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<div class="div1 frenchtitle"><span class="pagenum">[<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>
<div class="divBody">
<p class="par first xd21e124">A HUNDRED YEARS HENCE</p>
</div>
</div>
<div class="titlePage">
<div class="docTitle">
<div class="mainTitle">A HUNDRED YEARS HENCE</div>
<div class="subTitle">The Expectations of an Optimist</div>
</div>
<div class="byline">By<br>
<span class="docAuthor">T. BARON RUSSELL</span><br>
Author of &ldquo;A Guardian of the Poor,&rdquo; &ldquo;The
Mandate,&rdquo; etc.</div>
<div class="docImprint">LONDON<br>
T. Fisher Unwin<br>
Paternoster Square<br>
<span class="docDate">1905</span></div>
</div>
<div class="div1 epigraph"><span class="pagenum">[<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>
<div class="divHead">
<div class="lgouter">
<p class="line">There is a history in all men&rsquo;s lives,</p>
<p class="line">Figuring the nature of the times deceased;</p>
<p class="line">The which observed, a man may prophesy,</p>
<p class="line">With a near aim, of the main chance of things</p>
<p class="line">As yet not come to life; which in their seeds</p>
<p class="line">And weak beginnings lie intreasured.</p>
</div>
</div>
<div class="divBody">
<p class="par first xd21e166"><span class="sc">Shakespeare</span>, 2
<i>Henry IV.</i>, III. i.</p>
<div class="lgouter">
<p class="line">They pass through whirl-pools, and deep woes do
shun,</p>
<p class="line">Who the event weigh, &lsquo;ere the action&rsquo;s
done.</p>
</div>
<p class="par first xd21e166"><span class="sc">Webster</span>,
<i>Duchess of Malfi</i>, II. 4.</p>
</div>
</div>
<div class="div1 copyright"><span class="pagenum">[<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>
<div class="divBody">
<p class="par first xd21e186"><i>All Rights Reserved</i> <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="xd21e190" href="#xd21e190" name=
"xd21e190">v</a>]</span></p>
</div>
</div>
<div class="div1 preface"><span class="pagenum">[<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>
<div class="divHead">
<h2 class="main">PREFACE</h2>
</div>
<div class="divBody">
<p class="par first">The following was at first intended to be no more
than an attempt to foresee the probable trend of mechanical invention
and scientific discovery during the present century. But as the work
took shape it was seen to involve a certain amount of what may be
called moral conjecture, since the material progress of the new age
could not very well be imagined without taking into account its mental
characteristics. In these expectations of an optimist, a great ethical
improvement of the civilised human race has been anticipated, and a
rate of progress foreseen which perhaps no previous writers have looked
for. Both in regard to moral development and material progress, it has
been the aim of the author to predict nothing that the tendencies of
existing movement do not justify us in expecting.</p>
<p class="par">An attempt of this kind is exposed to facile criticism.
It will be easy for objectors to signalise this or that expected
invention as beyond scientific possibility, that or the other moral
reform as fit only for Utopia. But those who will consent to perpend
the enormous and utterly unforeseen advance of the nineteenth century
will recognise the danger of limiting their anticipations concerning
the possibilities of the twenty-first. A fanciful description in (I
think) Addison&rsquo;s <i>Spectator</i> of an invention by which the
movements of an indicator on a lettered dial were imagined to be
reproduced on a similar dial at a <span class="pagenum">[<a id=
"xd21e201" href="#xd21e201" name="xd21e201">vi</a>]</span>distance, and
employed as a means of communication, must have seemed wholly
chimerical to its readers; and even as recently as fifty years ago,
anyone who predicted the telephone would have been laughed at. When the
principle of the accumulator was already discovered a very competent
practical electrician told the writer that he need not worry himself
much about the idea: there was not the least likelihood that
electricity could ever be &ldquo;bottled up in cisterns&rdquo;! On the
whole there is more likelihood of error in timidity than in boldness
when we attempt to foresee what will be attained after the increasingly
rapid movement of scientific progress during this twentieth century
shall have gathered full force.</p>
<p class="par">For the rest, criticism of this sort is disarmed,
because the reader has been in any case invited to enter a realm of
more or less pure imagination. No one can exactly know with what
births, monstrous or beautiful, the future may teem. Admitting a
certain point of view&mdash;that of almost unrestrained
optimism&mdash;the predictions here offered will, it is believed, be
found to be along the line of existing progress.</p>
<p class="par signed"><span class="sc">Beaufort House,<br>
Brentford.</span> <span class="pagenum">[<a id="xd21e211" href=
"#xd21e211" name="xd21e211">vii</a>]</span></p>
</div>
</div>
<div id="toc" class="div1 contents"><span class="pagenum">[<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>
<div class="divHead">
<h2 class="main">CONTENTS</h2>
<table class="tocList">
<tr>
<td class="tocDivNum">CHAP.</td>
<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="5"></td>
<td class="tocPageNum">PAGE</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tocDivNum">I.</td>
<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="5"><span class="sc"><a href="#ch1" id=
"xd21e228" name="xd21e228">The Rate of Progress</a></span></td>
<td class="tocPageNum">1</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tocDivNum">II.</td>
<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="5"><span class="sc"><a href="#ch2" id=
"xd21e238" name="xd21e238">Housing, Travel and Population.
Questions</a></span></td>
<td class="tocPageNum">13</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tocDivNum">III.</td>
<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="5"><span class="sc"><a href="#ch3" id=
"xd21e248" name="xd21e248">The Man of Business</a></span></td>
<td class="tocPageNum">38</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tocDivNum">IV.</td>
<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="5"><span class="sc"><a href="#ch4" id=
"xd21e258" name="xd21e258">The Cult of Pleasure</a></span></td>
<td class="tocPageNum">54</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tocDivNum">V.</td>
<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="5"><span class="sc"><a href="#ch5" id=
"xd21e268" name="xd21e268">The Newspaper of the Future and the Future
of the Newspaper</a></span></td>
<td class="tocPageNum">68</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tocDivNum">VI.</td>
<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="5"><span class="sc"><a href="#ch6" id=
"xd21e278" name="xd21e278">Utilising the Sea</a></span></td>
<td class="tocPageNum">95</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tocDivNum">VII.</td>
<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="5"><span class="sc"><a href="#ch7" id=
"xd21e288" name="xd21e288">The March of Science</a></span></td>
<td class="tocPageNum">106</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tocDivNum">VIII.</td>
<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="5"><span class="sc"><a href="#ch8" id=
"xd21e298" name="xd21e298">Education a Hundred Years
Hence</a></span></td>
<td class="tocPageNum">134</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tocDivNum">IX.</td>
<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="5"><span class="sc"><a href="#ch9" id=
"xd21e308" name="xd21e308">Religion: the Fine Arts,
Literature</a></span></td>
<td class="tocPageNum">175</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tocDivNum">X.</td>
<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="5"><span class="sc"><a href="#ch10"
id="xd21e318" name="xd21e318">The Age of Economies</a></span></td>
<td class="tocPageNum">205</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tocDivNum">XI.</td>
<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="5"><span class="sc"><a href="#ch11"
id="xd21e329" name="xd21e329">The Law a Hundred Years
Hence</a></span></td>
<td class="tocPageNum">233</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tocDivNum">XII.</td>
<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="5"><span class="sc"><a href="#ch12"
id="xd21e339" name="xd21e339">Conclusions</a></span></td>
<td class="tocPageNum">286</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td class="tocDivNum"></td>
<td class="tocDivTitle" colspan="5"><i><a href="#index" id="xd21e346"
name="xd21e346">INDEX</a></i></td>
<td class="tocPageNum">309</td>
</tr>
</table>
<p><span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb1" href="#pb1" name=
"pb1">1</a>]</span></p>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="body">
<div id="ch1" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pagenum">[<a href=
"#xd21e228">Contents</a>]</span>
<div class="divHead">
<h2 class="super">A Hundred Years Hence</h2>
<h2 class="label">CHAPTER I</h2>
<h2 class="main">THE RATE OF PROGRESS</h2>
</div>
<div class="divBody">
<p class="par first">To anyone who has considered at all attentively
the enormous material advances of the nineteenth century, a much more
remarkable thing than any invention or improvement which that century
brought forth must be the speed of human progression during the hundred
years between 1800 and 1900, and the extraordinary acceleration of that
speed which began to establish itself about the year 1880. But indeed,
during the whole century, our forward movement was steadily gaining
impetus. The difference between the state of the world in 1700 and its
state in 1800 is insignificant compared with the differences
established between the latter date and the opening of the twentieth
century. But it is hardly less insignificant than the progress of the
decade 1800&ndash;1810 compared with that of the decade
1890&ndash;1900. We are, in fact, picking up speed at an enormous rate.
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb2" href="#pb2" name=
"pb2">2</a>]</span>The beginning of the twenty-first century will
exhibit differences, when compared with our own day, which even the
boldest imagination can hardly need to be restrained in conjecturing.
The latter part of the nineteenth century was the age of electricity,
just as the middle part was the age of steam. The first part of the
twentieth century is evidently going to be the age of wave
manipulation, of which wireless telegraphy, as we know it, is but the
first infantile stirring.</p>
<p class="par">What the developments promised (and they are already
quite easily presageable) by wireless telegraphy will give us, and what
they will be superseded by, can only be very dimly imagined; what their
effects will be upon the human race in itself no one has yet ventured
even to hint at. Few things are more remarkable in the numerous and
highly-varied experiments of vaticinatory fiction and more serious
efforts of prognostication than the utter absence of any adequate
attempt to forecast the future of the race itself. Social and political
changes, the enormous differences which are certain to be effected in
the manner of human life, have been from time to time more or less
boldly imagined, and a couple of volumes of very able forecasts of the
future have recently been published by a writer of singular vision and
highly-trained scientific imagination. But it does not hitherto appear
to have been at all <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb3" href="#pb3"
name="pb3">3</a>]</span>fully perceived that the moral constitution of
man himself is quite certain to be profoundly modified, not alone by
the influence of a material environment which will have been changed as
the environment of man has never been changed since the first
inhabitation of this planet, but also by the steady development of
inward changes which have already begun to manifest themselves. Since
the year 1800 ideas which, so far as we have any means of knowing, had
been regarded as irrefragable ever since man first began to think and
to set his thoughts upon record, have been utterly shattered. One has
only to compare the opinions of even average thinkers of our own day on
such subjects as marriage, the status of woman, and the education of
children, with the opinions, practically current without material
change since the dawn of history, in 1800, to perceive the truth of
this statement; and the change of attitude on the part of civilised
people, outside the Roman Catholic Church (and, to some extent, even
within it), towards religion is not less remarkable. An enlightened man
of the present day is so radically different in all his ideas from a
similar individual of the early nineteenth century, that it is hardly
possible for a modern student to write with any intelligence on the
deeper significance of events and life prior to 1800. Grotesquely
inadequate as most historical novels of our own <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb4" href="#pb4" name="pb4">4</a>]</span>day are,
they are perhaps hardly less inadequate than our own understanding of
the novels of Sir Walter Scott. Scott could probably write of crusaders
and the age of chivalry without committing serious blunders of
sentiment. What the world thought in the age of Saladin the world
practically thought in the age of Napoleon. But the irresistible
infection of modern ideas has made it hardly possible for us to enter
with any fulness into the sentiments of Scott; and the sentiments put
into the mouth, and the thoughts into the mind, of the hero of any
historical novel of our own day would be utterly incomprehensible to
that hero, could he by some miracle be resuscitated, and could we
translate them literally to him. We unconsciously endow the personages
of our historical fiction with ideas for which they had not even the
names.</p>
<p class="par">And the development of the human mind proceeds apace. It
will be even more difficult for the ordinary cultured man of a hundred
years hence to form any full conception of our ideas than it is for us
to appraise the mental attitude of the men of the eighteenth century.
To take a single example: the humanest warrior of the Napoleonic wars
appears a monster of cruelty if compared with the sternest of modern
generals. Napoleon devastated provinces without a word of censure from
competent critics of the art of war. A howl of execration <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb5" href="#pb5" name="pb5">5</a>]</span>went up, not
from continental Europe alone, at the measures&mdash;seriously
embarrassing to our military operations, and enormously helpful to our
enemy&mdash;which the British generals took in order to diminish the
sufferings of the non-combatant population of the Transvaal; camps of
refuge, it appears, did not sufficiently excel in comfort the hospitals
of our own wounded! And there is a section of the Press in this country
which still occasionally remembers, to complain of it, the fact that
our generals found it necessary, for military reasons, to burn
farm-houses. I should not like to attempt the conjecture, what
Wellington would have said in answer to such a complaint, or what he
would have done to a self-appointed emissary who visited his camps for
the purpose of criticising his action! It would have been no more
impossible for him to foresee the day of such things, however, than it
is for us to predict the moral sense of the year 2000. The fact is that
we have greatly deteriorated in war, although, or rather because, we
have even more greatly improved in morals and feeling. William Morris
conceived of man in the coming time as a sort of recreated
medi&aelig;val. Mr Wells conceives him as practically a
nineteenth-century man, with his ideas merely adjusted to new material
conditions. Bellamy described him in terms of a being inconceivable by
any sort of reason. No one appears to have seen that his <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb6" href="#pb6" name="pb6">6</a>]</span>moral nature
will have been not merely revolutionised, but recreated, just as our
own morality has been recreated during the last hundred years, not so
much by the influence of material environment or the march of
invention, as by the regeneration of human conscience.</p>
<p class="par">In no way will the acceleration of the speed of progress
be more apparent than in the thoughts and emotions of men. But to say
this is not to belittle the progress which science and invention have
in store for the new age. In applying a sort of imaginative telescope
to the mental eye it will be necessary to keep constantly in view the
utter inconceivableness of modern achievement by the civilised world of
the past. When electricity was no more than a sort of scientific
plaything&mdash;when notions of its possible uses were (as in
Davy&rsquo;s time) far less substantially imagined than, for instance,
the possible uses of radium are to-day, even scientific thinkers,
endowed with what Huxley so luminously applauded as scientific
imagination, had no rudiment of the materials for conceiving such
inventions as the electric telegraph&mdash;far less the possibilities
of transmitted and picked-up wave energy. And here, at the beginning of
wireless telegraphy, we are no less in the dark as to what will develop
from it and what will supersede it. The nineteenth century progressed,
almost from first to last, on the strength of the discovery of how to
utilise <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb7" href="#pb7" name=
"pb7">7</a>]</span>the stored energy of coal, whether directly in the
steam engine or indirectly in the dynamo-electric machine and the
electric motor. With the end of the coal age already well in view, we
can only conjecture what the sources of mechanical power will be a
hundred years hence. Before we have quite exhausted our coal measures
and begun to draw more liberally on our stores of petroleum, we shall
no doubt have abandoned altogether so wasteful a contrivance as the
steam engine. There is a clumsiness almost barbarous in the roundabout
employment of coal to produce heat, the steam engine to utilise only a
miserable fraction of the potential energy even of the part of the coal
which we do not fatuously allow to escape as smoke; of the dynamo to
use up a part of the motion yielded by the steam engine in producing
electricity (while a small but recognisable portion of that motion is
converted wastefully back again into heat), and of the electro-motor to
re-convert the electricity into motion, heat, light and chemical
energy, according to our requirements. It cannot be many years before
we learn to use coal far more economically than we do nowadays,
abolishing the furnace and the steam engine, and obtaining electricity
directly from coal itself by some sort of electro-chemical
decomposition. But even so, our coal will not last much longer. The
speed of our progress will exhaust it much <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb8" href="#pb8" name="pb8">8</a>]</span>sooner than
most people imagine, and probably in another twenty-five years the end
of our petroleum will also begin to be looked forward to with
apprehension.</p>
<p class="par">About this period, or perhaps immediately after,
progress will have been accelerated to an enormous degree by the
invention of some new method of decomposing water. The economical
analysis of water into its two component gases, whose chemical affinity
and antipodal electrical attractions are already utilised to some
extent in such appliances as the oxy-hydrogen blowpipe and electrical
storage batteries, is a secret capable of extraordinary beneficences to
the new age. By burning hydrogen in oxygen we can already produce the
greatest heat practically needed in the arts; the electric furnace only
superseding this process because it happens to be more manageable. But
when we want oxygen and hydrogen, we do not, in practice, now obtain
them from water: we only combine them as water in the act of
utilisation. The rational line of progress is obviously to seek means
of directly decomposing water. When we can do this compendiously and
economically we shall have an inexhaustible supply of energy&mdash;for
water thus used is not destroyed as water, as coal is destroyed,
<i>qu&acirc;</i> coal, when we utilise its stored energy. The very act
of utilising the gases recombines them: and we <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb9" href="#pb9" name="pb9">9</a>]</span>can use them
thus for the production of almost every kind of energy that man at
present needs. We can use them for heat by burning them together. We
can use them for light by burning them in the presence of any substance
capable of being made incandescent. We shall be able to use them to
generate electricity by some sort of contrivance akin to the
accumulator of the present day (a highly rudimentary invention); and it
would be even now a very simple matter to utilise their explosive
recombination for the direct production of power as motion. Utilised
apart, the constituent gases of water have many other uses and possible
uses. Hydrogen, under suitable treatment, yields the greatest
obtainable cold, as oxygen and hydrogen together yield the greatest
heat. If our flying-machines need a sort of ballast to reinforce their
mechanical lifting apparatus, hydrogen is the best possible assistant.
And the probable uses of oxygen are yet more numerous. So long as we
still burn anything at all except a mixture of oxygen and
hydrogen&mdash;and ultimately we shall have nothing else left to
burn&mdash;oxygen is capable of multiplying the efficiency of all
combustion. One of the greatest problems of our own day is the disposal
of waste products of all sorts&mdash;the sources of inconvenience,
disease and dirt. Oxygen, if readily and copiously obtainable, is
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb10" href="#pb10" name=
"pb10">10</a>]</span>capable of destroying them all. Indeed, it seems
likely that medicine, the least progressive of the sciences to-day,
will find in oxygen the great propulsive force of its forward movement.
In considerably less than a hundred years hence such makeshifts as
drugging, and the fighting of one disease by the instalment in the
organism of another, will certainly have gone by the board. Antisepsis
and Asepsis (the latter almost infinitely the greatest invention in the
history of therapeutics) will have pushed their way from surgery into
medicine. There are numerous diseases which can be not merely cured,
but ultimately abolished when we have once discovered how to use oxygen
adequately. The readjustment of the conditions of life determined by
the removal from the civilised world of the greater number of diseases,
and perhaps of all diseases except those arising out of wilful
misconduct (as improper diet) and even by the elimination of most of
the evils of hurry and overwork (for what are medically and chemically
known as fatigue products can almost certainly be eliminated from the
system by the proper use, yet to be discovered, of oxygen) must
inevitably have an enormous influence not merely upon the physical life
of man, but also, and even more, upon his mental constitution. The rate
of progress will thus in yet another way be vastly accelerated.
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb11" href="#pb11" name=
"pb11">11</a>]</span></p>
<p class="par">Most likely the universal source of power, then, before
the middle of the century, will be the recomposition of water&mdash;in
other words, we shall get all the power we want by splitting up water
into oxygen and hydrogen, and then allowing those gases to recombine,
thereby returning to us the energy we have employed in the analysis.
How we shall employ this power is largely for the future to decide, and
certainly in the earlier future we shall employ it in the generation of
etheric waves of various kinds. The world of science is visibly on the
threshold of new and revolutionary discoveries on the nature and
composition of matter, and whither these discoveries will lead us it is
not usefully possible to conjecture. But certainly, after the usual
incubation period of a scientific discovery&mdash;when it is merely a
sort of wonderful toy, as argon and radium are at present&mdash;there
will come the practical men, suckled at the large and noble breasts of
disinterested, unremunerative truth, and ready to turn that nutriment
into world-moving material usefulness: so, again, the rate of progress
will receive a vast and valuable acceleration. Electricity, whose gift
to the world has been so great, will probably not, until after several
decades, approach the limits of its realm, and so long as electricity
remains a considerable element in the utilisation of those stores of
dissipating energy by which the planet lives, it is possible
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb12" href="#pb12" name=
"pb12">12</a>]</span>to foresee something of what will become of man
during the next age.</p>
<p class="par">We have here the limits of such an inquiry as the
present. Placing the end of the age of electricity at provisionally
about a hundred years hence (but it is quite conceivable that the rate
of progress may overtake it earlier and shut the door on conjecture) it
is possible to forecast, not indeed with certainty, but with a measure
of imaginative probability, what will happen as the resources of
electricity are developed and the other material amenities of the world
are worked along the line of natural progress. So far as the light of
analogy can point the way the reader is invited on a sort of
conjectural journey. Of the developments of the moral ideas of man
likely to be determined, not so much by the coming change in his
material environment, as by the evolution of inner forces already at
work, I propose to say something at the end of the book. In the
meantime, the probable material changes in the next hundred years (or
less, according to the rate of our progress) in various departments of
life will be the subject of some intermediate conjectures. <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb13" href="#pb13" name="pb13">13</a>]</span></p>
</div>
</div>
<div id="ch2" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pagenum">[<a href=
"#xd21e238">Contents</a>]</span>
<div class="divHead">
<h2 class="label">CHAPTER II</h2>
<h2 class="main">HOUSING, TRAVEL AND POPULATION QUESTIONS</h2>
</div>
<div class="divBody">
<p class="par first">When every allowance has been made for the
material changes which the progress of this century threatens, it is
easy to see that certain present-day problems will continue to trouble
our successors. Some things which perplex ourselves will, I think, work
out their own remedy. Others will remain the subject of solutions not
difficult to be imagined in advance.</p>
<p class="par">One chief difficulty which will infallibly confront the
immediate future, and even the future that is more remote, arises out
of the simple fact that the race of man tends to increase numerically
at a speed greater than our devices for its accommodation can quite
conveniently cope with. The population of the world not only increases,
but increases at compound interest. Nor is this all. Improved
sanitation, better habits of life, and the progress of medicine,
prolong lives that in the conditions of last century would have been
shortened, and the rate of increase is thus further accelerated,
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb14" href="#pb14" name=
"pb14">14</a>]</span>as individuals who in different conditions would
have died, live on, perhaps reproducing their species, and thus
intensifying the population problem. Against these influences may be
set the effect of the restrictions imposed by some civilised peoples on
the birth rate, which Mr Roosevelt calls &ldquo;race suicide.&rdquo;
These practices, just now increasingly prevalent, retard the rate of
increase, but do not at present stop our increase: they alleviate, but
do not cure the difficulty of over-population. Artificial physiological
checks on population, if I am right in certain other conjectures to be
presently developed, will not form part of the permanent morality of
the new age, partly because, with more enlightenment, they will be
voluntarily abandoned or superseded, and partly because the necessity
for them will have disappeared, having worked out its own cure.</p>
<p class="par">But with all this it would be folly to anticipate that
the population of the civilised world will not have greatly increased
before the end of the period contemplated by the present inquiry: and
this brings us face to face with two very important
questions&mdash;those of housing and transport. Where shall we live,
and how shall we move from place to place&mdash;above all, how shall we
proceed from home to the scene of work and thence home again every day,
in the future? Shall we indeed thus move back and forth at all?
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb15" href="#pb15" name=
"pb15">15</a>]</span></p>
<p class="par">The answer to the last question bifurcates somewhat. In
the earlier future of (say) twenty or thirty years hence, probably the
greatest tendencies will be towards concentration on the one hand and
exceedingly rapid transport on the other. What the ultimate practice
will be, it should not be difficult to guess when we see how these
tendencies are likely to work themselves out.</p>
<p class="par">During the last twenty-five or thirty years of the
nineteenth century the tendency of workers in great cities was more and
more towards suburban life, men travelling to and from the cities in
increasing numbers, to increasing distances, and at increasing speeds.
Even mechanics, even labourers and the other humbler wage-earners (to
say nothing of clerks not earning much more, but spending their money
in a different manner) nowadays travel considerable distances to their
work. But in spite of what is complacently regarded (by railway and
tramway directors) as rapid conveyance, there is lately manifest an
increasing impatience against the time subtracted from men&rsquo;s
leisure by the two daily journeys, an impatience very naturally
increased in the case of manual workers of both sexes by the utter
inadequacy of the legislative control imposed upon railway and tramway
companies.</p>
<p class="par">Crowded trams and trains, with desperate men and weak
women fighting a daily battle for <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb16"
href="#pb16" name="pb16">16</a>]</span>conveyance before all the cheap
trips have been made, inflict a shameful degradation upon the class for
which Parliament makes illusory provision in railway and tramway Acts.
As a consequence of this difficulty, and also because of the early hour
at which the companies are allowed to cease carrying working-folk at
the workmen&rsquo;s fare, many men and women are compelled to waste
some hours of their scanty leisure every day between the arrival of
their trains and the opening of their workshops, a cruelty for which
the blame may be pretty equally apportioned to Parliament and the
company directors. The result of it is that many of the poor prefer the
evil of overcrowding in cities before the greater evil of wasted time
and degrading travel. As time goes on, no doubt the monopolists of
transportation will be compelled, as their own necessities increase and
so bring them under the hand of the legislature, to serve more
adequately the necessities of the majority. But even so, and as long as
the effective speed of conveyance is limited by the lack of
permanent-way space and the necessity for frequent stations, the
impatience even now manifested, and manifested chiefly by the class
which suffers least from loss of time in travel, will lead to
concentration. Taking London as an example, it may be said that the
Victorian age was the age of the suburbs. But few people now live in
the suburbs of London who <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb17" href=
"#pb17" name="pb17">17</a>]</span>can afford to live anywhere else.
Either they move right out into the country, seeking a spot on some
main line where the greater distance and less-frequent train service is
made up for by speedy and uninterrupted journeys; or they come into
London and occupy houses or flats within easy reach of their working
head-quarters. The suburbs are given over to those who cannot afford
either of these expedients, or who, having been brought up there, are
retained by a sort of inertia. Ultimately, as the demand for town space
becomes intensified, two things will happen. First of all, the
restrictions which many cities, ignoring the freedom of New York and
Chicago, impose upon the erection of excessively high buildings, will
go by the board. The shutting out of sunlight and fresh air will be the
subject of compensations to be presently explained, and thirty, forty,
fifty or a hundred-storey houses, and houses which perhaps burrow to
some distance underground, will, by virtue of the same compensations,
house a vast, concentrated population impatient of daily travel. As the
demand for homes increases, and even the high buildings cannot cope
with it, the cities will push their way outwards, repopulating the
rebuilt suburbs. This kind of thing will have a tendency to correct
itself. Rents will be high in proportion to position near the centre.
But a limit of toleration will be reached, and as <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb18" href="#pb18" name="pb18">18</a>]</span>certain
improvements will have been effected in transport, there will
ultimately be a reaction, and people will again go right out to the
country, as long as there is any country left.</p>
<p class="par">Before discussing these improvements, however, it will
be convenient to examine the conveniences, social and sanitary, of the
homes of the new age. The greatest convenience of all, no doubt, will
be the modification and partial elimination of the domestic servant.
