Part 4

“Service by the hour” would have the advantage of providing regular attendance, and the servants themselves would earn more; they would not be obliged to listen to the voice of command from the same master or mistress all day long; they could choose the kind of service they preferred, just as the employer could choose his employees. There would be more freedom on both sides: the one party would work more conscientiously, the other enjoy greater peace of mind. There would be less friction, more justice, all round. In the absence of close proximity there would be no more irritating surveillance, no fear of gossip, no ill-temper over work ill-done or neglected.

If you have a masseur or masseuse, even a “bath attendant,” a hairdresser, a manicurist, a packer, a “vacuum cleaner,” and a floor polisher, what remains for you to ask of your servants?

If a woman can come and fetch your dresses to be ironed or “freshened,” and a man do the same with your coats, and someone else come and polish your boots, is not that all-important?

Companies for “service by the hour” would have to be established in different districts. According to one’s needs he would telephone to one of these establishments for a bath attendant, for someone to truss poultry, for housework, etc.

And then how delightful it would be to be alone again, no longer spied upon, to be one’s own master--without any servants!

“But the expense!” someone will say. If you calculate what the servants living in your house cost you in one way and another, you will come to the conclusion that there would be less expense for the employer and certain profit for the servants, whose service by the hour would be better paid.

In some of these modern blocks of dwellings there is but one common kitchen. It would be sufficient to mention the hour for meals and the number to be served to ensure regular attendance.

“Service by the hour” would do away with a thousand annoyances, some merely irritating by their frequency, but others serious, as in England, for instance, where the evidence of servants has so much weight in cases of divorce.

With “service by the hour” there would be no more spying, no more mean revenges, no more dishonourable compromises. As the lower classes have shaken off the yoke of their slavery, why should we still be the victims of a new state of things in matters domestic?

There is no perfect happiness without real independence. Let us aim at independence for everyone.

In doing good in a new way the human end in view has not changed. Let us bear in mind that good for all is only found in individual freedom.

INTERNATIONAL SCHOOLS

Now that the different peoples fraternise over science, commerce, and industry, now that they are jointly liable, in the name of economic relations, now that collective work, free from “national etiquette,” is instrumental in producing material and moral progress for all, international schools ought to be founded in the different civilised countries.

These nurseries of the intellect and will would bring pupils together by one single rational system of training; the pupils would be subject to the same examinations; and there would be effected between the different countries an exchange of individualities, destroying race hatred in the idea of rights common to all and the rightful administration of collective communities.

Armed peace, costly as it is for every nation, is a benefit in these modern times. Each nation, by preserving the integrity of its own territory, is more at liberty for intercourse with its neighbours, and for the development of the high ideals which are urging the peoples towards economic unity.

In former times, taking France as an example, the various provinces detested one another, and were at variance through all kinds of conflicting interests. They were separated by the barrier of opposite temperaments, dissimilar customs; each of them preferring to remain a stranger to the rest, though they all spoke the same language. But by means of gradual changes, they were at length drawn together, each province grew to feel a certain oneness of thought with the others, until finally the rigid barriers broke down, and to-day the whole race aims at the training in international feeling of every individual, desiring that future generations, free from too local a patriotism, should attain to what I may call geographical fraternity. For this object nothing would be so valuable as the creation of international schools, by which the tide of different ideas may enter, and thus solve the great problem of comparative education.

Let us imagine similar schools in every country. Young men and girls, sent abroad to follow up the course of study they have begun in their own country, would find the completion of their education in the mental intercourse offered by contact with the boys and girls of the foreign school. They would by this means widen the horizon of their ideas, they would become cosmopolitan without effort, reap such advantages from foreign life as would greatly add to the force of their own personality, and return home with an equipment of sound judgment and self-possession. In addition, they would have learnt the foreign languages so necessary to the pursuit of commerce, manufacture, letters, and the arts.

The young man and the girl thus educated in the idea of world-relationship would hold their own in the circles to which they belonged, and would be certain to do their country good service at an age when, in the ordinary course of things, they might dream of going abroad for the sake of seeing the world, without any ability to profit by that exchange of ideas and comparison of manners which the international school would secure to them just at the impressionable age.

When one considers how useless in most cases, and how invariably costly to parents, travelling is in the case of young men destined for professional or even commercial careers, when undertaken after their education is completed, one must acknowledge the advantage which would result from the exchange between the countries of young, amenable pupils, quick to assimilate all the elements needed for complete training.

