant Occupations. 
 
 appliances to do the dirty work for us — given only a 
 su&cieut motive to inventiveness. Now the M'oric in 
 certain chemical factories, e.g., white lead and phosphor- 
 xis works, and in arsenic-works, is in the long run fatal : 
 is this terrible fate of slow poisoning to be allotted to a 
 proportion of semi-Utopia's inhabitants 1 Here we may 
 very legitimately anticipate that the present processes 
 will be superseded by others by which the worker is not 
 endangered, or else that, failing this, it will be deemed a 
 lesser evil to go without the product than to retain it at 
 such a price of suffering. For instance an enormous 
 quantity of the arsenic prepared is required for use in 
 paintmaking : surely it would be no great deprivation to 
 sacrifice our arsenical-green paints, if thereby we rescued 
 annually so many young girls from death. ^ And, in like 
 manner, one of the daily papers, commenting recently 
 upon the horrible results entailed on the workers by the 
 "enamel -plate "-working process, very aptly remarked 
 that surely men might do without these plates if they be 
 obtainable only at the cost of such suffering. 
 
 Take again as an example of another class of occupa- 
 tions that of the butcher — horrible calling : what can 
 we say of this 1 Since now all the men of even semi- 
 Utopia will be as refined and sensitive as the noblest 
 ladies of to-day, how is it possible to imagine them 
 making a trade of killing our four-footed brethren ; and 
 then furthermore going thro the horrible business of 
 cutting them up 1 We are willing to confess freely that 
 this question has seemed to us one of the most perplexing : 
 
 ' I.e. assuming that life were pleasant and desirable for them ; 
 as it would be in semi-Utopia ; as it probably would not be here. 
 
Unpleasant Occupations. 207 
 
 for, granting our premise of hyper-refinement and hyper- 
 gentleness, a butcher's occupation would seem impossible 
 for semi-Utopians Of course our vegetarian friends 
 would solve the difficulty by cutting this Gordian knot : 
 but we are unwilling to posit vegetarianism as a neces- 
 sity for Utopians, since the case for vegetable diet can 
 not be considei'ed to be made out yet anyhow. At the 
 same time we are not blind to the possibility that vege- 
 tarianism may be the practice of the future ; and it is 
 also specially incumbent upon us to remember that, 
 seeing how huge strides Chemistry has made during this 
 last half-century, it is competent to no one to deny the 
 possibility that the artificial synthesis of proteids may 
 one day revolutionise all of our present notions with 
 regard to the food sujjply.^ But even were we to grant 
 the contention of the vegetarian, we should not have 
 disposed of the whole difficulty : for, unless our friend 
 can find an efficient substitute for boots and all other 
 leathern goods, men will still find it necessary to kill and 
 flay animals : and if 100— as well 1,000 or 10,000— so 
 far as concerns the shock to the operator's feelings. Of 
 course we may fully admit that, by the invention of far 
 more refined and humane methods, the actual killing 
 of the animal will be effected without much chance of 
 sickening the bystander : but it is difficult to imagine 
 how such operations as flaying could be performed merely 
 by machinery. It is well also to bear in mind the fact 
 that, since doctors will remain a necessity to the end of 
 time, whilst everyone in a less preposterous age will go 
 thro a course of instruction in zoology — in practical 
 ^ See Appendix at end of chapter. 
 
2o8 U npleasant Occup.itions. 
 
 zoology — it is evident that the actual handling 'and 
 dissection of dead bodies will remain a necessity probably 
 even in Utopia itself. And with regard to all such 
 dilemmas we must repeat that the Utopia of science is 
 not the most perfect imaginable world, but the most 
 perfect possible : not one in which unhappiness is un- 
 known, but one in which it is kept at a minimum. 
 Should anyone object to the assignment of unhappiness 
 to Utopians he may be invited to repeat, for good and 
 all, Hercules' exploit, and to vanquish Death: but, while 
 that grim fiend is able to strike down our joy even in 
 the citadel of Utopia, it were somewhat futile to object 
 to any speculation, that it credited a trace of disconifui't 
 to Utopia. 
 
 Another trade somewhat similarly intractable is that of 
 the compositor : this is notoriously an unhealthy and 
 trying occupation : but since a civilisation without books 
 is now inconceivable to us, and since we can see no present 
 improvement upon printing, we can only surmise that with 
 far shorter hours of labor, abundant ventilation^ and 
 generally brighter surroundings, the lot of this indispens- 
 able mechanic will be improved. ^ " With brighter sur- 
 roundings:" yes; why not? Why is it that, however 
 fastidious as to cheerful and artistic adjuncts in our home, 
 we all think it " unbusinesslike " to have any thing more 
 than gaunt bare walls and sombre effects in our offices 
 and workrooms 1 We take it that one modification, which 
 will render the occupations of compositors and of all 
 
 iTo say nothing of his work being entirely remodelled by de- 
 vices of which the Linotype compo3ing-raacliiue is possibly a 
 sample. 
 
Unpleasant Occupations. 209 
 
 factory-hands so far less intolerable than now— apart from 
 the benefit derived from shorter hours — will be the in- 
 troduction of light and color, pictures and flowers, 
 wherever possible, into the workrooms. We do not mean 
 to assert that a blacksmith's shop were a suitable place 
 for such additions : but surely, in numberless workrooms, 
 where the work is cleanly and dust not superabundant, 
 we might let some sunshine into the workers' daily toil- 
 life by introducing pictures and flowers that would carry 
 their thoughts beyond the factory far away to breezy 
 mountain, shimmering river, and heaving sea. 
 
 Admittedly this must be reckoned a very small mite 
 to the discussion of how far one can reconcile a factory- 
 worker's life with any approximately Utopian scheme. 
 We take it that among the chief hardships of a factory- 
 hand's life must be i-eckoned (a) the commencement of 
 work at five or six a.m. at the summons of the remorse- 
 less factory -bell, winter or summer — winter, when the 
 day has not yet broken, when all is chill, bleak, forbidding, 
 and cold, and the body yearns for two hours more of 
 blissful slumber; summer, when the sun is blazing in all 
 his glory, the air is fresl) and redolent of dawn, und all 
 earth seems shouting a glad view-hallo ! of field and wood 
 and sea \ when the day's work should be pi-eceded by a 
 long ramble thro the dewy grass, and a plunge into the 
 sparkling stream — did not the factory-bell forbid : (6) the 
 monotonous work in close, ill-ventilated, cheerless, work- 
 rooms : (c) the enforced residence in crowded streets 
 of a closely packed city, and consequent deprivation of 
 country joys. 
 
 These seem to us the three main drawbacks, putting 
 
210 Utipleasant Occupations. 
 
 aside entirely the overworking of children and bad wages, 
 both of which, ex hypothesi, are non-existent in semi- 
 Utopia. Now, with regard to the first — that is already 
 by implication disposed of; for the hours of work in the 
 time-to-come will be probably 4 or 5 and not 10 — and 
 with abundant holidays. ^ The second trouble we have 
 just referred to ; while as to the third — that is of course 
 the problem of great cities, and is no peculiar grievance 
 of factory-workers. We can hardly doubt that a more 
 rational and happier age will not only find some adequate 
 remedy for our present terrible centralisation, and some 
 contrivance for drawing off inhabitants from town to 
 country and distributing population somewhat less un- 
 equally, but furthermore that, as opportunity offers, a 
 
 ' The wretched superstition so long prpvalent, and responsible 
 for so much misery and degradation, that the longer a work- 
 man's day the more work he necessarily performed — as if the 
 human body were a nerveless macliine incapable of fatigue — has 
 happily of late received many hard knocks ; and at last even 
 Philistines are beginning to realise that as nnich work is done in 
 8 hours as in 10. Mr. Jolm Rae remarks (Contemporary Reeieiv, 
 June, 1893): — "The surprising thing about these experiments 
 — and indeed about a large proportion of otiier 8-hour experi- 
 ments also^is that the same staff" of men have done more work 
 in the 48 hours a week than tiiey did before in the 54 hours 
 
 together ivith the overtime then hahitval In Mr. Beaufoy's 
 
 vinegar-works the same staff" do in 8 hours a day more work than 
 they did before in 9f hours with two months' overtime into the 
 bargain Tlie hours in the S. Yorks coalmines were re- 
 duced from 12 to 8 in 1858, and tlie miners sent out more coals in 
 the day after the reduction than they did before it." AH this is 
 very encouraging but not remarkably "surprising" to a physi- 
 ologist : it indicates, however, that if the hours were reduced 
 from 10 to 7 the wealth-production would probably be unaffected. 
 At this rate, uiith the economien advocated in the text, a 4 or 5 
 hours' day ceases to be a wild dream. 
 
Unpleasant Occupations. 21 1 
 
 slightly less idiotic scheme of building will be introduced, 
 and every town be surrounded by concentric belts of 
 country.^ An additional factor in the problem must 
 not, however, be forgotten : Mr. Ruskin, and those of his 
 way of thinking, would probably urge, as the ready 
 solution of the difficulty, that these abominated factories 
 will disappear altogether. Tliat the present staring, 
 brick-built, long-chiranied, depressingly ugly, factory will 
 in course of time disappear and be replaced by artistic 
 buildings, we have no doubt at all — in time : but that in 
 any other than this literal sense the factory will dis- 
 appear seems to us an excedingly rash and unwarranted 
 assumption. No doubt some, possibly many, of the 
 industries at present carried on in large factory-work- 
 rooms, might be sent out for execution in cottage-homes; 
 some few experiments ^ have already been made in this 
 direction, and we may fairly anticipate that the feasibility 
 of the scheme will increase with the intelligence and trust- 
 worthiness of the workers ; and^so far as such decentralisa- 
 
 ' This rational scheme, which was propounded in a pamphlet 
 by the late Edward Ellis, Esq., has really — we understand — 
 been adopted to some extent in Australia. 
 
 ^ We would refer our readers to the Echo for Dec. 7, 1885, for 
 a long account of the noble efforts made by Mrs. Ernest Hart to 
 revive the cottage industries in Donegal. These efforts were 
 crowned with such success that " the peasant women produced 
 hosiery that could compete with that made by machinery in 
 price, and was much superior to it in quality and durability, and 
 tweeds, serges, and friezes, that were not to be surpassed in any 
 market." 
 
 Want of space alone prevents us from quoting almost the 
 entire article — to which once more we heartily refer any readers 
 interested in the true philanthropy of helping the poor to do 
 without help. 
 
212 Unpleasajit Occupations. 
 
 tion is possible, no doubt it would be a gain in every 
 way, affording, as it does, a solution to so many troublous 
 problems. But it would seem that the extensibility of 
 such a scheme must always be limited : wherever the 
 work involves machinery of any but the simplest form, 
 there must be centralisation in factories ; and, tho it is 
 possible that machinery of a not very complicated order 
 might be distributed over country-side sttb-factories, there 
 would seem always to be requix'ed larger factories for the 
 expensive machinery. We would, howevex', point out 
 that, so far as the nature of the business and the means 
 of transport will admit of sucli country-side small factory- 
 settlements, we should have here an admirable solutioa 
 of the multitudinous difficulties connected with over- 
 crowding and city populations. It is also, of course, a 
 very legitimate speculation that greatly improved means 
 of transport may render possible a considerable drafting- 
 off of factories from town to country. 
 
 With regard to the wider question, raised by certain 
 writers, of the existence of factories and machinery in 
 any form, we certainly cannot subscribe to the doctrine 
 that machine-labor is, ipso facto, accursed, and that in a 
 better future we shall revert to the hand-labor of the 
 " good old days." One must of course admit that, owing 
 both to the consequent extreme specialisation, and to 
 the mere fuct that machine-labor is machine-labor, a 
 woi'kei"'s task is far more monotonous, and, if you like, 
 calls for less skill and intelligence, and excites but a 
 languid interest. But have we not here a lesser evil 
 again 1 For if such machine-labor be far more econom- 
 ical — as who will doubt — this means that, in the long 
 
Unpleasant Occupations. 213 
 
 run, the nation generally will have to work fewer hours 
 daily for the same result : that is to say, that, by re- 
 taining this uninteresting machine-labor instead of the 
 more interesting but less efficient hand-labor^ we shall 
 have a good many more hours daily to indulge in the 
 pre-eminently most interesting occupation of art, science, 
 and recreation. It were surely better to work four to 
 five hours daily at a very monotonous and uninteresting 
 task, and to have long leisure for true living, than to 
 work eight to ten hours at a more interesting task — but 
 still a task and a hard one — and then to have very little 
 leisure afterwards for true living. What we have to 
 devise for Utopia is such organisation that there may be 
 executed with the least possible expenditure of time all 
 such work ^ as may suffice to afford us the wealth neces- 
 
 ' It will be observed that, thro'out, we are looking upon this 
 daily loork as so much work that must be done — in order to pro- 
 vide mankind with food, clothing, shelter, and all the essential 
 requisites of a refined and cultured life — independently of any 
 hedonic value that it may intrinsically possess ; but which should 
 be done at the least possible expense of time and energy in order 
 to leave free so much of our life as possible for real living — for 
 the Greek life of refined and cultured leiszire. If however our 
 daily work possess in any degree an hedonic value of its own, if 
 it be so agreeable that even were no luork at all necessary we 
 should yet devote a part of our day to this occupation, then 
 clearly there is a very great hedonic gain : a man who works six 
 hours daily at an employment to which, for the love of such 
 einployment, he, would be willing to devote, say, two hours 
 daily, may then be considered to work only about four hours per 
 day. Now, as everybody knows, Herbert Spencer has argued 
 (Data of Ethics) that in a perfect social state everyone will ex- 
 perience a real love for his ivork, and will thoroly enjoy the toil 
 )Dy which he gains a living. That inuch can be said for this 
 contention is of course, even superficially, apparent ; and the 
 artist, the musician, the author, and we may add — as a repre 
 
214 Unpleasant Occupations. 
 
 sary to an Utopian existence ; and then wc can truly 
 live and taste the zest of life in our long leisure and long 
 holidays. 
 