There is every reason to believe that the great difficulties of the
servant question as at present experienced will solve themselves,
forming in part an instance of the moral changes, accompanying material
invention but only partly resulting from it, which the new age is
certain to experience. It is usual to lay the blame of the
unsatisfactory character and atrocious inefficiency of the domestic
servants of our own day on the institution of free education. They are
much more due to the absence of any education worthy of the name, and
to the imperfect civilisation of modern houses. Thirty-five years or so
are but an instant in the life of an institution so overwhelmingly more
important in its possibilities than any other subject of legislation as
State-compelled education of the people. No one appears to have
recognised that character-making, which Herbert Spencer called the most
important object which can <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb19" href=
"#pb19" name="pb19">19</a>]</span>engage the attention of the
legislator, is the only true object of education, free or otherwise.
When politicians have talked of the necessity of national education,
the argument they have used was that Germans are better chemists than
we are. When they praised the usefulness of modern languages it was in
terms of commercial utility. &ldquo;Modern languages, in fact&rdquo; (a
recent critic remarked), &ldquo;make a good bagman.&rdquo; It is inept
to despair of free education because free education has produced no
very satisfactory results while conceived of as a process of shoving
undesired knowledge into the children of the poor. Looking, as everyone
not hidebound by pessimism must look, for a great enlightenment of the
law-giving class when the system of party politics, already beginning
to show signs of decay, has ceased to hold all legislation in its
blighting hand, we have every reason to expect that the true uses of
education will be perceived and attained long before the end of the
period contemplated when we speak of the new age. And then, one very
great factor in the servant question will have been satisfactorily
solved, even if other conditions have not conducted us nearly all the
way to the solution beforehand.</p>
<p class="par">For, while making every allowance for the evil effects
of education, wrongly conceived and improperly administered, on the
character of women destined to become servants, it must <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb20" href="#pb20" name="pb20">20</a>]</span>be
allowed that much of what we call the servant difficulty could be cured
now, and will unquestionably be cured before long, by inventions
capable of abolishing the grievances which lead to it. These grievances
are real and remediable. I do not refer to the confinement, restraint
and gross lack of consideration on the part of employers which lead
young women of the class from which servants are drawn to prefer labour
in factories and elsewhere, in conditions far less comfortable, before
domestic service; but to our utter lack of ingenuity in removing the
irksomeness and degradation of much domestic labour. Some coming
inventions calculated to improve the lot of Mary Jane will now be
described.</p>
<p class="par">In the first place (as Mr H. G. Wells has pointed out,
without apparently being aware that buildings already exist in which
some of his ideas have been anticipated), modern rooms, equally with
those of all time, seem to have been constructed so as to make it as
difficult as possible to keep them clean. Square corners and
rectangular junctions of wall and floor, wall and ceiling, will
certainly before long be replaced everywhere by curves. But the work of
house cleaning will be rendered easy and unlaborious by another
invention, already indeed in existence on a large scale, but eventually
capable of being rendered portable. I mean a contrivance for
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb21" href="#pb21" name=
"pb21">21</a>]</span>applying a vacuum to any desired spot. There is a
very ingenious but rather noisy engine already in use for pumping the
dust out of carpets, curtains and furniture. In the houses of the
future handy contrivances of various shapes, all independent of any
engine, will be found, furnished with elastic nozzles on the outside
and with some sort of appliance capable of instantly exhausting the air
within. Such a utensil wheeled over the floor will remove instantly
every particle of dust from the surface and below the surface of the
carpet, at the same time picking up any such <i lang=
"fr">d&eacute;bris</i> as scraps of paper, pins, and other
<i>decidua</i> of the previous day. A similar instrument, differently
shaped, will clean the curtains, supposing curtains to be still in use
at the time, and will dust the chairs and tables&mdash;though there
will not be anything like so much dust as there is now, nearly all
kinds of combustion being abolished. The kitchen fire will of course be
an electric furnace: &ldquo;o&rsquo; my word we&rsquo;ll not carry
coals.&rdquo; Lighting will all be electric, and no doubt wireless. The
abolition of horse traffic in cities, and the use of the vacuum
apparatus which will be continuously at work in all streets, keeping
them dry and free from mud, will practically remove the necessity for
boot brushing, even supposing that we shall still wear boots: every man
and woman in dressing will pass a vacuum instrument <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb22" href="#pb22" name="pb22">22</a>]</span>over his
and her clothes and get rid of even the little dust existing&mdash;for
we shall be more and more intolerant of dirt in any form, having by
that time fully realised how dangerous dirt is. The new age will be a
clean age. A lady of the year 2000 who could be miraculously
transported back to London at the present moment would probably faint
(they will not have ceased fainting) at the intolerable disgustingness
of what is, I suppose, now one of the cleanest cities in the world,
even if the cruelty of employing horses for traction, and the frightful
recklessness of allowing them to soil the streets in which people walk,
did not overpower her susceptibilities in another way.</p>
<p class="par">Cooking will perhaps not be done at all on any large
scale at home, in flat-homes at all events; and in any case, for
reasons which will hereafter become apparent, cooking will be a much
less disgusting process than it is to-day. In no case will the domestic
servant of a hundred years hence be called upon to stand over a roaring
fire, laid by herself, and to be cleaned up by herself when done with,
in order to cook the family dinner. Every measure of
heat&mdash;controllable in gradations of ten degrees or so&mdash;will
be furnished in electrically-fitted receptacles, with or without water
jackets or steam jackets: and unquestionably all cooking will be done
in hermetically-closed vessels. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb23"
href="#pb23" name="pb23">23</a>]</span>We shall not much longer do most
of our cooking by such a wasteful and unwholesome method as boiling,
whereby the important soluble salts of nearly all food are callously
thrown away. As, for reasons to be developed hereafter, it is quite
certain that animal food will have been wholly abandoned before the end
of this century, the <i lang="fr">d&eacute;bris</i> of the kitchen will
be much more manageable than at present, and the kitchen sink will
cease to be, during a great part of the day, a place of unapproachable
loathsomeness. On the other hand, its conveniences will have been
greatly increased. It is difficult to understand how the old-world
fashion of (for instance) &ldquo;washing up&rdquo; plates and dishes
can have endured so long. Of course, in the new age, these utensils
will be simply dropped one by one into an automatic receptacle; swilled
clean by water delivered with force and charged with nascent oxygen;
dried by electric heat; and polished by electric force; being finally
oxygen-bathed as a superfluous act of sanitary cleanliness before being
sent to table again. And all that has come off the plates will drop
through the scullery floor into the destructor beneath to be oxygenated
and made away with.</p>
<p class="par">Here we have most of the distasteful elements of
domestic service got rid of. Naturally lifts of various kinds, driven
by the same force (whatever it is) which lights and <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb24" href="#pb24" name="pb24">24</a>]</span>warms
the house, will be everywhere in evidence. The plan of attaining the
upper part of a small house by climbing, on every occasion, a sort of
wooden hill, covered with carpet of questionable cleanliness, will of
course have been abandoned: it is doubtful whether staircases will be
built at all after the next two or three decades. And it is likely that
the more refined sentiment of the new age will recoil before the
spectacle of menial service at the table. Not because they will
despise, but because they will respect, their domestic assistants,
hostesses will dislike to have their guests waited upon in a servile
manner during meals by plush-breeched flunkeys of the male, or
neat-handed Phyllises of the female, sex. Well-arranged houses will
have the kitchen on a level with the dining-room, and the dividing wall
will be so contrived that a table, ready laid at each course, can be
made to slide through it into the presence of the seated guests. An
immense amount of running to and fro between kitchen and dining-room,
and of lifting food and table-ware into and out of elevators, will thus
be obviated, to the vast gastronomic improvement of the meal and the
salvation of servants&rsquo; time<span class="corr" id="xd21e457"
title="Source: ,">.</span></p>
<p class="par">Naturally the bedrooms of the new age will have many
amenities lacking to our own. It is not too much to anticipate that we
shall have learned enough of plumbing to be able to <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb25" href="#pb25" name="pb25">25</a>]</span>connect
baths, wash-basins and other necessary fittings with the drains without
poisoning ourselves, and the inconvenient modern
&ldquo;wash-stand&rdquo; with its unreticent adjuncts will decently
disappear. It cannot be very long&mdash;probably it will only be a few
years&mdash;before some kind of reasonable control is exercised over
the technical education of plumbers.<a class="noteref" id="xd21e464src"
href="#xd21e464" name="xd21e464src">1</a></p>
<p class="par">Thus the bedroom of the new age will be a much more
convenient and satisfactory apartment than the one we slept in last
night, and another irksome and unelevating part of the domestic work of
our servants will be eliminated. But the sleeping-apartments, and
indeed all apartments in city homes, will contain yet another very
valuable and necessary article of furniture&mdash;the oxygenator.
Nearly all the unhealthiness and the pinched, weary greyness of
town-dwellers to-day could be cured by fresh air. Everyone is familiar
with the improvement which can be effected in the health and appearance
of a city family by even a short visit to the seaside or the
country&mdash;an improvement which it happens to be fashionable just
now to attribute, in the <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb26" href=
"#pb26" name="pb26">26</a>]</span>former case, to the presence of ozone
in the sea air. The fact that holiday-makers are able to endure the
smell of slowly-decaying seaweed with a dash of putrescent fish about
it, which is called &ldquo;sea-air,&rdquo; without injury, and even to
pick up health in the presence of it, is more due to the absence of
carbon dioxide and other deleterious gases of the towns than to
anything else. The beneficent effects of country air are practically
all due to the power possessed by green vegetation of superoxygenating
the surrounding air. The atmosphere of cities, or at all events of city
homes, will presently be freed from the products of combustion and
respiration, and endowed with a slightly-increased proportion of
oxygen, by artificial means. And especially in bedrooms, rendered
to-day stuffy and unhealthy by the idiotic fear of night air which an
effete tradition has handed down to us, will this reform be in
evidence. Prudent people to-day insist on large bedroom
windows&mdash;preferably of the French-door pattern&mdash;and keep them
wide open all night. But this is attended by inconveniences in cold and
wet weather; and while our grandchildren will still keep their windows
open all night in all weathers, they will not be content with this
alone. There will be a chemical apparatus hidden away in some corner,
or built into the wall, which will absorb carbon dioxide and at the
same time slowly give off a certain amount <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb27" href="#pb27" name="pb27">27</a>]</span>of
oxygen&mdash;just enough to raise the oxygenation of the air to the
standard of the best country places. And similar appliances will be at
work in the streets of our cities, so that town air will be just as
wholesome, just as tonic and invigorating, as country air. If the
theory that the presence of ozone (that is, allotropic oxygen) in the
sea air is beneficent stand the test of time, no doubt ozonators will
form part of these appliances: but in any case, as the high buildings
of the new age will keep out the sunlight, electric light, carrying all
the ray-activity of sunlight, and just as capable of fostering life and
vegetation, will serve the streets. Thus, so far as hygiene goes, town
life will be on a par with country life: but many people will prefer
the country, and means will have to be provided to render homes in the
country compatible with work in the cities. This brings us to the
question of transport.</p>
<p class="par">I do not think that people will, within the next hundred
years at all events, travel to and from work in flying-machines. But no
doubt the system of railway transport will be revolutionised. What
makes suburban travel so slow is, not so much lack of speed on the part
of the trains, as the necessity for frequent stoppage. You cannot
satisfactorily run a train at sixty miles an hour and stop it every
minute or so: otherwise sixty miles an hour <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb28" href="#pb28" name="pb28">28</a>]</span>would be
quite fast enough, for some decades at least, to satisfy all
requirements of suburban traffic, though it would be, and indeed is,
ridiculously inadequate for long-distance travelling. The expense of
increased permanent-way hampers railway management, and as there is no
possibility of getting more land to increase the number of available
tracks, some method will have to be devised for running one train over
the top of another&mdash;perhaps to the height of several storeys, not
necessarily provided with supporting rails: for we may very conceivably
have discovered means by which vehicles can be propelled above the
ground in some kind of guide-ways, doing away with the great loss of
power caused by wheel friction; that is to say, the guides will direct,
but not support, the carriages. The clumsy device of locomotive engines
will have been dispensed with. Whatever power is employed to drive the
trains of the next century will certainly be conveyed to them from
central power-houses.</p>
<p class="par">But, as the reader has been already reminded, it is the
stoppages which are so wasteful of time on a suburban railway: and they
are also wasteful of force. Now in all respects the new age will be
economical. One thing that will have to be perfected is the art of
getting up speed. Look, as you go home to-night, at the way your train
gathers <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb29" href="#pb29" name=
"pb29">29</a>]</span>speed on leaving a station. Observe what a long
time it is before it can attain its full velocity. A large part of the
total time you require in order to reach the suburbs is consumed in
this manner. A hundred years hence trains will almost jump to full
speed, somewhat as a motor-car jumps to-day. In collecting passengers
at suburban stations, the train, a hundred years hence, will perhaps
not stop at all. It will only slacken speed a little; but the platform
will begin to move as the train approaches, and will run along beside
it, at the same speed as the train itself, so that passengers can get
in and out as if the train were standing still. When all are aboard,
the doors will be closed all together by the guard, and the platform
will reverse its motion, and return to its original position ready for
the next train.</p>
<p class="par">With trains travelling at quite 200 miles an
hour&mdash;and certainly nothing less will satisfy the remoter
suburbanites of next century&mdash;frightful accidents would occur if
precautions were not taken. The moment two trains are in the same
section of line they will be automatically cut off from the source of
power, and their brakes will at the same time bring them to a
standstill. A passenger who put his head out of the window of a train
travelling at this speed would be blinded and suffocated; so the
windows will be glazed, the oxygenators <span class="pagenum">[<a id=
"pb30" href="#pb30" name="pb30">30</a>]</span>and carbon-dioxide
absorbers in each carriage keeping the air sweet, and other suitable
appliances adjusting its temperature. There will be no such thing as
level crossings; wherever the road crosses the line there will be
bridges, provided with an endless moving track (like the automatic
staircase at the Crystal Palace), to carry passengers and vehicles
across. Of course horses will long since have vanished from the land,
except as instruments of the pleasure of a few cranks who affect the
manners of that effete period, the year 1900.</p>
<p class="par">And the omnipresence of high-speed vehicles will in
itself have eliminated much danger of accident. It is not to be
supposed that the unresting march of mechanical improvement will have
failed to have its effect on the people. Man himself will have
progressed. He will be cleverer in avoiding accidents. Cities will be
provided with moving street-ways, always in action at two or more
speeds; and we shall have learned to hop on and off the lowest speed
from the stationary pavement, and from the lower speeds to the higher,
without danger. When streets cross, one rolling roadway will rise in a
curve over the other. There will be no vehicular traffic at all in
cities of any size; all the transportation will be done by the
roads&rsquo; own motion. In smaller towns, and for getting from one
town <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb31" href="#pb31" name=
"pb31">31</a>]</span>to another, automatic motor-cars will exist,
coin-worked. A man who wishes to travel will step into a motor-car,
drop into a slot-machine the coin which represents the hire of the car
for the distance he wants to travel, and assume control. Here again the
progress of man will come into play. Everyone will know how to drive a
motor-car safely. If you doubt it, consider for a moment the position
of a man of 1800 suddenly transported into a street of modern London.
He would never be able to cross it; the rush of omnibuses, motors and
bicycles would confuse and frighten him. Imagine the same man trying to
use the underground railways of to-day, or to get up to town from a
busy suburb in the morning. He would either be killed out of hand or
left behind altogether from sheer inability to enter the train.</p>
<p class="par">We may safely suppose that the ocean ships of a hundred
years hence will be driven by energy of some kind transmitted from the
shores on either side. It is absolutely unquestionable that no marine
engine in the least resembling what we know to-day can meet the
requirements of the new age. The expense of driving a steamship
increases in such a ratio to its size and speed that the economic
limits of steam propulsion are foreseen. Probably the ships of
<span class="sc">A.D.</span> 2000 will differ entirely in appearance
from those we <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb32" href="#pb32" name=
"pb32">32</a>]</span>know. Just as road friction is the bugbear of the
railway engineer, so water-resistance is the bugbear of the marine
engineer. The ships of a hundred years hence will not lie in the water.
They will tower above the surface, merely skimming it with their keels,
and the only engines they will carry will be those which receive and
utilise the energy transmitted to them from the power-houses
ashore&mdash;perhaps worked by the force of the very tides of the
conquered ocean itself.</p>
<p class="par">The housing problem is so intimately and visibly
connected in our minds with the growth of population that the more
vital entanglement of the latter with the food question is hardly
perceptible except to economic experts. The ordinary newspaper reader
is not in a position to trace the intimate significance of prices;
indeed, he often regards it as rather a good thing that wheat should
fetch a good price per quarter, forgetting that low prices for
commodities mean increased purchasing power for money, and a better
standard of life for the people. When such elementary implications as
this are overlooked, it is hardly remarkable that the more obscure
connection of population with prices is never thought of. Yet it is
obvious that unless the sources of supply increase more rapidly than
the consuming population, prices must rise&mdash;in other words, the
purchasing power of money must diminish. <span class="pagenum">[<a id=
"pb33" href="#pb33" name="pb33">33</a>]</span>Wages, to some extent,
will no doubt rise also, but as competition seriously affects the
markets for manufactured goods and machinery, and the increase of
population not only tends to raise prices of commodities, but also
restricts the rise of wages, relief will have to be found in economies
of various sorts. The standard of comfort in working families must
improve considerably; partly because the demand for improvement, taking
the shape of industrial combination and trade-unionism developed to a
high degree, will be more and more clamorous; partly because of public
feeling. What is currently called the growth of sentimentalism in
modern life is really the development of modern conscience. No doubt
the abolition of judicial torture was at one time regarded as a mark of
absurd sentimentality; and the opinion has already been expressed that
a vast amelioration of public morality is in store for the new age. A
great element in the conflict between comfort on the one hand and
competition on the other will be economy of means. That is why the new
age will, among other things, be an age of economy.</p>
<p class="par">In the matter of food, chiefly, a great saving can be
effected. Nothing is more painfully ludicrous&mdash;I use the
incongruous collocution advisedly&mdash;than the spectacle every winter
of money being laboriously accumulated for the <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb34" href="#pb34" name=
"pb34">34</a>]</span>provision of free meals for the poor, and spent,
to a great extent, so wastefully as on meat soups and white bread. The
crass ignorance of the poor, who will not touch wholemeal bread, and
indeed regard the offer of it as something in the nature of an insult;
and who cannot be induced to believe that meat is one of the least
satisfactory and most expensive forms of nourishment, is of course
responsible in great part for this error. If we would get our nitrogen
from pulses, nuts, and use vegetable fats derived from nuts, and bread
made from entire wheat-kernels finely ground (instead of being only
half ground as in most &ldquo;brown breads&rdquo;)<a class="noteref"
id="xd21e504src" href="#xd21e504" name="xd21e504src">2</a> our
&ldquo;free dinner&rdquo; charities would be able to feed at least
twice or three times as many people for every pound collected as they
do at present. But the proposal would probably excite an outcry and we
should hear that the poor were being treated as animals and that we
fain would fill their bellies with the husks that the swine do eat. But
all kinds of influences will tend to eliminate flesh from the dietary
of the new age. &ldquo;Growing sentimentalism,&rdquo; already in arms
against the use of animals for highly necessary scientific
investigations, will, as it develops, be revolted by the idea of
killing for food; and the refinement of the future will come to regard
the <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb35" href="#pb35" name=
"pb35">35</a>]</span>eating of dead bodies as very little better than
cannibalism. Moreover, the constantly increasing demand of the new age
upon bodily and nervous energies will call for nourishment suited to
their supply. This, and the wastefulness of second-hand food, will
banish all flesh from the bill of fare. Fish will be eaten longer than
meat. But more than anything else, the need for economy will reform our
dinner-tables, and eventually all food will have to be obtained
directly from the soil, if we are to have food enough to nourish our
overgrown population at all. We shall not be able to afford to waste
the ground on pasturage. We must use it to produce cereals, nuts and
fruits, which are not only a much more remunerative crop, but will also
use up in their assimilation far less nervous and peptic
energy&mdash;energy which we shall need to make the most of. The cereal
foods&mdash;products of wheat, barley, maize, and perhaps still (to a
certain extent) oats&mdash;which will form the staple of our diet, will
be partially cooked at the granaries by dry heat; they will need very
little treatment at home. Vegetables, cooked, not in the wasteful
manner now in vogue, but by conservative methods which will preserve
their valuable saline constituents, will have to be prepared in our own
kitchens; but pulse in various forms (as pease, lentil flour, etc.)
will be supplied to us almost wholly cooked. A <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb36" href="#pb36" name="pb36">36</a>]</span>cheap,
nourishing and delicious dietary will thus be made available.</p>
<p class="par">Finally, the reader will not be unprepared for the
opinion that alcohol, as a beverage, must inevitably disappear. Not
only because the price of intoxicants is an unproductive expenditure
(and we shall have to be more and more thrifty as time goes on) but
because the nerves of the new age would never stand them, must all
alcoholic beverages be regarded as destined to obsolescence: and the
legislative aspect of this question must presently be touched upon.
Already a considerable part of the people, in no way influenced by the
illogical idea that the abuse of a commodity by one class calls for the
abstention from it of another, refrains from alcohol simply because its
use inflicts too great a strain on the system. A good many people even
now find it necessary to abstain from tea or from coffee for precisely
similar reasons; while the highly-organised nervous systems of others
find in the latter a stimulant capable of all the advantages of alcohol
(and they are many) and not without some of its penalties. I think it
quite likely that when alcohol is gone, the nerves of the future may
find it necessary to place the sale of tea and of coffee under
restrictions similar to those at present inflicted upon the trade in
alcohol: and it is quite certain that morphia, cocaine, chloral,
perhaps <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb37" href="#pb37" name=
"pb37">37</a>]</span>ether, and similar products, will have to be very
jealously safeguarded within the next few years.</p>
<p class="par">Differing from many writers, I do not regard this
development of the nervous system as a mark of degeneration. On the
contrary, it is a part of the great and rapid adaptation which is bound
to take place in the constitution of man himself<a class="noteref" id=
"xd21e518src" href="#xd21e518" name="xd21e518src">3</a> to the
rapidly-changing conditions of his environment, his life, and the
duties he will have to fulfil. To overlook the certainty of such
adaptations is to be blind to all history, and especially to all recent
history. The men and women of the new age will differ from ourselves in
much the same sort of way as we differ from our great-grandfathers.
They will differ more only because the progress of the century which we
have lately begun will be so much more rapid and various than those of
the century before&mdash;itself the period of enormously the greatest
changes since the world began to be civilised. <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb38" href="#pb38" name="pb38">38</a>]</span></p>
</div>
<div class="footnotes">
<hr class="fnsep">
<p class="par footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id=
"xd21e464" href="#xd21e464src" name="xd21e464">1</a></span> Drains, it
might be supposed, would disappear altogether from the scheme of things
in favour of some kind of destructors. For reasons connected with a
more enlightened view than we have yet reached of certain aspects of
terrestrial economy, however, I think they will, with modifications,
still exist.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd21e464src">&uarr;</a></p>
<p class="par footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id=
"xd21e504" href="#xd21e504src" name="xd21e504">2</a></span> The chief
difficulty in utilising the useful integument of wheat disappears when
the whole grain is finely milled.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href=
"#xd21e504src">&uarr;</a></p>
<p class="par footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id=
"xd21e518" href="#xd21e518src" name="xd21e518">3</a></span> It is
necessary to say here, as an offset to possible misconstruction, that
the word &ldquo;evolution&rdquo; has been purposely abstained from. The
processes of evolution are far slower than the changes here
contemplated. The latter are voluntary and purposeful, involving no
constructional alteration in the physical frame of man, but only
functional modifications, intentionally inaugurated and
pursued.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd21e518src">&uarr;</a></p>
</div>
</div>
<div id="ch3" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pagenum">[<a href=
"#xd21e248">Contents</a>]</span>
<div class="divHead">
<h2 class="label">CHAPTER III</h2>
<h2 class="main">THE MAN OF BUSINESS</h2>
</div>
<div class="divBody">
<p class="par first">Whatever changes may take place in the
organisation of society during the present century, we may regard it as
certain that the folk who</p>
<div class="lgouter">
<p class="line">&ldquo;Rise up to buy and sell again&rdquo;</p>
</div>
<p class="par first">will be always with us. The man of business will
possess many conveniences denied to the city man of to-day. It is, for
instance, to be supposed that the inordinate defects of even the best
telephone systems will be eliminated. When wireless communication of
ideas has been perfected, of course the telephone exchange will
disappear. Differential &ldquo;tuning&rdquo;&mdash;the process by which
any wireless telephone will be able to be brought, as transmitter, into
correspondence with any other wireless telephone, as
receiver&mdash;will enable every merchant to &ldquo;call up&rdquo;
every other merchant. Instead of, as at present, looking up his
associate&rsquo;s number in the directory, and getting connected by the
clumsy junction of wires at an exchange office, the merchant will look
up the tuning-formula, <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb39" href="#pb39"
name="pb39">39</a>]</span>adjust his own telephone to it, and ring a
bell, or otherwise employ means for attracting the attention of the man
he wants to speak to. As a great proportion of all the business
transacted will be done by telephones the frequent occurrence of
disputes as to what has or has not been said in a given conversation
will have rendered safeguards necessary. Consequently, every telephone
will be attached to an instrument, developed from the phonograph, which
will record whatever is said at both ends of the line. Precautions will
have to be devised against eavesdropping. After communication is
established, probably both parties to a conversation will retune their
instruments to a fresh pitch, which, in cases requiring special
secrecy, could be privately agreed upon beforehand.</p>
<p class="par">The form which the records above suggested will
ultimately assume must be a matter of conjecture. It is quite possible
that the written word may in all departments of life lose some of its
present vital importance. We may imagine, if we choose, that instead of
creating records which can be read, we may find it advisable to create
records that can be listened to: and some of the apparent
inconveniences of this substitution may easily be supposed to be
dispensed with. The handiness of a written memorandum is largely a
matter of habit. A practised eye can &ldquo;skim&rdquo; <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb40" href="#pb40" name="pb40">40</a>]</span>a long
document, and either through the use of black-type headlines, or by
pure skill, alight upon exactly the passage required; and if it were
necessary, in order to find a given passage, to listen to the whole
document being read over by the recording phonograph, no doubt much
time would be lost. We shall not be so extremely intolerant of loss of
time, perhaps, in the new age, as some people imagine: but in any case,
if the speed of the phonograph be imagined as adjustable, it will be
perceived that we could then make it gabble parrotwise over the
inessential, and let it linger with more deliberation over what we
wanted to assure ourselves of. We could even &ldquo;skip&rdquo; useless
portions&mdash;one can do this with phonographs already in use.
