Part 6
The precious gift of leisure, in which our working class might acquire more funds, we have not taught them to use; on the contrary, their leaders have taught them that they have a right to be idle, to obtain high wages for bad work, and in their leisure do whatever they like. This is something very near to Anarchy; any way, it is a principle which, if persisted in, will ruin England. No! The thing to do them good is to teach high principles and lead them on to be useful citizens. And that must be done, unless Democracy is to prove a disastrous failure! We have got to begin again, to start from the bottom--that is the clear duty for the future, and the only one that will succeed in the long run. If Democracy fails, it will be through apathy in the conduct of our systems, of leaving them to chance, and bad organisation. We have got to bring classes together, not separate them. Working men have to bring their share of labour into the halls of Democracy. An educated class has to bring its share, and the rich class, in its own sphere, has to bring its share. The rich have to supply means for labour, the labourer to do his labour up to the highest point of honour. The Educated Class has to seminate from the flowers ripened by study, and so each class, working out its own destiny hopefully and earnestly will contribute to general progress, which is the end to which democracy, to succeed, must strive. One class must not try to supersede another. That would only mean some form of Tyranny. There can be Tyranny from _democracy_, but only through _Anarchy_, which is as destructive to one class as another. To put down Anarchy, Force has to be resorted to. Anarchy is quite as great an enemy to Freedom as Autocracy. It calls out the worst form of human passion, resulting in civil war, the greatest evil that any nation can encounter. Russia is going through it, poor Russia, perhaps presently to become a victim to godless Germany! France went through the fire. France, for a time, lost her soul. The most delicately organised people in Europe turned themselves into brutes for a time.
What came after? The great conqueror, Napoleon. What did he conquer? Practically all Europe, save England! What remains to-day of his conquests? Nothing! Had Napoleon used his genius, which was second to none other in history, in consolidating France, in putting her intellectually as well as conventionally at the head of nations, which, by her innate genius she might have been, Europe would be a different place to-day. Napoleon failed, not because he was a conqueror, but because he tried to conquer wrongly. He threw away his force in War, he might have spent it in Peace. The French Revolution was the parent of his egoistic ambition, as Tyranny is the child of Tyranny. A revolution in England--by that is meant a War of Classes--would certainly give rebirth to Military Rule. This has been said before; it needs to be enforced by reiteration.
§ 34
Germany knows that, and nothing would please that rapacious nation so much as England’s failure to make Democracy a success. The success of Democracy in Britain depends upon the British, not only on how they choose their leaders, but on the direction taken by the people as a whole. These, then, are the reasons that I have written and published this “Book.” I want Democracy to succeed, and I see only one way to it; _Perfect Unanimity_, a perfect system of education, simple, not complicated, large-minded, generous rule, without weakness, all embracing without being overbearing. I cannot see it arrive through class warfare. I see it in wise concessions, in whole-hearted justice; in _general_, not _particular_ rule; in the cultivation of the whole human machinery of our country, not in parts only; of the soul of England as well as her physical needs; in Industry of all kinds duly guided, duly answered; of the needs special to every district, each performing its part in a national enterprise. In that way, each man and woman can find a place, a usefulness, and position as citizens of “no mean country.” That is my Ideal for England of the future.
As I write, I know that professional politicians will sneer, that miles of red tape have to be unwound before what is now bad is made better, that extremists of every party will abuse me. I know I shall be called an unpractical dreamer. For these I care not one jot, having little, if any, respect for professional politicians, having an abhorrence of red tape and the jobbery it wraps up. For extremists I have pity more than scorn, as I know their tenets are but as grains of sand blown by the winds. That agitators, as a class, are wholly unreliable, being, _au fond_, mostly out for themselves, and that is the reason I warn the workers against them. I have chosen the form of a Dream to tell my story for several reasons. Some of the finest literature has been given in the form of Parable or Allegory! which is as illustrative to-day as it was in any period of History.
§ 35
The wanderings of Osiris, told in ancient Egyptian mythology, are ethically as beautiful as their progress is enchanting. The most beautiful and instructive passages in Christ’s teaching are in parable, as all Oriental disquisitions are. The story of Buddha is a poetic allegory affecting the lives of millions to-day. The Divine Comedy of Dante is in allegory, and our own great writer, Bunyan, the Bedfordshire tinker, chose a dream in which to relate his Christian progress. Bacon’s New Atlantis is a species of allegory interwoven with the science of his period. The first three chapters of Genesis, whoever written by, are in allegory. I know that the form I have chosen is not one in fashion. I am old-fashioned, and prefer the example of the greatest minds to those which, on a lower level, in my opinion, are, just now, uppermost. Imagination is at a discount; materialism is paying interest on Industrialism; but I believe in the Triumph of Imagination and the defeat of Materialism. This late war has cemented that faith in me which William Blake taught me, when he saw trees at Dulwich filled with angels, and his beautiful mind was filled with enthusiasm by vision of a more perfect existence than a mundane one.