 Factories suggest mines — and here we must confess 
 to a difficulty that is almost too strong for us at present. 
 We may without much trouble see our way — even now — 
 
 sentative of a class at present small but destined to presently 
 attain far greater numerical proportions — the scientific " re- 
 searcher," may appear striking examples of a consummation 
 already attained. Whether, however, all workers, including 
 miners, bakers, grooms, factory-hands, and id omne genus, will 
 one day come to I'cgard their daily toil witii enthusiasm and love, 
 as a source of lively pleasure in itself, and as a pursuit to be 
 desired even as artistic creation, — is quite anotlier thing. That 
 use reconciles men — or at least the j^resent-day lethargic half- 
 living meji — to many things, so that finally a certain affection is 
 developed for most-prosaic occupations ; tliat in a brighter 
 social state, with far shorter hours of labor, with happy homes 
 and genial surroundings, with high health and exuberant spirits, 
 the daily toil, even tho laborious and uninteresting, may be 
 \indertaken without much repugnance, and got thro without dis- 
 tress, or even with a certain amount of pleasurable feeling ; all 
 this we can quite understand : but that any race, especially a 
 race generally endowed with deep scientific and artistic culture, 
 and far more sensitive in every respect tlian is the present 
 average man, should find in the ordinary avocations any plea- 
 sure comparable with that of the artist, author, or scientist ; or 
 should regard with anything but, at the best, toleration, as 
 necessary evils, many indispensable departments of labor ; ia 
 quite another thing. It is one thing to anticipate that in Utopia, 
 with short hours of labor and frequent holidays, tlie necessary work 
 will be cheerfully and willingly performed ; but quite another to as- 
 sume tliat all such work will afford a distinct and permanent glow 
 of pleasure to the workers in the same sense as does art- work or re- 
 Beardh. The peculiar ditlerentiffi of esthetic and scientific employ- 
 ments must not be forgotten: and, merely because it so happens that 
 these may afford the secondary advantages of a marketable com- 
 modity, it seems doubtful how far they should be classified, for 
 purposes of argument, with the ordinary breadw inning pursuits 
 
Unpleasant Occupations. 215 
 
 to reconcile a factory-hand's employment with Utopia ; 
 but what of the miner % Can we possibly imagine such 
 quahfications as would render a miner's occupation not 
 unpleasant to a refined Utopian — to work in the dark, 
 deprived of the blessed light, in cramped and suffocating 
 attitudes, in constant danger of a horrible death, and 
 
 — most of which would never have been undertaken at all by any- 
 one except loith a view to sujyplying material wants. Were we 
 supplied by Nature gratuitously with all our material wants, 
 there would yet be artists and scientists, but scarcely miners or 
 jjlowmen or factory-liands. Moreover, with regard to Spencer's 
 remark, apropos of this question, that, intrinsically, rowing a boat 
 is no more pleasurable than reaping ; and while acknowledging 
 the support he derives from such phenomena as those afforded by 
 the enthusiasm of amateur gardeners, amateur carpenters, ama- 
 teur blacksmiths, e< id omne genus ; we may point out two quali- 
 fications : (1) that the special example adduced by Spencer is not 
 a particularly happy one ; because, by rowing, one obtains the 
 pleasure of motion, of gliding over the water, of passing in review 
 a long stretch of scenery, of enjoying cool airs, and so forth, 
 whilst avoiding the back-aching and monotony of reaping : 
 whilst, that there is an intrinsic difference of a very marked 
 degree is shown by the fact that thousands turn keenly to boating 
 as a recreation, whilst no one is found to amuse himself by reap- 
 ing, altho the opportunities for reaping are far and away more 
 numerous than for boating : (2) tliat even boating, were one 
 compelled to engage in it several hours a day, for most days in 
 the year, would quickly lose much of its hedonic value and pall 
 upon one ; the comparative infrequency thereof, and the fact 
 that it is sought as a recreation from the work of breadvvinning, 
 and that it is usually enjoyed in the company of a bevy of friends, 
 combine to give to amateur boating a zest which would necessarily 
 be wanting in the daily routine. Without, however, further dis- 
 cussing Spencer's canon — for wliich we admit, of course, that a 
 pretty strong case can be made out — we may suggest (1) that the 
 higher becomes our race, esthetically and intellectually, and the 
 more that it learns to value irredeemable time, the more im- 
 patient and intolerant will it become of time-consuming labors 
 which, however unobjectionable hedonically, are yet performed 
 
2i6 Unpleasant Occupations. 
 
 al)ove all perennially soiled, befouled, begrimed, with 
 black coal dust ! Yes, this is one of the worst of our 
 problems, and we will frankly confess to our inability to 
 see a solution; unless — and it is no such very wild con- 
 jecture — unless coal as a source of energy be characteris- 
 tic only of our vexed and troublous transition-state, 
 while the electric machine of the future will be driven 
 
 simply hecmise they are necessary to material comfort : and (2) 
 that, if v\ eismann's doctrines shouhl finally carry the day, thenthe 
 education of the race into enjoyment of necessary toils must be 
 — as of course Spencer recognises — far far slower than he antici 
 pated when writing the Data of Ethics ; for in that case all must 
 be done by a slow selection and nothing by inherited habits. 
 Under such conditions, indeed, one may well doubt whether the 
 Spencerian consummation would ever be attained. Now, it is 
 certainly singular and striking that, turning from the ideal of a 
 scientist and Individualist to that of an artist and Socialist, we 
 find the same thing aimed at ; William Morris, no less than Her- 
 bert Spencer, insisting that our daily work shall become to us a 
 soxirce (if not indeed the chief source) of happiness. Since then 
 Morris' declarations regarding %vorh seem to clash strongly with 
 our own as expressed in the text, it is desirable to say a few 
 words on the subject ; and the more so since otherwise we have 
 found Mr. Morris' views and our own coincide in so many respects. 
 On page 201-202 of his Hopes and Fears for Art, he criticises the 
 dictum, "No man would work if it were not that by working he 
 hoped to earn leisure," and his remarks thereupon run very coun- 
 ter to our own advice to reduce work to a minimum, and tlien live. 
 A very little examination and reflection, however, will show that 
 the opposition is far less than it superficially appears, and is 
 greatly owing to an unfortunate ambiguity in Mr. Morris' use of 
 the word ivor/c: this is clear when he procedes to translate the 
 dictum into "what a man does in his leisure is not work," and 
 then to traverse this statement. If, however, one defines work 
 — which we do — as tvage-earning, then the contradiction in large 
 measure disappears : but Mr. Morris' remarks on page 203 are 
 worth reading, since their confession as to the " weariness " of life 
 without some daily work curiously suggests that he has overlooked 
 the lifelong (employment that study alone may give. 
 
V npleasant Occupations. 217 
 
 by the power of the ocean — now wasted utterly ! Any 
 such solution as this would indeed be magnificent, and 
 would effectually dispose of one perplexity : but we 
 should still have to reckon with the iron mines, and 
 the — certainly far less troublesome — copper and tin 
 mines, etc. 
 
 Then we come to a varied category of trades, which it 
 is necessary to but very briefly glance at : there are the 
 bootmaker and tailor, the blacksmith, the brickmaker, the 
 navvy, the shepherd, the farm-labourer, the builder, the 
 carpenter, the engine-driver, and so on. Now our object in 
 quoting these occupations is to point out that — putting a- 
 side the trouble of roughening and staining the hands, 
 which, we admit, is a bona fide sore trouble to us — putting 
 aside this, however, there is really nothing in any of these 
 trades that any one of ms ought to be horrified at for 
 ourselves — once we get over the ridiculous and inmioral 
 prejudice that there is something menial, servile, or dis- 
 honourable, in manual work. Any such occupation as 
 we have mentioned might have to be plied by any one 
 of us or of our sons if living in a new colony ; and would 
 be performed without any the least feeling of false 
 shame there, and with the most beneficial results to 
 health. Then why not likewise here % Any one of us 
 will do — and enjoy it — a hard spell of very manual work 
 in our own houses and gardens^ — yet we should deem 
 professional manual work dishonorable. We have yet 
 
 1 During the dockers' strike of 1890 we heard a good deal of 
 "gentlemen black legs:" and during the Irish railway strike 
 a small number of young gentlemen volunteered to do porter's <jr 
 shunter's work for the pure fun of the thiiifj. 
 15 
 
2i8 Unpleasant Occupations. 
 
 to learn that wieldiuf^ a spade is as honorable as driving 
 a pen — and fur more healthy. 
 
 "But," — comes the impatient retort — "all this, how- 
 ever true, is absurd and inconsequential : for whatever 
 we may think, rightly or wrongly, of manual work, our 
 reasons for not adopting it are not that we despise it, 
 but that we can get better paid for head-labor — and 
 prefer this. Of what use then is it to lecture us on the 
 necessity of reconciling ourselves to manual work ]" 
 
 Now to this retort we have very little to object, in so 
 far as it looks to the present day only : but we are look- 
 ing forward. As will have been already gathered, we 
 anticipate a time when various social developments will 
 nave concurred to largely augment the ranks of manual 
 workers at the expense of the non-productive classes on 
 the one hand, and to notably elevate the culture and 
 social standing of the workers on the other. Now our 
 socialist friends, who are nothing if not hasty and en- 
 thusiastic, are very fond of denouncing without dis- 
 crimination the whole category of middlemen and of 
 other wealth-distributers, and of insisting that the future 
 is for the manual worker only : ni all of which indis- 
 crimination perhaps they will pardon us for thinking 
 them very foolish : but there is abundant kernel of truth 
 in their declamations nevertheless. 
 
 Now wiien the fully middle-aged, aldermanic, and 
 rather apoplectic, city-gentleman — gifted with no very 
 violent zeal for humanity, and witii even less capacity 
 for sociological study, or even for any other form of 
 intellectual exercitation — when this worthy hears our 
 socialist friends so declaiming, he generally mops hi.s 
 
Uu pic as ant Occupations. 210 
 
 forehead, gasps like a dying fish, and breaking out into 
 a cold perspiration, cries, " Good God! do you mean to 
 say that / am to be set to work building a wall or 
 stoking a furnace : oh, what rascals, what idiots, these 
 socialists are : " aud away he trots, as fast as may be, to 
 vote Tory ! 
 
 Now all this is very absurd : nobody, except some 
 very violent enthusiast of the latter-day -saint type of 
 character, anticipates any such sudden change — a change 
 impossible unless brought about by very artificial 
 methods, and then disastrous : we have to do with the 
 evolution of society and of social machinery, and with 
 the progressive modifications so entailed. It is only 
 in the vision of some wild dreamer that our respectable 
 city friend — whose consternation we can hardly avoid 
 somewhat pitying in spite of his ai'rant selfishness — 
 would be suddenly transplanted from an occnpation in 
 which he is of some use to another in which he would be 
 utterly useless, besides being physically unfit for it. 
 To contemplate the possibility of such rapid changes 
 is to cherish most wasteful and uneconomical desires. 
 There is no question of the old gentleman being turned 
 into a manual labourer ; and, so far therefor, it may be 
 said that liis consternation or his assent •A'ere equally 
 valueless : hut there is some possibility of its being very 
 advisable that his grandson or great-grandson should 
 devote himself to some species of "mechanic" work — 
 especially if he be no more liberally gifted in the way 
 of grey brain-matter than is his elderly and respectable 
 progenitor. Now, this being so, we would ask our 
 (socialist friends — Is it necpssirv, is it not ratlier ex- 
 
220 Unpleasant Occupations. 
 
 tremely unwise, thus to consternate and agitate elderly 
 citizens of the non-featherweight build ; would it not 
 be wiser to conciliate their votes and interest by showing 
 them that in the first place this dreaded reform cannot 
 possibly occur in their time (a sop for the Cerberus 
 of self), and that, in the second place, it is not after all 
 so dreadful when it does come — nay, rather pleasant 
 than otherwise for those who have been suitably trained ? 
 For even our elderly citizen will tell you that city-life 
 is vile, and that his dream is to retire into the country, 
 
 when ! so that after all he may be got to admit 
 
 that, if his grandson or great-grandson, instead of being 
 sent into the smoky city at 15, to arrive, only after long 
 years of drudgery at a desk, at a moderate income, were, 
 instead of this, kept at school and university until 20 or 
 21, and then taught carpentering, e.g., and made as 
 good an annual income by that in a few years as our 
 friend after 20 years' drudgery, and with shorter hours 
 and a far healthier life to boot^why then this so 
 dreaded millennium might be tolerable after all ! 
 
 Nor is this all: the Socialists, like other enthusiasts, 
 are too apt to forget that the new regime ca/j- succede and 
 flourish healthily and prosperously only ?/ it be a natural 
 growth indigenous to the people : conceivably it might 
 be imposed by foreign conquerors or by mob law — but 
 then alas, vae victis ! vae civitati victae / No : may 
 England's fate forbid any so terrible calamity : the new 
 regime (whether the Socialists be right in their painting 
 of it or the Individualists in theirs) can only be prosper- 
 ous and lasting if it be a natural growth. But how do 
 any changes come to naturally occur ; what is the fore- 
 
Unpleasant Occupatiotis. 221 
 
 runner and cause of every social or constitutional reform: 
 what else but a previous movement of thought and feel- 
 ing? The reform was made a certainty at that moment 
 when, in the majority of the people, there was implanted 
 a perception of its necessity, or a strong impulse towards 
 the change^: always and everywhere the ^rs^ necessity 
 then is to revolutionise the thoughts and to render a given 
 idea familiar and agreeable. Now up come the 
 Socialists ; and, by way of reconciling the British 
 Philistine to a radical social change which is timed to 
 arrive perhaps several or many generations hence, they 
 fire off at the astonished and scandalised old gentleman a 
 shower of red-hot new doctrines, none of which he under- 
 stands, and for none of which he is prepared. Now we con- 
 tend that the proper thing is to take this somewhat dense 
 old citizen into our confidence, and after having convinced 
 him that we have no explosives about us, and that 
 nothing is likely to "go off" in his neighboi'hood any- 
 how, we should bring him to see how very pleasant such 
 developments are to contemplate, and in fact we should 
 "warm up "the doctrines gradually before him: then 
 perhaps we may make some headway. ^ And this is pre- 
 cisely what we have been aiming at thro'out this essay. 
 