Probably such aural records may be made capable of acceptance in courts
of law, and the maxim <i lang="la">verbum auditum manet</i> will take
the place of a well-known proverb of our day. Very likely business
letters may some day take the form of conveniently-shaped tablets, made
of some plastic material, and capable of being utilised by means of a
talking machine.</p>
<p class="par">Or if these changes seem too chimerical, we may essay
the more difficult task of conceiving a means by which the spoken word
may be directly translatable into print or typewriting. The waste of
time and energy entailed by the present plan of dictating what we want
to say to a stenographer or into a phonograph, for <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb41" href="#pb41" name=
"pb41">41</a>]</span>subsequent transcription, renders some sort of
improvement urgently needful; nor are these wastes the only grievance,
as the introduction of a second personality into the operation of
recording speech introduces a simultaneous possibility of error, and an
outrageous waste of time is caused by the necessity of reading over
what one has dictated laboriously to a stenographer or into a
phonograph, to make sure that it is correctly transcribed. It is
obviously a much more difficult matter to translate speech directly
into printed words than to translate it into something which may again
produce the sounds of speech. The first step would be the invention of
something which would print a phonetic representation of
speech&mdash;as, for instance, shorthand of the kind invented by Sir
Isaac Pitman. Even this requires us to imagine machinery of a kind
whose very rudiments do not at present exist. Indeed, we can only
conceive such an instrument by the use of the supposition that some
entirely new manipulation of sound-waves will be discovered; and if we
conceive that, there is no particular reason why we should hesitate
before the notion of speech directly translated into print such as we
use in everyday life. If we are going to limit the possibilities of the
future by the actual achievements of the present, we shall certainly
fall short of any adequate notion of what a hundred years&rsquo;
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb42" href="#pb42" name=
"pb42">42</a>]</span>accelerated progress may be capable of: and I do
not see wherein the direct reproduction suggested is any more
inconceivable than, for example, telephony, or even photography, must
have been to a man of a hundred years ago. The greatest danger
attending our attempt to preconceive the amenities of the next century
is that we may limit our expectations too narrowly.</p>
<p class="par">On this ground, perhaps, I may be thought too cautious
in assuming that the present form of alphabetical writing and printing
will survive at all. But there are two things which seem likely to give
it permanence. The first, of course, is literature. If we adopt an
entirely new form of writing and printing for general use, we must
either set to work to translate all our literature into it, thereby
probably losing some formal beauties which the culture of the world
will not consent to sacrifice; or we must make up our minds to use (as
the Japanese do at present) two kinds of writing concurrently; and the
difficulty of overcoming the vast inertia of the human mind (which
alone still suffices to exclude from English commerce so obviously
convenient an innovation as decimal coinage) will probably negative
this. This inertia is the second consideration likely to give
permanence to our present form of English alphabetical writing.</p>
<p class="par">However this may be, the convenience of <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb43" href="#pb43" name="pb43">43</a>]</span>direct
wireless telephony will certainly, when supplemented by records of
whatever kind, greatly facilitate commerce. The tedious process of
writing a letter, posting it, and awaiting the reply, at present
persisted in chiefly because it is so necessary to have some sort of
documentary evidence of what has passed, will be largely dispensed with
when we can secure an automatic record of what we say. Nearly
everything will be done by word of mouth.</p>
<p class="par">The great inconvenience, apart from the absence of
record, which attaches to transactions or negotiations by telephone at
the present day, is that a telephonic conversation is not nearly so
satisfactory as a personal interview face to face. Gesture, attitude,
the language of face and eyes, all do so much to elucidate
communication in the latter way, that we lose a great deal when we meet
an associate at the other end of a telephone wire. Well, the telephone
of the new age will remove this drawback, or rather it will be
supplemented by something which will do so. This invention, not at all
difficult to imagine, I will call provisionally the teleautoscope. It
will no doubt have some name equally barbarous. The teleautoscope can
be explained in a single sentence. It will be an instrument for seeing
by electricity. Whatever is before the transmitting teleautoscope
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb44" href="#pb44" name=
"pb44">44</a>]</span>will be visible before the receiving teleautoscope
wirelessly <i lang="fr">en rapport</i> with the former. Thus by
telephone, by phonograph, and by teleautoscope, a wireless conversation
will combine all the advantages of a personal interview and a written
correspondence.</p>
<p class="par">No doubt the post-office system of this country, despite
occasional lapses, is as nearly perfect as any human institution, in
the present state of society, can be reasonably expected to be. But it
is equally certain that in so far as postal communication is required
at all in the new age it will have to be vastly improved both as to
speed and precision, compared with what we now, sometimes rather
thanklessly, enjoy. For instance, that impatient age will certainly not
tolerate the inconvenience of having to send out to post its letters
and parcels, or the tardiness of having these articles sorted and
passed on for delivery only at intervals of half an hour or so. We may
take it for granted that every well-equipped business office will be in
direct communication, by means of large-calibred pneumatic tubes, with
the nearest post-office. And however rapidly and however frequently the
trains or airships of the period may travel, the process of making up
van loads of mail matter for despatch to remote centres, and
redistribution there, is far too clumsy for what commerce will demand a
hundred years hence. No doubt the soil of every civilised <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb45" href="#pb45" name="pb45">45</a>]</span>country
will be permeated by vast networks of pneumatic tubes: and all letters
and parcels will be thus distributed at a speed hardly credible
to-day.</p>
<p class="par">Already every bank of any importance probably uses
calculating machines. It is not likely that the fatiguing and uncertain
process of having arithmetical calculations of any sort performed in
the brains of clerks will survive the improvements of which these
machines are capable. Account books, invoices, and all similar
documents will doubtless be written by a convenient and compendious
form of combined calculating machine and typewriter, which we may
suppose to be called the numeroscriptor. It will, of course, be capable
of writing anywhere&mdash;on a book or on a loose sheet, on a flat
surface or on an irregular one. It will make any kind of calculation
required. Even such operations as the weighing and measurement of goods
will all be done by automatic machinery,<a class="noteref" id=
"xd21e569src" href="#xd21e569" name="xd21e569src">1</a> capable of
recording without any possibility of error the quantity and values of
goods submitted to its operation.</p>
<p class="par">Naturally transport will be the subject of something
like a renascence. So far as inland <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb46"
href="#pb46" name="pb46">46</a>]</span>communication goes, the chief
difficulties to be overcome already call loudly for amendment. We
cannot for more than a decade or so make do with the present railway
tracks, and either (as already hinted) by means of some invention to
enable trains to run one above another, or by some entirely new
carrying device such as I will now try to suggest, the new age will
certainly supersede or supplement the transport of to-day.</p>
<p class="par">The device most likely to be adopted, in the near future
at all events, is something in the nature of elevated <i lang=
"fr">trottoirs roulants</i> for goods. If we can conceive all the
cities of a country to be linked-up by a system of great overways, we
have at all events a feasible solution of the difficulty. There could
be a double row of tall, massive pillars, between which could run a
wide track, always in motion at considerable speed. It need not be a
lightning speed. Most of the tardiness of railway transportation does
not, in this country at all events, arise from slowness of trains, but
from congestion at goods stations, and this in turn is due, partly to
insufficiency of rolling stock, but much more to insufficiency of
permanent way. The latter evil is very difficult to cope with. But the
system of moving ways, providing a rolling stock equal in length to the
line itself, will be a great saving. Returning upon itself the endless
track will continuously transport merchandise <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb47" href="#pb47" name="pb47">47</a>]</span>in both
directions. Elevators, suitably placed, will give access to it wherever
needed. Probably the motive power will be electrical: and we may
confidently anticipate entirely new sources of electricity. It is
obviously clumsy to create power in the first instance, convert power
into electricity (I use popular language), and then convert electricity
back again into power. Much more hopeful than any idea of developing
that method would be the conception of new ways of creating and
applying motive-power directly. But, almost certainly, electricity,
obtained in some new way, will do the work of the world for many
generations yet&mdash;until, in fact, we devise or discover something
more convenient.</p>
<p class="par">It will have been perceived that nearly every
improvement and innovation above sketched out involves, and will be
indeed designed to effect, great saving of labour. With such economies,
and an increased population, there is evidently going to be a
difficulty about employment.</p>
<p class="par">Moreover, the great facilities enjoyed by commerce will
tend to make commerce extremely powerful. Already great organisers of
business begin to evade competition by combining in vast
&ldquo;trusts,&rdquo; whose tendency is to make the rich richer and the
poor poorer. There is a further cause for the aggrandisement of the
large trader and manufacturer at <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb48"
href="#pb48" name="pb48">48</a>]</span>the expense of the petty retail
dealer. More and more every year the unprogressive methods of small
shopkeepers foster the success of large multiple retailers. But it is
likely that retail businesses, whether great or small, will ultimately
tend to be eliminated. Manufacturers and trust companies will supply
the public directly. What, then, will be the solution of the great
social difficulties about to be created?</p>
<p class="par">The answer is, that these difficulties, and especially
the developments above confidently predicted for a future comparatively
near, are probably transient in their nature. It is not yet the time to
discuss political questions: but the problem here directly raised
demands a few words of reassurance from the professed optimist.</p>
<p class="par">There can be no doubt of the great social and political
dangers involved in so enormous an aggrandisement of the commercial and
manufacturing class as we shall most of us live to witness. What is
called the problem of the unemployed grows every year more difficult
and less obviously hopeful. Moreover, the concentration of great wealth
in a few hands is in itself a political danger, even apart from the
fact that it implies widespread impoverishment. There are dangers of
corrupt legislation, for instance, and other dangers too.</p>
<p class="par">But there will be another great force at work
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb49" href="#pb49" name=
"pb49">49</a>]</span>in which may be foreseen the solution of many
difficulties beside this. When public education becomes rationalised;
when it is employed chiefly as a means of character-making; when the
universal education of mankind has the effect of turning out men and
women capable of thinking, and not merely of remembering, the teeming
population of the working class will begin to exercise an intelligent
influence on the legislature&mdash;which at present it certainly cannot
be said to do. And one thing which the intelligently-elected
Parliaments of the new age will assuredly discover is this principle:
that it is not good for the State that any one man, or any one
associated body of men, should possess an inordinate amount of
wealth.<a class="noteref" id="xd21e597src" href="#xd21e597" name=
"xd21e597src">2</a></p>
<p class="par">Once this principle is discovered and acted upon; once
it is illegal for any person or corporation to be seised of more than a
certain fixed capital; the dangers of inconvenient <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb50" href="#pb50" name=
"pb50">50</a>]</span>aggrandisement will vanish. Nor is this principle
in any way unprogressive or injurious to the commonwealth. It is, in
fact, not even injurious to the individuals affected. No
reasonably-enlightened being can pretend that a sensible hardship would
be inflicted on millionaires by being forbidden to pile Pelion upon
Ossa in their present insane manner. A very rich man, compelled to
desist from the accumulation of wealth, and consequently driven to the
task of finding out how to enjoy it intelligently, would be almost
infinitely better off for this constraint. The effect of the ordinance
for the limitation of wealth will be to remove all temptation to
concentrate manufactures in a few hands. It will open the doors shut by
trust companies on competition. It will multiply factories of moderate
and convenient size: and one other effect of it will be to improve many
manufacturing processes in themselves. There are a great many things
which can be cheaply turned out in uniform batches, every article
exactly the counterpart of every other, hideous in economical
uniformity, because they all emanate from one or two great factories,
which, if the manufacture of them were distributed over a number of
small factories, would, from this circumstance alone, and from the
stress of wholesome competition, be greatly improved. Probably many
industries, desirable in themselves, but driven out of <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb51" href="#pb51" name=
"pb51">51</a>]</span>successful being by our present system of
concentrated manufacturing, would revive. Crafts of what we call
regretfully the good old kinds would spring up, rejuvenated: cheap
uniformity would cease to be the principal ideal of manufacture. The
people would be able to afford agreeable furniture, utensils,
decorations, and household goods of all kinds, where they now have to
put up with horrible but cheap makeshifts. For one great advantage of
the ordinance just predicted must not be lost sight of. When you
restrain the rich from becoming inordinately richer, you concurrently
save the poor from being made proportionately poorer. This ideal, it
should be remarked, is in no sense socialistic. It is, on the contrary,
the natural development of individualism.</p>
<p class="par">Hardly less certain is it that before the beginning of
the twenty-first century all manufactures and all commerce will be
co-operative, the workers in every industry being paid, not by fixed
wages, but by a share in the produce of their labour. Instead of the
profit of all trade and manufacture being secured to the managers and
owners of lands, machinery, transport and other commercial utilities;
while labour, the equally necessary and indeed the preponderant element
of production, is reckoned as a mere element of cost, in the form of
wages; the profit will be shared all round. The more prosperous the
enterprise, the more money the <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb52"
href="#pb52" name="pb52">52</a>]</span>workers will receive. No man
will be able to grow rich by sweating his workmen. Neither will the
present degrading temptation for every workman to perform his task as
perfunctorily and as lazily as he can, so long as he does not get
dismissed from work altogether, survive this reform. On the contrary,
it will be directly worth every man&rsquo;s while to do his work as
well as he possibly can. The dignity of labour&mdash;a phrase now
justly mocked&mdash;will become an elevating and delightful
practicality. A great many articles of everyday use will be better made
than it is possible to get them made to-day. The spectacle of the
producers of wealth herding in squalid cabins, clothed in the rags of
cast-off clothing, eating garbage, enjoying nothing but intoxication,
will give way to a more wholesome and natural state of affairs. Nor
will the owners of machinery, of factories and the like long oppose
this development. What are called labour-troubles will cease to exist
when the interest of employer and employed is identical. The problem of
the unemployed will solve itself. Leisure, and an opportunity to employ
leisure wisely, will have been bestowed upon the poor as well as we
have seen that it will be bestowed upon the rich. A man will have no
need to spend practically all the unfatigued hours of every day at the
bench, the loom, or the lathe. He will want recreation. While one batch
of men is <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb53" href="#pb53" name=
"pb53">53</a>]</span>seeking this there will be an opportunity for
other batches to work. And work itself, once it is work for an
intelligent objective, once it is work that there is a comprehensible
reason for trying to execute as well as it can possibly be executed,
will lose much of its irksomeness&mdash;to the vast improvement alike
of the product and the producer. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb54"
href="#pb54" name="pb54">54</a>]</span></p>
</div>
<div class="footnotes">
<hr class="fnsep">
<p class="par footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id=
"xd21e569" href="#xd21e569src" name="xd21e569">1</a></span> There is a
contrivance already in existence which not only weighs what is placed
upon it, but can also be made to calculate the value of the goods at
any desired rate per ounce, pound or hundredweight.&nbsp;<a class=
"fnarrow" href="#xd21e569src">&uarr;</a></p>
<p class="par footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id=
"xd21e597" href="#xd21e597src" name="xd21e597">2</a></span> A practical
objection to this principle may be here anticipated and answered.
Politicians may say that for any one nation to be the pioneer in the
adoption of such a policy would have the effect of driving trade and
manufactures into other countries where the restriction did not exist.
But there are so many highly necessary reforms open to a similar
objection that I think there is no doubt that ultimately the jurists of
all nations will agree upon some arrangement for universal legislation,
whereby laws not affecting the relations of one country with another
will be simultaneously enacted by a comity of nations. We have already
one very imperfect example of such a procedure in the Convention
against bounty-helped sugar.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href=
"#xd21e597src">&uarr;</a></p>
</div>
</div>
<div id="ch4" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pagenum">[<a href=
"#xd21e258">Contents</a>]</span>
<div class="divHead">
<h2 class="label">CHAPTER IV</h2>
<h2 class="main">THE CULT OF PLEASURE</h2>
</div>
<div class="divBody">
<p class="par first">Certain predictions in the foregoing chapter will
have suggested to all who accept them that the cultivation of pleasure
must occupy a large part of the energy of the new age. From the moment
when men, sufficiently astute and purposeful to accumulate enormous
fortunes if they were permitted to do so, are required by law to desist
from useless and injurious money-getting, a vast amount of ingenuity
will be diverted to the development of the useless. The skill expended
upon money-making&mdash;and let it be admitted frankly that, however
unscrupulous one may be, it is not easy to become a
millionaire&mdash;will be turned to the task, almost equally difficult,
of spending it satisfactorily. We may consider it as practically
certain that the pleasures of the new age will be largely intellectual
in their nature. The stupidity of merely sensual pleasures will revolt
the intelligence of the future. Athletic sports of some kind,
facilitated by certain inventions which can easily be foreseen, will no
doubt be a <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb55" href="#pb55" name=
"pb55">55</a>]</span>source of much enjoyment, though the growing
gentleness of mankind will abolish, as barbarous, games which take the
form of modified assault, as football, boxing, wrestling, fencing and
the like. We shall certainly acquire a great distaste for fighting in
any form when growing humanitarianism shall have put an end to
war&mdash;a development which may confidently be predicted for the
present century. Similarly&mdash;&ldquo;Am I God, to kill and to make
alive?&rdquo;&mdash;we shall cease to take life for our amusement; as,
for sentimental and other reasons, it has been shown that we shall
cease to kill for food.</p>
<p class="par">What then will be our games? One of the most likely
instruments of sport will no doubt be the small flying-machine. It is
not in the least probable, so far as can at present be foreseen, that
purely a&euml;rial and self-directed vehicles for purposes of travel or
transportation will be a feature of the new civilisation. The dangers
and inconvenience of large a&euml;rostats are less accidents of
imperfect invention than inherent difficulties of the subject. It is
very probable that some means of propelling self-supported vehicles
between guideways may be discovered. But, as it is not at all likely
that any means of suspending the effect of air-resistance can ever be
devised, a flying-machine must always be slow and cumbersome. Travel
and transportation, to be attractive in the new <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb56" href="#pb56" name="pb56">56</a>]</span>age,
must be rapid in the extreme. Ships no doubt will skim the surface of
the sea instead of resting upon it. But air-ships are not very likely
to be anything but a sort of vast toy, within, at all events, the next
hundred years.</p>
<p class="par">But, as a means of amusement, the idea of a&euml;rial
travel has great promise. Small one-man flying-machines, or the
a&euml;rial counterpart of tandem bicycles, will no doubt be common
enough. We shall fly for pleasure; and just as thousands of working men
and women now take a Saturday-afternoon spin on a bicycle, so they will
go for a sky-trip, and visit interesting mountain-tops for
(non-alcoholic) picnics. The bicycle or the motor-cycle will perhaps be
the point of development. It is quite certain that within the next ten
or fifteen years some means will have been discovered by which we can
ride on a single wheel. The saving of weight thus effected will go a
long way towards surmounting the flight problem. Then, when
motor-unicycles are presently propelled by force transmitted (in the
same way as Marconi&rsquo;s telegrams) from a fixed power-house, the
difficulty of flight will be within sight of an easy solution. Any
competent mechanician of the present day could design a flying-machine
if the mere weight of the motive appliance could be overcome. When the
motor is fixed on <i lang="la">terra firma</i>, and the vehicle only
needs to carry <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb57" href="#pb57" name=
"pb57">57</a>]</span>a device for utilising the &aelig;theric waves
which the source of power wirelessly transmits, flight will be at least
as simple a matter as wireless telegraphy is to-day.</p>
<p class="par">When it is possible to cross the Atlantic in a day by
means of surface-riding ships, propelled, like the flying-machines, by
&aelig;theric force, the field of amusement will be vastly increased,
and although (as I shall show) it will no longer be necessary to travel
in order to &ldquo;see the sights&rdquo; of any part of the world, the
pleasure of being present at the actual events of life in different
countries will probably never pall. So long as any parts of the world
remain comparatively unfamiliar, young men and maidens will love
travel. When it is possible, wrapped in warm woollens and provided with
portable heating-appliances, to pay a short visit to the Arctic circle
and enjoy the matchless spectacle of the Aurora Borealis amid the
awe-compelling obscurities of the Polar night: when, with even less
inconvenience, we can take a trip to the tropics and witness, here the
unchangeable processes of Nature&rsquo;s luxuriance, there the perhaps
immutable conservatism of the East, the new leisure of the coming time
will have great stores of recreation for those happy enough to live in
the dawning twenty-first century.</p>
<p class="par">The more distinctively intellectual pleasures of the new
age will be much subserved by one <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb58"
href="#pb58" name="pb58">58</a>]</span>class of invention, of which the
rudiments already exist. By means of the phonograph we are able, not
very perfectly, to reproduce as often as we desire sounds created in
favourable circumstances. By various kinds of kinetoscope we can
reproduce a rudimentary sort of picture of an event which has taken
place in a good light. But when the phonograph has been developed, when
moving pictures have been perfected, what a vast implement of amusement
may be foreseen! Each of these inventions is comparatively new. If we
imagine the discovery of means, developed from the phonograph, by which
any sounds which have once existed in the presence of a recording
machine can be reproduced at will, not in a makeshift sort of way, but
without any loss of <i lang="fr">timbre</i> and quality, with perfect
articulation where articulation is necessary, with exactly correct
time-regulation automatically determined by the first enunciation, and
all this cheaply and compendiously, what vast resources of cultured
enjoyment are offered to the lover of music! How many people, denied
the pleasure of learning to understand good music by the difficulties
and exertion attendant upon our infrequent and expensive concerts, will
become true lovers and appreciators of it! For music is only to be
really enjoyed by the average man when it is repeatedly heard,
repeatedly considered. Certainly the people of the <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb59" href="#pb59" name="pb59">59</a>]</span>new age
will be epicures of the emotions which comprehended music is so nobly
capable of stirring.</p>
<p class="par">No doubt the new age will have solved, in a far more
satisfactory way than we have been able to solve as yet, the problem of
chromatic photography. When colour influences photographic plates or
some contrivance substituted for them, not indirectly by a mechanical
sorting-out of tints, but by affecting directly the optical properties
of the plates or whatever may succeed plates, we shall have
marvellously accurate pictures.<a class="noteref" id="xd21e646src"
href="#xd21e646" name="xd21e646src">1</a></p>
<p class="par">Nor is this all. The kinetoscope, as at present
exhibited under various unpleasing names, is imperfect in two ways:
first because it is powerless to reproduce colour, and secondly because
it gives at best a mere magic-lantern picture violently out of focus,
and by its pulsatory motion horribly distressing to the eyes. Chromatic
photography will overcome the former difficulty. When we find out how
to increase greatly the receptive rapidity of photographic emulsion
without spoiling what photographers call the &ldquo;grain&rdquo; of it;
or when we have improved, as we every year are improving, <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb60" href="#pb60" name="pb60">60</a>]</span>the
optical qualities of lenses, we shall be able to have our pictures in
focus. The distressing flicker of moving pictures is an objection
purely mechanical in its cause. But when, as they will be in a few
years, all these objections except the first have been removed, and
even when we have colour-photography in a true sense of the word, there
will still remain one field to conquer. We must have, instead of moving
pictures, something which represents all objects as solid. The
difference is the difference between an ordinary photograph and a
highly-improved stereoscopic picture magnified to life-size. When these
advantages are attained it will be possible to represent, exactly as it
happened, any event which has been suitably photographed.</p>
<p class="par">The utility of this as a means of intelligent amusement
will be at once perceived. Imagine the theatre of the future. Probably
it will not be beyond the means of the rich, even when restrained from
over-possession as it is evident that they must be, to have
theatre-rooms in their own houses. But the masses will no doubt go to
the theatre much as they do now. Only instead of seeing a company of
actors and actresses, more or less mediocre, engaged in the degrading
task of repeating time after time the same words, the same gestures,
the same actions, they will see the performance of a complete
&ldquo;star&rdquo; company, as once enacted at its <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb61" href="#pb61" name="pb61">61</a>]</span>very
best, reproduced as often as it may be wanted, the perfected
kinetoscope exhibiting the spectacle of the stage, the talking machine
and the phonograph (doubtless differentiated) rendering perfectly the
voices of the actors and the music of the orchestra. There will be no
need for the employment of inferior actors in the small parts. As the
production of any play will only demand that it be worked up to the
point of perfection and then performed once, there will be no
difficulty in securing the most perfect rendering that it is capable
of. The actor&rsquo;s art will be immensely elevated, not only by his
relief from the drudgery of repeated performance and by the leisure
thus afforded him for study and reflection, but also by the removal of
what is keenly felt by all players of sensibility and ambition as one
of the greatest drawbacks of the stage. We are accustomed to the
actor&rsquo;s complaint that whereas the author, the sculptor, the
painter, the composer of music, makes for himself a fame imperishable
as the products of his art, the actor frets his hour and disappears
from the stage, to be promptly forgotten by an ungrateful public. Well,
the actor&rsquo;s art, like the art of the executant musician, will
have the endowment of permanency. And there will be a magnificent
opportunity for the actor as artist, in that he will be able to compare
himself and his fellows with the actors who are dead and can act no
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb62" href="#pb62" name=
"pb62">62</a>]</span>more. It is probably true that Irving is the
greatest actor since Garrick, but who can prove it? The actor&rsquo;s
art is transient to-day: it will be permanent, it will be classical, in
the next century. By this fact not only will the pleasures of the
theatre be made cheap, convenient and varied, but the art of the
theatre will be vastly improved.</p>
<p class="par">Just as the actor will be spared the drudgery of
mechanical, parrotlike repetition, so the indifferent maidens of the
new age will have no need to waste their time in learning to play upon
musical instruments more or less imperfectly. No doubt some who are not
professional musicians will do so for their own pleasure. But the
professional executant himself will cease, like the actor, to rank as a
sort of superior harlequin or performing animal, exhibiting his powers
for the diversion of an assembled public. What he has once played can,
if he choose, be constantly repeated. The executant will be paid by a
royalty on each reproduction, when he is wise. Less prudent artists
will sell their records for a lump sum, just as the unthrifty author
sells his copyrights. But let it be noted that, on the assumption that
the reproduction is perfect, the evolution above predicted is a highly
artistic one. Instead of the executant or singer being judged by his
performance on an occasion when fatigue, illness or unfavourable
circumstances <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb63" href="#pb63" name=
"pb63">63</a>]</span>may militate against his perfect success, when the
nerve-shattering conditions of the platform probably in any case offend
his susceptibilities and detract from the perfection of his
performance, he will be able to found his reputation upon the very best
performance he is capable of. He will be able to try and try again in
the privacy of his study. When he has satisfied himself, and then
alone, will he publish his artistic effort to the world. He can destroy
as many unsatisfactory records as he pleases, just as the sculptor can
break up his clay when he has not succeeded, just as the painter can
paint out his picture when it has not pleased him, and be judged only
by his best.</p>
<p class="par">It would be ignoring the most obvious characteristics of
mankind to suppose that the pleasures of the new age will be limited to
a mere mechanical development of those which we enjoy at present. There
can be no doubt that new delights will be invented. With a general
improvement in intelligence and in the standard of comfort; with a
moneyed class compelled, by the enactments which we have imagined, to
enjoy a considerable accession of leisure; with conditions which will,
as we have hoped, reduce materially the necessary hours of labour for
the worker; with some of the most engrossing amusements of the present
age abolished for sentimental reasons; we may take it for granted that
a great demand for <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb64" href="#pb64"
name="pb64">64</a>]</span>new recreations will develop. Some of these
considerations might easily give us pause. We might perhaps fear that
vice&mdash;either the extension of existing vices or (if that indeed be
possible) the invention of new ones&mdash;might be a terrifying problem
of the next century, if we had not foreseen, concurrently with the
other developments anticipated, a marked moral improvement in human
nature. There is in the calculations of the pessimist and the
reactionary no fallacy more mischievous than the oft-recited aphorism
that human nature is the same in all places and at all times. That is
precisely what human nature is not. Spectacles which delighted ancient
Rome would revolt modern civilisation. Spectacles which are still
keenly enjoyed in Spain would revolt England or the United States, and
probably awaken the activity of the police. Human morality has
demonstrably advanced in historic time: it has very perceptibly
advanced, as I showed in an earlier chapter,<a class="noteref" id=
"xd21e668src" href="#xd21e668" name="xd21e668src">2</a> during the
nineteenth century. But the improvement in this respect which the next
hundred years will show must, in all human probability, greatly excel
that of the past time. And thus, though a sane and reasonable
anticipation will not exclude the possibility of regrettable accidents
in the future moral history of mankind, it will also regard them as
probably transient. The vices regarded <span class="pagenum">[<a id=
"pb65" href="#pb65" name="pb65">65</a>]</span>as incident to
complicated civilisations have perhaps been too hastily considered by
despairing moralists. Vice is essentially stupid. It is only in
occasional, in sporadic instances that we are presented with the
terrible spectacle of great intelligences depraved by gross immorality
and animalism: and even then, this combination is only possible where a
high degree of culture is in contact with a widespread unintelligence.