Imagination is the torch that lights the intelligence of man. It is of the Spirit which God breathed into the mythical Adam, as he rose physically out of the newly created soil. Without Imagination the world would soon drift into a desolate chaos. Imagination is somewhere in the British character, else how came about our literature, second only to the Greek? Materialism created by Industrialism has sought to push it out as a vague and idle gift of no service in the acquisition of wealth. _Plutus_ has been on the throne of _Zeus_, but only temporarily. Olympus will be peopled again, for the gods never die. Another Parnassus, with Apollo and the Muses, will be here again, and great god Pan will come into his own when Agriculture is restored in the grand simplicity of its initial purpose, and Industrialism is organised so as not to be a nuisance and a _curse_, which it has been unquestionably, not because it is bad in the abstract (for nothing which includes labour is that), but because it has gone a ruthless way unchecked. Industrialism became a “Fetish” before which every one must bow. It has destroyed what and where it wished! Without discrimination it has acted the part of a Juggernaut by trampling down better things than it can show, which stood in the way of its tyrannical progress. It has darkened the face of fair England by smoke, poisoned its rivers, turned good land into ash heaps. Lowered the vitality of men, of animals, trees and plants wherever its autocratic will has prevailed.
Worse even than this it has done, it has created a false creed: “I believe in gold.” It helped to make the late war the most horrible in History. It has tended, wherever it has planted its foot, to urge that _Might is Right_. Without the abuses of Industrialism, the late war could not have been. Germany trusted to her Industrialism to win. She felt certain that she could turn out a hundred destroying machines to the Allies’ thirty. That the force created by her Industrialism was invincible. There was once a Soul in Germany--the worship of Industrialism killed it. Germany lost the war because she had first sold her soul. The Allies won it because, though sorely wounded, their souls were still alive, and their honour mostly unscathed.
§ 36
Man was not made to be a machine; Industrialism would make him one; man was created for a fair open-air life to be a healthy hearty animal under the sun. Into him had been breathed something God-like, if he chose to use it; to create a new Eden, not a new Hell. We have had enough of his creative powers for the latter, we mean to use them for the former! It’s just a matter of choice, that is all. We have only to change the direction of creative impulse from sources of destruction to sources which will insure construction and preservation of the fittest. It is by that habit of mind and direction of effort we shall fall again into the footpaths of our noble predecessors, and create in them new departures, which, not being ephemeral and time-serving, will act as sign-posts for those to come; because, surely we are not responsible for a temporary success, but for the fields we leave to be gleaned when we have passed! These thoughts took hold of me and held me tight, as I walked to and fro in the City, watching all and talking to some of its inhabitants, some of keen intelligence, more of sullen discontented demeanour, a few but little above animals; not their fault, but of the misdirection of their lives, the unwholesome teaching of their leaders (a little more intelligent than they, a good deal more self-seeking and artful), and generally, if not universally, defective in sound early education and example. Tired with the fatigues of the day, and passionately longing for better things, I found an inn, and went to bed, to sleep, perchance to dream.
A DREAM OF ENGLAND
§ 1
My body lay asleep. My Spirit was free! Unconscious cerebration led it where it willed. Free as a bird, my winged soul made its way with no impediment. Without ears I heard, without eyes I saw, without hands I touched, without restraint I observed. My Spirit created images--it was an absolute monarch! Nothing denied its progress, no walls forbid entry, and nothing clouded its vision. More real, not less, than before, was every scene presented in the journeys of my Spirit. Is this real Life? Is this unreality Reality? It seemed so to be. Innumerable impressions on a long life become facts. The dream of sixty years was being realised every moment. What I saw and touched was tangible. Nothing was vague. It was a lifetime concentrated into a moment. “A thousand years in Thy sight are but as yesterday, seeing they pass as a thief in the night.” Time was obliterated. Each of my senses was acute. I enjoyed beauty with a vivacity I had only dreamed of, the scent of flowers as I had not known before. I loathed the stenches of man’s making, for there was pain as well as pleasure to my acute sensibilities; in this state the Spirit is in a kind of Purgatory, half in, half out, of the world! half in Heaven, a bit in Hell. Dante tells it all. Virgil, Homer and Milton sang of it; the Golden Age lived it. Mankind has longed for it. To satisfy the longing man has created an Ideal existence the other side of the Grave. Not satisfied with that which is uncertain, we desire the Ideal life _here_, and as my Spirit gathers intimacy with what I see, hear and feel, the Ideal _is_ dawning! “There is more in dreams than we wot of.” How can we tell that Truth is not the master of dreamland? “Hypnos” and “Somnos” may be brothers who conduct us into a land of accomplishment. Are they prophets? I hope so, when they lead where they lead me. Maybe such a dream as mine may come to be an abiding reality; that is why I tell it? England would be better and happier if it did. If there were no such place as Utopia, should we want to get there?