 I " Every institution as it actually exists, no matter what its 
 name or pretences may be, is the effect of public opinion far more 
 than its cause ; and it will avail uotliing to attack the institu- 
 tion unless you first change the opinion " (Buckle : History of 
 Civilisation, III., p. 83). 
 
 - We hope that all this will not be misunderstood as an advo- 
 cacy of socialistic doctrines : for, altho it appears to us that the 
 Ji7ial social state contemplated by ourself is not very vitally 
 different from that which the Socialists aim at, yet our respective 
 prescriptions for arriving at such state, and tor maintaining it 
 
2 22 Unpleasant Occupations. 
 
 Now — applying the moral of this Ions: digrcssinn — wo 
 hope that our purpose in emphasising the comparatively 
 pleasurable character of much manual work (at least 
 wlicn subject to certain very feasible reforms) will be 
 perceived. 
 
 It is — we think — highly desirable that we should, 
 beforehand, reconcile ourselves to the idea of manual 
 labor supplanting — in great measure — " office work," 
 " shop work," and " professional work." Once get rid of 
 that prei)osterous notion that manual work is degrading ; 
 and then — given equivalent wages — surely we must 
 admit that brickmaking or building, altho not an intel- 
 lectual or intrinsically interesting pursuit perhaps, is at 
 least no worse in this respect than book-keeping or col- 
 lecting insurance-fees ; and that carpentering, with all its 
 beautiful precision, is intellectually somewhat above 
 bank-clerking. An engine-driver may be thought to 
 have a hard life, but — putting aside those engaged in the 
 underground-railway, whose lot in its terrible monotony is 
 too hurrible to contemplate, and putting aside also 
 certain suburban-drivers — we would even to-day vastly 
 prefer the engine-driver's life, hour for hour, to the 
 lawyer's-clerk's or the shop assistant's — tho the one 
 wear a white jacket and be a " mechanic," while the 
 other wear a black coat (odious appanage) and be a 
 " gentleman " (save the mark). Oh ! is there not some- 
 
 whcn arrived at, are fundamentally different. Of course the 
 Socialists may be quite right, and we may be quite wrong : we 
 are fully open to conviction ; but meanwhile we decidedly object 
 to being misunderstood as an exponent of regimental Socialism — 
 whereas our present convictions are dead against it. 
 
Unpleasant Occupations. 223 
 
 thing grandly romantic in an engine-driver's life : in the 
 summer, for instance, steaming out of London in the 
 earlj morn while the air is fresh and keen, quickly leav- 
 ing the throbbing metropolis behind, bursting rapidly in 
 upon — -say— the Surrey heaths, dashing thro all the f;dr 
 summer-wealth of heather and bracken, whirling across 
 the Hampshire and Wiltshire downs with tiieir chalk 
 escarpments, and at last breaking in upon the glories of 
 Devon ; and so, after winding round hill and combe, 
 ending by the side of the surging ocean ! Or perhaps a 
 night journey — a fiery, gleaming, swishing, rush thro the 
 darkness — oh a romantic life and a fine life truly : what 
 can the pallid, smoke-ridden, black-coated. City-clerk set 
 off against this ! Again, people — to-day — stupidly scoff 
 at shoemakers and tailors: but an hour's sojourn in an 
 Italian cobbler's shop — necessitated by the effect of a 
 pedestrian tour upon a solely-available pair of boots — 
 taught us how much of interest and skill the art of 
 cobbling enshrined : whilst anyone not blinded by stupid 
 caste-born prejudice would readily perceive that in its 
 beautiful neatness, symmetry, and skill, tailoring is far 
 superior (in intellectual interest) to writing invoices or 
 attending " change," and far more honorable than 
 gambling in stocks or concocting lies for newspapers. 
 Shepherds and farmers and fishermen have all the year 
 round that healthy open-air-life which Londoners look to 
 as making their brief fortnight the chief happiness of the 
 year : and even the sailor's life, tho it be hard and 
 dangerous, is so much the ideal of, at least, us sea-girt 
 Englishmen, that it were almost superfluous to adduce 
 any arguments to reconcile us to that : we may well 
 
224 Unpleasant Occupations. 
 
 anticipate that, when wages have sufficiently gone up, 
 and the workmen's pay be more nearly equal in all trades, 
 then the sailor's life will exercise an irresistible fascina- 
 tion upon our British youth, and the difficulty will be, 
 not to man our marine but, to ship our mariners.^ It 
 thus appears to us that — so far as concerns social 
 developments — our future is full of hopefulness ; and 
 the outlook, as compared with our present surrounding 
 social wilderness, is fair indeed ; and surely the efforts of 
 all of us should be especially centred upon so educating 
 public feeling and inducing so healthy and truly demo- 
 cratic a frame of mind — to the eternal annihilation of 
 caste — as to render it possible, socially possible we mean, 
 for our sons, or at least for our grandsons — unless their 
 abilities clearly designate them as fitted for a truly 
 learned profession — to earn their livelihood by some 
 species of mechanical worli rather than by desk-drudgery 
 or supererogatory "middlemanning." At the same time 
 such reflections as the foregoing immensely help us to 
 reconcile semi-Utopian happiness with the existence of 
 numberless mechanics sucii as are clearly necessary to 
 any society. 
 
 ' We fear that the suggestion will be drowned by peals of 
 Homeric laughter, yet we have small doubt that, in a more re- 
 fined society, sailors, like many other craftsmen, will wear gloves 
 whilst engaged in dirty working ; and will not consider it a point 
 of honor to have tarry hands. White hands are dear to us ; and 
 we cannot easily reconcile ourself to the notion of SO per cent, 
 being spoiled in Utopia. 
 
Unpleasant Occupations. 225 
 
 APPENDIX. 
 
 Singularly enough, about an hour after writing the foregoing 
 discussion on vegetarianism, we found in the current number of the 
 Nineteenth Century (April, 1892) a vegetarian pronunciamento by 
 La^ly Paget. We read tlie article with, naturally, much interest : 
 and, altho the authoress had permitted herself to indite — as we 
 were sorry to observe — several glaring absurdities, and once or 
 twice betrayed a comical nescience of physiology ; still, after 
 reading and reflecting on the article, we began to see our way 
 thro this difficulty a little more clearly, and to think that per- 
 haps we had, in our remarks above, somewhat exaggerated the 
 difficulties of Utopia's diet. 
 
 Lady Paget, in stating her case for vegetarianism, laid great 
 stress on the esthetic side of the question, referring for instance 
 to the loathsome spectacle afforded by a butcher's shop, and 
 especially to the reflex effect on the butcher. All this is, of 
 course, thoroly consonant with the views that we have already 
 expressed ; and, when Lady Paget precedes to refer to her indi 
 vidual constitutional repugnance to meat-eating, we can farther 
 assure her that our own experience has been very congruous to 
 hers. With all that Lady Paget writes regarding the far more 
 esthetic character of a vegetable diet we are thoroly in accord, 
 andemphatically with her objection to condemning so many fellow- 
 men to the degrading trade of butchery ; and of course with her 
 womanly plea for the dumb animals that suffer such hideous 
 cruelties on the route to the slaughterer's ; indeed we can hardly 
 trust ourself to think upon this part of the subject. But now, 
 admitting all these arguments to the full, the old question remains, 
 tvill vegetarianism loor-k ? Well, Lady Paget's article naturally 
 did not convince us of what lias been a moot point — if even a 
 moot point — for many years, and seems moreover very clearly 
 repugnant to man's normal alimentary instincts, — which are by 
 no means to be ignored as guides ; l but, thinking over the subject, 
 
 iWe must remark, however, that the majority of the monkeys are normally 
 vegetarian ; but, presumably in correlation with this diet, they have frequently 
 hideously prominent abdomens ; the potato-eating Irish are well-known to 
 be similarly affected. Mr Long— to whose article, in tlie Fortniijhtly for 
 August, 1S93, wemayrefer our readers for various data as to food-consumption, 
 etc.— remarks that 2 lbs. of flour and 4 oz. of pulse per day constitute the total 
 food of a Hindoo. Obviously it were absurd to argue without reserve from 
 the easy conditions of a tropical climate to the far severer conditions of 
 Northern Europe, to say nolhiug of the asserted corporal weakn^ts and 
 
226 Unpleasant Occupations. 
 
 and espenially regarding it from the esthetic and humanitarinn 
 standpoint, we came to tlie conclusion that, if it should 1)« luiind 
 feasible to maintain a thoroly satisfactory bodily condition on 
 — not a vegetarian but— a " pythagorean " diet o^jiah and " vege- 
 tables," the problem would be practically solved. 
 
 Tlie esthetic and humanitarian advantages of fish over butcher's 
 meat are so obvious as to need no pointing ; the killing of the 
 fish is accompanied by nothing comparable to the horrors of the 
 shambles, tlie stage of previous suffering is wanting, any kind of 
 prescience or nervous apprehension is absolutely absent, the 
 moral deadening of the fisherman's sentiments is in no way com- 
 parable with that of the butcher's — both because there is no 
 bloodshed, and no actual killinri, and because, the farther removed 
 from humanity is any animal, the less repulsive, both naturally 
 and logicallj',' is its killing — and finally a fish-shop — altlio Lady 
 Paget expressly disagrees with us here — is not esthetically ob- 
 jectionable, or at least, comparably with a butcher's. "^ 
 
 feebleness of the Hindoos, which will not unnaturally he ascribed to their bad 
 food, the he adds that their mes-engers will go fifty uiiies a day for twenty and 
 thirty days without intermission (!J ; but we would ask our readers' attention 
 to a passage \r\ ForsUr's Travels (\\. 142) as quoted by Mill (Historn of India, 
 i., p. 412.) " Having witnessed the robust activity of the people of Northern 
 Persia and Afghanistan, I am induced to think that the Imnian body may 
 sustain the most laborious services without the aia of animal food. The 
 Afghan, whose ^ole aliment is bread, curdled milk, and water, inhabiting a 
 climate which often produces in one day e.xtreme heat and cold, shall undergo 
 as much fatigue, and exert as much strength, as the porter of London who 
 copiously feeds on flesh-meat and ale ; nor is he subject to the like acute and 
 obstinate disorders. It is a well-known fact that the Arabs of the shore of 
 the lied Sea, wlio live, witli littlt^exte!)tion, on dates and lemons, carry burdens 
 of such an extraordinary weight, that its specific mention to an European ear 
 would seem romance." 
 
 1 Naturalli/, because the death of any animal that can reciprocate our human 
 feelings and intelligence — e.g., a dog, horse, or monkey — possesses a peculiar 
 pathos for us ; it is analogous to the death of a man: and loijically because 
 the further removed from us is an animal, the cruder is its nervous system 
 and the less capable of suffering pain is it. 
 
 2 " I do not think that anyone has a riglit to indulge in tastes which oblige 
 others to follow a brutalisin^' occupation which morally degrades the man who 
 earns his bread by it. To call a man a biitiiier means that he is fond of blood- 
 shed " (p. f)S2, April, 1892). In this connection we may call our readers' 
 attention to a significant statement that appeared in the Star (August, IS '3), 
 to the effect that a police constable was converted tout-d-coup to vegetarian- 
 ism by a duty-visit that he paid to a slaughter-house. His account of hia 
 experience is worth reading. Mr.=. Edmonds in her Fiir Athens (p. 14S-9) has 
 some plaintive reflections on the fait^ of thousands of lambs at Easter, .-lud 
 seems to have had her happiness cousiderably marred thereby. Mrs. Eduiouds, 
 apparently, is no vegetarian. 
 
Unpleasant Occupatiotis. 227 
 
 Well the upshot of our reflections was a determination to make 
 a loyal experiment upon this " p3-thagoreau " diet, of tish, egys, 
 and vegetable food, only — excluding poultry and game as much 
 as butcher's meat. An opportunity soon otferod itself for com- 
 mencing the experiment, and we can now report (February, 
 1894) that after eigliteen montiis' abstention from meat we feel 
 none the worse for it : almost tlie only differences that we have 
 observed are (1) that apparently at first we suffered less from 
 indigestion after dinner, and (2) that the mouth and teeth are in 
 a decidedly more agieeable condition tiian tiiey were wont to be 
 in the days of the normal diet ; this latter change was very 
 marked at once. We may furthermore add that after three weeks 
 in Scotland, spent partly on board ship and partly on pedestrian 
 tours — during which time we lived almost entirely on this diet 
 — we returned several pounds heavier than we had ever known 
 ourself before. At the same time we are fully open to the re- 
 marks ( 1 ) that some years' trial may be by no means so satisfactory 
 as eighteen months' — time alone can decide that ; and (2) that it 
 is considerably more difiicult to obtain a palatable variety of 
 food under this than under the normal regime. However that 
 may be, the general effect upon our speculations has been to bias 
 us strongly to the conclusion that butchers' shops will disappear 
 from the semi-Utopia of this latitude anyhow : whether the 
 poulterer's will remain is anotlier question. It has, however, 
 been objected by a sceptical friend, against eitiier pure vegetarian- 
 ism or our own " Pythagoreanism," that to abolish " butchery " 
 would entail the loss of wool and milk also, since these could 
 profitably be grown only as bye-products, not as the main or 
 sole products. To tliis, however, we retort (1) that wool is so 
 groion in Australia, and apparently also by the breeders of tiie 
 merino sheep — whose bodies are dwarfed and the wool luxuriant ; 
 (2) that even in England sheep can get niore or less of a livino 
 on bare hillsides where the land is unfit for cultivation, and 
 pasturage costs nothing ; (3) — and this is very important —that 
 all the great expenses of fattening would obviously be saved, so 
 that the expenses of sheep-owners and cattle-owners would be 
 far less than now ; (4) that even if the prices of wool and milk 
 be raised (which we doubt), yet since a fish diet — when the culti- 
 vation of fish shall have been systematically and scientifically 
 undertaken —will be far less expensive than a meat-diet, it is 
 clear that higher prices could be afforded for wool and milk ; 
 besides which, it seems clear that if we keep our sheep alive for 
 
228 Unpleasatit Occupations. 
 
 their natural term, instead of slaughtering thousands monthly, 
 our national supply of wool will be enormously increased. Witli 
 regard to other and favourite objections of our friend's, we may 
 also at least .sugyest possible solutions : we are asked, What can 
 be done with the oxen if they be no longer eaten ; and how are 
 the dead sheep and oxen to be disposed of? To these questions 
 we submit (1) that the oxen may well be used for draft-purposes 
 as they are on the Continent — a procedure wliich would greatly 
 economise our horse-power, and practically therefor increase 
 our supply of horses ; besides which, moreover, it is highly pro- 
 bable that the advance of biological science will enable us to 
 practically determine the ratio of buUcalves to cowcalves in 
 accordance with our requirements ; and (2) as to the disposal of 
 dead cattle and sheep, the same objection viight he made in regard 
 to our horsen : whether the dead animals be returned to mother 
 earth, or utilised in fish-culture, the esthetic trouble is far less 
 than that involved in butchery. Finally, as regards the pigs, 
 we must confess that, ptrsonally, whether we remain " Pytiia- 
 gorean " or not, we would gladly see tlie Gadarene process applied 
 to every pig in Britain to-morrow. These few suggestions as to 
 the economics of live-stock we commend to our X'egetarian friends, 
 whose business it really is, rather than ours, to solve such pro- 
 blems. We hope that they will be duly grateful to us for fighting 
 their battles, altlio not acknowledging their suzerainty and only 
 doubtfully their alliance even ! As a matter of fact it is really 
 their business to arrange all these things ; and we may point out 
 to them that until they can find a complete substitute for leather, 
 or otherwise solve that leather problem, there i7iusc necessarily 
 leniuiu au unmanageable lion in their own and our esthetic patlis ■ 
 
CHAPTER XII. 
 