Of course each student sent abroad would have professors of his own tongue and race to continue the course of study he was pursuing at home. But from the very fact that they were living in a foreign land, they would be able to learn the new language outside the classroom without any trouble, and become initiated in new ways and ideas, acquiring all sorts of useful knowledge, which would help to mature their minds. So would each one, without losing contact with his own land, profit by the constant recurrence of matters for comparison and analysis.

Sainte-Beuve had conceived the project of such a state of things when, on the eve of the Franco-German War in 1870, he said: “War is being prepared between the two greatest peoples in Europe.... It would be better to found two schools, one in Berlin and one in Paris. The flower of our youth would go and strengthen their minds in the laboratories of Berlin, which are richer than ours; the Prussians would come here and be moulded to our French grace.” The real difficulty between nations is that of mutual understanding. Whether it be a question of medicine, manufacture, commerce, or education, there are many efforts made which, in the first instance, are unknown in neighbouring countries, and thereby progress is hindered. By means of international schools, a solution would be found to problems common to all, for instruction would pass from one to another.

In commercial and industrial matters, especially, dealings between one country and another would be carried out more easily, and on a larger scale.

Through uniformity of customs, and harmony in feeling and ideas, brought into play for the good of all, peace would be assured, while rivalry, on which progress depends, would still exist. Autocracy, democracy, imperialism, all would be merged in the common desire for improved conditions.

On the day when harmonious endeavour shall become the rule between people and people, the wealth of the world will increase tenfold, simply through the working of all intelligence for the good of every nation.

THE NECESSITY OF RELIGION, AND ITS INFLUENCE OVER THE PEOPLE

Religion is neither a collection of natural laws nor a philosophic dogma. It is higher in dignity than teachers of to-day represent it, and it will be understood if we consider the meaning of the word “religion” as applied to the life of the individual. In the words of Dr. Nicati,” ... applied to an individual, it denotes the allied operations of the spirit upon which rests his judgments and actions. As applied to society, it is the symbol of the facts which determine the relations between individuals; it embraces in one common term _the principles of social harmony_.”

In giving us this definition of religion, Dr. Nicati is not considering any creed in particular, but all religions, each of which, taken separately, is a moral code.

The religious idea, which French governments of to-day set aside as useless, is, on the contrary, of obvious utility, primarily for all those whose brains, ill-supplied with mental nourishment, need both spiritual food and also a curb. What a strong restraining force is the fear of eternal punishment; what an encouragement the desire of endless reward!

In vain have all our orators striven, our materialists shown their contempt; it is none the less true that the wiser spirits--men like Littré, Taine, and Renan--have maintained in spite of all that “the people must have a religion, a religion considered purely as an idea inculcating morality.”

I will not embark upon the study of the evolution of religions, of the Roman Catholic religion in particular, which, from its origin, remains the moral authority of the Latin peoples. I will simply state that, compulsory education notwithstanding, criminality in France has increased in alarming proportion, whereas in England, as the noble thinker Lord Avebury remarked some time ago, “prisons have had to be closed for want of prisoners.”

Let us make no mistake. French criminality is in exact proportion with the lowering of the moral level; the absence of criminality in England comes of the respect shown by our neighbours for all religious sects, provided they use their influence for the development of the religious principle in children--that is to say, the fear of the punishment which comes of wrongdoing, and the hope of the reward which good merits.

Until the moral sense has become thoroughly developed in everyone, religion--that is to say, a preventive training against the passions--will continue necessary.

“We have schools enough of every description,” says the author of _L’Education de Soi-Mème_, “which give us general knowledge and admirable skill in the technique of every branch of human activity; what we need is a school for the making of men.” The Church would have remained such a school if the Romanists had not made of their authority a political weapon.

Nevertheless, religious morality dwells in the depths of the mind, and thus it is, according to Maurice de Fleury, “that modern savants who have lost their faith, and cannot believe in human free will, become reconciled ultimately to the teaching given us by the Church.”

The rational morality which comes of mental training may be sufficient for the strong, relieving them of a thousand illusions and childish fancies. It remains none the less true, however, that, even amongst those who are past masters in the arts, in science, and politics, there are some who, from an ethical point of view, are spiritual weaklings, needing, in place of the Latin _intelligere_, some creed, hidden or avowed, adapted to their imaginative and imperfectly-controlled brain.

Whatever may be said, the mass of the people has to be considered as an “inferior majority.” Apart from it, a “superior minority” stands out; no longer bound by all the old beliefs, but all the same given to an “inner” religion, which is the ethical intelligence whence springs rational morality.