The money-grabbers have theirs, an unlimited supply of gold; the sensualists theirs, unlimited, unrestrained sensuality; the realist his, and what a tiresome place it would be; the idealist seeks his. Utopia is a real place, not in the clouds, but here, somewhere, if we choose to recognise it. If it were not so, the soul, created before the body, would not seek it. When we give a party we do so to please our friends, and doing so to gratify ourselves. The Idealist casts the seeds of live ideas. He knows they will fall on sterile as well as productive soil. The Idealist is an optimist. Having tested his ideal, probably through suffering, he believes in its efficacy. May be he believes in its general acceptance finally, because he is confident of the ultimate conquest of “the best!”
§ 2
Now to my dream! A moment I hovered over my sleeping body: I left it to travel on the wings of my soul. In front of me is a City. A part of it--the most elevated--is enclosed by a high wall, pierced for eight gates, closed at night. Its plan is octagonal. Within it there rise high buildings and towers. They are constructed of stone and brick, mostly of stone, for the region is volcanic. The slopes of the hill descending to the undulating ground are richly furnished with fruit trees, and ample vegetable gardens. It is spring time! Rich is the blossom whose scent the sweet pure air brings to me. The air is as clear as crystal. As I hovered over the enclosed part of the City, I heard a hum, pleasant to the ear as that of bees; it proceeded from within the stately buildings. Yes! It was machinery, complex and wonderful. How is it that those vast wheels, those intricate valves and long straps spreading as spider’s web, are moved, and so silently? Science has discovered how to convert noise to silence. Science had been practical, she had set herself a problem, and she had solved it! What appeared to be inevitable had been conquered.
But how is generated the power to propel this gigantic movement--and silently? Science had discovered how to collect and use electric currents, whose power is greater than steam, to move, in perfect rhythmical order, the heaviest, most complicated machinery. I searched for, but found no ash-heaps. How can this be? Science had discovered how to separate heat-giving properties of all fuel from the waste. Where is the smoke? There was none! What, then, are those noble towers for? Partly for ventilation, partly as store rooms. Science had said: “It is time I set to work to use the forces of Nature with discretion. I have discovered many useful things, but, being in too great a hurry, have made much havoc with them; I have destroyed much that was lovely in the world in my haste to provide ‘facilities.’ I have been very clever and very stupid. It is time I made a new departure. I must no longer be a nuisance. I must set to, to order my going, that in my track I create blessings, not curses. I see it now. It is in my power, if I exert it, to render unpleasant things pleasant. In my mad zeal for discovery, I forgot adaptation. I forgot that it lay in my genius to use it unharmfully. Now I set to work and try to make the world pleasant again, much as it was before I became too proud, too inconsiderate and dominating.
Alone I cannot do this! I have been too long separated from Art, too closely wedded to utility, which, though I do not divorce, I make obedient. Indeed, I rather scorned Art, and ridiculed those who stood in the way of my reckless march! I know now that I am responsible in a measure for the soul of MAN, as well as the use of nature’s forces. ‘Only _I_ matter’ has been my motto. I take Art to me, which, more than all else, presents the Soul of Man, and say we must be sisters, not antagonists. That I have brought evil into dominion I now know. From me, have been born hideous means to destroy life, property, and the gentler happiness of mankind. Foul gases to suffocate, explosives to be a curse to humanity to facilitate destruction in War-time. I have been a kind of earthquake, indiscriminating and cruel! I have destroyed more than preserved! What an odd creature I am!! I make wounds, then I heal them. I mangle bodies, and set them together again. With one hand I cut the world to pieces, with the other heal the wounds I’ve made. I have torn out eyes and replaced them as well as I could, with blind ones. Queer creature that I am. In making artificial light, I hid the sun. I subverted the natural order by turning day into night and night into day. I invented all kinds of implements for agriculture while I was killing vegetable life. I have been unguided by Art, yet I am entirely artificial! It is true that man has used me foolishly. He would have me to be Peace Maker and War Lord. He has abused my genius because he fancied that I only could satisfy his material ambitions and bring him wealth. What I made for his service he has used for murder and suicide! It is plain to me now! The blinkers are off and I see the right way.”