 ON CO-OPERATION. 
 
 " Le sense commun est le genie de riinmanit^." 
 
 " A threefold cord is not quickly broken." 
 
 There are a number of detached observations with re- 
 gard to social evolution, and bearing especially (in all 
 probability) upon the not ver}^ remote future, that we 
 may here record before closing the present discussion. 
 
 Among the many forms of social activity, for which one 
 may anticipate far greater developn^ent in the future, is 
 that of co-operation. It has often seemed to us, when 
 reflecting on social development, that men in the future 
 will live far less than at present by making profits, and 
 far more by diminishing expenses — which diminution 
 can only be brought about by co-operation. Of course 
 this statement can very easily be caricatured into mere 
 nonsense ; but we think that there is a- very solid core 
 of truth in it : one or two examples from familiar thmgs 
 will render the matter jDlain. 
 
 Take tii-st our daily expenditure on the necessities of 
 
 life — coals — food — clothes — tools — and so on. Now in 
 
 buying all of these things we are paying, not only the 
 
 labourei''s wages and the manufacturer's profit, but also 
 
 the profits of probably two (at least) intermediary dealers 
 229 
 
230 Oh Co-operation. 
 
 — the wholesale dealer and the shopkeeper Now if we 
 could buy direct from the manufacturer at the wholesale 
 prices we should save largely : but it were clearly absurd 
 to suppose that we could do tliis without buying a large 
 quantity at a time — for which large quantity we have no 
 use. The least reflection will suffice to show that in 
 nineteen cases out of twenty some kind of middlemau- 
 distributing-agency is absolutely essential : and if so, 
 clearly such middlemen nmst be paid — must make their 
 profits. Now in this dilemma, many years ago, some 
 few people, unusually endowed with " common " sense, 
 perceived that they might attain the desired end by 
 banding themselves together, buying the goods whole- 
 sale, and then retailing them among themselves. In 
 fact Co-operative Stores were invented. Now it is clear 
 that, when rationally carried out, this system of Co-oper- 
 ative Stores is emphatically the most economical way of 
 diminishing household expenses, and of reducing to the 
 lowest possible minimum the number of middlemen and 
 the consequent costs of distribution. The whole assem- 
 blage of shops in any one village might be superseded by 
 one large co-operative store — employing the minimum 
 possible stati'of distributers — and to the general advantage. 
 But the systmi of Co-operative Stores — so called — as 
 we know them at the present day, is the most insane and 
 ghastly parody of Co-operation conceivable — having as , 
 much real co-operation in it as there is moss on a rolling 
 stone. By what mysterious process of brain-bewilder- 
 ment anybody can have persuaded himself tliat " co- 
 operation" of distribution consisted in X people forming a 
 limited liability company for the sale of miscellanies at 
 
On Co-operation. 231 
 
 subnormal rates, both to themselves and to anybody who 
 liked to sabscfibe 2s. 6d. or 5s. annually for the privdege, 
 and in then dividuig the enormous^ profit to the share- 
 holders in proportion to their shares and not to their pur- 
 chases, this the Demons of confusion alone know. Yet 
 this caricature passes for *' Co-operation ! " The absur- 
 dity is really so glaring, the fallacy so palpable, that it 
 almost seems superfluous to explain that there can be no 
 Co-operation of distribution in its true sense unless (1) 
 the ability to purchase is confined exclusively to the 
 shareholders, and (2) the profits are annually distributed 
 among the members in the precise ratio of their p)urchases, 
 hut not to them as shareholder's. Or in other words, the 
 aim should be to sell at cost-price plus management- 
 price ; and the profits, as such, should be zero. The 
 only question is, whether it be better to sell the goods at 
 a zero profit in each case ; or to sell them at normal or 
 subnormal prices, and then annually divide the profits to 
 each member in the ratio of his purchases. The former 
 plan is of course the simpler j/;ri;/ia/acie ; but the latter 
 is preferred by most economists ; not only because it is 
 dirticult to calculate the managerial and other expenses 
 so exactly as to be able to sell, e.g., a pound of soap at 
 zero-pi'ofit-price, but also because it is usu;xlly considered 
 tiiat thrift is far more promoted, and extravagance and 
 
 1 An original £1 share in the Army and Navy Stores is now 
 worth fl5. How heavy a loss is entailed upon the consumer by 
 our present machinery of distribution is evidenced by this fact no 
 less than by the huge proportion to which the trade disrount 
 sometimes attains : we understand that in certain trades it may 
 be as high as 75 per cent. — or even higher. 
 
232 On Co-operation. 
 
 frivolous expenditure less induced, if a tangible lump 
 return be made annually. ^ 
 
 Another development of co-operation, which we may 
 expect to find in the very near future, is in its applica- 
 tion to hotels and similar establishments : and one 
 knows not whether to attribute it to national brainless- 
 ness, or to national apathy, that this reform has not been 
 introduced years ago. At present, any one visiting a 
 fairly good hotel in anything like a favourite watering- 
 place is charged at — often — the most extortionate rates : 
 so far as it is possible to anyhow check the charges, the 
 landlord seems to make several hundred per cent, profit. 
 But tho this has been a standing grievance for many 
 years, and tho everybody, inore patriae, grumbles and 
 growls, and declares such charges to be scandalous, and 
 perhaps shortens a holiday, or denies himself the pleasure 
 of visiting a favourite watering-place in consequence, yet 
 the thing ends liere : and hotel charges continue to rise, 
 to the general annoyance, and the profit of no one — 
 except the unconscionable landlord. And yet the 
 remedy is so very simple : there requires only some 
 public-spirited man with some influence to set the 
 movement on foot, and then the diflficulty were solved.^ 
 
 There must be at least some tens of thousands of 
 Londoners alone who annually visit one or anotlier of say 
 
 ' The qualification usually made that the co-operation is not 
 exteniled to the shopmen, etc., employed seems to us no more 
 valid than an objection to a bird that it can't swim. In the very 
 nature of things the co-operation in distribution can only benefit 
 the distributers, and qua distributers. 
 
 = Note also, however, the suggestions supra p. 55 on joint 
 households, and temporary exchanges. 
 
On Co-i'peration. 233 
 
 a score favourite seaside resorts : now all that is necessai'y 
 is to induce — well perhaps a thousand would be sufficient 
 to start with — to form a limited co-operation company, 
 with say £5 shares, in order to buy up an hotel in some 
 town to be fixed by the majority-vote. This hotel then 
 would be worked on co-operative principles exactly like 
 a true co-operative store ; it would be kept exclusively for 
 the use of members, who would be charged the minimum 
 possible tariff, and any profits made would annually be 
 distributed pro rata, not according to shares hut to hotel 
 hills. But, it will be exclaimed, this is only one town : 
 people do not want to visit the same town every year. 
 True : but, once the experiment were successfully started, 
 there would be a rush for membei-ship. The original 
 company (of 1000) should be so constituted as to permit 
 of unlimited addition to their numbers : and for every 
 fresh 1000 shareholders, a fresh hotel should be taken 
 on. Thus, in probably one or two seasons, hotels would 
 be acquired in every fair-sized watering-place. The 
 economy would obviously be immense ; whilst the gain 
 in comfort would be very great indeed, since hotels, be- 
 longing in this way to a company of hotel- visitors, would 
 be quickly made far more home-like and generally snug 
 than they at present are. That the general public, even 
 without co-operating, would benefit by this reform is 
 obvious : since the co-operation would so thoroly scare 
 the hotel-keeping fraternity as to bring down their prices 
 with a rush.^ It is clear too that this scheme need not 
 
 ' We look upon this as a most practicable reform which might 
 well be introduced at once : and there is no reason why a 
 company so formed should not procede to buy up, e.g., Swisa 
 hotels also where the prices are steadily rising. 
 16 
 
234 On Co-opi.ration. 
 
 be confined to hotel-visitors alone, but that it miglit most 
 beneficially include provision for buying up blocks of 
 houses for the benefit of those whom it better suits to 
 take apartments. 1 In fact all of this is nothing else but 
 the application of Club-principles on a larger scale. Just 
 siuiilarly — to descend to a still more prosaic subject — 
 may we look to such a scheme for buying up City- 
 restaurants and dining-rooms. It has long been a s lurce 
 of grumbling and complaint that City-clerks — on whom 
 more especially the hardship falls — cannot get a dinner 
 for a reasonable sum. The remedy is very simple — viz.^ 
 for some hundreds of them to combine, buy tip a 
 re&taurant, put a manager in it, and then dine cheaply 
 
 ' It is strange that on a small scale this has not long ago been 
 .ap])lie(l by a group of families buying up a cottage l)y the sea 
 and using it in turn. So too if our counirymen had the merest 
 soupcou of eneriry and " common" sense, or the slightest notion of 
 helping themselves, instead of paj'ing the exorbitant sums de- 
 manded for berths in the various yachting steamers, a hundred of 
 them would club together, charter a steamer on their own account, 
 appoint a catering committee and stewards, and in tine have all 
 the real enjoyment of the cruise for about a third or half of the 
 sum usually demanded. It is true that a "club" thus catering 
 fur themselves would probably not charter a steamer whereof 
 the woodwork was entirely hidden by velvet and gilt mirrors, 
 nor would they spend as much on the wasteful extravagances of 
 a single dinner as would pay for four reasonable dinners ; but we 
 venture to say that they woxild be none the worse for tliese 
 limitations — but rather the better. The modern curse of object- 
 less luxury has invaded and already half-ruined our ships now, 
 and threatens — at the present rate of increase — soon to render it 
 impossible for any men with " moderate" incouies to afl'ord the 
 expense of the " cheapest form of carriage." 
 
 It seems to he, nowadays, considered essential to render a 
 steamship a floating mcu^on doree — which preceding we beg leave 
 U> characterise as a lubberly mistake singularly ilisgracciu! to an 
 island-nation. 
 
On Co-operation. 235 
 
 at co-operative rates. Here again everyone will profit, 
 for the frigiiteued restaurateurs will bring down their 
 prices. ^ 
 
 We are by no means sure either that similar associa- 
 tions will not be formed to buy up theatres and concert- 
 halls ; so that we may get our recreations also at co- 
 operative rates. Compulsory co-operation is already 
 applied — rightly or wrongly — in many towns, in the 
 furm of municipal gasworks, etc. ; and a consideration of 
 the very wide range that co-operation may be made to 
 cover will satisfy us that we have here another of those 
 natural processes — the tendency of which is concomitantly 
 to increase the average citizen's wealth, and to render the 
 accumulation of large furtunes rarer and more difficult, 
 
 1 A highly desirable— and yearly more necessary— social de- 
 velopment is the formation of an Anti-Blackmail-learfue ; the 
 object of which shall be to compel certain classes, hotel-keepers 
 anil restaurateurs pre-eminently, to pay their own servants and 
 waiters themselves, instead of dishonestly leaving them to live 
 by blackmailing their customers for tips. Such reform can only 
 be etfected by an organisation so powerful as to embrace the 
 majority of their customers. This evil system is becoming simply 
 intolerable now, and is poisoning trade after trade. It is well 
 known that, in many City-restaurants, the waiters are paid 
 nothincj, but, on the coutrai-y, pay the proprietor several pounds 
 weekly for their berths, recouping themselves by tips ! The utter 
 absurdity of the system is evidenced not alone by this, but also 
 by the fact that, in many City-grillrooms, a man lunching on a 
 steak and bread — price 1/1 — is expected to tip Id. each to waiter, 
 griller, and money -taktr 1 
 
CHAPTER XIII. 
 
 GOD THE ALMIGHTY DOLLAR. 
 
 " The World is too much with U3 : late and soon 
 Getting and spending we laj' waste our powers: 
 Little we see in Nature that is ours ; 
 We have given our hearts away, a sordid boon." 
 
 " Oppressed 
 To think that now our life is only dressed 
 For show : mean handywork of craftsman, cook, 
 Or groom ! We must run glittering like a brook 
 In th' open sunshine, or we are unblcst. 
 The wealthiest man among us is the best. 
 No grandeur now in nature or in book 
 Delights us. Rapine, avarice, expense, 
 This is idolatry ; and these we adore: 
 Plain living and high thinking are no more." 
 