Most likely it will be found, when the abstract laws of vice come to be
mapped out with more exactness than, so far as I am aware, they have
yet been, that the degeneracies and immoralities of greatly-civilised
ages are in reality only the product of luxury seated upon degradation.
The French moralists of the eighteenth century had a glimmering of this
in their idyllic pictures of reformed society, when the old morality of
the simple life was to return with the abolition of oligarchic
splendour and popular misery.</p>
<p class="par">In one direction we may see means by which intelligent
recreation may be supposed capable of vast developments. Already the
study of the psychical side of man has been the means of extraordinary
discoveries. Our knowledge of hypnotism, suggestion,
thought-transference and similar psychological wonders, obscured though
it has unhappily been by charlatanism and the importation into the
subject of irrelevant follies, has great promise <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb66" href="#pb66" name="pb66">66</a>]</span>for the
future man, whose psychical faculties will unquestionably develop at
the expense of his animal instincts. It is hardly possible to limit our
conception of the means by which thought will be communicated in the
next century, but we may see just where the change will probably come.
A printed essay, such as this, is obviously a successive translation of
thought into words (in the brain), then of the words into letters, and
then of letters into type, which is picked up by the eye, retranslated
into words by one part of the brain, and finally transmuted into
thought again in another part. If some method can be discovered of
abolishing one or more of these processes, thought can be conveyed from
brain to brain at an enormously increased pace, and with a delicacy of
which we have no present conception. This development is not so
inconceivable as it at first appears. We know as yet almost nothing of
the processes by which (for instance) vibration, accepted by the ear as
sound, is, in the brain-cells behind the ear, converted into thought.
Speech and writing are purely conventional devices. If, instead of
using these conventions, we can learn to transmit ideas immediately
from brain to brain, the next step may be an extraordinary development
of intellectual pleasures, in the case of those individuals whose
tastes are capable of thus being ministered to. But to say this is not
to imply <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb67" href="#pb67" name=
"pb67">67</a>]</span>that the ordinary means of human
intercommunication will be dispensed with. For most occasions, and for
all but the subtlest and most refined necessities of thought, no doubt
books, newspapers and letters will remain a feature of everyday
life&mdash;though of course with such modifications as the progress of
the century will have called forth. The future of the newspaper in
particular is a subject of such great importance that it requires to be
discussed in detail. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb68" href="#pb68"
name="pb68">68</a>]</span></p>
</div>
<div class="footnotes">
<hr class="fnsep">
<p class="par footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id=
"xd21e646" href="#xd21e646src" name="xd21e646">1</a></span> Not of
course in the artistic sense of the word; nor is the supersession of
art by optical process in the least contemplated here. The
psychological interest of art will have appreciators more and more
numerous in virtue of the diffusion of culture confidently
anticipated.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd21e646src">&uarr;</a></p>
<p class="par footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id=
"xd21e668" href="#xd21e668src" name="xd21e668">2</a></span> <i lang=
"la">Ante</i>, <a href="#ch1">Chapter I</a>.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow"
href="#xd21e668src">&uarr;</a></p>
</div>
</div>
<div id="ch5" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pagenum">[<a href=
"#xd21e268">Contents</a>]</span>
<div class="divHead">
<h2 class="label">CHAPTER V</h2>
<h2 class="main">THE NEWSPAPER OF THE FUTURE, AND THE FUTURE OF THE
NEWSPAPER</h2>
</div>
<div class="divBody">
<p class="par first">Suspending, as hardly within the bounds of
manageable conjecture, any attempt to follow up the suggestion with
which the previous chapter concluded, we can very easily imagine the
lines on which newspapers such as we know are likely to develop
mechanically. A number of processes already existing in embryo can be
shown to be capable of very great extension; and several discoveries
which an intelligent anticipation is capable of predicting could, and
doubtless will, be applied to journalism.</p>
<p class="par">To foresee the future of the newspaper on what may be
called the editorial side is a much more difficult task, because we
have here to take into account the influence of the developed and
rationalised education of the people, which is certain to demand very
great changes. Daily newspapers of the present moment are in a more or
less transitional state. It can hardly, I think, be denied that the
papers which enjoy the greatest popularity exhibit retrogression in
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb69" href="#pb69" name=
"pb69">69</a>]</span>many respects when compared with the best
newspapers of twenty-five years ago. But they are much more widely and
popularly read. The collective influence of their largely-extended
circulations is no doubt very great, though the influence of the
newspaper on the individual is less, and is attained in a different
way. The old newspapers aimed, and the survivors of their class still
aim, at an influence based on argument. They used to report events,
speeches and movements of their age more or less colourlessly, and to
comment upon these things more or less one-sidedly, according to their
respective political bias. They were ponderous, cultured, dignified,
and a trifle dull. When an adverse statesman made a speech which they
did not like, they reported it faithfully, and tore it to pieces in the
formidable middle pages. The leading article was their most important
weapon: they sought their chief effect by its means. But the day of the
leading article is nearly ended. The newspaper of the
early&mdash;perhaps the immediate&mdash;future will almost certainly
dispense with leading articles altogether, and be much more a
news-carrier than an educator. It will attack adverse opinion by simply
not reporting it. It will sometimes, no doubt, minimise facts
unfavourable to its political side by garbling them. But leading
articles had a useful function not yet mentioned&mdash;that of
explaining the news-columns. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb70" href=
"#pb70" name="pb70">70</a>]</span>Things which the ordinary (but fairly
intelligent) newspaper-reader was likely to have forgotten, or to be
ignorant of, were (and still are, where leading articles worthy of the
name exist) explained and amplified. In the newspaper of the future,
little paragraphs having the same purpose will no doubt be, as they
already begin to be, tacked on to the ends of news-items: and so far as
comment continues to be given at all, on such matters as political
speeches from the enemy, it will be given in this form. Speeches from
the newspaper&rsquo;s own side will not require comment. Newspaper
space will have too many demands upon it to permit of a
statesman&rsquo;s arguments being first printed <i>semi-verbatim</i>
(actual <i>verbatim</i> reporting hardly exists even now) and then
marshalled forth all over again in editorials. Whatever attempt is made
to influence opinion through political reporting will be made by
selective processes. The arguments of the adversary will be simply
suppressed.</p>
<p class="par">Although the old newspaper was really a much more
intelligent affair than the popular dailies of the present
decade&mdash;and it is chiefly of daily papers that I am now
speaking&mdash;it is not very likely that a reversion will take place.
It is a curious feature of all progress, that however much an existing
institution may be perceived to be retrograde in comparison with older
institutions, reversion hardly ever occurs. <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb71" href="#pb71" name="pb71">71</a>]</span>We adapt
and modify what we have. We do not revive what we have lost. And the
regeneration of the newspaper will be forced upon the newspaper-office
by the development of public intelligence. Comment will probably during
the next few decades be eliminated from daily journalism altogether,
and confined to serious weekly publications, somewhat on the lines of
our monthly reviews, and to other publications summarising the latter,
like the present <i>Review of Reviews</i>, perhaps the most useful
periodical now being issued, with the single exception of <i>The
Times</i>. Thus the daily newspaper will be entirely a vehicle for the
propagation of news, correctly so called: and very likely it will
become almost entirely colourless, politically, because a well-informed
public will resent obvious garbling or clearly unfair selection. The
newspaper reader will no longer (as now) want only to hear what is said
on a side more or less emotionally and hardly at all reflectively
embraced. He will want to know what is said on <i>all</i> sides, and
will make up his own mind, instead of swallowing whole the printed
opinions, real or momentarily assumed, of other people. Thus, though
the frantic popular paper of to-day will no doubt increase and
multiply, and replenish its circulation books, as long as the present
system of blind half-education survives, the newspaper which satisfies
the new age will be a very different <span class="pagenum">[<a id=
"pb72" href="#pb72" name="pb72">72</a>]</span>affair. It will no doubt
discard many of the trivialities now reported as news, when a black
woman of Timbuctoo could hardly bring forth four piccaninnies at a
birth without the fact getting into the halfpenny London papers; but it
will record the really important news in ways far more graphic, and
with a far more complete appeal to the imagination, than we have as yet
any but the vaguest notion of.</p>
<p class="par">The news considered most important a hundred years hence
will probably be news as to developments of public opinion. It is
hardly conceivable that exactly the methods of Government which exist
at present will satisfy the developed consciousness of the new time:
and most likely the methods then adopted for the ascertainment of
public opinion, and the machinery devised for giving it administrative
effect, will create subject-matter for a type of journalism of which
the very perceptible rudiments, though still nothing but the rudiments,
already exist. If I am right in expecting great results to flow from
new ideas and practice in our educational system, it is certain that
the notion of political freedom will greatly extend its effect: and the
unavoidable corollary is that movements of public thought will become a
matter of the very keenest journalistic interest and of the very
highest journalistic importance. The most probable means to be adopted
for giving effect, in the <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb73" href=
"#pb73" name="pb73">73</a>]</span>middle-distance of the future, to
developed public feeling must be left for discussion in a later
chapter: but when we perceive that the political duty of executing the
will of the people must constitute the paramount work of the
constitution-builder in the latter half of the present century, we
cannot fail to deduce a vast effect on newspapers.</p>
<p class="par">Broadly speaking, what will occur will be the result of
clearer thinking. We shall very likely amend our political institutions
after the characteristic English manner, which is perhaps really the
safest, though it rather suggest the methods of a cobbler who repairs a
boot by, from time to time, successively replacing sole, vamp, golosh
and upper, until there remains a boot which is not a new boot, though
it contains none of the original boot&rsquo;s material. Our
constitution has been built (to employ a better similitude) by a series
of architects who reconstruct and repair the old building, with a
constant adhesion to as much of the old style as they can retain, and
who will in the end present the people with a house entirely
reconstructed, but bearing marks all over it of the original design. We
already begin to perceive that what is regarded as political freedom at
the present day has developed from the entire tyranny of absolute
monarchy, through the modified tyranny of limited monarchies, still not
wholly powerless, to the nearly <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb74"
href="#pb74" name="pb74">74</a>]</span>absolute tyranny of parliaments.
The last now begin to delegate powers to local councils having
administrative functions, and must presently delegate them to local
parliaments having legislative functions on some
&ldquo;home-rule-all-round&rdquo; principle, not because
decentralisation is liked, but because the intolerable inconveniences
of centralisation will make decentralisation inevitable. The more
energetic propagandists of various systems of constitutional reform
nearly all agree in one respect: they all desire to set up some new
kind of tyranny. Few&mdash;except the philosophical anarchists, who
suffer from the opprobrium brought upon the name of anarchists by quite
a different set of thinkers&mdash;perceive that to endow with power any
sort of machinery resting on the shifting will of a majority tends very
little towards freedom and not at all towards stability&mdash;the
latter even more important in some respects than the former. In
proportion to the development of education (in nature even more than in
extent), it is likely that the present blind faith of the public in the
ability of the State to do almost anything, and the still blinder
tendency of the public to require the State to do all sorts of things
which could be better accomplished otherwise, will diminish, and we
shall perceive the enormous educational disadvantage of allowing the
citizen to lean too heavily on the <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb75"
href="#pb75" name="pb75">75</a>]</span>State. A public properly and
sufficiently educated will, with enormous difficulty (because there is
nothing so hard to get rid of as a bad habit of dependency), gradually
undertake the task of doing for itself by free combination what at
present we try to get done for us by governmental machinery. One sees
how this sort of thing is gradually evolving, in spite of the violent
efforts of politicians to shove the world backwards and keep us walking
on crutches instead of strengthening us to walk alone. Statutes
determining the wages of labourers and the price of commodities are
laughed at as examples of medi&aelig;val foolishness, though (what is
exactly the same thing in principle) Government still interferes with
the freights charged by railway companies, and indeed is obliged thus
to interfere because it has already gone out of the right way by the
powers it has granted to railway companies. The new education&mdash;the
education which builds character instead of merely diffusing
information (generally useless)&mdash;will teach us the far greater
advantages attaching to results attained by free combination, and the
State will be relieved of many functions at present regarded as
essential to it, and often sought to be increased.</p>
<p class="par">Now the working of free combination for the attainment
of these results would be almost impossible without the constant
interchange <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb76" href="#pb76" name=
"pb76">76</a>]</span>of views which newspapers subserve, and without
careful newsgathering as to the progress in detail of various schemes
and of public opinion concerning them.</p>
<p class="par">To say that this kind of thing will constitute the most
important class of news is not to imply that the public will develop an
unintelligent indifference to news of other kind, though it is
allowable to hope that it will develop an intelligent indifference to
the trivialities at present solemnly chronicled by the popular papers.
It may be doubted whether, even now, the public is quite so
passionately interested in the <i>minuti&aelig;</i> of murder trials as
editors imagine: but with invention steadily moving on, and its
consequences habitually developing in unexpected ways, there will be
plenty of &ldquo;news&rdquo; to chronicle.</p>
<p class="par">Of course the one class of news which is at once the
most expensive and the most helpful to a daily paper&mdash;I mean its
individual &ldquo;exclusive&rdquo; war correspondence&mdash;will be
done with by the end of this century. Remembering the rate of progress
foreseen in the early part of this work<a class="noteref" id=
"xd21e740src" href="#xd21e740" name="xd21e740src">1</a> and the moral
nature of that progress, we may take it as quite certain that war as an
institution will be as obsolete as gladiators in the year 2000. Even if
the increasing amenity of the human race did not <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb77" href="#pb77" name="pb77">77</a>]</span>abolish
war, two other things would be certain to do so. One is the enormous
development, already clearly in sight, of the means of destruction: the
other the revolt of the peoples against the stupendous cost, not merely
or chiefly in time of war, but also in time of peace, of modern
armaments. The rising tide of educated democracy must inevitably banish
war. We have lately, in our own South African experience, seen how
crushingly expensive, how intolerably impoverishing, a tiny war can be:
and all this is a mere trifle compared with what it had cost us to be
even very ill-prepared for even such an insignificant combat. This kind
of thing cannot go on for very long and the peace of Dives<a class=
"noteref" id="xd21e750src" href="#xd21e750" name="xd21e750src">2</a>
must soon be upon us.</p>
<p class="par">But even while war still continues to recur it is likely
that the newspapers will have to sacrifice many of the advantages which
they at present derive from the intense popular appetite for the
details of organised death. The war-correspondent, when he can use the
telegraph, is a great nuisance to commanders in the field, and the
increasing difficulties and importance of modern combat will have the
effect, eventually, of causing generals to forbid telegraphic
communication from the field or its neighbourhood altogether, on
account of the information, useful to an alert enemy, liable to
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb78" href="#pb78" name=
"pb78">78</a>]</span>find its way through the wires.
Consequently<a class="noteref" id="xd21e760src" href="#xd21e760" name=
"xd21e760src">3</a> war correspondence will be all under strict
censorship, and will take the form chiefly of written and photographic
descriptions, in a documentary form, probably conveyed by the
organisation controlled by the fighting army itself. These may perhaps
be telegraphed to the newspaper office from some intermediate port when
the theatre of war is distant&mdash;for unquestionably we shall, before
very long, be able to telegraph pictures quite as easily as words. And
this brings us face to face with one of the most interesting and
important developments to be looked for in the vending of news. Beyond
doubt, newspaper illustration will, in even the near future, be the
subject of great and, in fact, of revolutionary improvement. Every
daily paper will be copiously illustrated, and illustrated in colour.
It is easy to foresee that before many years we shall be <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb79" href="#pb79" name="pb79">79</a>]</span>able to
photograph any object or scene in its natural colours at one operation.
We can already do so in three, and by the same number of machinings we
can reproduce such pictures in print, provided we can afford to print
slowly enough and on a sufficiently smooth paper. The process is in its
earliest infancy as yet. We shall ultimately make it far more
practicable. But even so, printing presses of the present sort are far
too slow for newspaper use. A hundred years hence magazines and weekly
periodicals may perhaps still be printed on greatly improved presses;
but daily papers will be produced by photography alone. Already the
R&ouml;ntgen rays will print a dozen or more images at a time on
superimposed sensitive papers. In the next century all that will be
necessary in order to multiply type-matter and illustrations in any
number of colours will be to place the original on a pile of paper and
expose it to the rays of some source of energy, when the whole matter
will be impressed upon every sheet, and this not by any mere contact of
type and process-blocks with paper (which involves serious
difficulties, owing to the interference of the paper-surface with the
grain of the etched &ldquo;screen&rdquo;) but by direct action of
light, or of some influence taking the place of light, so that
perfectly clear pictures will be produced. And news of all sorts will
be the subject of this kind of illustration. <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb80" href="#pb80" name="pb80">80</a>]</span></p>
<p class="par">What will happen will in detail be this. The
teleautoscope<a class="noteref" id="xd21e769src" href="#xd21e769" name=
"xd21e769src">4</a> (the instrument by which sight will be wirelessly
telegraphed) will exhibit the actual facts in every newspaper office
from colour-photographs taken on the spot. What it shows will be
rephotographed and reproduced in colours.</p>
<p class="par">The amount of verbal description needed will thus be
much diminished. Where an event can be long anticipated&mdash;when it
is an event like the Delhi Durbar or the christening of the Czarewitch,
for instance&mdash;elaborate preparations will be made, and very
perfect results published. And difficulties of merely photographic
detail, which at present restrict rapid photography to events in full
sunlight, having been overcome, and instantaneous photography by
artificial light having been made possible, such an event as an
important theatrical production in London will be pictorially reported
in the New York and San Francisco papers next morning. Where an event
is of an unexpected character&mdash;such as a great fire, a riot, or
some sudden cataclysm of Nature&mdash;the teleautoscope will still be
employed with great advantage. Take, for instance, the case of some
large public building or some theatre destroyed by fire&mdash;though
fires will not be so frequent in the new age as they are to-day. The
local newspaper artists will select from <span class="pagenum">[<a id=
"pb81" href="#pb81" name="pb81">81</a>]</span>their portfolios
photographs of the building kept on hand for such occasions and get to
work on them with paint-box and colours, depicting the progress of what
they will perhaps still cling sufficiently to tradition to call the
&ldquo;conflagration&rdquo;; and they will transmit these efforts when
it is not possible to transmit actual photographs of the event. And of
course, when all is over, the ruins will be photographed in colours
from every desirable standpoint, and the descriptive photographer will,
in a great measure, supplant the penny-a-liner. Many pieces of news
will doubtless be photographed from the small one-man air-carriages,
the employment of which, as a means of recreation, we have already
<span class="corr" id="xd21e781" title=
"Source: forseen">foreseen</span>.<a class="noteref" id="xd21e784src"
href="#xd21e784" name="xd21e784src">5</a></p>
<p class="par">The real &ldquo;news&rdquo; of the world will therefore
be served up with far more vividness than even the most feverish
present-day journalism dreams of, and the newspaper will be far more
quickly &ldquo;read,&rdquo; because long descriptive articles will have
gone out of fashion, and a series of pictures, occupying much more
space, but apprehended by the mind with far greater rapidity, will
supply their place. Even in what remains of the printed word I think
that great compression is probable. It must be remembered that even in
the best-educated parts of England we are hardly through the
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb82" href="#pb82" name=
"pb82">82</a>]</span>first generation which universally knows how to
read, and already newspaper-English is taking on a character of its
own, very different from the &ldquo;journalese&rdquo; of the
old-fashioned reporters. By degrees a sort of slang, distinguished
chiefly by brevity and conciseness, will evolve itself in the
newspapers, especially those published in large towns&mdash;though
indeed it is quite evident that in a few years daily newspapers will be
published nowhere else. This terse, quick language will, after a period
of reprobation, be adopted even by the less progressive newspapers, at
first shocked to tears of indignant printer&rsquo;s ink by the
defilement of the mother tongue, and it will accelerate vastly the task
of &ldquo;running through the paper,&rdquo; a task which must, even in
the less hurried manners which I foresee for the future, be made as
speedy as possible by the newspaper that would thrive and increase its
circulation. Thus literature, already restive in an uncongenial
wedlock, will finally obtain divorce from daily journalism. This does
not mean that literature will perish. On the contrary, it will develop.
And the periodicals other than newspapers will excel our own in merit
of every sort. They will be permanent, dignified and, above all,
literary. For with the education of the people really carried to
perfection, and with universal leisure, the result of improved social
arrangements even more <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb83" href="#pb83"
name="pb83">83</a>]</span>than of improved mechanical processes, we
shall have a demand for a really intelligent periodical literature, for
really artistic illustrations, which will make it commercially possible
to publish matter that only artificial endowment could support
nowadays.</p>
<p class="par">And shall we be content with it? Certainly not; for the
new age will still be an age of progress, and the very perfection of
the periodical Press will be the greatest of all stimulants to further
effort.</p>
<p class="par">Although, in some of their characteristics, they will be
greatly ameliorated, advertisements may very likely still constitute
one ground of discontent with the newspaper of the future. They
sometimes are, in the newspaper of to-day, the subject of complaint not
altogether reasonable, because if there were no advertisements there
could be no newspapers. At all events, without this powerful source of
revenue our newspapers could be neither so cheap nor so liberally
conducted as they are; and all the economies of the new age will
probably be insufficient to enable newspaper proprietors to dispense
with them. The better and the more generously-conducted newspapers are,
the more money they spend in the careful collection, editing, printing
and illustrating of public information, the more dependent they will
become on the revenue from advertising, which is the sinew of
journalism; and the more <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb84" href=
"#pb84" name="pb84">84</a>]</span>widely and attentively newspapers are
read, the greater will be the revenue they are able to command from
this source. Moreover, they would be incomplete without this feature.
The unreflecting newspaper-reader, who anathematises his favourite
journal because its weight and bulk are increased by the presence of
advertisements which he does not want, seldom takes into account the
fact that there are plenty of his fellow-readers who do want them, or
some of them, and that he himself is often in the same predicament.
Thousands of copies of newspapers are bought every day in order to
consult advertisements which they are known to contain. A man who
purposes to take his family to a concert often buys <i>The Daily
Telegraph</i> because he knows that <i>The Daily Telegraph</i> has more
concert announcements in it than any other paper, and that it is in
fact a practically complete directory to all the current musical
opportunities of the Metropolis. Another man, who wants a secretary, or
a steward for his estate, probably orders <i>The Times</i> because he
knows that the best class of secretaries and stewards advertise in
<i>The Times</i> for employment. One hardly goes to the theatre or buys
a supply of coals without looking at the daily paper for information;
and assuredly this information is not inserted without being paid for;
in other words, it forms part of the advertisements. Deprived of
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb85" href="#pb85" name=
"pb85">85</a>]</span>newspaper advertisements as a way of announcing
its need of clerks, warehousemen, labourers and assistants of all
kinds, commerce, even if it could manage without advertisements of the
sort more commonly thought of when the nuisance of them is being
condemned, could hardly keep up its organisation at all. Thus, so far
from this feature of our newspapers being a grievance, it is both
directly and indirectly a boon to all who read them. And when we
remember in addition that the cost of the paper and printing alone in a
copy of most newspapers exceeds the price at which each copy is sold by
the proprietor, so that the whole cost of newsgathering, the whole cost
of editing, the fees of contributors and artists, and the cost of
pictures and engraving, as well as the profit which induces persons to
embark upon an enterprise so troublesome and precarious as
newspaper-publishing, must be obtained from the cost of advertisements
and from this alone, we cannot doubt that the enormously developed
newspaper of a hundred years hence will &ldquo;give us bold
advertisement,&rdquo; even as now, and that our descendants will have
the intelligence to be very glad that it does so.</p>
<p class="par">This being unquestionable, we can hardly think that we
have made a complete forecast of the newspaper of the future unless we
consider what sort of advertisements it will contain, and <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb86" href="#pb86" name="pb86">86</a>]</span>in order
to do this we must consider just what advertising is likely to be
needed in the new age.</p>
<p class="par">As every condition of commerce must necessarily be
affected by the mechanical and economic developments of another
century, evidently advertising will have to undergo vast changes in
order to adapt itself to new requirements. Already competition and the
urgent demand of the public for all possible utilities and luxuries to
be supplied with the greatest economy of money and trouble have
produced changes in the machinery of supply and demand which must
develop at an increasing speed as time goes on. One tendency of these
things is current talk; we speak of &ldquo;eliminating the
middleman.&rdquo; Well, the middleman will certainly be eliminated by
the end of the century, and one of the forces which will help to
eliminate him is the very force with which, at present, he endeavours,
with a high degree of transient success, to defend himself&mdash;the
very force we have to discuss here; advertisement.</p>
<p class="par">So long as a population is scattered into groups in
small towns, and hampered by difficulty and expense in transportation,
there is an evident advantage in the retail-shop system. But we can
hardly with convenience remain a nation of shopkeepers in the present
and future state of concentration and with cheapened transport. It is
only necessary to observe the different ways in which we supply
ourselves with <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb87" href="#pb87" name=
"pb87">87</a>]</span>commodities, according to where we live, in order
to understand the tendencies at work. In a village remote from any
large town there are generally one or two general shops, at which a
highly miscellaneous collection of merchandise is handled. The smaller
the village the more miscellaneous the stock kept at a single trading
establishment. In a small town the shops differentiate themselves more:
but they still cross the boundary lines of trade, and one gets tobacco
at the chemist&rsquo;s and goes to the draper&rsquo;s for writing
materials and books. When we come to towns somewhat larger, trades keep
more to themselves, and it is often possible to find a place where
there are no miscellaneous shops at all, except those owned by the
industrial co-operative societies now so common and so useful to the
thriftier artisans. It is only when we enter the largest towns and
cities of all that we find large shops divided into departments and
again selling almost everything under one roof.</p>
<p class="par">The conditions in these large towns are an index to what
is likely to occur a hundred years hence: because (as has already been
seen) towns will certainly grow, and the population will become more
concentrated, while, even where improved facilities for travel enable
men to live at a great distance from their work, the same facilities
will enable their wives to do their shopping in the centres of
commerce. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb88" href="#pb88" name=
"pb88">88</a>]</span>Consequently, except for a few highly perishable
commodities, such as milk, butter and the like, small shopkeepers in
residential neighbourhoods will be driven out of business, as they are
in fact already being driven out of it in the suburbs and dependencies
of all large cities.</p>
<p class="par">It is always possible for a large miscellaneous trader
to sell at a smaller percentage of profit than a trader in a single
class of merchandise: and by his bulkier purchases the former is also
able to start with a lower cost price, and thus he is in every way
better situated to meet the demand for cheapness. He can also meet the
demand for convenience, because when he is getting almost the whole
trade of a family, even at some little distance, he can afford to
arrange for the transportation of goods in ways convenient to the
purchaser. Thus the small shopkeeper will lose custom in every way and
the large shopkeeper will gain custom. But there is still a middleman.