I listened while Science spoke, and gathered that she had become wise! Will men grow wiser with her? What I see here seems to promise it! I went on with my invisible peregrinations. The people of the City have not their homes where their daily labour is; after that is finished they go to their homes below the gardens, which entirely encircle the acropolis of Labour and the City. Hours for Labour are sufficient for all purposes not extreme. Eight hours do they labour, eight hours they sleep, eight hours for pastime and _home industries_. Home industries are many. Eight hours’ factory labour leave the men still fresh, because where they labour the air is pure; change of work is pleasant to them, be it cultivating their bit of the public gardens or in craftsmanship enjoyed in their homes, for it is becoming a habit to be craftsmen here, and _to give out no work which can be performed at home_; in this way the middle man, that raker-in of the gold of others’ labour, is mostly done away with. Work is not held to be a mark of slavery, but of Freedom. While the labourer is working for his commune, which gives him good wage, he is performing one duty; while he is working in his home or garden he is a home craftsman. And many and desirable are his productions: good, simple furniture, which only costs him the material, and gives him continual pleasure in the making. He who was an idler, or worse, is now an industrious artist in his long hours of recreation.
§ 3
There are pleasant places for refreshment, games, and the like, but, as far as I can see, they are not abused. Time is too fully occupied by duty and absorbing labour of craftsmanship to admit of drunkenness. I see none of that which was so killing a vice when men’s hours of leisure were poisoned by inertia. Now they do not want to drink; they are keen, not listless men. They are too busy to grumble, too happy to listen to agitators, who, if they began again to sow discontent, would be met by corporal punishment, so _determined_ is this new race of workmen to be Free! What is the government under which this new City prospers? It is Home Rule! Each county governs itself! Imperial Parliament has no power to control their liberty. London is the seat of Imperial Parliament, which is represented by one member from each county, selected as a wise and educated man by the Communes which represent their inhabitants; but they cannot hold their office for more than five years. Imperial Parliament is confined to Foreign affairs of State, having in it a representative from each of our Colonies. Imperial Parliament, of which the King is Prime Minister, is composed of learned and efficient citizens who are Privy Councillors, not because they are rich men (for the party chest and the jobbery it caused is a thing of the past), but because they are wise and learned. It meets at stated times which are subject to emergency. The King and his closest Ministers have the power to call it together. London is subject to the same rule as the counties; but London is no longer the centralised authority--she rules herself, but as yet this huge monster is chaotic. Being heavily populated, although the population of it has largely decreased owing to the abolition of slums, and a larger proportion of it than hitherto being under cultivation, Greater London is broken up, into Boroughs, which have powers of local Government, carried on by better educated men than heretofore. Their councils, composed exactly as those of the Counties, are represented by reliable men who are above profiteering. Each important trade is represented by one representative; this rule prevents any trade from working its own interests to the damage of another. Lawyers are used for reference, but are not allowed to initiate. Lessons from the past have taught that the legal mind is a zig-zag puzzle. Imperial Parliament has done away with Free Trade, except with British Colonies, which pay no entrance fee to our coasts.
Each Commune guards itself and people from excessive taxation, and wisely, because heavy taxation is a clog in the wheel of production, for not unnaturally industry is averse to giving a large portion of the results of labour to bolster up the extravagance and want of foresight committed by Party Politicians who, after all, are, far more eager for the success of that miserable little idol, “Party,” than for the higher welfare of the people they are supposed to govern. Party Politics reflect the worst sides of Tory as well as Radical government. It is now accepted that excessive taxation is against the first principles of political economy. Care is taken that taxes shall be borne mostly by those who can best bear them. Trade is more taxed than Professions.
§ 4
Machinery of all kinds is taxed higher than the handicrafts, because it produces more swiftly, if less enduringly. Everything that tends to higher mental development is only nominally taxed. The Arts are not considered luxuries, but necessities; hence, instead of contributing to the purse of the country, they are recognised as contributing to its mental growth, its refinement, as well as strength, and are taxed as lightly as may be.
Unproductive land is taxed, but since much more of it is under cultivation than formerly, and Industrialism is no longer permitted to play the Juggernaut, since _Agriculture_ and _Arboriculture_ have been energetically pursued, waste land is an exception; even the least productive is used in some way or other for national benefit. A small voluntary army is kept in efficiency, but not extravagantly. It is supplied from training corps established in each county. The education of every boy includes military drill; in that way classes mix, under the same discipline. This method induces good-fellowship and promotes education; because the better educated, teach the less fortunate, by example. It is found to be a great factor in promoting peace, and conduces to good manners and courtesy. The boy scouts are in full swing.
Britain can provide almost all necessities of Life. Foreign goods, of whatever kind, are sufficiently taxed, but not so excessively as to prevent entrance. It has been found that unlimited free imports from foreign sources tended to limit local production; hence, labour suffered, and supervened. A habit in England had grown to pay for, rather than labour for, even the necessities of Life. It has been shown in the reconstruction, that if Britain and her Colonies cannot, inclusively, provide all, they _can_ provide the greater part of the countries’ needs. The following out of this principle in practice has arrested the growth of discontent so prevalent a while ago.
§ 5