 And now, in conclusion, let us repeat once more, that in 
 depicting Utopia it is the general good, the general happi- 
 ness, that we are regarding, and not the selfish affluence 
 of a few. It is hardly necessary to point out that the 
 Avhole drift of this essay implies as much — that again 
 and again the sundry reforms denoted really connote — 
 more or less immediately — a progressive levelling of in- 
 come, status, and culture. For instance, early in this 
 essay we pointed out that the comparative extinction of 
 lawyers would inevitably accompany the introduction of 
 
 a high standard of general honesty ; and, no doubt, many 
 236 
 
God the Almighty Dollar. 237 
 
 readers will have been horrified at such a suggestion — 
 exclaiming against a reform, however generally beneficial, 
 that should deprive a Russell or a Lockwood of the 
 opportunity of aoiassing a fortune by his eloquence and 
 address.^ But — putting aside the fact that all these 
 men (however indispensable at present) are simply a 
 measure of our imperfect civilisation and our uncertain 
 honesty — we contend that the very fact of so many 
 fortunes the less being made were in itself a source of 
 great gratulation. Since the national wealth is a limited 
 amount, every fortune amassed hy a non-producer entails 
 the inevitable correlative that so many of his fellows are 
 the poorer : that a lawyer has an annual income of £5000 
 implies that, for instance, fifty of his fellows are losing 
 £100 a year; and, whereas to increase a rich man's in- 
 come by £1000 is to give him comparatively very little 
 increase of happiness, yet, on the other hand, to diminish 
 a poor man's income by £100 is to injure him cruelly. 
 In every case — it is a simplest deduction of economics — 
 a large fortune for a non-producer mu&t mean poverty for 
 a number of others : but, in this case, that the rich man's 
 gain is the average man's loss is peculiarly palpable ; for 
 the exchange is brought about, not by any indirect and 
 occult social processes, but by a very direct payment : 
 the lawyer's fortune is made out of his clients' fees ; and 
 so much wealth for him means so much loss for them. 
 
 We repeat, then, that large fortunes are not - a source 
 of national gratulation — that, on the contrary, they are 
 
 ' Cf. too, note to pp. 95-96. 
 
 - The obvious retort to this is that without abundance of great 
 capitalists, what is to become of the Wages Fund — how is Ju- 
 
238 God the Almighty Dcllar. 
 
 a cause for f^reat anxiety and regret. That the unpro- 
 ductive rich become continually richer must generally 
 imply that the poor become poorer ; whilst the more 
 uncommon become large fortunes, the more reason have 
 we to rejoice — taking this as an indication that levelling 
 is going on. So much has been incidentally said — or 
 implied — already in deprecation of any eagerness for 
 amassing large fortunes — the main object of which is to 
 enable the "successful" man to squander his wealth in 
 every kind of wasteful luxury and useless extravagance, 
 against the practice of which this work, from beginning 
 to end, is principally levelled — that it is scarcely neces- 
 sary to enter into any formal discussion of plutotheism 
 here : but, nevertheless, we must once more express our 
 most earnest and emphatic opposition to this univei*sul 
 dollar-worship. We know of no more unhealthy and 
 dangerous social symptom of the present day than this 
 gravelling adoration of the dollar; and woi-st of all is 
 it that the largest fortunes seem for the most part to fall 
 to the least useful and unwoi'thiest members of society. ^ 
 If this dollai'-woi'^hipping passion for millionaire-manu- 
 facture, which so unhealthily characterises our time, 
 could but be quenched; if we could scourge out of men's 
 minds the evil covetousness which would heap Ossa on 
 
 dustry to be supported? But we think the difficulty is more 
 tlian met if we concede sufficient well-to-do men. Again, there 
 may be no merchant-princes to present a gallery of art worth 
 £250,000 to the nation ; but there will be millions to subscribe 
 their guineas for such a purpose. It is iceli to rtmember how 
 rapidly the French raised the German inilUards. 
 
 ' The record of Public Company rogueries during the past few 
 years is a terrible testimony to the poisonous iulection of this 
 dollar-worshipping, soul-killing, disease. 
 
God the Almighty Dollar. 239 
 
 Pelion to gain the Olympic gold — inainly in order to 
 squander it on luxuries and dissipations which make the 
 sociologist and philantiiropist stand aghast with horror 
 and despair — then, indeed, we should be mailing pro- 
 gress. ^ 
 
 ' When we hear that Vanrfprhilt is to huil'l himself a palace at 
 a cost of four hundred thowiand pounds, and that the Duke of 
 Westminster spent — how much ? — on the building of his ; tliat 
 Woburn Abbey was built by the Duke of Bedford at a cost of 
 £80,000, and that the grounds are cut up by 60 miles of walks 
 and drives, and were laid out at a cost of £40,000 ; that Lord 
 Burton settled £10,000 a year on his daughter — who, as is re- 
 ported, wdll inherit £80,000 a year on his death— besides payuig 
 off £250,000 incumbrances on his son-in-law's estate ; that 
 " money poured into the pockets ' of that drunken and dissolute 
 rowdy, the late Abingdon Baird, " at the rate of £120,000 a year," 
 and that " the money he misused in the eleven years since, as a 
 young man of twenty, he took to sport and pleasure, would 
 aggregate to appalling figures " ; that a successful shopkeeper 
 lately paid £3,000 for a necklace, and that a famous prima donna 
 travels in a special car containing a hath of solid silver ; that 
 the household salaries of an aged lady, who happens, by a series 
 of accidents of birth and death, to occupy the English throne, 
 involve an annual outlay of £136,260, the ''expenses" of her 
 household a similar outlay of £172,500, besides an expenditure 
 of £60,000 for her privy purse ; that a well-known millionaire 
 spent £12,000 on a ball at a London hotel ; that the cigars sup- 
 plied to H. R. H. " tlie first gentleman" of England and very 
 perfect pattern to society, and to a celebrated Jew stock-jobber, 
 are said to cost them half a guinea each ; that a certain young 
 Vaughan of North-country repute, by dint of spending £40,000 
 on a billiard-room, £20 each on spittoons, and £1,500 on a bed- 
 stead, contrived to run thro a fortune of half-a-million in eleven 
 years ; that Princess Beatrice's wedding cost £5,000 ; that, in 
 short, on every side, wealth is being squandered in the most 
 reckless, stupid, and even hedonically unprofitable, waste — 
 wealth wrung from Nature by the painful and lifelong toil 
 of our fellows whose cloud-capped lives are never gladdened 
 by a gleam of sunny interlude — whilst all around tliou- 
 sands are in abject destitution and noble educational or 
 
240 God the Almighty Dollar. 
 
 Now sundry evils of this milliona're-s^-stem are patent 
 to everybody whose heart is uot encased in triple brass 
 
 pliilantliropical schemes are languishing or stillborn for want 
 of a few miserable thousands, such as these fortuuali squander 
 in a day, and social would-be reformers are eating their 
 hearts in enforced apathy — then we cannot but ask ourselves 
 whether these self-bound millionaires l)e really men and women, 
 or — what? Can such heartless, crassly selfish, luxury-culture be 
 paralleled in other ages or other climes ? Yes : the historian 
 recalls with a heavy heart the annals of Roman decadence, and 
 remembers that in the most bedevilled age of Kome, when the 
 Nemesis of ruin was impending over her, precisely such dollar- 
 worship and such wasteful luxury were rampant, A few ex- 
 tracts from Roman history may perhaps be permissible in order 
 to emphasise the analogy. For instance : — " Lucullus had so 
 regulated his house that he could always bring three of his 
 friends to supper with him, and, without any previous notice, 
 set before them a banquet of which the expense was reckoned at 
 about £650. Even those men of the aristocracy who, like 
 Cicero, had neither any particular taste for expense, nor any 
 extraordinary facilities for indulging it, were obliijcd to maku aw 
 absurd di-^play of luxury for the -sake of appearances .- would they 
 invite their friends to table, they must at least possess a proper 
 table . , , . yet even Pliny regards it as incredible that Cicero 
 should have paid £650 for such a table " (Lardner's History oj 
 Rome, I., 'i7A, 355). "A table of thuja-root, with a claw of 
 silver or ivory, marked the man of correct breeding : he whose 
 table was of beech or oak could have no admittance to good 
 society ! In the same manner cookery and plate were matters 
 of great moment : sea-fish could be served up to a man of rank 
 onlv on golden dishes set with precious stones ; and his banquet- 
 ing halls were filled with troops of attendants. . . . The fac'dily 
 of life u-hich had existed in former times iras gone. Everyone 
 who aimed at the distinctions of society must be prepared with 
 the means of satisfying certain artificial wants, and of following 
 certain artificial fashions" (Ibid., II., 162, 163). " Philotas de- 
 clares himself to have seen, and ascertained from Antony's 
 cook, that a scandalous and useless expense was regularly in- 
 curred in order that the table might be instantly served at any 
 time " (Ibid., II., 77). " As money was the master-key to every 
 sort of enjoyment, it became the sole object of pursuit .... 
 
God the Almighty Dollar. 241 
 
 of selfish lust ; and another less patent objection has just 
 been pointed out : but there is yet a third and still less 
 
 unfortunately the spirit of traffic tooh that dir/'ctron in those timca 
 which it takes at this day, so far as it deals in stockjobbing and 
 agiotage, and in joint-stock undertakings of delusive remoteness 
 and extent" {Ibid., II., 87). " Vitellius' table alone swallowed 
 up sums so immense that Josephus doubts if the whole Roman 
 Empire would in the long run have been rich enough to bear tlie 
 load of the emperor's table-expenses " (Ibid., II., 130). 
 
 Passing by the similarly heartless and riotous luxury of a 
 privileged few which heralded the break-up of monarchical 
 France, and which was reflected in other courts, as, for instance, 
 the Saxon, of which we are told that altho the country had been 
 impoverished and well-nigh depopulated by the Thirty Yeats 
 War, " the Elector George remodelled his court on a scale of 
 splendor which for a time rivalled that of Versailles, so that 
 by his expenditure on guards, attendants, parties, banquets, 
 regattas, etc., he exhausted the electoral treasury, and at last re- 
 duced the nation to bankruptcy ; " and again, " A gipsy-party at 
 Miihlberg cost three million dollars, of which live thousand were 
 expended for porcelain vessels for the bedchambers of the 
 Elector and his guests " — passing by these almost incredibly 
 wicked excesses, of which this is a single example only, indulged 
 in in bygone days, we will cite two or three final instances 
 from the annals of contemporary modern decay — our authorities 
 for wliich are the London daily papers : here they are : — 
 
 " The King of Siani has just had a pavilion of glass built for 
 himself by a Chinese architect. Walls, floors, and ceiling, are 
 formed of slabs of dilTerent sorts and tihcknesses of glass joined 
 by impermeable cement. By one door only can the King enter, 
 and this closes hermetically when he comes in, and ventilator 
 valves in tall pipes in the roof open, as does also a sluice beside 
 a large reservoir in which the glass house stands. The trans- 
 parent edifice then becomes submerged, and the King thus finds 
 himself in a cool and perfectly dry habitation, where he passes 
 the time singing, smoking, eating, and drinking." 
 
 " The yearly expenses of the Sultan of Turkey have been 
 estimated at no less a sum than six millions sterling. Of this, a 
 million and a half alone is spent on the clothing of the women, 
 and £S0,000 on the Sultan's own wardrobe. Nearly another 
 
242 God the Almighty Dollar. 
 
 obvious mode in which the million-makor (indirectly) 
 actually loivers the national wealth ; actually brings it 
 about that, to make his colossal fortune, not only are so 
 
 million and a half is swallowed up by presents, a million goes for 
 pocket-money, and still another million for the table. It seems 
 incredible that so much money can possibly be spent in a year 
 by one man, but when it is remembered that some fifteen 
 hundred people live within the palace walls, and live luxuriously 
 and dress expensively at the cost of the Civil List, it appears a 
 little more comprehensible." 
 
 " Much interest and curiosity have been excited in Bombay by 
 the arrival in the harbor of Mr. Vanderbilt's yacht The Valiant. 
 She is manned by a crew of seventy -eujht, and carried nine pas- 
 sengers, including Mr. and Mrs. Vanderbilt. The Valiant was 
 built at Birkenhead, and is said to have cost considerably over 
 £100,000. Her length is about 300 feet, the tonnage 2,400, and 
 the horse-power 4,500. The drawing-room is described as 
 occupj'ing the whole breadth of the ship, and is panelled in white 
 and gold in the Louis XIV. style ; the furniture, most of it old, 
 being upholstered in red velvet. There is a library lined with 
 polished walnut, and having a fireplace with a richly-carved 
 mantelpiece. Mrs. Vanderbilt's bedroom is adorned with white 
 lacquered panels set in frames of gold and ivory, and the curtains 
 and coverings are of Louis XIV. old rose silk. Her sitting-room 
 is furnished with mahogany of old English make, with green 
 velvet hangings. Two or three other apartments, decorated in 
 the Empire fashion iu two shades of blue, open out of the larger 
 rooms ; and there is a bath, all the appointments of which are of 
 silver-plated metal. Ever}' bit of metal work, even to the hinges 
 of the doors on the lower deck, is indeed either of silver or 
 silver-plate. Mr. Vanderbilt, adds this account, has his own 
 suite of cabins fitted with even greater splendor and luxury 
 than those of his wife, and in his bedroom, where solid marble 
 has been freely used, are found all sorts of automatic and 
 electrical appliances to save trouble and increase comfort. She 
 has since sailed for Calcutta and other Indian ports." 
 
 So that our many English and American wealth-squanderers 
 fall into the same category with dissolute Romans of the decad- 
 ence, and with Eastern barbarians : and the reflection is any- 
 thing but consolatory to the sociologist and philantiiropist. 
 
God the Almighty Dollar. 243 
 
 many hnndreds somewhat poorer, but the national sum- 
 total of wealth — which had not so far been affected — is 
 prevented from increasing so much as it otherwise would, 
 or is even actually diminished. To make this plain it is 
 necessary to point out that millionaires may be either 
 producers or non-producers : if the former, if for instance a 
 millionaire's wealth has been made by inventing new 
 machinery, new processes of manufacture, by building or' 
 designing railways, or in any other such way, tJien is he 
 not only no malefactor, but in truth a benefactor to the 
 community : for in such case his own fortune is but a 
 proportion of all the immense extra wealth that he has 
 created. 
 