We have not yet begun to see how he is to be eliminated, but only how
he is to be limited in his numbers while being individually pampered
with increased trade.</p>
<p class="par">No one who observes the trend of things, however, can
have failed to note how, from both sides, the middleman,
<i>qu&acirc;</i> middleman, is liable to be squeezed out. These very
large retailers tend more and more to become, little by little,
manufacturers instead of merely agents <span class="pagenum">[<a id=
"pb89" href="#pb89" name="pb89">89</a>]</span>for the manufactures of
other people. Very often they are actually forced to this by the
difficulty of obtaining a regular supply of goods of satisfactory
quality from the existing factories. One of the largest companies doing
a miscellaneous retailing business has an enormous estate in the
neighbourhood of London covered with orchards where fruit is grown for
sale and for jam-making; and it has factories of various kinds dotted
all round the Metropolis, though a few years ago it was a simple
trading concern which manufactured nothing. On the other hand, large
manufacturers in many trades (of which the boot trade is an example
which must have come under the notice of every reader) are tending to
open retail shops of their own in favourable localities, so as to
obtain the retailer&rsquo;s commission as well as the
manufacturer&rsquo;s profit. Evidently these large <span class="corr"
id="xd21e842" title=
"Source: manufac-facturer-shopkeepers">manufacturer-shopkeepers</span>
are more likely to be extensive advertisers than small one-shop
retailers.</p>
<p class="par">Another circumstance which will tend to the increase of
advertising is already apparent in the growing tendency of the public
to prefer branded or packed commodities before bulk goods. Such
groceries as tea, oatmeal and the like are more and more purchased in
packets bearing a manufacturer&rsquo;s name or trade-mark, instead of
being purchased from bulk and wrapped up by the grocer. The obvious
reason <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb90" href="#pb90" name=
"pb90">90</a>]</span>is that by this means a housewife can secure a
greater uniformity of quality. She finds that she likes a certain
manufacturer&rsquo;s oatmeal better than any other, and always buys it;
whereas if she bought bulk-oatmeal she would have the product now of
one mill, now of another, and these products would vary. The only way
in which a manufacturer can call attention to his speciality is to
advertise it. The immediate consequence of this movement is the
degradation of the retailer, who ceases to be the custodian (so to
speak) of his customers&rsquo; interest and becomes a mere hander-out
of packed specialities. It is not very likely that every manufacturer
of such specialities will become a retailer with shops everywhere; but
it is practically certain that trusts will be formed on a sort of
co-operative principle by combinations of manufacturers, who will
divide among themselves the expense of organisation and obtain the
whole profit without having to share it with any middleman. And in many
departments of commerce the elimination of the retailer will be secured
by the utilisation of improved transport, orders being received at the
works by letter or telephone and executed direct from manufacturer to
consumer. Such business can only be stimulated through advertisement,
and the newspaper of the future constitutes the most convenient medium
for such advertisement. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb91" href=
"#pb91" name="pb91">91</a>]</span></p>
<p class="par">The intrinsic nature of the vastly-extended advertising
of the new age will be influenced by the new growth of public
intelligence. Once almost wholly, and now to a very great extent,
addressed to the least intelligent faculties of the public&mdash;the
faculties most liable to be influenced by large type and <i lang=
"la">ad captandum</i> phrasing&mdash;advertising will in the future
world become gradually more and more intelligent in tone. It will seek
to influence demand by argument instead of clamour, a tendency already
more apparent every year. Cheap attention-calling tricks and clap-trap
will be wholly replaced, as they are already being greatly replaced, by
serious exposition; and advertisements, instead of being mere
repetitions of stale catch-words, will be made interesting and
informative, so that they will be welcomed instead of being shunned;
and it will be just as suicidal for a manufacturer to publish silly or
fallacious claims to notoriety as for a shopkeeper of the present day
to seek custom by telling lies to his customers. Skilful writers will
be employed upon the work, and skilful journalists will think it no
derogation from their dignity to be employed in the writing of
commercial advertisements. No doubt the methods of illustration
employed in journalism proper will also be pressed into the service of
the advertiser, and in this, as in other respects, our &ldquo;divine
discontent&rdquo; will still look for improvements, and the newspaper
of the future <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb92" href="#pb92" name=
"pb92">92</a>]</span>will be a vast improvement upon the newspaper of
to-day.</p>
<p class="par">Although the distinction between journalism and
literature is likely to define itself more and more
sharply&mdash;periodicals growing more literary, and newspapers less
literary&mdash;it is here convenient to pause for a moment on the
question of the direction in which literature is likely to
develop&mdash;meaning especially imaginative literature and poetry. The
past of this development, widely considered, has been, of course, since
the close of the eighteenth century, from the classical, through the
romantic, to the realistic school; and the last has been associated
with a greatly-increased and minute consideration of language as an
implement of exact and elegant expression. Literature has become, and
will no doubt continue to be, increasingly self-conscious. Happy
effects are deliberately sought for. Felicity of phrase is no longer a
matter of unconscious, almost accidental, accomplishment; it is
purposefully and deliberately obtained. We no longer expect inspiration
from the Muses, but climb Parnassus with arduous consciousness of our
meritorious pedestrianism. The methodical, scientific orderliness of
modern thought has, in short, invaded even the field of art, and we
have sometimes an air of trying to make of literature an exact process.
Perhaps very great literature, and certainly, according to all
precedent, very <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb93" href="#pb93" name=
"pb93">93</a>]</span>great poetry, cannot be produced in that way.
There is something of mystery about them, something of the instinctive,
of the elemental, or, to speak with a more critical exactness, of the
spiritual. And the development and circumstances of very elaborate
civilisation do not wholly favour the spiritual. But to conclude from
this that great poetry will never again be written would be to overlook
one of the disturbing, the cataclysmal factors of human life. This
factor is one of the greatest pitfalls of the would-be prophet. By
examining the past, one could predict almost unfailingly the future, if
there were not always, and in every department of life, the strange,
incalculable thing which, for want of a better name, we call genius, to
be reckoned with, to be almost alarmed by. We may examine, we may
reason, we may reckon up almost anything; but athwart all our
conjectures, charm we never so wisely, comes genius, and revolutionises
everything! It is the one thing which no formula can embrace. Not in
the realms of literature and art alone will it break in and stultify
our best prevision. In every department of life we must tread
cautiously, aware that no one who would forecast the future can afford
to neglect its disturbing possibilities. We must prayerfully and
joyously expect that from time to time genius will suddenly arrive and
pass across the stage, changing everything, bringing to naught our
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb94" href="#pb94" name=
"pb94">94</a>]</span>cunningest anticipations; and as it is peculiarly
the quality of literature to be thus perturbed and regenerated, we must
not even attempt to predict what schools the literature of the future
will pass through. The only thing we can be certain of is that from
time to time some epoch-making mind will express itself. Acquainted
with all the devices of the schools it will brush them all aside, and
half unconsciously, half a-dream, as if indeed it were literally
&ldquo;inspired,&rdquo; it will establish new standards, engender new
methods, and endow the time with new delights. Criticism will dissect,
examine and explain, until the creative mind is almost persuaded that
it has all along understood itself; but the one thing by which
criticism must ever be eluded, the one thing which must ever elude
prophecy, is genius itself. When all is said that man can say, and all
is said in vain, the best explanation of the unexplainable is perhaps
the old one, that genius brings in some way a message from outside the
world. Perhaps, since there is always a demand for something which man
can worship, this inspiration may be the subject of the conscious
adoration of the new age. Perhaps we have here the subject of the
religion of the future; for inspiration, as we may most conveniently
name this mystery, has just that character of the unknowable
half-seized, which is precisely what the soul of man is ever yearning
for. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb95" href="#pb95" name=
"pb95">95</a>]</span></p>
</div>
<div class="footnotes">
<hr class="fnsep">
<p class="par footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id=
"xd21e740" href="#xd21e740src" name="xd21e740">1</a></span> <i lang=
"la">Ante</i>, <a href="#ch1">Chapter I</a>.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow"
href="#xd21e740src">&uarr;</a></p>
<p class="par footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id=
"xd21e750" href="#xd21e750src" name="xd21e750">2</a></span> Kipling:
<i>The Five Nations</i>.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href=
"#xd21e750src">&uarr;</a></p>
<p class="par footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id=
"xd21e760" href="#xd21e760src" name="xd21e760">3</a></span> It can
hardly be disputed that the British generals in the late war in South
Africa would have done well to cut the cables altogether, or at all
events reserve them exclusively for their own use. There is very good
evidence that, in spite of the interdiction of &ldquo;coded&rdquo;
messages, information passed both ways between the enemy and his agents
in Europe. The resolute manner in which the Japanese kept newspaper
correspondents away from the scene of action until no action remained
for them to correspond about, shows conclusively what will become of
the war-reporter during the few remaining decades which separate us
from the final disappearance of moribund war itself from the
planet.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd21e760src">&uarr;</a></p>
<p class="par footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id=
"xd21e769" href="#xd21e769src" name="xd21e769">4</a></span> <i lang=
"la">Ante</i>, <a href="#ch3">Chapter III</a>.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow"
href="#xd21e769src">&uarr;</a></p>
<p class="par footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id=
"xd21e784" href="#xd21e784src" name="xd21e784">5</a></span> <i lang=
"la">Ante</i>, <a href="#ch4">Chapter IV</a>.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow"
href="#xd21e784src">&uarr;</a></p>
</div>
</div>
<div id="ch6" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pagenum">[<a href=
"#xd21e278">Contents</a>]</span>
<div class="divHead">
<h2 class="label">CHAPTER VI</h2>
<h2 class="main">UTILISING THE SEA</h2>
</div>
<div class="divBody">
<p class="par first">Except for a small tribute in the shape of fish
food and certain salts the ocean is to-day almost a dead loss to the
world, and what is worse, the greatest of all obstacles to progress. It
separates us from our kin, wrecks our ships, claims a yearly toll of
dead, and is barren, fruitless, a mere receptacle for garbage. A
hundred years hence we shall have awakened to these facts and found
means to make &ldquo;the caverns vast of ocean old&rdquo; something
better than a subject for the poet and a resting-place for the dead
whom it murders.</p>
<p class="par">Not every dream, however, can be realised&mdash;not even
the engineer&rsquo;s. Some years ago certain ardent spirits in France
announced that the desert of Sahara lay below the level of the sea and
could be flooded with the Atlantic or Mediterranean. The effect of
this, it was considered, would not merely be to inconvenience certain
Arabs, but to change entirely the climate of the rest of equatorial
Africa. Laved by the beneficent waves of ocean, lands at present
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb96" href="#pb96" name=
"pb96">96</a>]</span>uninhabitable would, it was declared, become
fertile and salubrious. The project was dismissed or shelved as
impracticable from engineering difficulties. Shall we, a hundred years
hence, have met these difficulties?</p>
<p class="par">Probably not. To work such changes in the distribution
of land and water will be a thing not indeed beyond the power of the
next century&rsquo;s engineers, but beyond their daring. The
accomplishment of them might, if at all rapid, be attended by frightful
disasters, some of which can be readily estimated, but of which the
worst would probably remain unforeseen and unimagined until the
irrevocable moment of fulfilment. To increase to this extent the area
of the world&rsquo;s oceans, without increasing (as of course we could
not increase) their mass, would perceptibly lower the level of the sea
everywhere, and in accordance with the well-known hydrostatic law
things would &ldquo;right themselves&rdquo; on a cataclysmal scale.
Every narrow strait in the world, every oceanic canal would become, for
the time being, a roaring cataract. The Mediterranean would rush
tumultuously out through the Straits of Gibraltar and the Suez Canal,
and the overflow would flood the adjacent lands. The Straits of Dover
would roar like Niagara, and all Kent, and the low-lying north-east
corner of France, would be devastated. The isthmus of Panama might at
the same time be swept away, for the narrow <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb97" href="#pb97" name="pb97">97</a>]</span>banks of
the completed Panama Canal would certainly give way before the weight
of the two oceans. All the rivers of the world would rush down in spate
until they ran nearly dry from the increased outfall. The sea would
recede from all the coasts. Along with this fall in the level of the
sea would come tempests such as, since the appearance of man on the
planet, the world has never known. For the sea-supported atmosphere
would suck into its vacuum the whole weight of the over-lying air until
pressure was equalised. And the climate of all the world would be
reconstituted in new and probably inconvenient ways.</p>
<p class="par">No. We cannot venture thus to change the face of
creation. What we can and shall do is to make the best of it. In a
hundred years&rsquo; time many countries at present undeveloped will be
rich and populous. Canada, for one example, has an area greater than
that of the United States, with a population smaller than the
population of Greater London. And Canada, endowed as it is with almost
every source of wealth, will before long become perhaps the richest
country in the world. By this time next century it will also be one of
the most populous. Siberia, again, with many fertile and salubrious
tracts, will certainly have been more intelligently utilised than by
making a vast prison of it. But when all the regions available for
human habitation are populated <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb98"
href="#pb98" name="pb98">98</a>]</span>and made use of, the centres of
civilisation will probably lie very much where they lie now; and here
the congested populations will have found that they can no longer
tolerate the waste of a neglected ocean. As we push outward from the
centre of the continents, the seaboard will have to be utilised and
extended. There is nothing to daunt the engineers of a hundred years
hence in the project of erecting on the sea a vast floating city, fully
as convenient as the present cities of <i lang="la">terra firma</i>,
and, while vastly more healthful, quite substantial enough to resist
storm and every motion of the sea, except the tides on which the city
will rise and fall&mdash;tides which will no doubt furnish the motive
power of many conveniences in ocean cities.</p>
<p class="par">There are great advantages in a city thus founded, as
compared with those we at present inhabit; and we certainly shall not
be able to neglect them. There will be no particular reason for economy
of space or for insalubrious overcrowding (since the sea has no
landlord), and breadth would make for stability as well as for
convenience. Urban traffic will employ an entirely new light vehicle,
the skimmer. It has been mentioned as a thing beyond doubt that the
ships of a hundred years hence will no longer float in the sea, but
ride on its surface, thus evading both the instability and the
resistance at present so troublesome to <span class="pagenum">[<a id=
"pb99" href="#pb99" name="pb99">99</a>]</span>marine engineers. As soon
as the necessity arises for providing street traffic in the ocean
city&mdash;when &ldquo;the sea is in the broad, the narrow streets,
ebbing and flowing, and the salt weed clings to the marble of her
palaces&rdquo;&mdash;invention will meet the demand, and light street
waggons and carriages will everywhere glide about, performing the daily
needs of the inhabitants. Something in the nature of break-waters will
provide against wave-play and form an unequalled exterior boulevard;
and by means of an invention which will long since have been called for
by the requirements of other localities, the air of dwelling-houses in
the ocean city will be wholesomely freed from damp.</p>
<p class="par">For we shall certainly not have failed to act upon our
knowledge of the fact that irregularities in the proportion of
atmospheric moisture are responsible for the unhealthiness of certain
areas; and we shall have learned, by means of the anhydrator, to
provide any place with exactly the degree of damp or dryness necessary
to health. The same apparatus, by desiccating the air to the extreme
point, will keep the houses of an ocean city dry and thus do away with
an objection which would make homes built on the water insufferable
to-day.</p>
<p class="par">If we have not wholly reformed throughout the world our
system of land tenure, the <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb100" href=
"#pb100" name="pb100">100</a>]</span>conquered ocean will
unquestionably relieve the tension which is created by it, and perhaps
a radical change of this character will only become possible when the
enormous advantages of it have been practically exemplified.</p>
<p class="par">But there is another way in which the conquest of ocean
ought to prove a great economic boon to the world. Except in the case
of a few coal mines, with shafts sunk near the sea beach, we have
hardly at all begun to investigate the contents of the ocean floor.
There is, so far as I am aware, no particular reason to doubt that the
constitution of the subterranean world is in most respects very much
the same under the sea as under the land. Probably vast riches, as yet
undreamed of, lie below the surface of the ocean and beneath its floor.
There can be no question that the needs of the world will make us eager
to tap them, as we should already have begun to, if any way could be
discovered of overcoming the engineering difficulties involved. These
difficulties, in the present state of our knowledge, may well appal the
stoutest imagination. The problem presented by the immense and
paralysing air pressure in a mine at this great depth would have to be
overcome. Even in some great terrestrial excavations already made the
problem occurs: and where (as in river tunnels and elsewhere) men
attempt to work in great air-pressures <span class="pagenum">[<a id=
"pb101" href="#pb101" name="pb101">101</a>]</span>artificially induced,
the phenomenon called caisson-disease occasions practical difficulty.
But the mere fact of an achievement being almost inconceivable in the
light of present knowledge and invention must not be allowed to put a
clog upon a forecast of what next century may attain. It is a
hypothesis which the reader has been invited to accept, not merely that
discovery and invention will go on, but that they will go at a
constantly-increasing pace. We must not, therefore, allow what may well
seem, at the present day, insuperable engineering difficulties to
forbid the belief that the undiscovered wealth of the earth below the
sea will be tapped for the benefit of the new age. What minerals may
lie there, a rich heirloom for the coming time, we can but roughly
imagine. But enterprise and the world&rsquo;s necessities will spur us
on to search them out, until the new people, deriving like a fresh
Ant&aelig;us constant stores of strength from Mother Earth, will enter
into possessions which must vastly relieve their necessities.
Individual enterprise will solve the problems and reap its store of
profits. But the ocean is no-man&rsquo;s land, and the
people&mdash;perhaps a world-people, for this purpose at least not
subdivided into antagonistic communities&mdash;will beyond doubt take
toll, for the relief of general taxation, from the earnings of the new
mineralogy. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb102" href="#pb102" name=
"pb102">102</a>]</span></p>
<p class="par">In other ways, too, the sea itself will be made use of.
We shall get our salt from it, the process of separation being
electrolytic. Fish will probably be eaten later than any other form of
animal food. But the chief gift of the sea to the life of the future
will be the two gases of which water is composed&mdash;oxygen and
hydrogen: and the other gas, chlorine, which forms half the salt, as
well as the metal sodium which forms the other half, will probably have
many new uses found for them. Liquefied oxygen will no doubt be our
sole disinfectant. It will also replace the poisonous, noisome and
destructive bleaching agents used to-day. Hydrogen, the lightest of all
gases, will be another staple of commerce. It will (as we have
elsewhere seen) probably be the only fuel employed, for its combustion
furnishes the greatest heat terrestrially known, and its flame is
smokeless and yields no poisonous by-product. Moreover, the evaporation
of liquid hydrogen, by a sort of curious revenge, produces the greatest
available cold. If anything in the nature of balloons should survive
the century hydrogen will inflate them, and both our hydrogen and our
oxygen will most likely be got by preference from the sea. There are
many reasons for this preference. Probably there will be some advantage
in the matter of expense, since the salts of ocean water would be a
by-product of the operation, <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb103" href=
"#pb103" name="pb103">103</a>]</span>and it is conceivable that a use
may be found for the rarer among them, which could only be obtained in
satisfactory quantities by reducing to dryness huge amounts of water.
And potable or spring waters will perhaps be too precious a commodity
to be consumed unnecessarily. Distilled water could no doubt be used
for drinking purposes, and bacteriologically it is of course
unexceptionable; but there are certain objections to it, and though
these may doubtless be overcome, natural waters have a value which
cannot be ignored.</p>
<p class="par">Thus the oceans of the world, as yet mere watery
deserts, useful to hardly a calculable percentage of the people (and
then only at the expense of the rest) will have become the
world&rsquo;s inheritance, and its hoarded wealth will stave off the
time&mdash;whose coming we must not ignore&mdash;when our world-capital
begins to be exhausted. For that time must come. We are living upon the
hoards which the womb of our mother the earth has borne to our father
the sun. But our mother is, in respect at all events of mineral wealth,
past the age of conception; and every century brings us more rapidly
near to the time when we shall, like spendthrifts, have lived out our
capital. Already the end of coal is in sight. When, at the end of a
vista however long, we begin to be able to foresee the exhaustion of
other minerals, we shall face a problem appalling in <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb104" href="#pb104" name="pb104">104</a>]</span>its
nature. Perhaps before our store of heat gives out and reduces earth to
the state of a dead world like the moon, we shall already have
exhausted our stock. No economies in the use of scrap metal and the
re-employment of the material of machines which have been superseded
can save us from ultimate metallic bankruptcy in a future calculated
perhaps in thousands (but not many thousands) of years. Our only
succour seems to lie in a conception for which (despite the efforts of
some lively thinkers who have been obliged to ignore all but the least
important difficulties of the subject) we have no material&mdash;the
conception of means by which the cold depths of interplanetary space
may be traversed. Even if we allow imagination, untrammelled by the
most evident necessities of the case, to suggest a speed of transport
computable only by astronomical analogies, we still lag behind anything
which could serve this purpose, unless we concurrently believe that
human life shall, by that time, be lengthened into centuries.
Otherwise, however recklessly we may conceive of speed in
interplanetary travel, man would almost require to live for many
centuries in order to reach and return from any destination which would
not inevitably destroy him by fire or cold when he arrived at it. Most
likely man is for ever destined to accept the bounds of his own planet,
and to be limited <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb105" href="#pb105"
name="pb105">105</a>]</span>by its resources. In order that these
resources may be utilised to the uttermost of his needs, the contents
of the ocean floor must undoubtedly be laid under contribution, and
probably we shall not antedate this achievement if we consider that it
will have been at least entered upon a hundred years hence.
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb106" href="#pb106" name=
"pb106">106</a>]</span></p>
</div>
</div>
<div id="ch7" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pagenum">[<a href=
"#xd21e288">Contents</a>]</span>
<div class="divHead">
<h2 class="label">CHAPTER VII</h2>
<h2 class="main">THE MARCH OF SCIENCE</h2>
</div>
<div class="divBody">
<p class="par first">In a forecast like the present it is impossible to
avoid a certain amount of overlapping in different sections of the
subject and a certain blending of topics in a single chapter. The
attempt to differentiate consistently between the progress of science
as science, and the concurrent advance of practical invention by which
scientific discovery is turned to use would only involve needless
repetition. I have already had occasion to suggest elements of material
progress which presuppose the advance in pure science that would make
them possible. Thus, in endeavouring to suggest what the methods of
commerce and the condition of our cities are likely to be in the future
it was necessary to conceive certain advances in our knowledge of what
is rather clumsily called &ldquo;wireless&rdquo; telegraphy, and to
predict the discovery of new and cheap methods of analysing water into
its component gases as a source of fuel and as means for the production
of electricity: and in order <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb107" href=
"#pb107" name="pb107">107</a>]</span>to avoid useless repetition it was
found convenient to work out in a rough manner the various ways in
which the cheap and inexhaustible supplies of hydrogen and oxygen which
I have imagined discovery to have placed at the disposal of invention
would be employed in the arts. Similarly, when we interrogate
imagination on the subject of scientific discovery itself, we shall be
forced to think chiefly of the practical results likely to be achieved
by it, and indeed there would otherwise be hardly any purpose to serve
by the effort. What imports the greatest amount of complexity into the
subject is the difficulty of conceiving the lines upon which science is
likely to travel, unless we allow ourselves to be guided by the
practical requirements of the future as far as we are able to foresee
them. Imagination has indeed superabundant room in which to run riot
when it endeavours to give form to the probabilities of scientific
discovery; and the only danger is that effort may be wasted in purely
fanciful directions, if it be not pretty securely tied down by some
such artificial restraint as the convention of keeping more or less
strictly to the anticipation of discoveries likely to have immediate
practical application.</p>
<p class="par">For instance, there is hardly any end to the
developments we might allow ourselves to imagine as arising out of the
new theories, still in a probationary condition, as to the <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb108" href="#pb108" name=
"pb108">108</a>]</span>ultimate physical structure of the universe.
Such conjectures might be followed indefinitely in several directions,
and the resulting conclusions would be more likely to err by timidity
than by extravagance: but as there is no knowledge at present available
which could serve as a guide to the probably-right, and as a warning
against the probably-wrong, directions, it would be neither interesting
nor useful to pursue them. Radium &ldquo;the revealer,&rdquo; as Dr
Saleeby has called it in one of those brilliant papers which fine
imagination and delicate fancy have adorned with many another noble
phrase and memorable image, opens the door to a whole world of new
possibilities. Our whole conception of cosmic processes may have to be
remodelled, in the light of those tiny scintillations which the
spinthariscope has popularised. Already our notions concerning the
nature of matter have been revolutionised. We are told that atoms,
regarded hitherto as the ultimate units of matter&mdash;so small that
Lord Kelvin has calculated that if a drop of water were magnified to
the size of the earth the atoms in it would be somewhere between the
size of small shot and the size of cricket balls&mdash;are themselves
made up of a stuff so almost infinitely more tenuous, that the
particles of it within the atom are, relatively to their size, farther
apart than the planets of the solar system. Nor is <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb109" href="#pb109" name="pb109">109</a>]</span>this
all. These particles, commonly called electrons, if particles they can
still be designated at all, were at first said to &ldquo;carry&rdquo; a
charge of electricity. But it now seems that they <i>are</i>
electricity itself. If this be true, we should seem to be on the point
of bridging the void between what used to be called the eternal
antithetics&mdash;matter and force: and whither this will lead us can
only with the greatest caution be pre-imagined. In any case the
consequences of this discovery, philosophical as well as scientific,
are stupefying in the possibilities they open up to the thinker as well
as to the man of practical science. At last science begins to join
hands with philosophy. What will be the philosophy of a hundred years
hence, imagination pales before the effort of attempting to
conceive.</p>
<p class="par">But the working out of the revelations promised by
radiology belongs rather to this end of the century than to the other.