Let us consider the apostle. The inferiority of his followers is manifest, but as soon as these disciples reach a higher level, through the education of their spirit, they in their turn will become apostles, and moral equality will exist in a group which, in its turn again, will win over other groups.

We must then concede to the people a religion which may take the place of the moral law, one giving them the hope of living again in

a better life, affording comfort in affliction, and restraining their cravings. Religious beliefs are but the poetic materialisation of moral truths. By maturing the popular mind, by improved education, the time will come--in some far-distant future--when man will need no other dogma than that natural one which is faith in _himself_, without which he does not (consciously) exist.

On the day when religion shall no longer serve to govern morals, it will be useless. For many it is already a dead letter. That matters nothing in the case of those whose morality, I repeat, is based on reason; but how regrettable when it is a question of persons of inferior intelligence who, without fixed rules, are unable to attain the perception of good and evil!

Amongst certain peoples, a religion was founded by philosophers as long ago as 500 years before Christ. Did not Confucius correct the habits of his country, reform justice, and bring in prosperity, through moral training? Chief authority of a new sect, governed by the idea of rectitude in the life, he organised a state of things which continues yet.

This may happen later on in our Western countries; but until we have replaced the ancient creeds by a moral Ideal impressed upon all minds, it will be necessary to keep up the religious sentiment amongst the people, who have remained hitherto an unconscious force.

THE PRESS

“The newspaper,” says Eugène Tavernier, “is the expression of society.” That is a rudimentary truth which has strangely lost its meaning since the Press, whose social rôle was that of an educator, gave itself up to sectarianism, and, in consequence, was no longer able to exercise, for the most part, a really moral influence.

From the fact that the Press sells itself shamelessly to its supporters, it often happens that it attacks the weak and blindly defends the strong, thus making capital out of ostracism and injustice.

Present-day morals have destroyed the original character of the newspaper. In the hands of men more concerned with their personal interests than the good of their country or the pursuit of truth, the Press has sacrificed everything to profit, for money is its object. Newspapers are bazaars where everything is sold, calumny included. And the turmoil of life has made of the journalist a purveyor of sensational news, of paradoxes which falsify the popular judgment, and information as misleading as it is swiftly obtained. The result is that in our democratic times, when everyone claims the right to give expression to his ideas, we see most journalists writing to order and playing the sorry part of impersonal machines.

Since writers worthy of the name found themselves obliged to bow to the will of these dealers in spoilt paper, many of them have refused to write for the daily papers.

Now, as journalistic over-production increases continually, and as the success of many enterprises (based on the exploitation of credulity, the fear of scandal, and excessive advertisement) is almost always in inverse ratio to integrity, hosts of ignorant men,--“men of all work”--shelter themselves behind the newspaper and make a livelihood out of their trash. The day after the Commune, Louis Veuillot said of the Press: “I have been associated with it all my life, and I do not like it. I may say that I hate it; but it belongs to the considerable class of necessary evils. Newspapers have become such a danger that it is necessary to create many. You cannot contend against the Press, except through its multitude. Add flood to flood, and let them drown one another, forming no more than a swamp, or, if you will, a sea. The swamp has its lagoons, the sea its moments of slumber. We will see whether it is possible to build some Venice within it....”

The daring controversialist and uncompromising fighter did not foresee that the Press, far from neutralising itself through its numbers, would, later on, create a State within a State, developed to such an extent, and so imbued with disintegrating principles, that it would become as dangerous to social groups as to individuals.

I shall be told that, since its very modest beginnings, in the time of Louis XIV., the Press was as formidable under the Revolution as later, and that all governments suffered through it. But I reply that in former times the journalist, in spite of many excesses, held his calling sacred, and that his exercise of it found an excuse in his talent and sincerity. It was a time when men of strong opinions fought beneath the same flag; in our own day we often see men pass from one side to the other and defend by turns diametrically opposite views.

In the critic’s domain, for instance, it was esteemed an honour to show oneself possessed of a sense of the beautiful. Men like Théophile Gautier, Sainte-Beuve, Paul de Saint-Victor, spared not their personal preferences to pay homage to talent, no matter whence it came.

Art was the first object with spirits like these. To-day, mere talkers, with some dubious interest at their back, are willing to boom any mediocrity who makes it worth their while. Everything is done with an eye to expediency. The independent artist is regarded as an enemy because he will not condescend to pay the paper’s price for praise and puffery. It is the same in politics; and whosoever, in commerce or industry, fails to sacrifice to the omnipotent god of advertisement, finds himself checkmated by rivals pushed forward at a great expenditure of bank-notes.