 But if he have made his fortune as a non-producer, 
 then this additional stricture becomes well deserved. 
 Suppose, for example, that the millionaire be a great 
 advertiser — as so many are : and we will admit, first of 
 all, that the wares which he advertises are decently useful 
 and not mere quackery. But what does his very adver- 
 tising imply % When we learn that Messrs. Pears spend 
 £100,000 annually in advertisements, whilst thou- 
 sands of other firms adopt the procedure on a smaller 
 scale, we are simply being informed iu other words, that, 
 in order (not to create wealth but) to transfer so much 
 wealth from other persons' pockets to those of the mil- 
 lionaire, a distinct proportion of national wealth has been 
 tvasted'^ — rendered practically non-existent, and a still 
 larger increment of new wealth inhibited. For how is the 
 advertisement effected ] By metallic, wooden, or paper, 
 affixes to railway stations, omnibuses, hoardings, etc., and 
 
 ' And sometimes a magnificent mountain-landscape ruined by 
 the accursed advertisement-moiiger 1 
 
244 God the Almighty Dollar. 
 
 by printed advertisements. However effected, an immense 
 amount of labor is devoted to printing and otherwise pre- 
 paring these advertisements — all of whieli labor might 
 else have been used in producing new wealth. When, in 
 addition to this, the very considerable value of the metals 
 now used so extensively, and of the various other material 
 media employed, and also the gradual destruction of 
 wealth by the wear and tear of printers' type, are noted — 
 in fact when we sum up all that is involved in the expense 
 of advertising, we must admit that the non producing, 
 self-made, million-heaper (however honest and worthy per- 
 sonally) is literally a noxious parasite living and swel- 
 ling on the blood of the nation. All the enormous staff 
 of billposters and advertisement-mongers are, indirectly 
 and in final resort, just as much hept by the nation, are 
 just as much a drain upon every worker's resources, as 
 are the lawyers and police. So that the sum-total of 
 wealth-loss entailed upon the nation by this pernicious, 
 mammon- worshipping, almighty-dollar-adoring, practice 
 of the non-producing millionaire is a matter for grave 
 anxiety : and there is a crying need for reforming away 
 this cancerous disea&o, that is daily eating more fatally into 
 the moral fibre of the nation. We had long felt — as indeed 
 any reflective man must — that this incessant advertising, 
 of even the most useful articles, was symptomatic of an 
 unhealthy and restless age ; and that a distinct social ad- 
 vance would be characterised by a subsidence thereof: 
 but, not until we sat down to write out these speculations, 
 did we fully realise the enormous wealth-loss entailed by 
 our gigantic advertising system. ^ It is probable that in 
 
 ' Ami if furthermore the articles advertised be not genuine, but 
 
God the Almighty Dollar. 245 
 
 a more healthy social state men would regard the passion 
 for amassing an immense fortune in much the same light 
 as we should regard a would-be-feudal baron to-day ; and 
 indeed it will become progressively more and more diffi- 
 cult — except perhaps for great discoverers and other such 
 wealth-producers — to make such fortunes ; but the present 
 type of millionaire who makes his fortune by advertising,^ 
 bv claiming as his own the national mineral wealth, 
 simply because the mines are beneath his land, or by 
 gambling or cheating in stocks and shares — such types as 
 these will probably become extinct — if only for the same 
 reason that would render impossible for a fish existence 
 without water. ^ 
 
 We cannot — nowadays— too constantly or earnestly 
 remind ourselves that this greed and hist of money, and 
 this ivorship of extravagance and waste ordained by 
 "fashion," are the deep-seated social diseases, uncured of 
 which no nation can be safe or liealthy : liovvever ridicul- 
 ously and preposterously caricatured by crack-brained 
 
 some miserable lying riuackery, then in addition to all this loss 
 we have an enormous actual waste of wealth in producing material 
 lies. 
 
 1 Often qnackeries. 
 
 "^ We have vainly endeavored to obtain some statistics as to the 
 expenditure on railway-station advertisements, etc. : but we may 
 commend the subjoined extract to our readers' reflection. We 
 sliould greatly like to have had the flavoring of that dinner. " A 
 dinner which is probably as yet unique in its character has been 
 arranged to take place. It will consist of principals of the chief 
 advertising firms, and will be presided over by Mr. T. J. Barratt, 
 managmg director of Messrs. Pears & Co., supported in the vice- 
 chair by Mr. Beecham, of St. Helen's. The little party ivill it is 
 believed represent an advertising expenditure to the extent of some- 
 thing like one million sterling." {Daily News, June 23, 1S93.) 
 
246 God the AlmigJity Dollar. 
 
 ascetics of all times, yet there is profound truth in the 
 apostolic injunction that the love of money is a root of 
 all kinds of evils. As we have insisted over and over 
 again in tlie foregoing pages, and as one cannot too con- 
 stantly or too emphatically I'eiterate, the one indispens- 
 able reform that viust precede any development of a 
 markedly higher social state, is the adoption of a simpler 
 life — the abolition of that many-headed, but brainless 
 and heartless, monster, " fashionable society," with all its 
 follies, wickedness, and extravagances. But we must 
 confess to having but faint hopes of any immediate 
 reform when we note that the worst examples of arrant 
 waste, luxury, and extravagance, have their fountainhead 
 in tlie throne itself/ that the heir-apparent to the 
 
 ' The Queen's annual journeys to and from Scotland are said 
 t(i involve an annual expense of £6,000 — enough to keep, at least, 
 twenty families in ease and comfort ! We subjoin extracts from 
 an account given of the royal train in the Daily News (May, 
 1893), that our readers may judge what sort of an example in 
 simple living is set to her subjects by the " Mother of the 
 I'eople" : — "The train consisted of an engine and tifteen carriages, 
 its total length being five hundred and thirty-three feet. The 
 Qut^en's saloons, a very liandsomely-e(|uii)ped drawing-room and 
 sleeping car, were coupled in the middle of tlie train. Both 
 carriages were panelled externally in claret, white, and gold, 
 adorned with the Royal Anns, and surrounded by a carved 
 floral border of roses, thistles, aud shamiocks, the ornamental 
 glass in the side windows being engraved with devices represent- 
 ing the orders of the Garter, Bath, and Thistle. The drawing- 
 room car was upholstered witii variegated woods and blue- 
 watered silk, and lighted by lamps depending from the ceiling, 
 the gilt cornice of which was centred by a handsome clock. 
 Cerulean sliaded reading-lamps, supported by richly-chased 
 ormolu brackets, were placed upon a console table for the use 
 of the Queen. The sleeping car was divided into two apart- 
 ments, th&,t next tlio drawing-room being panelled w itli crimson 
 
God the AhnigJity Dollar. 247 
 
 English Crown consorts, not with the leaders of thousht 
 and culture, but with stockjobbers and " sportsmen " ; 
 and that his influence is typified, not by a radiation of 
 pure tone and healthy life, but by the introduction of 
 baccarat-gambling into private houses. We do not now 
 expect, or even relish, a genius for government in our 
 kings ; but, tho political cyphers, they may exert a 
 potent influence for good or ill on the whole tone of 
 society:^ and if they do not the former — if, worst of all, 
 they do the latter — their " subjects " may well inquire of 
 what service they be : why cumber they the ground ] 
 When one thinks of the immense social good that a king 
 or prince — tho politically a cypher — might yet effect as 
 the acknowledged head of society ; of the wickednesses 
 and follies and extravagances that he might discounten- 
 ance ; and of the pure and healthy tone that he migh'. 
 infuse; one cannot but be appalled by the thought of 
 how vast a responsibility for wrong done and good not 
 done must rest upon the shoulders of Royalty. Perhaps 
 one day — if Royalty last so long and be not first super- 
 seded by a Republic — our successors may find a queen 
 who can live on less than £340,000 per year, and can go 
 out of town without a suite of fifty servants ; who can 
 use "drawing-rooms" nut for the subservice of frivolity 
 
 tinted material and provided with small brass bedsteads having 
 mattresses covered with green silk ; while the Ro\al Ijoudoir was 
 neatly fitted with Hungarian ash and brown iipliolstery. " 
 
 1 It must be a matter of deep regret to every true patrint tlat 
 the Prince Consort died thirty years ago. Bat probably it 
 never strikes H.R.H. that his life of omissions and comnnssions 
 excites the most unspeakable contempt in the minds of thnsf? 
 who think life a serious matter, and moral progress bi mething 
 more than an empty catchword. 
 
24^ God the Almighty Dollar. 
 
 and waste, but for the promotion of simplicity and re- 
 finement, by refusing an entree to trains, feathers, and 
 jewels : perhaps they may see a prince living with 
 marked simplicity as a private gentleman might, and 
 setting to society an example of teetotalism, simple 
 cookery, pure taste, and healthy life — a prince, too, 
 proud to be known as the companion of philosophers, 
 scientists, poets, artists, and philanthropists, but treat- 
 ing with ineffable scorn the great herd of empt3'-headed 
 "dudes," rapacious stockjobbers, reckless gamblers, and 
 " sporting " blackguards. Perhaps, that may be reserved 
 as an experience for the future — stranger things have 
 ha])pened — but to count on all this is to point a long 
 long way ahead ; and we of to-day are hardly upon the 
 Pisgah-platform. Yet if everyone of us would btit mould 
 his own life, in some tolerable degree, approximately to 
 the social ideal here roughly outlined, how vastly quick- 
 ened would Utopia's advent be ! It is impossible too 
 emphatically to insist upon this truth — that the one in- 
 dispensable preliminary to such a change is a change in 
 the feelings, aspirations, and thoughts, of men. And here 
 it is precisely that we of to-day, we collectiv^ely, might 
 do so much good — viz., by right truly educating our 
 children. The whole public opinion must be educated, 
 and radically reformed : how so effectively as by rightly 
 training, from the first, the rising generation] Thro'out 
 — be it observed — we are looking to a natural process of 
 social evolution for the working of all reforms : and to 
 no arbitrary artificial enactment of a colossally ignorant, 
 criminally reckless, and partly dishonest, governmental 
 organisation that, with insane conceit, supposes itself 
 
God the Almighty Dollar. 249 
 
 able to mould human nature and human institutions by 
 Acts of Parliament. No ; no ; the whole change to be 
 healthy, and to be effectual, must be a naturally evolved 
 product : but we may vastly assist the one half of the 
 evolutionary process, by educating- men to desire it; a 
 very main obstacle to social advance will then have been 
 removed. 
 
 " The world's Great Age begins anew, * 
 The Golden Years return; 
 The Earth doth, like a snake, renew 
 Her winter-weeds outworn: 
 Heaven smiles ; and faiths and empires gleam 
 Like wrecks of a dissolving dream." 
 
 " The world is weary of the past ; 
 Oh might it die — or i-est — at last." 
 
 17 
 
AIM'HNDIX I. 
 
 We have already remarkeil upon the identity that we havceiDco 
 discovered lietwcen many of the suggestions maile in this essay, 
 and tlie propositi<nis set foith by Mr. W. Morris in his Ho^tt* and, 
 Ffctrsfor Art : we may, therefor, without further preface, take 
 this opportunity' of quoting two or three passages wliich are very 
 relevant to tlie discussions in this last chapter and in Ciiapters 
 IX., X., and XI. Says Mr. Morris — " Nothing can be a work of 
 Arc wliich is not useful ; that is to say, which does not nunister 
 Co the body when well under command of the mind, or which 
 does not amuse, soothe, or elevate, tlie mind in a healtiiy state. 
 
 " What tons upon tons of imiitternble rnbhlfh, pretending to be 
 works of Art in some degree, would this maxim clear out of our 
 London houses, if it were unders(,oo:l and acted upon !" (p. 31.) 
 
 '■'■Simplicity of (i/r, l)egetting simplicity of taste, that is, a love 
 for sweet and lofty tilings, is of all matters most necessai'V for 
 the birth of the new and better Art we crave for: simplicity 
 everywhere, in the palace as well as in the cottage." (p. 32.) 
 
 " As to the bricklayer, the mason, and the like — these would 
 be artists, and doing not only necessary', but beautiful, and tiiere- 
 for happy, work, if Art were anything like what it shouhl he I 
 No ; it is not such labor as this which we need to jlo away with, 
 but the toil ichich makes the thousand and one things which nobody 
 wants." (p. 03.) 
 
 " troublesome superfluities that are for ever in our way ; 
 
 conventional coinfort.s that are no real comforts, and do liut 
 make work for servants and doctors ; if you want a golden rule 
 that will fit everybody, this is it : Have nothing ni your houses 
 that you do not kiiotr to be ii><efid, or believe to be beautiful." (p. 108 ) 
 
 One might easily multiply quotations from this delightful 
 book, but the foregoing are sufficient to show iiow strikingly Mr. 
 Morris's conclusions — from the side of trained Art — bear out our 
 own : and we will only instance — without quotation — iiis direc- 
 tions for house-decoration and furnishing as bearing out our 
 own pleas for sim])licity of Life : in fact, much of Mr. Morris's 
 l)ook may be taken as an illustration of what we have said in 
 Chapter IX. as regards choosing th'' least evil. 
 
 To one apparent point of marked divergence we have already 
 alluded (p. 216 footnote AH/v/a.) : and in conclusion we can only 
 Bay to everyone whose heart is set upon social betterment — Bead 
 lum: read, mark, learn, and hucardly digest, with a modicum oj 
 critical sauce, certainly, that Golden Book (loth February, 1S93). 
 
 Still more recently we have had an opportunity of reading Mr. 
 Lewis Days Art in Evtry-ilaji Life, and must take the opportunity 
 of cordiallj^ recommer.tling a perusal of this book in company 
 with Mr. Morris'. It was unconiinonly satisfactory to us to tind 
 ]\Ir. Day insisting on what has for some time been a pet notion 
 with us — the utter absurditj', wp, mean, of giving up a room in 
 every house, however small, as a " drawing-room " for use on 
 state occasions ! This is a silly ploce of ill-bred snobbishness that, 
 ■w ith Mr, Day, we wish, rather than expect, to see disappear. 
 