During the interval there can be no doubt that electricity, already
man&rsquo;s chief handmaid, will have increased and perhaps completed
her services to the race. When, as I ventured to suggest in a former
chapter, inexhaustible and cheap &ldquo;current&rdquo; is yielded to us
by some method of utilising the electrical reciprocity of the hydrogen
and oxygen gases derived from water, doubtless all machinery will be
electrically driven, all transport electrically <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb110" href="#pb110" name=
"pb110">110</a>]</span>propelled. Perhaps this discovery lies so far in
the foreground of the future as to be irrelevant to any anticipations
of the world&rsquo;s condition a hundred years hence. The full
development of electrically-driven machinery lies in the middle
distance, and the duration of the electrical age can hardly be
precalculated with any greater exactness than the suggestion that it
will probably have reached, or at all events approached, its end in
about a century&rsquo;s time.</p>
<p class="par">The most important problem connected with this subject
is to imagine, if we can, how electrical power will be applied. It is
quite evident that the device of long conductors, either overhead or
below ground&mdash;the &ldquo;live wires&rdquo; of alarmed
America&mdash;is too clumsy and too dangerous to be long tolerated. It
is indeed a public scandal that cables carrying an electrical charge
capable of killing or paralysing at a touch should be suspended over
the heads of the citizens, exposed to momentary breakage by snowfall,
high wind, or the inevitable wear which careless inspectors may
overlook: and the mere fact that a horse can occasionally set foot on a
ground plate and fall dead from the contact shows that even the vaunted
&ldquo;conduit system&rdquo; must not be regarded as anything but a
strictly-temporary device. Some of the dangers of the underground
electric wires arise out of the use of our present illuminating gas,
when a pipe <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb111" href="#pb111" name=
"pb111">111</a>]</span>leaks into a manhole or inspection chamber,
forming an explosive mixture of gas and air, which presently becomes
ignited by an electric spark and blows up the whole affair. No doubt
coal gas is within easily measurable distance of its end as a
convenience of civilisation. But it is extremely probable that hydrogen
and oxygen will be conveyed by mains to houses and public buildings
during a long time: and it is hardly possible to believe that the mains
will not sometimes leak and be capable of letting out mixtures far more
dangerous on ignition than the mixture of coal gas and air, and still
more dangerous because neither of the gases, nor the mixture of them,
has any smell, unless indeed we should take the precaution of giving
them one artificially. Whatever we may do, and we shall do much, to
minimise the dangers of highly-evolved civilisation, accidents will
always occur, and their violence will probably increase. We must pay
our toll to the conveniences of life, and we shall of course compensate
ourselves by a lower death-rate from diseases, many of which will no
doubt in a hundred years&rsquo; time have disappeared from the
planet.</p>
<p class="par">If we need any motive power other than electricity, or
if we need motive power of some other kind to produce electricity, no
doubt the explosive recombination of oxygen and hydrogen, controlled by
devices developed from existing gas-engines and petrol-engines, will be
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb112" href="#pb112" name=
"pb112">112</a>]</span>a starting-point: because coal will, probably
before the complete exhaustion of the supply of it, have been found
altogether too dirty and unhealthy a thing to use, at all events by way
of combustion, though rumours are heard from time to time of new
methods by which the stored energy of coal may be utilised directly, to
the great economy of the material.<a class="noteref" id="xd21e944src"
href="#xd21e944" name="xd21e944src">1</a> In all sorts of ways the
early years of the century will be employing themselves in seeking out
new sources of man&rsquo;s chief necessity&mdash;power: and a hundred
years hence we shall have entered upon the full inheritance of
them.</p>
<p class="par">But the obtaining of power is only one problem of the
mechanician. Of almost equal, if not quite equal, importance is that of
applying power at the place where it is needed, and the careful reader
will not have overlooked the fact that while we have been discussing
the use of electricity as a source of power we have already been
anticipating, and perhaps anticipating a good deal. For, when we now
speak of machinery and locomotive engines being &ldquo;driven&rdquo; by
electricity, we are really only employing a sort of convenient
periphrasis. All our electric machinery, all our electric railways, our
&ldquo;tuppeny&rdquo; tubes and the horrible electric trams which make
life almost intolerable in houses along many of the main roads out of
London, are really driven by coal-burning steam <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb113" href="#pb113" name=
"pb113">113</a>]</span>engines. In a few places (especially in the
Niagara valley) waterfall power is used. But whatever the real source
of power, electricity is only a means, more or less convenient, of
transmitting it. Even electric launches, and slow-going electric
broughams driven by accumulators, only represent slightly more subtle
examples of the electrical transmission of power. The ultimate source
of power is always either a steam-engine or a waterfall. A few
lecture-table toys and the like are the only existing examples of
machinery in which the actual source of power is electricity. Even
here, it may be objected, the actual source of power is not
electricity, but chemical action in the battery. But no contrivance of
man is an ultimate source of power. Even a steam-engine is only a
device for utilising the stored solar energy of coal. Of course man can
no more create power than he can create matter: the stock of each in
the universe is a fixed quantity. All that we are able to do is to
harness to our use a part of the cosmic store. When I speak of
electricity becoming hereafter a &ldquo;source&rdquo; of power, I am
merely distinguishing between its use as a means of transmitting force
already perceived as force in some other form (as where a
dynamo-electric machine receives motion from a steam-engine or
waterfall and turns this motion into electricity, which is conveyed by
wires or rails to an electric dynamic engine that reconverts
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb114" href="#pb114" name=
"pb114">114</a>]</span>it into motion) and its use as a primary means
of utilising the cosmic stores of force.</p>
<p class="par">Before we arrive, therefore, at the point of using
electricity as a source of power in itself, our mechanicians will have
plenty to occupy them in the task of devising safer and more convenient
methods of transmitting force, and even at the end of the century,
supposing the use of electricity not to have been entirely superseded
by the discovery of some entirely new force as yet not even
conceivable, invention will doubtless be still busy with further
improvements in the transmission as well as in the production of
electricity. It has been hinted that &ldquo;wireless&rdquo;
transmission of power will no doubt by that time have become
practicable, and Signor Marconi&rsquo;s achievement of wireless
telegraphy was mentioned as a proof that such transmission is at least
imaginable. In Marconi&rsquo;s invention an enormous electrical impulse
is launched into the &aelig;ther, and if the very smallest token of it
can be &ldquo;picked up&rdquo; in any way at the receiving station, the
wireless telegram is satisfactorily received. But the important fact
for our present purpose is that some product of the original impulse
<i>can</i> be picked up: and though the effort of imagination required
to see in this a starting-point for entirely new inventions, capable of
gathering up a practicable modicum of the transmitted power in a form
capable of being converted into motion, <span class="pagenum">[<a id=
"pb115" href="#pb115" name="pb115">115</a>]</span>is severe, we shall
bring but a poor imaginative equipment to a task so colossal as that of
guessing what the next century will be capable of if we refuse to
believe that something in the nature of Hertzian waves, or something
propagated as these are propagated, can be used to carry impulse to
machinery at a distance from the source of power. The imaginative
faculty which boggles at this effort will probably overlook the fact
that the mere transmission is only a part of the difficulty which is
pretty sure to have been overcome by this time next century. It will
not be enough to launch waves capable of being used where they are
intended to be used. We must also discover how to launch them so that
they may be incapable of being used anywhere else. I read the other day
the report of a police-court case in which a man was charged with
&ldquo;stealing electricity&rdquo; (which seems a rather doubtful
indictment from the point of view of the lawyer) by obtaining the use
of a public telephone station without paying the usual fee. The
electricians of a hundred years hence will certainly have to find out
how to prevent the purloining of wireless force, and perhaps the police
will have to devise means of detecting this at present somewhat
recondite crime. This question of wireless transmission lies within the
province of discovery rather than that of invention. Before it can
receive actuality we have to do more than utilise existing <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb116" href="#pb116" name=
"pb116">116</a>]</span>knowledge: we have to acquire new knowledge.</p>
<p class="par">In the meantime, portable energy will no doubt be
achieved in ways other than electrical. Some very interesting
compressed-air tools are already in limited use. Holes are drilled and
rivets driven by little contrivances which have a store of force within
themselves furnished by compressed air. One of the many uses of the
cheap oxygen and hydrogen, and doubtless of cheaply liquefied gases of
high-resisting power,<a class="noteref" id="xd21e969src" href=
"#xd21e969" name="xd21e969src">2</a> will no doubt be to work various
kinds of machinery. This use of liquid airs has been much derided, and
indeed a good deal of nonsense has been written as to its
possibilities, drawing from a recent and accomplished writer the remark
that &ldquo;The statements which have sometimes appeared in the daily
papers, announcing impending revolutions in the methods of obtaining
cheap power by the application of liquid air, have originated from an
imperfect comprehension of the problems involved.&rdquo;<a class=
"noteref" id="xd21e972src" href="#xd21e972" name=
"xd21e972src">3</a></p>
<p class="par">In present conditions, and so far as we are able to see
at present, liquefied gases are for a <span class="pagenum">[<a id=
"pb117" href="#pb117" name="pb117">117</a>]</span>long time not likely
to serve any greater mechanical purpose than that of furnishing a
highly portable apparatus by which great power can be developed for a
short time at any required place. It is easy to believe that it could
not be otherwise employed with any economy, even when discovery has
greatly simplified the now difficult process of liquefaction. But in
regard to this matter, and to almost every other mechanical and
engineering improvement suggested in the present work, it is of the
first importance to remember that the conditions in which the work of
the world a hundred years hence will be done are certain to differ very
greatly from anything we know to-day; and that procedures at present
not merely out of proportion, but in themselves actually chimerical,
will become perfectly workable in the new circumstances of another
century. No doubt the problems at present involved make many of the
developments herein suggested almost laughable to those who examine the
subject without imagination. But what could have been thought of a man
who, when Oersted discovered the influence of a battery current on the
compass needle, suggested that the discovery might, in much less than a
hundred years, be practically developed in such unforeseen ways as to
produce locomotive machines capable of carrying vast weight at a speed
of perhaps a hundred <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb118" href="#pb118"
name="pb118">118</a>]</span>miles an hour? He would have been told that
such predictions &ldquo;could only have originated from an imperfect
comprehension of the problems involved.&rdquo; But we know that they
would have been perfectly sound, though it would have been difficult to
withhold assent from the derision which instructed hearers would have
poured upon them. The effect of any scientific discovery can only be
measured when we are in a position to judge of the conditions in which
it may be applied, and the further discoveries which may affect
it&mdash;a consideration which will help us against the danger of undue
caution in estimating the possible developments of recent discovery
when utilised in the conditions of the next century and reinforced by
inventions and discoveries yet to come.</p>
<p class="par">A like caution will, however, teach us to restrain our
expectations from the new knowledge which radium appears to be
gradually unfolding, not because there is any doubt that radio-activity
will ultimately bring priceless gifts to civilisation, but because in
our present ignorance of all but a few facts concerning it we can form
no possible conjecture as to the lines these gifts will follow. Already
we seem to have seen in some of the radium experiments one
&ldquo;element&rdquo; turn into another. If this should develop until
we acquire the power which used to be dreamed of as transmutation,
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb119" href="#pb119" name=
"pb119">119</a>]</span>the social and economic upheavals which would
result beggar imagination.<a class="noteref" id="xd21e988src" href=
"#xd21e988" name="xd21e988src">4</a></p>
<p class="par">The photographic effect of R&ouml;ntgen rays has
already<a class="noteref" id="xd21e993src" href="#xd21e993" name=
"xd21e993src">5</a> been the subject of a suggestion, and even the
facts now remotest from practical use in connection with the rays of
various sorts so much discussed in the scientific newspapers will no
doubt be utilised in a manner or in manners far removed from the
limited employment in therapeutics already found for them.</p>
<p class="par">And indeed medicine, not the most progressive of modern
sciences, will no doubt make vast strides during the period under
discussion.</p>
<p class="par">It would be altogether fallacious to forecast the
position and probable achievements of medical science in a
century&rsquo;s time on the line of simple development from the
practice of to-day. The changes will be revolutionary rather than
evolutionary. When it is remembered that only fifty years ago limbs
were hacked <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb120" href="#pb120" name=
"pb120">120</a>]</span>from the quivering flesh of the sentient
patient, held down by muscular assistants lest the violent struggles of
his agony should embarrass the surgeon, and that wounds of all sorts
festered and decayed until a hospital reeked with their
impurity&mdash;in other words, that discoveries so great as
an&aelig;sthesia and antisepsis are well within living memory&mdash;we
need not hesitate to predict for the present century changes in medical
and surgical science almost inconceivable by the light of our present
attainment. An&aelig;sthetics&mdash;of which the local kinds, as
cocaine and eucaine, are of entirely recent use&mdash;represent an
advance in one direction. Antiseptic surgery, which is the prevention
and correction of blood and wound-poisoning by chemical disinfectants,
represented an advance of a different kind. But antisepsis is already
on the point of being superseded by the far more rational and
scientific method of asepsis, or the exclusion from open wounds of all
the germs which can set up inflammation and festering. The change is
typical.</p>
<p class="par">The direction in which medicine is chiefly working at
the present time is that of introducing into the body one disease with
the idea of excluding other diseases. It is conceived that cow-pox is
antagonistic to small-pox, erysipelas possibly to cancer, and so on.
All the talk in medical circles is of serum and attenuated virus. And,
apart from animal <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb121" href="#pb121"
name="pb121">121</a>]</span>products administered by injection, we cure
or attempt to cure all diseases by administering poisons&mdash;animal,
vegetable or mineral. Just as by antiseptics we poison the germ which
causes festering and inflammation, so by drugs we attempt to poison
disease&mdash;for all drugs are practically poisons. The principle of
their administration is almost wholly empirical. If you ask a doctor
why phenacetin reduces fever, it is impossible to get beyond a
metaphysical explanation. He will reply that phenacetin reduces fever
by lowering the blood pressure, or something of that kind. But this
merely re-states the problem. Why does phenacetin lower blood pressure?
We do not know. The substitution of asepsis for antisepsis&mdash;that
is, of cleanliness for disinfection&mdash;has hardly yet been perceived
to be in a certain sense the greatest advance in therapeutics since
Hippocrates. It probably contains the germ of future medical treatment.
Hereafter we shall not try to cast out devils of disease by other
disease-germs only less devilish. We shall learn enough of the causes
of disease to stop them at their source, and knowledge growing from
more to more, which has taught us exactly how &ldquo;matter in the
wrong place&rdquo;&mdash;of whatever sort&mdash;is the source of all
disease, will also show how matter may generally be kept in its right
place.</p>
<p class="par">Although comparatively little progress has <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb122" href="#pb122" name="pb122">122</a>]</span>been
made by the curative use of rays, other discoveries, of which we have
even now passed the brink, will have an enormous effect on medicine and
surgery. Already certain kinds of light cure rodent ulcer, one of the
most hideous and terrible diseases, not by the importation of fresh
substances into the body but by the modification of the tissues
themselves. When radiation has been fully studied it will almost
certainly be found that the sun, which is the source of practically all
terrestrial activity, has been showering upon us, ever since the
homogeneous vapour which was the birth-stuff of the universe aggregated
itself into worlds and suns and planets, rays which are capable of
correcting every sort of disease-germination and, properly used, of
preventing it. The absolute deadliness of unmodified sunlight to many
sorts of disease-germs is recognised already. The value of
sun-baths&mdash;the exposure of the whole body, undraped or only
lightly covered, to the sunlight&mdash;is already discussed in
connection with an&aelig;mia, chlorosis and the early stages of
consumption. When we know just where all disease originates, and why it
develops, it seems likely that sunlight and oxygen its child will
prevent nearly all disease and cure whatever disease accidentally
arises. In place of temporary and dangerous expedients like
antiseptics, serum and corrective poisons, we shall import <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb123" href="#pb123" name=
"pb123">123</a>]</span>nothing into the human organism, but only
exclude what ought to be kept out, and modify into innocuousness what
has found its way in.</p>
<p class="par">A great part of the disease we call constitutional, as
distinguished from infective, arises from food, either because the food
itself is not free from disease, or because, from excess in quantity or
error in choice, the food we take sets up the production of poisons in
the course of digestion, and by yielding, for instance, lactic or uric
acid to the blood causes rheumatism or gout, or by introducing into the
stomach matter in a state of incipient decay, favours typhoid and other
fevers.</p>
<p class="par">When, for reasons already indicated, animal food has
been eliminated from the <i>menu</i> one great source of disease will
have been got rid of.</p>
<p class="par">When we completely understand the nature of the
infective and contagious diseases it seems well within the bounds of
possibility that the systematic destruction of their germs may be
carried far enough to remove them altogether from the planet.<a class=
"noteref" id="xd21e1026src" href="#xd21e1026" name="xd21e1026src">6</a>
We have now, even by the <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb124" href=
"#pb124" name="pb124">124</a>]</span>highly imperfect measure of
quarantine and a period of muzzling (from which, on no evident ground
except that it would interfere with the amusements of the governing
class to include them, sporting dogs were excluded), apparently
banished hydrophobia from Great Britain. If it prove to be the case
that just as hydrophobia cannot arise spontaneously, but requires to be
&ldquo;started&rdquo; by the entry into the blood of an animal of an
existing infection, other infective diseases require pre-existing
disease before they can arise, we may get rid of them altogether. The
dream may appear a wild one. But it is not wilder than the dreams of a
thinker who anticipated any one of a hundred common facts of to-day
must have appeared to our great-great-grandfathers.</p>
<p class="par">It is, of course, not to be supposed that disease can
altogether be banished from a world so highly artificial as that of the
next century will be. Undoubtedly the growth of sanitary science and
the knowledge of the larger facts of hygiene, which is only now
beginning to dawn upon us, will have a great <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb125" href="#pb125" name=
"pb125">125</a>]</span>influence in correcting some of the evils which
over-civilisation at present entails. But the very progress of the art
of healing will no doubt have the effect of perpetuating in a manner
the existence of illness. Every forward step in medicine serves to save
alive some weakling that in a less advanced civilisation would die; and
these survivors, possibly propagating their species, will have weak
descendants, on whom whatever possibility of disease continues to exist
will certainly fasten. The discovery of means by which we can make a
weak &ldquo;constitution&rdquo; into a strong one is perhaps the least
likely of medical innovations. It would be altogether contrary to the
general spirit of the times anticipated to expect that we shall have
steeled our hearts to the destruction of feeble lives as dangerous to
the race. We are much more likely to go on finding better means to
perpetuate them: and this means that there will always be work for the
doctor, though the infective fevers will have been banished from the
earth. Medicine, therefore, will still aspire. But apart from what are
called occupation-diseases, caused by certain manufacturing processes
(of which the more deadly, as phosphorus match-making, lead-glazing of
earthenware and the manufacture of enamelled iron will before long
certainly be abolished), the elaborate machinery and rapid travel of
the new age must needs exact a certain toll of death and <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb126" href="#pb126" name=
"pb126">126</a>]</span>mutilation. The surgeon will have more to do
than the physician. Frightful accidents will occur from time to time.
The maim, the halt and the blind must pay the price of progress. And it
is hardly possible that nervous diseases and insanity, incident to the
pressure of civilisation, can be eliminated. But certainly the
alleviations of all but the last, and even of that except in its
extreme expression as total dementia, will have advanced to a high
standard. We shall no doubt, for instance, have discovered means of so
acting on the sensory system that we shall be able innocuously and
temporarily to paralyse at any desired spot the nerves which transmit
pain. Thus, during convalescence, the injured will suffer no discomfort
except that of confinement, and our means of amusing the patient by
talking machines that will read and sing to him, and the theatroscopes
that will project before him moving and coloured pictures of life or
the play, will make the sick bed almost a paradise.</p>
<p class="par">As we have seen that, apart from the sentimental reasons
which have been suggested,<a class="noteref" id="xd21e1044src" href=
"#xd21e1044" name="xd21e1044src">7</a> animal and flesh foods must, for
economical reasons, have been abandoned long before the end of the
century, the grazing of cattle being far too expensive a method of
utilising the soil, we may be quite sure that the sciences connected
with agriculture will <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb127" href=
"#pb127" name="pb127">127</a>]</span>receive far greater attention than
they now enjoy. It will grow more important with every decade to obtain
the greatest possible tribute from the portions of land, steadily
decreasing in area, which can be spared from the growing needs of the
builder. Every discovery of the chemist which can be laid under
contribution by the agriculturist will eagerly be seized upon. Every
means which can be devised for replacing what we take from the soil
will be utilised to the full: and of course the inevitable
disappearance of the horse as a means of traction, and of the flocks
and herds which now yield manure, and perhaps the gradual exhaustion of
the minerals (as rock phosphates) from which artificial soil enrichers
are prepared, will make it necessary to rearrange, on safe, economical
and convenient lines, our present plans of sanitation. The insane
wastefulness of draining into the sea cannot long be tolerated. Every
conceivable means of conserving our mundane capital will have to be
made use of. In other ways science will come to the rescue. The
farmer&rsquo;s sufferings from the depredations of vermin of various
kinds will perhaps never be much affected by invention, because all
nature is so curiously interdependent that the eradication of one pest
has an awkward way of intensifying some greater evil: we destroy birds
and are punished by a plague of caterpillars. The accidents of
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb128" href="#pb128" name=
"pb128">128</a>]</span>climate, too, can perhaps only be obviated in a
very small measure, though the science of meteorology, constantly being
helped by facilities for better observation-reporting, will
unquestionably help the agriculturist by giving him timely warnings. It
seems hardly possible to doubt that the eccentricities of climate and
the unexpected shifting of the rainy season in Manchuria during the
Russo-Japanese war must have been caused by the vast atmospheric
disturbances created by days and weeks of cannonading: and of course it
is an old theory that heavy gun-fire &ldquo;brings down the
rain.&rdquo; Military historians say that the number of wet-day battles
altogether exceeds any expectation which could have been formed without
allowing for effects of this sort. When science has pondered upon the
subject, and instituted in an ordered manner experiments of a kind
hitherto never taken very seriously, it may very well be that some
means less violent than the detonation of explosives may be discovered
by the practical meteorologist for creating disturbances in the
atmosphere; and while it may not be possible to prevent excessive
rainfall at inconvenient times, it seems easy to conceive that when
there is moisture in the atmosphere we may be able to bring it down as
rain. Of course this is a very different thing from breaking up
droughts: and artificial rain-making cannot in <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb129" href="#pb129" name=
"pb129">129</a>]</span>itself be anything but a momentary expedient.
The effects of deforestation have for some time been observed and the
plan of improving waterless areas by the contrary process is already
discussed. While it seems rather a &ldquo;large order&rdquo; to
undertake to meddle with the balance of atmospheric composition on a
large scale, especially as we know so little of the conditions that
even success might very possibly be attended by unforeseen and perhaps
calamitous results, there is nothing intrinsically absurd in the notion
that we might adopt means on a vast scale for increasing oceanic
evaporation and, utilising the exact foreknowledge of winds and air
currents which we shall certainly have achieved, bring moisture and
rain to arid tracts or countries suffering from drought. The operation
would no doubt require to be stupendous, but the next century is not
going to be afraid of stupendous operations; and anticipating vast and
unforeseen progress in meteorology, it would be hazardous to believe
that no practical use will be made of such progress.</p>
<p class="par">While our knowledge and mastery of the planet we
possess, and of its forces, are being steadily advanced by scientific
discovery, and the researches of the pure scientist are constantly
yielding practical results at first undreamed of, it is impossible to
doubt that man&rsquo;s knowledge of himself will make equal
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb130" href="#pb130" name=
"pb130">130</a>]</span>progress. And it is not alone the physical
constitution of man that will be interrogated. Everything assists the
belief that this century will be among other things the century of
psychical advance. We appear to be on the verge of great discoveries
concerning the human mind, and especially concerning the relation of
body to consciousness. Hypnotism has only during a comparatively short
time been the subject of systematic observation, even in France; but at
any time during the last ten years results have been achieved which, if
foreseen a century ago, would certainly have produced a widespread
recrudescence of belief in witchcraft. What the developed science of a
hundred years hence will be capable of would certainly be a great deal
more surprising if we could foresee it to-day. It is reported from the
Salpetri&egrave;re Hospital that a woman, under hypnosis, has had the
existence of a picture on a blank sheet of paper suggested to her with
such vividness that, on the suggestion being revived at a subsequent
period, even after a considerable interval, she was able to detect that
the &ldquo;picture&rdquo; was upside down, the blank paper having been
actually reversed. This phenomenon is attributed to a great
accentuation of the sense of vision produced by hypnotism, it being
supposed that the paper, perfectly blank on ordinary observation, had
really some <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb131" href="#pb131" name=
"pb131">131</a>]</span>local irregularity of colour or surface which
the sharpened vision of the subject was able, unconsciously, to
utilise. What secrets in the mechanism of the senses may not this
fore-shadow? Without any recourse to hypnotism, as we at present
understand hypnotism, impressions have, in a number of instances
sufficient to exclude all possibility of collusion or error, been
conveyed from one mind to another without the use of any of the
ordinary means of communication: and it is shown in experiments
seriously conducted by trained observers that the faculties of thus
communicating and receiving impressions can be steadily cultivated. In
other words, it would appear that human consciousness possesses some
sort of emanation, and although certain &ldquo;ray&rdquo; experiments
possibly connected with the subject have not received universal
acceptance, it is evident that the future is going to enlarge
considerably our knowledge of the nature of mental process. At present
we know nothing&mdash;and it has been said with some rashness that we
must always remain in a like ignorance&mdash;of the interval between
sense and consciousness. We know how the ear receives air-vibrations,
how it collects and conducts them to the auditory nerves, carefully
protecting itself, by the action of beautifully ordered springs and
cushions, from the effects of vibrations violent enough to be dangerous
to its own integrity. But even <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb132"
href="#pb132" name="pb132">132</a>]</span>when we have followed
vibrations as far as the nerve, and recognised the subtle variation of
its own substance by which the nerve conducts the impression of them to
the brain, we have no inkling of the means by which the phenomenon of
consciousness which we call &ldquo;mind&rdquo; is produced. Well, now
that by suggestion alone we can with perfect precision, and without the
use of any air vibration whatever, cause a hypnotised person (or even a
person who has at some earlier period been hypnotised but has recovered
his normal state) to hear&mdash;in his mind alone&mdash;sounds which
have no objective existence, just as vividly and clearly as any sounds
we can physically produce, does it seem extravagant to believe that the
whole mechanism of sense, nay, the dark mind-gulf beyond mechanism too,
will receive full illumination from the science of the coming time?
Such a discovery would, of course, throw utterly into shadow anything
we have yet learned of the nature of man. It would bring us a step
nearer to the knowledge of the unknown soul of him. What secrets might
it not carry with it of those mysterious co-partners, mind and body,
thought and brain? With this, the noblest subject that can be proposed
to the intellect of man, the science of a hundred years hence will
assuredly be busy, and imagination pales before the contemplation of a
notion so vast. Limited as we are by the <span class="pagenum">[<a id=
"pb133" href="#pb133" name="pb133">133</a>]</span>knowledge of our own
time, we cannot even conjecture whither such discoveries might lead us.
All we can affirm is that the whole outlook of man, nay, the nature of
man himself, might very conceivably be changed by them, and the
greatest problems of the thinker may be resolved when we eat of the
fruit tendered us by this tree of the knowledge of good and evil.