It comes about then that, in a free state, a privileged class, generally recruited from amongst the quasi-intellectual of the “flash-in-the-pan” type, is able to place itself above the law because, in many cases, slander is--or so it appears--a means of instructing or amusing the public.

Not long ago, when the Press was censored, people cried out at the abuse of power; but when it was given freedom to express even destructive opinions, it hastened to turn this freedom into licence. And, in fact, to-day the evil has become so great, through the falsity and baseness of the subject-matter, that the least well-informed reader, seldom though he may look at a paper, knows beforehand the stuff that will be served up to him, whether as regards politics, art, science, or the small change of public scandals.

The intrusion of advertisement, too, is such that the man whose article is published is often the one who pays. In this way, the Lie, in a thousand different forms, is retailed every hour of the day to the poor deluded reading public.

In order that the Press may fill the rôle of educator of the people, leader of the masses, it must adhere to a political, social, and moral ideal, frankly sincere, and with a personal sense of the beautiful.

The opinions of honest, enlightened minds, freed from the snare of time-serving, would be offered to society, instead of such as corrupt individual aspirations or bring a ferment of confusion into the different social spheres.

But, to make that possible, every newspaper should be, first of all, an enterprise possessing considerable capital, supplied by independent shareholders, uncompromising, honourable men, whose fortune would be an element making for success.

Established on a solid and lasting foundation, the Press, in spite of differences of opinion, would become an admirable organ of instruction, such as would waken the intellect, but not satisfy morbid curiosity.

For the spread of thought, selection of the best information from all sources must be considered, not extortion and satisfaction of depraved taste.

When the Press becomes genuine, writers of merit of all kinds will bring to it the tribute of their observation, ideas, and workmanship. When that day comes, the newspaper will be entirely free with regard to political and social groups and private individuals alike, since it will be a common enterprise of good men--men well informed, worthy of their office, and fit for the accomplishment of sound, honest, and praiseworthy work.

MORALITY

Morality is a metaphysical quality by the help of which our practical actions are justified, and which in most cases constitutes restraint. Morality is a science, say some; morality is an art, say others; for many idealists it remains a _revanche_ of reason, and M. Rodrigues sees in it the will which binds itself and which we bind. “Individual liberty,” he says, “if it exists, only plays a part on the second plane; in practice it signifies little when humanity in its entirety is considered. Bound to an organism, and still more to society, the psychological or moral consciousness, when it draws inspiration from within itself, finds there in effect what its _milieu_ has placed there. It expresses a system of representations, to the forming of which it has in itself contributed but a small part.... Morality, too, has undergone an evolution parallel in all points to that of science.”

Yes, truly, morality, like everything which touches on conduct, social laws, rites, traditions, ancestral prejudices, the need of freedom, the right of the individual, undergoes continual evolution according to the conditions of a community. We are to-day far from the morality which, according to Kant, is legislation on the part of the reasonable being, enjoining upon all persons the same duties.

According to the morality of Epictetus, resting on the idea of liberty, “man may free himself of all dependence with regard to other men and to Nature, and raise himself to absolute freedom, distinguishing between the things which rest on him and those which do not, and despising the latter as immaterial”; according to the ethics of Epicurus, pleasure is the sovereign good of man, and all our efforts should tend towards its attainment, provided that pleasure consist as much of the satisfaction of the heart and mind as of the senses, but modern morality has become sectarian, and differs according to class.

The principle of _bourgeois_ morality is to preserve the unity of the community without any consideration for the liberty of the individual; the _bourgeois_ family being a sort of commercial association, it confines its morality to the idea of a duty which is, above all, the protection of the interests of the community. It is a morality which is quite beside the point, and which has no intrinsic value.

The principle of aristocratic morality is to preserve for the glory of its escutcheon all the splendour it deems requisite. It does not trouble itself as to the means by which that escutcheon gains in radiance, because it has made a virtue of its pride. The superadded adornments trouble it with no pangs of conscience, because for it duty consists in the integrity of appearances. This morality is not, in the main, more false in conception than that of the _bourgeois_; it is the guardian of appanage as the other is the guardian of selfish interests.

The morality of Courts consists in preserving tradition intact, and it does not hesitate to sacrifice individuals to the Cause which is one, unchangeable, and imperative. It is thus a morality extraordinary, having authority above right and outside duty.