 APPENDIX XL 
 
 QrrTF. recently we have come across, in Wallace's ^fulay .4rrh-i- 
 2.10 
 
Appendix. 251 
 
 pelago, a passage hearing so strongly on the suhject-matter of 
 this work, that we must give ourself the pleasui e of transcribing 
 it. We need scarcely add tliat with nearly every word of the 
 following admirable remarks we are in the very heartiest accord. 
 
 " What is this ideally perfect social state towards which man 
 ever has been and still is tending ? .... In such a state every 
 man would have a sufficiently well-balanced intellectual orgnnisa- 
 tion to understand tlie moral law in all its details, and would re- 
 quire no otlier motives but the free impulses of his own nature 
 to obey the law. 
 
 " Now it is very remarkable that among people in a very low 
 stage of civilisation we find some approach to such a perfect 
 social state. 1 iiave lived with communities of savages, in South 
 America and in the East, who have no laws or law-courts liut 
 the public opinion of the village freely expressed. Each man 
 s :iupulous]y respects the rights of his fellow, and any infraction 
 of these rights rarely or never takes place. In such a com- 
 munity all are nearly equal. There are none of those wide 
 distinctions of education and ignorance, Avealth and poverty, 
 master and servant, which are the product of our civilisation ; 
 there is none of that widespread division of labor which, while it 
 increases wealth, produces also conflicting interests : there is not 
 that severe competition and sti'uggle for existence or for wealth 
 which the dense population of civilised countries inevitably 
 creates ; all incitements to great crimes are thus wanting, and 
 petty ones are repressed, partly by the influence of public 
 opinion, but chiefly by that natural sense of justice and of his 
 neighbor's rights, which seem to be, to some degree, inherent in 
 any race of num. 
 
 " Now altho we have progressed vastly beyond the savage 
 state in intellectual achievements, we have not advanced equally 
 
 in morcdx It is not too much to say that the mass of our 
 
 jiopuiation have not at all advanced beyond the savage code of 
 morals, and liave in many cases sunk below it. A deficient 
 morality is the yreat blot of modern civilisation, and the greatest 
 hindrance to true iwogress " {Malay Archipelago, p. 595-6 : 7th 
 tdition, 1880). 
 
 Again " we should now clearly recognise the fact that the 
 wealth and knowledge and culture of the few do not constitute 
 civilisation, and do not of themselves advance ,us towards the 
 'perfect social state.' Our vast manufacturing system, our 
 gigantic commerce, our crowded towns and cities, support and 
 continually renew a mass of human misery and crime ab-'^olutely 
 greater than has ever existed befoi'e. They create and maintain 
 in lifelong labor an ever increasing army, whose lot is the more 
 hard to bear by contrast with tiie pleasures, the comforts, and 
 the luxury, which they see everywhere around them, but which 
 tliey can never hope to enjoy ; and who in this respect are worse 
 off than the savage in the midst of his tribe. 
 
 "This is not a result to boast of or to be satisfied with; and, until 
 there is a more general recognition of this failure of our civilisa- 
 tion — resulting mainly from our neglect to train and develop more 
 thoroly the sympafhet/r feelings and moral faculties of our nature, 
 and to allow tiieai a larger share of influence in our iei.'i.slatleii, 
 
252 Appendix. 
 
 oiir eommeroe, and our whole social organisation — we shall never, 
 as regar.ls tlie whole coiniminity, attain to any real or iujpor- 
 
 tant superiority over the better class of savages 
 
 We are the richest country in the world, and yet one- 
 twentieth of our population are parish-paupers, and one- 
 
 tliirtieth known criminals We allow over a hundred 
 
 thousand persons known to have no means of subsistence, 
 but by crime, to remain at large and to prey upon the com- 
 munity, iin<l many thousand cliildren to grow up before our 
 oyes in ignorance and vice to supply trained criminals for the 
 next generation. This, in a country which boasts of its rapid 
 increase in wealth, of its enormous commerce and gigantic manu- 
 factures, of its mechanical skill and scientific knowledge, of its 
 high civilisation and its pure Christianity — I can but term a state 
 of social barbarism. We also boast of our love of justice, and 
 that the law protects rich and poor alike ; yet we retain money-tines 
 as a punishment, and make tiie very first steps to obtain justice 
 a matter of expense — iii botii cases a barbarous injustice or 
 denial of justice to the poor. Again our laws render it possible 
 tliat, by mere neglect of a legal form, and contrary to his own 
 wish and intention, a man's property may all go to a stranger — and 
 his children be left destitute. . . .'We permit absolute possession 
 of the soil of our country — with no legal rights of existence on the 
 soil to the vast majority who do not possess it. A great land- 
 holder may legally convert his whole property into a forest or a 
 hunting ground, and expel every human being who has hitherto 
 lived upon it. In a thickly-populated country like England, where 
 every acre has its owner or its occupier, this is a power of legally 
 destroying his fellow-creatures ; and that such a power should 
 exist, and be exercised by individuals, in however small a degree, 
 indicates that, as regards "true social science, we are still in a state 
 of barbarism" {Malay Archipelago : 7th edition; p. 696-8). 
 
 APPENDIX III. 
 We have recently had an opportunity of reading Mr. Ruskin's 
 Muyiera Fulveris, and gladly take the opportunity to quote the fol- 
 lowing passage, which shows that, in some respects at any rate, Mr. 
 PiiLskiu by his own road has arrived at precisely the same goal as po- 
 litical economists and various scientific sociologists have guided us to. 
 Says Mr. Kuskin : " The only final check upon it ' must be 
 radical purif cation of the national character. . . . But in this more 
 than in anvthing, Plato's words ... are true, that neither drugs, 
 nor charms, nor burnings, will touch a deep-lying political sore any 
 more than a deep bodily one ; but only right and utter change of 
 constitution ; and that "they do but lose their labor who think that 
 by any tricks of law they can get the better of those mischiefs of 
 commerce, and see not that they hew at an hydra" -' [5/7/93]. 
 
 1 We are not to be under.stood as endorsing the context of this passage. 
 
 2 P. 101 : edition 18S0. Italics our own. We would like to express our 
 vehement agreement with Mr. Ruskin (Crown of Wild Olire. p. 41-4'2) as to 
 the wickedness of lending money to fighting powers (such as Kussia) who are 
 raising war- loans. 
 
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 are added Mr. Fiske's ability and the lucid method which characterizes his work, the 
 elements for a satisfactory memoir are all present." — Philadelphia Biilietin. 
 
 " To enumerate Youmans's achievements in the dissemination and interpretation 
 of scientific truth is to sum up the record of an epoch from the view-point of the 
 gradual enll:J:htenment of the American people. When Mr. Fiske reminds us that 
 the discovery and propagation of trtith are functions seldom united in one person, and 
 that science, like religion, must have its apostles, he speaks as one having experience 
 and authority ; and no one will dispute his competence to define and npp'aud the 
 services which his friend rendered in the capacity of a breaker of the brgad of science 
 to the multitude." — Sew y'ork Sun. 
 
 " The selection of Prof. John Fiske as the biographer of the late Prof. Youmans 
 was the best thing that could be made. Prof Youmans has done more for the dis- 
 semination of scientific information, and the cultivation of a taste for such knowledge, 
 than any other American of his day." — Cleveland Plain Dealer. 
 
 " We shall not be misunderstood as agreeing with all the views recorded here by 
 Prof. Youmans, from whom we were often compelled to differ while he lived, when we 
 say that we have read the book with great interest, and are thankful that one who 
 truly and unselfishly labored in the cause of popular science has so worthy a memo- 
 rial." — Neiii York Observer. 
 
 "He had the broad democratic spirit, and the absolute unselfishness which it 
 reveals at every moment and in every act of his life ; and Mr. Fiske has written a biog- 
 raphy which is tender andtrue, and rich and strong. To it are appended some of his 
 writings which have a fitting place here, and fully illustrate -his mental gifts and con- 
 victions." — Boston Herald. 
 
 " Edward Livingston Youmans was a remarkable character, and the world could 
 ill afford to lack a history of his life. Fortunately, the best biographer possible has 
 undertaken to write that history, and all thoughtful readers may rejoice thereat ; for 
 John Fiske came to this task well fitted in every way by his intimate personal acquaint- 
 ance with Mr. Youmans, extending through many years." — Chicago Inier-Oeean. 
 
 "Prof. John Fiske has performed a labor of love for the friend whose name is its 
 title, and one of whose closest intimates he was. The volume is a good example of 
 friendly but not unwholesomely laudatory biography." — Boston Congregationalist. 
 
 New York: D. APPLETON & CO., 72 Fifth Avenue. 
 
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 D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 HE ICE AGE IN NORTH AMERICA, and lis 
 Bearings upon the Antiquity of Man. By G. Frederick 
 Wright, D. D., LL. D., F. G. S.A., Professor in Oberlin 
 Theological Seminary; Assistant on the United States Geo- 
 logical Survey. With an appendix on " The Probable Cause 
 of Glaciation," by Warren Upiiam, F. G. S. A., Assistant on 
 the Geological Surveys of New Hampshire, Minnesota, and 
 the United States. New and enlarged edition. With 150 Maps 
 and Illustrations. 8vo, 625 pages, and Index. Cloth, $5.00. 
 
 '' Not a novel in all the list of this year's publications has in it any pages of more 
 thrilling interest than can be found in this book by Professor Wright. There is noth- 
 ing pedantic in the narrative, and the most serious themes and startling discoveries are 
 treated with such charming naturalness and simplicity that boys and girls, as well as 
 their seniors, will be attracted to the story, and find it difficult to lay it aside." — Sew 
 York yojirfial of Commerce. 
 
 " One of the most absorbing and interesting of all the recent issues in the depart- 
 ment of popular science." — C/u'ca£'i> Herald. 
 
 " Though his subject is a very deep one, his style is so very unaffected and per- 
 spicuous that even the unscientific reader can peruse U with intelligence and profit. !n 
 reading such a book we are led almost to wonder that so much that is scientific can be 
 put in language so comparatively simple." — Nevi York Observer. 
 
 "The author has seen with his own eyes the most important phenomena of the Ice 
 age on this continent from Maine to Alaska. In the work itself, clement.iry description 
 is combined with a broad, scientific, and philosophic method, without abandoning for 
 a moment the purely scientific character. Professor Wright has contrived to gi\ e tl'C 
 whole .1 philosophical direction which lends interest and inspiration to it, and which in 
 the chapters on Man and the Glacial Period rises to something like dramatic intensity." 
 —The hidefindoit. 
 
 " . . . To the great advance that has been made in late years in the accuracy and 
 cheapness of processes of photographic reproduction is due a fiiriher signal advantage 
 that Dr. Wright's work possesses over his predecessors'. He has thus been able to 
 illustrate most of the natural phenomena to which he refers bv views taken in the field, 
 many of which have been generously loaned by the United States Geological Survey, 
 in some cases from unpublished material ; and he has admirably supplemented them by 
 numerous maps and diagrams." — The Nation. 
 
 J\/fAN AND THE GLACIAL PERIOD. By G. 
 •i-'-i Frederick Wright, D. D., LL. D., author of "The Ice 
 
 Age in North America," " Logic of Christian Evidences," etc. 
 
 International Scientific Series. With numerous Illustrations. 
 
 i2mo. Cloth, $1.75. 
 "It may be described in a word as the best summary of scientific conclusions con- 
 cerning the question of man's antiquity as affcctej by his known relations to geological 
 time. " — Philadelpltia Press. 
 
 " The earlier chapters describing glacial action, and the traces of it in North Amer- 
 ica—especially the defining of its limits, such as the terminal moraine of the great 
 movement itself-are of great interest and value. The maps and diagrams are of much 
 assistance in enabling the reader to grasp the vast extent of the movement."— Xt^wi/t;;* 
 S/eetittor. 
 
 New York : D. APPLE ION & CO., 72 Fifth Avenue. 
 
D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 J J HEALTH AND PROGRESS. A Critical Exam- 
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 Profits or Lowering Rents : the Economic Philosophy of the 
 Eight-Hour Movement. By George Gunton. i2mo. Paper, 
 50 cents ; cloth, $1.00. 
 
 " The reader will find a statement of the labor problem as founded upon the eternal 
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 tion. ■ — Christian at Work. 
 
 SPEECHES AND ADDRESSES OF WILLIAM 
 
 ^ McKINLE Y. From his Election to Congress to the Present 
 
 Time. Compiled by Joseph P. Smith. With Portraits en 
 
 Steel of the Author and Others. 8vo, 650 pages. Cloth, $2.00. 
 
 These selections, sixty-five in number, embrace a wide range of topics of absorbing 
 public interest, and include twenty-five speeches devoted to the tariff question m all iis 
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 service reform, the Treasury surplus and the purchase of bonds, the direct tax bill, 
 etc. Ihe orator whose views are thus presented is the best authority of his party on 
 most of the matters considered. An elaborate analytical Index gives the volume an 
 encyclopedic character, which will be especially appreciated at the present time by the 
 student of whatever political faith. 
 
 ATURAL RESOURCES OF THE UNITED 
 STA TES. By Jacob Harris Patton, A. M., Ph. U , au- 
 thor of " Four Hundred Years of American History," etc. Re- 
 vised, with Additions. 8vo. Cloth, gilt top, $3.00. 
 
 " Covers everything, from the rarest minerals to seedless oranges. ... A most 
 comprehensive volume " — Philadelphia Press. 
 
 "A valuable summary of our native wealth. It treats not only of the precious 
 metals, coal, iron, and petroleum, but of natural gas, building stones fire clay, kaolin, 
 abrasive materials, mineral springs, salt deposits, grasses, orchard fruits, deposits of 
 gypsum, marl and phosphate, wild game, and fur-bearing animals. There are chapters 
 on irrigation, health resorts, resources in water power and in lands. I he section on 
 our fisheries is deeply interesting, and contributes fresh sce.iesto the general panorama 
 of our national prosperity. . . . Nn reader of this work can consistently despair ot the 
 future of the great republic." — Philadelphia Ledger. 
 