Perhaps the soul of man may quail before the revelations in store,
fearing that in the day we eat thereof we shall surely die.
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb134" href="#pb134" name=
"pb134">134</a>]</span></p>
</div>
<div class="footnotes">
<hr class="fnsep">
<p class="par footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id=
"xd21e944" href="#xd21e944src" name="xd21e944">1</a></span> <i lang=
"la">Ante</i>, page <a href="#pb7" class=
"pageref">7</a>.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href=
"#xd21e944src">&uarr;</a></p>
<p class="par footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id=
"xd21e969" href="#xd21e969src" name="xd21e969">2</a></span> That is to
say, the gases which are most difficult to liquefy, and which
consequently store up most energy in liquefying, viz., hydrogen, oxygen
and nitrogen, as distinguished from ammonia, carbon-dioxide, chlorine,
and other gases relatively easy to liquefy.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow"
href="#xd21e969src">&uarr;</a></p>
<p class="par footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id=
"xd21e972" href="#xd21e972src" name="xd21e972">3</a></span> <i>The
Recent Development of Physical Science.</i> By W. C. Whetham, F.R.S.,
1904. London: John Murray.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href=
"#xd21e972src">&uarr;</a></p>
<p class="par footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id=
"xd21e988" href="#xd21e988src" name="xd21e988">4</a></span> I do not
forget that a good deal of what is on record as an account of
experiments in transmutation is purely mystical writing, and that when
Paracelsus and some of the French alchemists describe what appear to be
chemical experiments they are in reality referring to something quite
different. But the learned in these matters tell me that one of their
chief difficulties arises from the fact that, contemporary with the
mystics, there were other investigators who, not having the key to the
occult significance of the masters&rsquo; writings, really devoted
themselves to research, some valuable, if accidental, results of which
have come down to us and are recorded in all text-books of
chemistry.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd21e988src">&uarr;</a></p>
<p class="par footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id=
"xd21e993" href="#xd21e993src" name="xd21e993">5</a></span> <i lang=
"la">Ante</i>, page <a href="#pb79" class=
"pageref">79</a>.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href=
"#xd21e993src">&uarr;</a></p>
<p class="par footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id=
"xd21e1026" href="#xd21e1026src" name="xd21e1026">6</a></span> I might
have &ldquo;boggled&rdquo; (to use one of Mr Andrew Lang&rsquo;s
stately colloquialisms) before this suggestion, but for a remark by Dr
C. W. Saleeby, which may here be quoted, to keep me in countenance.
&ldquo;Malaria,&rdquo; he writes in <i lang="la">Nova Medica</i>, Nov.
1904, &ldquo;which causes more illness than any other disease, is
already obsolescent. Tuberculosis, which causes more deaths than any
other disease, can be disposed of, apparently, whenever the human race,
now mightily smitten with internecine strife, decides that this
campaign against a common foe is worth while. It takes some seconds to
realise&mdash;or begin to realise&mdash;what the extinction of
tuberculosis will signify in private and hospital practice. Yet the
extermination of the last tubercle bacillus is an event quite certainly
hidden in the womb of time&mdash;time pregnant by
science.&rdquo;&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href=
"#xd21e1026src">&uarr;</a></p>
<p class="par footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id=
"xd21e1044" href="#xd21e1044src" name="xd21e1044">7</a></span> <i lang=
"la">Ante</i>, page <a href="#pb34">34</a>.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow"
href="#xd21e1044src">&uarr;</a></p>
</div>
</div>
<div id="ch8" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pagenum">[<a href=
"#xd21e298">Contents</a>]</span>
<div class="divHead">
<h2 class="label">CHAPTER VIII</h2>
<h2 class="main">EDUCATION A HUNDRED YEARS HENCE</h2>
</div>
<div class="divBody">
<p class="par first">Allowing, as every competent thinker must allow, a
full measure of validity to the contention that social developments are
matters of slow growth and gradual attainment rather than of sudden and
catastrophic change; admitting that even in the sphere of scientific
discovery and mechanical invention changes occur much more gradually
than a cursory glance at individual achievements would suggest;
recognising that many of the most remarkable changes whose arrival in
the past is the only possible valid guide to anticipation of similar or
kindred changes in the future; it is still a condition of such
anticipation that we should take account of causes likely to be
operative in altering the rate at which the world will move. To allow
that social improvements generally have the air of occurring almost
automatically is not to conceive that they are without cause. Neither
can it be believed by anyone who has studied the history of such
movements in the past, or <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb135" href=
"#pb135" name="pb135">135</a>]</span>watched them in current progress,
that the rate of development is everywhere and at all periods the same.
There have been eras of almost complete moral, and even of almost
complete mechanical, stagnation in the history of the world. There have
been other eras of almost violent reformation and reconstruction. To
reason as if these characteristics were arbitrarily or miraculously
imposed upon the physiognomy of society, to be content with laboriously
unintelligent estimation of the facts without attempting to learn
anything from them of their causes, is to neglect the only important
lesson which either history or observation is capable of teaching.
When, therefore, an enormous acceleration in a rate of progress already
unprecedented in the records of society has been predicted for the next
hundred years of human history, it is evident that this anticipation
must have been based upon some estimate of forces calculated to be
operative in producing acceleration.</p>
<p class="par">So far as scientific or material progress is concerned,
it is obvious enough that we shall move forward with increasing
<i>momentum</i>, because every discovery and every invention tends
automatically to facilitate fresh attainment, and the very growth of
population must act in the same way, as must also the struggle for
existence. As there are every year more <span class="pagenum">[<a id=
"pb136" href="#pb136" name="pb136">136</a>]</span>men and women working
on scientific research and on mechanical invention, the results must be
progressively greater every year; and as the rewards of success are
increased by the growing demand resulting from a growing population, it
is evident that the incentives to industry in this respect are
proportionately liable to increase. But the ethical progress of the
world is actuated by forces entirely different, and what makes for
mechanical improvement may very easily be conceived&mdash;in fact has
actually been conceived by one rather conspicuous prophet&mdash;to
operate adversely upon the moral future of the race.</p>
<p class="par">No secret, however, has been made of the present
writer&rsquo;s belief that our descendants a hundred years hence will
have made moral progress quite as remarkable as the mechanical progress
of which the anticipation is likely to be contested by no reasonably
imaginative observer. This ethical improvement, gradual, and
momentarily imperceptible as it may be, necessarily has causes which
must now, however tentatively and however cursorily, be examined.</p>
<p class="par">That these causes will be powerful, continuous in action
and based upon the fundamentals of human character, is evident. That in
their operation they will be opposed by other influences not less easy
to foresee is equally manifest. What we have to precognise <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb137" href="#pb137" name="pb137">137</a>]</span>are
the net results likely to be achieved by the interaction of opposing
forces, of which those tending to improvement are confidently believed
the stronger.</p>
<p class="par">The most powerful of all moral influences in the future
will undoubtedly be the reform of education, not merely by the
improvement of its methods in various departments, but also, and with
much more importance, in the general spirit with which its objects will
be conceived. But in order to affirm that this reform will occur, we
must first demonstrate that the grounds upon which it is anticipated
are adequate. We must, in the terms of the formula above proposed, be
satisfied that they are in harmony with the fundamentals of human
character.</p>
<p class="par">If there be any human motive of which something
approaching universality can be predicted&mdash;<i lang="la">quod
semper, quod ubique, quod ab omnibus</i>&mdash;it is that of parental
solicitude. No progenitor of children, however little amenable to high
aspirations, is wholly free from the wish that his offspring shall grow
up to be wiser, stronger, better, more prosperous than himself. The
innate hopefulness of the race expressed in the arid comment that, in
his own estimation, &ldquo;man never is, but always to be blest,&rdquo;
is often discouraged by the time a man&rsquo;s children are beginning
to grow up, especially in these days of late marriage and <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb138" href="#pb138" name=
"pb138">138</a>]</span>deferred parenthood. Realising, as most of us
have realised only too acutely by the time we are forty, that we have
more or less failed in the ambitions which seemed so easy of future
attainment when we were twenty-five, aspiration begins to cast a golden
light upon the career of our children, and it is to the successes and
the fame of our first-born that we look for consolation in the failure
which, for ourselves, we no longer hope to evade. Romance, celebrity,
even perhaps worldly reward, we can no longer expect for ourselves; but
these dear hands that a little time ago we held while the first
tottering steps of babyhood were being tried, shall return to us
hereafter with the laurel in them that we have never plucked. Perhaps
we shall not live to see it on our child&rsquo;s brow, but what of
that? Our confident prevision of this glory is what we console
ourselves withal: this, though we hardly know it, is our True
Romance:&mdash;</p>
<div class="lgouter">
<p class="line">&ldquo;The comfortress of unsuccess,</p>
<p class="line">To bid the dead good-night.&rdquo;</p>
</div>
<p class="par first">Neither in the material and the intellectual
spheres alone do we aspire more nobly for our children than for
ourselves. Not success and not fame limit our demand of Fate, that she
repair in our children the injustice of which we ourselves cease to
complain. We want them to be better men and women than we have
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb139" href="#pb139" name=
"pb139">139</a>]</span>been. To put the thing on its lowest ground (and
nothing but the lowest motives ever seem to be accorded the smallest
validity by the more conspicuous among recent vaticinators of human
action) it behoves us to make the best we can of our children&rsquo;s
morals, if we are presently in old age likely to be dependant upon
them. But for those who, like Malvolio, &ldquo;think nobly of the
soul,&rdquo; it is sufficient to rely upon the manifested predilection
of every parent in order to be convinced that the education of the
future will be moralised as well as rationalised through the natural
emotions of man. Only the dullest and most turgid imagination will
consent to believe that the horrible conditions of competitive struggle
will be permitted to foster only the lower faculties, as greed,
selfishness, unscrupulous cunning and subtle evasiveness, at the
expense of all the finer characteristics of man. There is no cynic so
base as would deliberately seek the fortune of his sons in the
inculcation of chicane. Struggle must sharpen all our intellects as
life grows yearly more difficult, but one by-product of this attrition
will be the increased morality with which the education of each
generation successively arising will be conceived.</p>
<p class="par">Pausing for a moment to remark, in regard to the methods
in detail by which the improvement of education will most likely be
sought, that to foresee what is probable is not necessarily
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb140" href="#pb140" name=
"pb140">140</a>]</span>to endorse it as ideal, and that the object of
this book is not to formulate Utopia, but to predict the consequences
implied by existing forces after the latter have been during a stated
time in operation; and admitting that no reform ever practised within
the recorded history of man has been without drawbacks inherent in its
own constitution, it may be said at once that the work of instruction
is capable of mechanical and instrumental improvement not less
considerable than any other labour to be undertaken by ourselves and
our successors. Even within a lifetime&rsquo;s limits all sorts of
appliances for assisting the mind of the learner to apprehend the facts
sought to be learnt have been invented, and our children, as we all
know, are much more easily taught than we were ourselves. The <i lang=
"la">laudator temporis acti</i> is always pretty ready to depreciate
the value of these improvements, and perhaps it is natural enough in
most of us to find it difficult to believe that any plan of teaching
can be better for our children than the one which produced results so
pleasingly exemplified by ourselves. But at all events, it will be
generally, if a little grudgingly, admitted that any form of
<i>apparatus</i> capable of saving time and trouble in teaching is
capable of being ranked as an improvement. Unquestionably appliances
having this object will be constantly invented and used during the
present century. For instance, it is hardly <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb141" href="#pb141" name=
"pb141">141</a>]</span>conceivable that something less than perfection
in the teaching of a foreign pronunciation by the mouth of the best
teacher who can be hired for the work will content us, when perfected
talking-machines presently enable us to give examples of the still
better speech. Evidently a boy would learn to speak French with a purer
accent by listening to a phonograph which, freed of the present
tin-trumpet <i>timbre</i> and whirring, repeated the speech of the
<i lang="fr">Com&eacute;die Fran&ccedil;aise</i>, than by hearing an
ordinary master read aloud. To say this is not to suggest that
professors of languages will be dispensed with; but their teaching can
be thus supplemented. Similarly the use of magic-lanterns and
kinetoscopic pictures is capable of improving greatly upon the
blackboard and chalk still used. But the plan of education in itself is
so greatly more important to be foreseen than the mechanism by which
the details can be worked out, and the latter can with so very little
difficulty be imagined by anyone interested in them, that the reader
shall not be troubled with any discussion of this branch of the
subject, but will rather be asked to concentrate his attention upon the
moral and intellectual aspects of it.</p>
<p class="par">Conceiving, what I have all along endeavoured to show is
reasonable to conceive, that all social institutions will be governed
with ever-increasing intelligence and rationality as time goes on, and
that they could not possibly <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb142" href=
"#pb142" name="pb142">142</a>]</span>be tolerated otherwise, it is easy
to see that education as hitherto and at present practised would never
do for our grandchildren, let alone for our more advanced descendants a
hundred years hence. To begin with, parents in that era would certainly
consider it hopelessly and criminally unethical, if not actively
immoral. Projects of reform, especially in morals, are often dismissed
as visionary, because it is pointed out that no changes can take place
in the social order which do not appeal directly to the self-interest
of the individual. In other words, there is no mainspring of social
action except aggregated selfishness. Without delaying to examine the
validity of the belief, it may be said at once that its full acceptance
is no obstacle to the admission of the whole case on which is founded
the belief that education will be conducted chiefly with a view to its
moral effect at the period I am attempting to describe. The very
circumstances on which writers rely, who predict the ethical
deterioration of man, are those which make the ethical reform of
education inevitable. Precisely in proportion as competition tends to
harden and debase, there will arise the unavoidable necessity for
deliberate counter-action of this tendency, resulting, as the effect of
the measures necessitated becomes felt, in the changes of commercial
and political conditions already<a class="noteref" id="xd21e1134src"
href="#xd21e1134" name="xd21e1134src">1</a> predicted. If we consider
at all <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb143" href="#pb143" name=
"pb143">143</a>]</span>thoughtfully the necessities of a hundred years
hence, it is not difficult to foresee the general lines upon which they
are likely to be met&mdash;lines not necessary to be accepted as
representing a perfect or ideal state, but broadly indicating the
methods which the effect of visible tendencies will by that time demand
of a practical people.</p>
<p class="par">Here, as everywhere else, the only safe guidance as to
the practice of the future must be sought in the tendencies of the
present. The tendency most forcibly in evidence during recent times is
that in favour of softening the former acerbities of education. Whereas
the schoolhouse of half a century ago was something like a penitentiary
in the way it was conducted, the schoolhouse of to-day is managed as
much like a place of recreation as it possibly can be. At all events,
recreation is at least as assiduously cultivated as study, and the
candidate for an under-mastership who has a good cricket record will
find employment a good deal more easily than one with a double-first.
If there be any complaint of public and other upper-class schools at
the present time&mdash;and there is room for plenty of
complaint&mdash;it is more often that games are too much insisted upon
than that brains are overtaxed. There is a visible reaction in regard
to this; but it is not to be regarded as a reaction in favour of the
old draconic methods. On the contrary, &ldquo;the growing <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb144" href="#pb144" name=
"pb144">144</a>]</span>sentimentality of the age&rdquo; steadily
demands amenity of treatment for the fortunate offspring of the
twentieth century. The late James Payn, sanest and kindliest of men,
was never tired of denouncing what he called the barbarous and indecent
corporal punishments of Eton. He used to say that if a picture of an
Eton boy being birched were published in the <i>Illustrated London
News</i> no boy would ever be birched again, and I believe that he
tried to get either Mr Latey or Mr Shorter to insert such a picture. Be
this as it may, what he said was perfectly true. I shall have something
to say presently on this same question of school discipline: meantime
it may with perfect safety be predicted of the master&rsquo;s cane a
hundred years hence that it will be found only in museums, and (whether
rightly or wrongly) be regarded as a relic of degrading barbarism. One
reason why corporal punishment will have to be abolished is that boys
and girls will certainly be educated together instead of apart. As we
could hardly cane girls (and it would be of very little use if we
could) we shall assuredly have to get on without caning their masculine
schoolmates.</p>
<p class="par">I suppose that few will contest the statement that the
religious teaching practised in schools at the present time not only
has very little to do with the question of morality but tends
distinctly, except in Roman Catholic seminaries <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb145" href="#pb145" name="pb145">145</a>]</span>and
some few non-conforming colleges where a special kind of education is
given, to have less and less connection therewith. Whatever moral
effect &ldquo;schooling&rdquo; has upon the adolescent is recognisably
and recognisedly due to the &ldquo;tone&rdquo; of the school itself,
that is, to public opinion among the taught, and only indirectly to
anything which emanates from the teachers. Assuredly a proficient
knowledge of Biblical history has no ethical effect greater than a
proficient knowledge of Greek mythology (at least of so much of it as
is properly selected for school use), and we have it on the authority
of Mr E. H. Cooper, a very entertaining if not particularly sound
writer on children, that even &ldquo;Confirmation&rdquo; classes are by
no means uniform in promoting a religious sentiment in boys.<a class=
"noteref" id="xd21e1155src" href="#xd21e1155" name=
"xd21e1155src">2</a></p>
<p class="par">The moral advantages of education, therefore, tend to be
found in the effect of public opinion and the general
&ldquo;tone&rdquo; of a school. It is discovered in practice that
direct moral inculcation is not very successful. It is to be assumed
that the ingenuity of future p&aelig;dagogues will be devoted to the
discovery of the best ways in which indirect moral influence can be
cultivated. In view of the high importance which will evidently be
attached to such influence, we may take it for granted that it is not
in connection with any single branch of <span class="pagenum">[<a id=
"pb146" href="#pb146" name="pb146">146</a>]</span>tuition that it will
be sought for, but that it will be root and branch of the whole scheme
of educational work. One very powerful assistance will be rendered to
this by the system of co-education.</p>
<p class="par">It is quite certain that boys and girls will always be
educated together a hundred years hence. The tendency of the sexes to
become less different intellectually is a known fact of
sociology.<a class="noteref" id="xd21e1166src" href="#xd21e1166" name=
"xd21e1166src">3</a> It carries with it an inevitable tendency to
dispense with the separation of the sexes in education. Wherever
co-education has been tried its effects have been excellent. The
presence of female students in medical colleges has had a markedly
reformative influence on the manners and moral tone of medical student
life, not long ago the <i>opprobrium</i> of civilisation. The
advantages to a parent of being able to send his sons and his daughters
to one place of instruction, and to the children themselves of the
companionship and maintenance of family relations thus afforded, are
equally obvious. In one other respect, which can only be touched upon
lightly here, the system of joint education must be enormously
beneficial, at all events to boys, and greatly beneficial to their
sisters. Every competent schoolmaster is acquainted with special
difficulties liable to arise about the age of puberty. The monastic
seclusion of the schoolboy <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb147" href=
"#pb147" name="pb147">147</a>]</span>(like that of the single men in
barracks who, according to Mr Kipling, &ldquo;don&rsquo;t grow into
plaster saints&rdquo;), and the glamorous mystery surrounding the
opposite sex, tend to accentuate these difficulties. The habit of
constant association with girls who are not his sisters relieves a boy
of the exaggerated sense of sexual isolation. A boy always brought up
with girls is not liable to be constantly thinking about girlhood: and
in practical experience many people are aware that boys who have had
the opportunity of frequent association with the girl friends of their
sisters grow into purer-minded and more chivalrous men, than those who
have lacked this advantage; and the thoughtful future will assuredly
cultivate the system which affords it. It is quite evident, in
addition, that the fatuous and unreasonable mystery with which for
centuries the natural facts most liable to be important in adult life
have been made inevitable subjects of unholy curiosity, will be swept
away, to the great enhancement of sane and clean thought in girls as
well as in boys, in young women even more than in young men: while the
tragedies which knowledge can avert, hidden horrors of our own day that
we are too sentimental to envisage, but that everyone must now and then
have met with a hint of, will happily exist no more, or occur but
rarely.</p>
<p class="par">Among the indirect considerations which <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb148" href="#pb148" name="pb148">148</a>]</span>will
assist us to the conclusion that co-education is the best, will be the
endeavour, everywhere apparent, to make the work of teaching agreeable
to the taught. This is the keynote of the tendencies whose fruition we
may look for at the end of this century. It will have been recognised
that to conceive of education as a process of forcing knowledge into
unwilling memories is to place the greatest possible obstacle in the
way of success. Even the child whose natural faculties are joyously
receptive is bound to resist more or less unconsciously teaching that
is conducted on the assumption that he won&rsquo;t learn if he can
possibly help it. The worst child in the class sets the tone of the
rest. The boy who can most successfully evade real learning, and trick
his instructors well enough to escape punishment, is the hero of the
place. Nothing could be much worse for morality. Public opinion in
schools, useful as it is in other respects, is everywhere harmful in
this particular. The p&aelig;dagogue of the future will proceed on a
method far more rational.</p>
<p class="par">In its essence it is quite easy to see what method the
tendency of thought is likely to develop. Here, as in so many other
places, etymology can help us. If we could think, whenever we talk or
make plans concerning the subject, of what education really
means&mdash;a drawing-out of the natural faculties of the <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb149" href="#pb149" name=
"pb149">149</a>]</span>instructed&mdash;we should always conceive more
rationally of the work. There is no animal whose greatest pleasures are
derived from anything else than the exercise of its faculties. Our dog,
whether he jumps and tears about in glee as we take him for a walk, or
sits happily by our side, his head on our knees, his wistful eyes
scrutinising our face, sympathetic with every emotion, illustrates this
fact. In the one case he is exercising the natural faculties of speed
and vigorous agility; in the latter, the acquired and inherited
faculties of mental comprehension. Shut him up in a room alone, or with
an unfriendly person, and he is miserable or goes to sleep, providently
accumulating energy for the next opportunity of exercise. What I am not
afraid to call his mental pleasures are not less keen, if I know
anything at all of dogs (who have loved many of them) than his physical
pleasures; and I never had a dog in my life who would not cheerfully
neglect his food to come indoors and sit with me in my library. Are
children&rsquo;s brains less energetic, less capable of yielding
pleasure to their small proprietors than the brains of a dog? One of
the mistakes that we are already beginning to find out (and
consequently one of those which we may expect to have amended long
before this time next century) is the tacit assumption that games are
richer in pleasure than study. It isn&rsquo;t the boys and girls
themselves <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb150" href="#pb150" name=
"pb150">150</a>]</span>that give this tincture to school-government.
Plenty of them really prefer books before balls, until they go to
school; where we at once proceed to show them that we regard cricket as
a sort of alleviation of their hard lot, and with football console them
for their French lessons, and redress arithmetic by
&ldquo;rounders.&rdquo; There is no reason why this should lead to any
neglect of athletics. Only, athletics will be properly treated as only
one of the joys of a school life that will be fulfilled of other
pleasures equally absorbing.</p>
<p class="par">The method which will make education agreeable instead
of repulsive is part and parcel of the system on which education will
be conducted, and it is only incidentally that it will subserve the
concurrent sentimental tenderness which finds expression to-day in
unwise use of games in themselves highly beneficial, just as elsewhere
it finds expression by cultivating gluttony.<a class="noteref" id=
"xd21e1189src" href="#xd21e1189" name="xd21e1189src">4</a> <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb151" href="#pb151" name="pb151">151</a>]</span></p>
<p class="par">The true object of instruction being to show children
how to think, the intellectual exercise of thinking will be always
found, as it has already long ago been found where this highly unusual
method has been experimented with, to give keen pleasure to the
instructed.<a class="noteref" id="xd21e1200src" href="#xd21e1200" name=
"xd21e1200src">5</a></p>
<p class="par">A great deal that has been said both in regard to the
excessive and in part exclusive training of memory, and in regard to
the propriety of reversing the general order of tuition by proceeding
from concrete facts to generalised theories instead of beginning with
generalisations and illustrating these by specific instances, is, for
practical reasons, hardly likely to be acted upon by our descendants.
To begin with, the culture of memory is not in itself an abuse; on the
contrary, it is a highly necessary feature of education. What is an
abuse is the <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb152" href="#pb152" name=
"pb152">152</a>]</span>substitution of remembrance for ratiocination.
Teachers in the future will be more anxious to develop the mind from
within than to graft information upon it from without. But they
certainly will foster the faculty called memory&mdash;or to speak more
exactly, they will refrain from destroying that faculty in the way that
present-day education destroys it. For as a matter of fact, the memory
of a young child who has never been taught anything is invariably good,
being both copious and retentive. One often hears it said that children
quickly forget; but it is also the case that they very quickly remember
again. An Anglo-Indian friend told me a somewhat pleasing anecdote
which (though of course it does not prove) illustrates a general fact
of which anyone can find proofs for himself by a little observation.
Having taken home for a year&rsquo;s leave his children, reared, like
all other English children in India, amid native servants, and speaking
quite correct Urdu instead of the barbarous dog-Hindustani which
suffices for their elders, he was under the impression, when the
&ldquo;wicked day of destiny&rdquo; arrived, and the family had to
return from refreshment in England to labour in India, that they had
completely forgotten the soft vernacular speech which formerly came
much more easily from them than English. And his belief was confirmed
when, the children having been promptly <span class="pagenum">[<a id=
"pb153" href="#pb153" name="pb153">153</a>]</span>carried off by the
adoring servants, an aged bearer came to him almost in tears,
complaining that &ldquo;Baba Sahib&rdquo; could not understand him. But
the next day all the little people were chattering Urdu as easily as
ever. The fact is that a child&rsquo;s mind concentrates itself
intensely upon whatever subject interests at a given moment, and
neglects everything else. By our present method of education we do all
that the most malignant ingenuity could devise to destroy both this
invaluable gift of mental concentration and the accompanying faculty of
memory. The new teaching will industriously cultivate both. There is no
doubt that the premature and unskilful use of books as implements of
instruction is extremely bad for the memory; and the employment of
distasteful and inconsiderate methods of teaching is equally
destructive of concentration. A hundred years hence, when it has been
recognised that the easiest way to teach anything is to find out how a
child can be made to <i>want</i> to learn about it, there will be no
difficulty in securing attention. Children&rsquo;s minds do not, as
most people suppose, tire very easily. On the contrary, they are with
great difficulty fatigued. Anyone who has been so imprudent as to
embark on a course of tale-telling near bedtime or near a meal hour,
knows that the little people are almost incapable of being satiated.
And the descendants <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb154" href="#pb154"
name="pb154">154</a>]</span>of these little people will be just as
insatiable of being taught, because we shall have found out how to make
them want to be taught.</p>
<p class="par">Herein is the whole keynote of the education of the
future, moral as well as intellectual. We shall no longer treat good
behaviour as if it were an artificial and unnatural abstinence from the
true desires of the child or of man. We shall arrange that people,
young and old, may <i>wish</i> to act rightly. The point of reform will
be shifted. At present, all kinds of morality are approached on the
assumption that it is requisite to persuade to an unwilling abstinence
from vice, and that when the desires of the wicked have been curbed
into a sort of ascetic abstemiousness prompted by fear of punishment,
whether overt or implicit, a moral feat has been performed. The new
morality will only be content when the subject of it would not sin if
you asked him to. His moral sense will have been stoically cultivated.