 C TUDIES IN MODERN SOCIALISM AND LA- 
 
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 Cloth, $1.25. 
 " This volume by Dr. Brown is one of the best books on the subject. It should be 
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 versation, should be intelligent." — Cincinnati Christian Advocate. 
 
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 New York : D. APPLETON & CO., 72 Fifth Avenue. 
 
D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 ATTfr EDITION OF PROF. HUXLEY'S ESSAYS. 
 
 COLLECTED ESSA YS. By Thomas H. Huxley. 
 New complete edition, with revisions, the Essays being grouped 
 according to general subject. In nine volumes, a new Intro- 
 duction accompanying each volume. i2mo. Cloth, $1.25 per 
 volume. 
 
 Vol. I.— method AND RESULTS. 
 
 Vol. II.— DARWIXIAXA. 
 
 Vol. III.— science AND EDUCATION. 
 
 Vol. IV.— SCIENCE AND HEBREW TRADITION. 
 
 Vol. v.— SCIENCE AND CHRISTIAN TRADITION. 
 
 Vol. VI.— HUME. 
 
 Vol. VII.— MAN'S PLACE IN NATURE. 
 
 Vol. VIII.— DISCOURSES, BIOLOGICAL AND GEOLOGICAL. 
 
 Vol. IX.— evolution AND ETHICS, AND OTHER ESSAYS. 
 
 " Mr. Huxley has covered a vast variety of topics during the last quarter of a 
 century. It gives one an agreeable surprise to look over the tables of contents and 
 note the immense territory which he has explored. To read these books carefully 
 and studiously is to become thoroughly acquainted with the most advanced thought 
 on a large number of topics." — New York Herald. 
 
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 problems of science better adapted to reading by the general public, and in this form 
 the books will be well in the reach of the investigator. . . . The revisions are the last 
 expected to be made by the author, and his introductions are none of earlier date 
 than a few months ago [1893I, so they may be considered his final and most authorita- 
 tive utterances." — Chicago Times. 
 
 " It was inevitable that his essays should be called for in a completed form, and they 
 will be a source of delight and profit to all who read them. He has always commanded 
 a hearing, and as a master of the literary style in writing scientific essays he is worthy 
 of a place among the great English essayists of the day. This edition of his essays 
 will be widely read, and gives his scientific work a permanent form." — Boston Heraui. 
 
 "A man whose brilliancy is so constant as that of Prof. Huxley will always com- 
 mand readers; and the utterances which are here collected are not the least in weiglit 
 and luminous beauty of those with which the author has long delighted the readmg 
 world." — Philadelphia Press. 
 
 "The connected arrangement of the essays which their reissue permits brings into 
 fuller relief Mr. Huxley's masterly powers of exposition. Sweeping the suViject-malter 
 clear of all logomachies, he lets the light of common day fall upon it. He shows that 
 the place of hypothesis in science, as the starting point of verification of the phenomena 
 to be explained, is but an extension of the assumptions which underlie actioTis in every- 
 day affairs; and that the method of scientific investigation is only the method which 
 rules the ordinary business of life." — London Chronicle. 
 
 New York: D. APPLETON & CO., 72 Fifth Avenue. 
 
D. APPLE rON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 EVOLUTION SERIES, NOS. i TO 17. 
 
 Popular Lectures a7zd Discussions before the Brooklyn Ethical Association. 
 
 E 
 
 VOLUTION IN SCIENCE, PHILOSOPHY, 
 
 AND ART. With 3 Portraits. Large i2mo. Cloth, $2.00, 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Alfred Russ'l Wallace. By Edward D. 
 
 Cope, Ph. D. 
 Ernst Hacckel. By Thaddeus B. 
 
 Wakeman. 
 The Scienti/ic Method. By Fkancis E. 
 
 Abbott, Ph. D. 
 Herbert Spencer's Synthetic Philosophy. 
 
 By Benjamin F. Underwood. 
 Evolution of Chemistry . By Robert G. 
 
 Eccr.ES, M. D. 
 Evolution of Electric and IMagnetic 
 
 Physics. By Arthur E. Ken- 
 
 NEI.LY. 
 
 Evolution of Botany. By Fred J. 
 
 WULLING, Ph. G. 
 
 Zoology as related to Evolution. By 
 Rev. John C. Kimball. 
 
 Form and Color in Nature. By WiL= 
 
 liam Potts. 
 Optics as related to Evolution. By L. A. 
 
 W. Alleman, M. D. 
 Evolution of A rt. By John A. Taylor. 
 Evolutioti of A rchitecture. By Rev. 
 
 John W. Chadwick. 
 Evolution of Sculpture. By Prof. Thomas 
 
 Davidson. 
 Evolution of Painting. By Forrest P. 
 
 Rundell. 
 Evolution of Music. By Z. Sidney 
 
 S.\MPS0N. 
 Life as a Fine Art. By Lewis G. 
 
 Janes, M. D. 
 The Doctrine of Evolution : its Scope and 
 
 Influence. By Prof. John Fiske. 
 
 " The addresses include some of the most important presentations and epitomes pub- 
 lished in America. They are all upon impnrtant subjects, are prepared with great care, 
 and are dehvered for the most part by highly eminent authorities." — Public Upinion. 
 
 M. 
 
 EVOLUTION SERIES, NOS. 18 TO 34. 
 
 AN AND THE STATE. Studies in Applied 
 Sociology. With Index. Large i2mo. Cloth, $2 00. 
 
 contents, 
 
 The Duty of a Public Spirit. By E. 
 Benjamin Andrews, D. D.,LL. D. 
 
 The Study of Applied Sociology. By 
 Robert G. Eccles, M. D. 
 
 Representative Government. By Edwin 
 D. Mead. 
 
 Suffrage and the Ballot. By Daniel S. 
 Remsen. 
 
 The Land Problem. By Prof Otis T. 
 Mason. 
 
 The Problem of City Government. By 
 Dr. Lewis G. Janes. 
 
 Taxation and Revenue : The Free- 
 Trade View. By Thomas G. 
 Shearman. 
 
 Taxation and Revenue : The Protec- 
 tionist View. By Prof George 
 Gunton. 
 
 The Monetary Problem. By William 
 
 Potts. 
 The Immigration Problem. By Z. Sid- 
 ney Sampson. 
 Evolution of the Afric-A>ne}-ican. By 
 
 Rev. Samuel J. Barrows. 
 The Race Problem in the South. By 
 
 Prof Joseph Le Conte. 
 Education and Citizenship. By Rev. 
 
 John W. Chadwick 
 The Dentocratic Party. By Edward M. 
 
 Shepard. 
 The Republican ' Paj-ty. By Hon. Ros- 
 
 WELL G. Horr. 
 The htdependent in Politics. By John 
 
 A. Tayior. 
 Moral Questions in Politics. By Rev. 
 
 John C. Kimball. 
 
 "These studies in applied sociology are exceptionally interesting in their field." — 
 
 Cincinnati TitJies-Star. 
 
 " Will command the attention of the progressive student of politics." — Pittsburg 
 Chronicle- Telegraph. 
 
 Separate Lectures from either volume, lo cents each. 
 
 New York : D. APPLETON & CO., 72 Fifth Avenue. 
 
A 
 
 D. APPLETON ^ CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 ROUND AND ABOUT SOUTH AMERICA: 
 
 Twenty Months of Quest and Query. By Frank Vincent, 
 author of "The Land of the White Elephant," etc. With 
 Maps, Plans, and 54 full-page Illustrations. 8vo, xxiv + 473 
 pages. Ornamental cloth, $5.00. 
 
 "South America, with its civilization, iis resources, and its charms, is being con- 
 stantly introduced to us, a.id as constantly surprises us. . . . The Parisian who thinks 
 us all barbarians is probably not denser in his prejudices than most of us are about our 
 Southern continent W'e are content not to know, there seeming to be no reason why 
 we sliould. Fashion has not yet directed her steps there, and there has been nothing 
 to stir us out of our lethargy. . . . Mr, Vincent observes very carefully, is always 
 good-humored, and gives us the best of what he sees. . . . The reader of his book « ill 
 gam a clear ide:i of a marvelous country. Maps and illustrations add greatly to the 
 va ue of this work." — New Yo>k Coimnerciat Advertiser. 
 
 " The author's style is unusually simple and straightforward, the printing is remark- 
 ably accurate, and the forty-odd illustrations are refreshingly original for the most 
 part." —The Xation. 
 
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 His account is made doubly valuable by the exceptionally good illustrations, most ot 
 them photographic reproductions. The printing of both te.\t and plates is beyond 
 criticir-m." — Philadelphia Public Ledger. 
 
 TN AND OUT OF CENTRAL AMERICA ; and 
 
 J- other Sketehes and Studies of Travel. By FRANK VINCENT. 
 
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 mile^. His personal knowledge of man and Nature is probably as varied and complete 
 as that of any person living." — Nezu i'ork Home Journal. 
 
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 mercio (Rio de Janeiro). 
 
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 ^-^ Kingdom." A Study of its Civilization and Possibilities. 
 With a Glance at Japan. By James Harrison Wilson, late 
 Major General United States Volunteers and Brevet Major 
 General United States Army. i2mo. Cloth, $1.75. 
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 New York: D. APPLETON & CO., 72 Fifth Avenue. 
 
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 JOURNEY IN OTHER WORLDS. A Ro^ 
 
 malice of the Future. By John Jacob Astor. With 9 full- 
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 "An interesting and cleverly devised book. . . . No lack of imagination. . . . 
 Shows a skillful and wide acquaintance with scientific facts." — Neisj York tlerald. 
 
 "The author speculates cleverly and daringly on the scientific advance of the earth, 
 and he revels in the physical luxuriance of Jupiter; but he also lets his imagination 
 travel through spiritual realms, and evidently deHghts in mystic speculation quite as 
 much as in scientific investigation. If he is a follower of Jules Verne, he has not forgot- 
 ten also to study the philosophers." — New York Tribune. 
 
 " A beautiful example of typographical art and the bookmaker's skill. . . . To 
 appreciate the story one must read it." — Nezu York Co7nmercial Advertiser. 
 
 "The date of the events nanated in this book is supposed to be 2000 A. D. The 
 inhabitants of North America have increased mightily in numbers and power and 
 knowledge. It is an age of marvelous scientific attainments. Flying machines have 
 long been in common use, and finally a new power is discovered called ' apergy,' 
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 tion, and at what speed they please." — New York Sun. 
 
 " The scientific romance by John Jacob Astor is more than likely to secure a dis- 
 tinct popular success, and achieve widespread vogue both as an amusing and interest- 
 esting story, and a thoughtful endeavor to prophesy some of the triumphs which science 
 is destined to win by the year 2000. The book has been written with a purpose, and 
 that a higher one than the mere spinning of a highly imaginative yam. Mr. Astor has 
 been engaged upon the book for over two years, and has brought to bear upon it a 
 great deal of hard work in the way of scientific research, of which he has been very fond 
 ever since he entered Harvard. It is admirably illustrated by Dan Beard." — Mail and 
 Express. 
 
 " Mr. Astor has himself almost all the qualities imaginable for making the science of 
 astronomy popular. He knows the learned maps of the astrologers. He knows the 
 work of Copernicus. He has made calculations and observations. He is enthusiastic, 
 and the spectacular does not frighten him." — New York Times. 
 
 "The work will remind the reader very much of Jules Verne in its general plan of 
 using scientific facts and speculation as a skeleton on which to hang the romsntic 
 adventures of the central figures, who have all the daring ingenuity and luck cf Mr. 
 Verne's heroes. Mr. Astor uses history to point out what in his opinion science may 
 be expected to accomplish. It is a romance with a purpose." — Chicago Inter-Vcean. 
 
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 of science hereafter to be explored, but the volume is intensely interesting, both as a 
 product of imagination and an illustration of the ingenious and original application of 
 science." — Rochester Hcr.ild. 
 
 New York: D. APPLETON & CO., 72 Fifth Avenue. 
 
D. APPLETON & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS. 
 
 EVOLUTION SERIES, NOS. 35 TO 48. 
 JOACrORS IN AMERICAN CIVILIZATION : 
 
 •L STUDIES IN APPLIED SOCIOLOGY. Popular Lectures 
 and Discussions before the Brooklyn Ethical Association. 
 i2mo. Cloth, $2.00. Separate Lectures, in Pamphlet Form, 
 10 cents each. 
 
 This volume is uniform with the two previous volumes of the 
 series, entitled respectively " Evolution in Science and Art " and 
 "Man and the State." 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 35. The Nation's Place in Civilization. By CHARLES De Garmo, 
 
 Ph. D., President of Swarthmore College. 
 
 36. N^atural Factors in American Civilization. By Rev. John C. 
 
 Kimball. 
 
 37. What America Owes to the Old World. By A, Emerson Palmer. 
 3S. War and Progress. By Dr. Lewis G. Janes. 
 
 39. Interstate Commerce. By Robert W. Tayler. 
 
 40. Foreign Commerce. By Hon. William J. Coombs. 
 
 41. The Social and Political Status of Woman. By Rev. John \V. 
 
 Chadwick. 
 
 42. The Economic Position of Wotnan. By Miss Caroline B. Le 
 
 Row. 
 
 43. Evolution of Penal Methods and Institutions. By James Mc- 
 
 Keen. 
 
 44. Evolution of Charities and Charitable Institutions. By Prof. 
 
 Amos»G. Warner, Ph. D., Superintendent of Public Charities, 
 Washington, D. C. 
 
 45. The Drink Problem. By t. D. Crothers, M. D., Editor of the 
 
 " Quarterly Journal of Inebriety." 
 
 46. The labor Problem. By Rev. Nicholas P. Oilman, Editor of 
 
 the " New World." 
 
 47. Political Aspects of the labor Problem. By Jeremiah W. Sul- 
 
 livan. 
 
 48. The Philosophy of History. By Rev. E. P. Powell, Author of 
 
 "Our Heredity from God," etc. 
 
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 knowledge some of the largest subjects uhlch cin occupy the niind^i of thoughtful 
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 some of the best work on subjects of the highest meaning that has been done by 
 Americans." — Bvston Herald. 
 
 New York: D. APPLETON & CO., 72 Fifth Avenue. 
 
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