Obedience and the law of Thou-shalt-not will be dethroned. This law
represents in the education of to-day the highest form of youthful
virtue. Yet mere obedience, even where it has always been considered
most valuable, namely, where it takes the shape of military discipline,
has proved an utter failure; the last two great wars proved the fact.
If the lamentable doggerel which enshrines the applauded
self-immolation of Casabianca <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb155"
href="#pb155" name="pb155">155</a>]</span>have not fortunately been
forgotten altogether a hundred years hence, it will assuredly be quoted
only as a monumental example of old-fashioned fat-headedness, even more
offensive to the sense of reason than the verses themselves are to the
sense of poetical taste. The Casabiancas of the next century will have
been allowed&mdash;I do not say taught, because children don&rsquo;t
need to be taught this&mdash;to think for themselves. And no great
exertion will have been required. On the contrary, it is impossible to
listen for many hours to what goes on in a modern school without being
impressed with the ingenious arrangements that are required in order to
prevent boys and girls from thinking for themselves. The notion of
their doing so seems as offensive to the present race of schoolmasters
as, to Mr W. S. Gilbert&rsquo;s sentinel,&mdash;</p>
<div class="lgouter">
<p class="line xd21e1226">... &ldquo;the prospect of a lot</p>
<p class="line">Of dull M.P.s in close proximity</p>
<p class="line">All thinking for themselves.&rdquo;</p>
</div>
<p class="par first">However, the purpose of this dissertation is not
so much to point out the errors of the present as to indicate the
improvements of the future: and we may be sure that the prime virtues
of the scholar a hundred years hence will be reasonableness and
ingenuity, not dull obedience. Thus right conduct will be inculcated,
not as an expression of obedience <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb156"
href="#pb156" name="pb156">156</a>]</span>but as the only reasonable
way of behaving, and the incentive to right action will be that it is
also sensible action. The test of all conduct will be its results.
Whatever does harm to self and others will be obviously wrong; what
does good or is indifferent will be right. The standard of these things
that has to be accepted all through life will be set up from the first,
an enormous improvement upon the vicious system of exacting irrational
obedience for the first eighteen or twenty-one years of life, and
expecting this to produce reasonable self-government thereafter, which
is so fruitful in the wild-oats of early adulthood. The latter could
hardly be more ingeniously cultivated.</p>
<p class="par">It would be extremely rash to conclude that books will
not be employed as implements of instruction: but it is quite certain
that they will not be employed as they now are, chiefly for the purpose
of saving a schoolmaster the trouble of making his pupils think for
themselves: and incidentally the abolition of this mistake will react
most usefully upon memory, itself, with the exception of reasoning
power, the most valuable of mental faculties. Oral teaching,
accompanied in every possible place by practical illustration, will
store and build up memory (as it always does when we employ it now) far
more rapidly than anything else. The delight which this method of
teaching confers upon the taught is enhanced by the avidity
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb157" href="#pb157" name=
"pb157">157</a>]</span>with which such subjects as chemistry, practical
mechanics, and even geometry when taught with apparatus instead of with
figures, are received by children of every growth.</p>
<p class="par">To imagine that children can ever invariably be
controlled without some sort of punishments would, no doubt, be thought
ridiculous Utopianism. But the greatest part of the necessity for
correction will have disappeared automatically when the greatest source
of youthful misbehaviour&mdash;restless superfluous activity&mdash;has
been deviated into channels which will utilise it. Children whisper,
fidget, or make a noise in class, simply because they are bored by the
dulness of mechanical processes which we persistently use in seeking to
cram information into their minds from without instead of exercising
the reason that dwells within. As the education of future generations
will assuredly have to be a great deal more copious than what we are
content with now, it is fortunate that this reform will also be a great
economiser of time. Every schoolmaster knows that an interested class
progresses far more rapidly than one that is bored and consequently
inattentive; and the same boy who is alive to the subtlest implications
of the highly complex law of cricket, will often be found utterly
incapable of applying the very simple definitions at the beginning of
Euclid I., for the simple reason that cricket interests him, while
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb158" href="#pb158" name=
"pb158">158</a>]</span>Euclid doesn&rsquo;t. This is not because the
latter is &ldquo;harder&rdquo; than cricket, nor yet because cricket is
an outdoor pleasure, while Euclid is (or rather should be) an indoor
one. It is because in cricket we get him into the habit of reasoning
for himself, while in geometry we only too frequently fail to do what
Euclid is supposed to help us to do.</p>
<p class="par">Nevertheless, after making every allowance for reduced
temptations to misbehaviour resulting from the absorption of redundant
mental activity, it is still to be feared that disciplinary punishment
will sometimes be required. This will certainly not be corporal. The
uncivilised and degrading expedient of purposely-inflicted pain is
visibly on its last legs. There are still reactionary people who write
to the papers in order to explain that the use of scholastic torture
makes for manliness; they must be presumed to think that it would be on
the whole rather good for boys to be birched at intervals, like Charles
Lamb, not as a punishment, but to keep them humble. But the next
century will have outgrown such ideas. The commonest of present-day
alternatives&mdash;&ldquo;lines&rdquo;&mdash;is equally obsolescent,
the evil effect of this upon handwriting and health being already
recognised. &ldquo;Keeping-in&rdquo; is probably the most injurious of
all forms of correction, but it is only too consistent with our present
plans of education to treat extra <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb159"
href="#pb159" name="pb159">159</a>]</span>tuition as a
punishment&mdash;the best possible way to make all teaching hated. It
is much more likely that the schoolmaster of a hundred years hence will
punish refractory and inattentive pupils by keeping-out instead of
keeping-in. The most detested of all chastisements will be exclusion
from the pleasant exercise of learning. During the Russo-Japanese War
newspaper readers noted with saturnine amusement that the artillery
regiment which in St Petersburg had the maladroitness to fire a salute
with a shotted gun and very nearly kill the Czar thereby, was punished
by being sent to the front; while at the beginning of hostilities the
exemplary conduct of the enormous Japanese army crowded in Tokio for
transport was accounted for by the threat that any soldier who
misbehaved himself would be left at home. It is the Japanese and not
the Russian ideal of discipline that will animate the schools of the
future. We shall no doubt emulate the reserve of the Confessor in the
<i>Bab Ballads</i>; old heads upon young shoulders we shall not expect
to find; and we shall punish when punish we must. Future advantage,
even for oneself, is seldom a very powerful motive with the young of
any age. But present deprivation is a chastisement easily and keenly
comprehended: and the loss of intellectual status involved in exclusion
from a lesson will no doubt supplement the immediate boredom very
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb160" href="#pb160" name=
"pb160">160</a>]</span>distasteful to an agile mind, which is the more
immediate effect. I imagine that the naughty child of the future will
be punished by being shut up in a well-ventilated and well-lighted but
perfectly empty room, with pockets equally empty. At the same time, by
treating deprivation of it as an evident chastisement, the desirable
nature of instruction will be in a very useful manner impressed upon
the infant mind. Young persons much more easily believe what they find
to be treated as a matter of course than what is laboriously impressed
upon them by explicit inculcation. Thus the effect of rationalised
education will not be, as one critic has rather rashly supposed, to
make children little prigs. On the contrary, its effect will be to make
them naturally and happily interested little learners&mdash;a very
different thing. One of the very greatest improvements in the
rationalised education will precisely be that it cannot possibly foster
the awful priggishness which is a very common result of our own
methods.</p>
<p class="par">It has been said already that the education of the happy
future will have to be much more copious than anything that is at all
common nowadays. The nature of its extensions will next be
discussed.</p>
<p class="par">One of the most important and most moral objects of
education is to impress upon the mind, as a principle not to be evaded
by any <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb161" href="#pb161" name=
"pb161">161</a>]</span>contrivance whatever, the fact that fixed causes
(among which are personal acts of any kind) produce fixed
effects&mdash;that there is no circumstance which, with sufficient
knowledge, could not be traced back to pre-existing causative
circumstance. No department of knowledge tends so intimately to give to
the mind the impress of this fact in the course of its acquisition as
physical science. And as a proficient acquaintance with physical
science will be necessary to a great many occupations, when work of all
kinds is performed in the intelligent manner in which we have seen
reason to be convinced that it will be performed a hundred years hence,
there will be a greater practical need for scientific instruction than
there is now, though science is disgracefully neglected even with
regard to our present necessities. As education is to be given with the
object of fitting children for life as well as developing their minds,
the science of health will certainly be taught; but all physical
sciences will have their place on the curriculum even at the early
stages, because it will have been recognised that the habit of mind
which is formed by studies of this kind is not only very necessary to
an efficient working life, but also very helpful as a basis of
practical culture. It may be conceived that a thorough
&ldquo;grounding&rdquo; in physical science will be thought as much an
essential of all education in the future as a really good training in
Latin <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb162" href="#pb162" name=
"pb162">162</a>]</span>and Greek used to be considered in the past, and
as many of us would like it to be considered now. Fifty years ago we
believed that no true education could be given in preparation for
ordinary life without as much Latin as was necessary in order to be
able to write a fair copy of elegiacs, and as much Greek as was
necessary in order to read Homer with comfort. A hundred years hence we
shall think it necessary to be able to read a scientific thesis
comprehendingly.</p>
<p class="par">At a later period of school life, but still early in it,
specialised instruction will no doubt be begun; and subjects connected
with the evident tendency of a boy&rsquo;s or a girl&rsquo;s mind, and
with the opportunities likely to be presented to either in forming a
career, will be developed to the exclusion of subjects less immediately
subservient to the object of making a useful citizen of him or her in
some particular profession or branch of industry. Practical
demonstrations of science, instead of being reserved for the more
advanced stages of tuition, will, on the contrary, form the groundwork;
and children will be required to work practically themselves instead of
merely sitting still to watch the performances (in this case apt to be
regarded with little more respect than scholastic conjuring tricks) of
a teacher. They will be invited to deduce laws for themselves from what
occurs in practice, and where they deduce wrong ones <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb163" href="#pb163" name="pb163">163</a>]</span>they
will not be arbitrarily corrected, but assisted to make further
experiments which will show where the mistake occurs, until at last the
correct generalisation is reached. Only after a considerable course of
practical work will they be entrusted with books in which great
generalisations are to be found ready made, and these books will always
be regarded as a sort of <i lang="fr">pis aller</i>&mdash;a time-saving
contrivance to be employed as a regrettable alternative, because it
would take too long to work everything out by the golden implement of
individual observation. The habit of mind thus cultivated, and the
manual dexterity thus obtained, will be of priceless practical worth in
after-life; and with what rapturous enjoyment will our descendants
acquire knowledge which at present we force upon our children with
stripes!</p>
<p class="par">Along with the physical sciences mathematics will have
to be greatly cultivated. But mathematics, when perceived to be
ancillary to the more immediately delightful work of concrete and
experimental science, will lose much terror. Many mathematical
operations can moreover be demonstrated experimentally, and no
opportunity of thus demonstrating them will be lost. Rightly treated,
mathematics need never be dull. According to my own experience and all
that I have been able to gather from the recollections of others,
algebra (for instance) is never abhorred when a proper care is taken to
make <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb164" href="#pb164" name=
"pb164">164</a>]</span>use of its call upon the reasoning faculties;
and the art of evoking this use will have been carefully developed by
the educational specialists who alone will be permitted to direct so
delicate and important a task as the training of the young. For school
teachers will not be merely more or less erudite people employed to
dispense their learning: they will be men and women who have undergone
long and careful instruction in the art of p&aelig;dagogy studied as a
specialised faculty in itself.</p>
<p class="par">After mathematics, no doubt languages occupy chief place
in the righteous abhorrence of present-day school-children. I say
righteous abhorrence with intention, because this department of useful
learning always has the air of being purposely planned in order to
secure the maximum of execration accompanied by the minimum of
advantage. What languages will be taught a hundred years hence, and in
what manner will they be instilled into the children of our
great-great-grand-children? Any opinions upon a controversy so recent
as that which a few months ago raged about the question of compulsory
Greek must be more or less untrustworthy. Every man will take the view
of the future of the dead languages (so called, as someone<a class=
"noteref" id="xd21e1274src" href="#xd21e1274" name="xd21e1274src">6</a>
sanguinely remarked, because they can never die) determined by his own
view as to whether proficiency in the <span class="pagenum">[<a id=
"pb165" href="#pb165" name="pb165">165</a>]</span>tongues of Hellas and
of Rome ought to be maintained in his own day. But for a reason
probably admitting of very little controversy, it is at all events
permissible to believe that the classical languages will at least not
have to meet the urgent competition of a variety of current languages
as subjects of useful learning. This reason is to be found in the
evident tendency of a paramount tongue to extrude other tongues from
practical employment in commerce; and commerce, more than anything
else, will of course always determine the question of modern language
study. Provided that the race which becomes paramount in the markets of
the world during the course of this century possesses a reasonably
philosophical, copious, precise language, and one fairly easy to
acquire, it is likely that for commercial purposes it will become (to
use an incorrect, but not conveniently replaceable term) universal. To
the facile remark that every nation considers its own speech easy
enough for foreigners to acquire, and much more satisfactory in the
other respects named than any tongue which it is invited to give itself
the trouble of learning, may be opposed the reply that peoples do in
fact recognise, where it exists, the unsatisfactory nature of their own
speech. For example, nearly every Russian whom one meets in polite or
commercial circles speaks at least French, and often speaks it
admirably; while in Norway, <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb166" href=
"#pb166" name="pb166">166</a>]</span>though the Scandinavian languages
are none of them anything like so difficult to learn as Russian,
practically everyone speaks English. The case of Japan is even more
illustrative; for apart from the fact that enough of some European
language to enable one to travel with perfect comfort is always to be
found current in the Mikado&rsquo;s empire, it is the case that even
for domestic use the Japanese have a popular language, printed in
newspapers and in some books alongside of the more literary Chinese
id&aelig;ographs, and frequently used to elucidate the latter.<a class=
"noteref" id="xd21e1281src" href="#xd21e1281" name=
"xd21e1281src">7</a></p>
<p class="par">Thus it is quite easy to believe that the paramount
language of commerce will impose itself upon at least the business
population of the whole world. As the substitution of modern languages
for the dead languages is advocated solely on utilitarian grounds,
which <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb167" href="#pb167" name=
"pb167">167</a>]</span>practically means that it is advocated because
to know a couple or more foreign languages is useful in trade; and as
no one has ever seriously pretended that French, German or any other
modern language can compare with Greek and Latin as intellectual
gymnastics and as training in the precise expression of one&rsquo;s
thoughts; it may be assumed that, on the ground of competitive
usefulness, the latter will not need to be dispensed with. Whether the
study of them will be abandoned on the ground that the time they
require can be better employed in some study other than that of
languages is another and more difficult question, the resolution of
which depends upon the view we take of the literary tendencies probably
existing after another century. If we believe that our descendants will
have effected so many improvements in the shape of labour-saving
contrivances as to afford a large increase of leisure for <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb168" href="#pb168" name=
"pb168">168</a>]</span>everyone, as compared with what the present time
enjoys, we shall probably expect the languages which enshrine the
greatest literature of the world to remain a subject of study. If we
believe in the growing intellectuality of man, we shall be strengthened
in the same expectation. If, on the other hand, we think that the
progress of our race will exhibit itself in the shape of greedy
utilitarianism and of idiotic and self-destructive immorality, we shall
naturally conclude that no one will be fool enough to trouble himself
with Homer or the Oresteian trilogy, the laments of Sappho or the
philosophy of Plato. Seeing what great men have taken this somewhat
despondent view of the future, it would perhaps be immodest to express
any other opinion on the subject.</p>
<p class="par">In any event, we may safely believe that whatever
languages are taught will not be handled in the manner now current. Mr
Andrew Lang has, in more than one place, described his own
&ldquo;floundering&rdquo; into Homer&mdash;a plunge certainly attended
with the happiest results. A method of teaching alien languages which
founds itself upon an imitation of the natural picking-up of the mother
tongue by babies has been suggested, perhaps without sufficient
consideration of the vast expenditure of time necessary to the process,
and certainly without sufficient allowance for the fact that it would
be impossible to afford the same incessant <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb169" href="#pb169" name=
"pb169">169</a>]</span>practice which enables children to learn the
language of their fathers and mothers so easily. But there is no reason
why we should perpetuate the discouraging preponderance of grammatical
and etymological study which caused the late H. D. Traill to say of
certain professors that</p>
<div class="lgouter">
<p class="line">&ldquo;They heard with a smile of the flowers of
style</p>
<p class="line">For they recognised nothing but roots!&rdquo;</p>
</div>
<p class="par first">In fact, here as elsewhere, the persistent demand
that schooling be made agreeable will have the best possible effect in
facilitating instruction. It is as literature that all
languages&mdash;including the native language of the
scholars&mdash;will be taught; and they will be taught far more easily
than we have any example to assist us in imagining. Where a foreign
language pronounced with a different accent and intonation from that of
the learner is studied, no doubt (as already mentioned) talking
machines will be employed: and in addition, pupils will be required to
read and speak the language aloud on all possible occasions, in order
to exercise the organs of speech in the alien manner.<a class="noteref"
id="xd21e1304src" href="#xd21e1304" name="xd21e1304src">8</a>
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb170" href="#pb170" name=
"pb170">170</a>]</span></p>
<p class="par">It is a trite saying, and one that need not be dwelt
upon here, that history ought not to be taught as if its sole purpose
were to store the memory with the deeds and misdeeds of kings and the
progress of various wars. It will certainly be studied hereafter as a
vast lesson in sociology and politics, as an illustration of the
science of human dynamics. It is perhaps not superfluous to remark that
brilliant examples of the new historiography have shown that the
difference is not, in its result, so great as some critics imagine. But
the deductions from the facts of history are the important matter: and
the way in which history will be used a hundred years hence will be in
instructing the future governors of the world how to use their
citizenship wisely. Among other things expected of the schoolmaster of
the future will be that he implant in his scholars an ardent desire to
do their part in determining the polity of the state they live in, and
the sacred duty of the ballot will certainly be taught with relation to
whatever methods of utilising the popular vote may by that time have
become current.</p>
<p class="par">Moreover, history, like languages, is capable of being
taught as literature; and the protest against the prevalent notion that
high civilisation involves the decadence of beauty in any form implies
belief in all the arts as subjects of cultivation in the schools of the
future. It need not be supposed that the unreasonable waste
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb171" href="#pb171" name=
"pb171">171</a>]</span>of time entailed by the present method of
teaching such a subject as drawing, and our curious neglect of
sculpture and modelling, will be perpetuated. As we can already see the
dawn of new ideas on both these subjects the tendency of the future in
regard to them is not difficult to conceive, nor need space be consumed
in discussing them in detail. Literature and poetry (the latter, I need
hardly say, no longer made merely hateful as the subject of the fatuous
torture called &ldquo;learning by heart&rdquo;) with <i lang=
"fr">belles-lettres</i>, drawing, painting, and sculpture, will no
doubt be taught in an elementary way to all children, and the study of
them developed further where a natural appetite demands it. In reply to
the very natural question, &ldquo;How can an art be taught?&rdquo; it
is only needful to say that minds exercised by being made to think
about such subjects, are quite certain to exhibit special predilections
in one place and special aversions in another, and that the
ascertainment of these predilections and aversions will everywhere be
made the subject of painstaking thought. While nobody seriously
pretends nowadays that a taste for literature or the arts can be
inoculated upon a child&rsquo;s understanding, I imagine that few will
question the belief that a natural bent for any one of them can be
assisted in its development, and that taste, while it is incapable of
being artificially implanted, certainly is susceptible of <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb172" href="#pb172" name=
"pb172">172</a>]</span>being guided and assisted. The defect of routine
teaching in &aelig;sthetics at present is the defect of all our systems
of education. We try to do a scholar&rsquo;s thinking for him. We
laboriously show him how to use a pencil and how to copy drawings and
pictures; and sometimes (though this kind of instruction is usually
retailed by the ingenious writers who endeavour to instruct the adult
public through the Press) we even go to the trouble of telling him the
kind of pictures he ought to admire (usually forgetting that in the
house of Art there are many mansions, and that a disgust for the early
Dutch masters does not necessarily imply an incapacity for appreciating
Velasquez); but, whether in adolescence or maturity, we never seem to
arrive at the point of trying to get people to think critically for
themselves. We shall reform altogether the processes of artistic
education in the course of this century.</p>
<p class="par">The training of eye and hand will certainly not be
neglected. If only because learning any kind of handicraft gives the
keenest enjoyment to children, we may be sure that manual instruction
will be given, and that the effect of it will be of great value, not
only recreative but also practical. Our mechanics will not have to
inaugurate the wage-earning period of their lives by the elementary
acquisition of the use of tools. Their future occupation will have been
foreseen, and both by scientific understanding <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb173" href="#pb173" name="pb173">173</a>]</span>of
the processes they are to subserve, and by manual practice of the exact
work they are to perform, they will be prepared for intelligent
craftsmanship; the glorious fact that real anxiety to find out the best
possible method of attaining the best possible results makes every
craft, however humble, not merely delightful but also noble, being
automatically grasped, so that work, like learning, will be a thing of
joy and a source, to the worker, of lifelong self-respect.</p>
<p class="par">Thus in every department of education the result of the
training administered intelligently, and with almost infinite
long-sightedness and subtlety during school-days, will be to form
character, not by repression of any natural predilection, but by
cultivation of mental and moral impulses to good. We shall never be
content with an obedient abstention from misconduct, but shall
unrestingly contrive that the <i>desire</i> to act rightly as well as
wisely be implanted in the mind, until wisdom, righteousness and
forethought have been stamped upon the character with so indelible an
imprint that it would do violence to the whole contour of the mind to
act in defiance of them. A people thus trained will be capable of all
the reforms predicted of society a hundred years hence. Not by any of
the unimaginable cataclysms by which dreamers have expected Utopia to
be established, ready-made, on a basis of <span class="pagenum">[<a id=
"pb174" href="#pb174" name="pb174">174</a>]</span>unreformed obedience
to the will of fantastic lawgivers, but by the steady growth of
national morality will progress,</p>
<div class="lgouter">
<p class="line">&ldquo;Moving as beauteous order that controls</p>
<p class="line">With growing sway the growing life of man,&rdquo;</p>
</div>
<p class="par first">establish, on the basis of a perfect harmony
between the nature of the units and the institutions of society, the
rationalised, moralised, and still progressive state of the world
looked for by all who contemplate logically and with ordered faith the
capabilities of their kind a hundred years hence. <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb175" href="#pb175" name="pb175">175</a>]</span></p>
</div>
<div class="footnotes">
<hr class="fnsep">
<p class="par footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id=
"xd21e1134" href="#xd21e1134src" name="xd21e1134">1</a></span> <i lang=
"la">Ante</i>, <a href="#ch3">Chapter III</a>.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow"
href="#xd21e1134src">&uarr;</a></p>
<p class="par footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id=
"xd21e1155" href="#xd21e1155src" name="xd21e1155">2</a></span> <i>The
Twentieth Century Child.</i> Chapter III.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href=
"#xd21e1155src">&uarr;</a></p>
<p class="par footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id=
"xd21e1166" href="#xd21e1166src" name="xd21e1166">3</a></span> Spencer:
<i>Study of Sociology.</i> Chapter XV.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href=
"#xd21e1166src">&uarr;</a></p>
<p class="par footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id=
"xd21e1189" href="#xd21e1189src" name="xd21e1189">4</a></span> Having
properly decided that it is well for children to be fed plainly while
at school, parents take the greatest pleasure in alleviating this
plainness by &ldquo;tuck baskets&rdquo; during term, and the most
wicked and immoral palate-tickling during holidays. Indeed an excessive
appetite seems to be regarded even by quite sensible people as rather
an ornament to the juvenile character. Mr Cooper, whose charming book,
<i>The Twentieth Century Child</i>, has already been referred to,
describes with what I am afraid is approval the incident of a boy whom
he brought away from school for a pleasure-trip just after lunch, and
who cheerfully devoured a second lunch in the company of his friend.
Assuredly our descendants will make no such mistakes as
this.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd21e1189src">&uarr;</a></p>
<p class="par footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id=
"xd21e1200" href="#xd21e1200src" name="xd21e1200">5</a></span> Tyndall
&ldquo;On the Importance of the Study of Physics as a Branch of
Education,&rdquo; a lecture at the Royal Institution: quoted by Herbert
Spencer in his <i>Education, Intellectual, Moral and Physical</i>, a
work which, though not very practical, contains a mass of very
suggestive matter on a subject which no one else, so far as I am aware,
has approached in quite the same spirit. As this book has been
reprinted at so low a price as sixpence, there is no excuse for any
parent who is unacquainted with its absolutely invaluable
teachings.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd21e1200src">&uarr;</a></p>
<p class="par footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id=
"xd21e1274" href="#xd21e1274src" name="xd21e1274">6</a></span> I think
Mr Andrew Lang.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href=
"#xd21e1274src">&uarr;</a></p>
<p class="par footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id=
"xd21e1281" href="#xd21e1281src" name="xd21e1281">7</a></span> Should
we ever have a &ldquo;universal&rdquo; language, is it altogether
chimerical to imagine that it might be an id&aelig;ographic one?
Provided that some simple code of id&aelig;ographic writing were
invented to denote the very limited number of concrete notions
essential to commercial correspondence, no one who has had occasion to
study Chinese, even in the most cursory manner, would think it at all a
severe effort of the imagination to conceive of an id&aelig;ographic
notation as being used for business correspondence. In Chinese, the
unit of expression is an idea. Words which relate to kindred subjects
include, in their id&aelig;ographs, the sign for the connecting link.
Thus the id&aelig;ograph for &ldquo;agriculture&rdquo; is made up of
the sign for &ldquo;strength&rdquo; and for &ldquo;a field.&rdquo;
Consequently, although the Japanese language when spoken sounds so
entirely unlike Chinese that a person knowing neither can distinguish
one from the other when heard across the width of a street, the
Japanese can read Chinese books without difficulty, and one form of
printing can be read by the Chinese of the North and those of the
South, although the spoken dialects differ so much that
&ldquo;pidgin&rdquo; English is often used by the two as a means of
spoken communication. An id&aelig;ographic medium of commercial writing
(not of course so archaic nor so cumbersome as Chinese, but
philosophically devised for the purpose) would release the student from
all difficulties of speech and accent; he would always name the signs
to himself in his own language.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href=
"#xd21e1281src">&uarr;</a></p>
<p class="par footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id=
"xd21e1304" href="#xd21e1304src" name="xd21e1304">8</a></span> A
method, it may be added, which can very usefully be practised now.
Those of us who &ldquo;rub-up&rdquo; our French or German a little
before a summer holiday by reading a novel or two, would always find
the results of this rubbing-up process to be greatly more effective,
when presently utilised abroad, if we would read always <i>aloud</i>
instead of in silence according to the usual procedure.&nbsp;<a class=
"fnarrow" href="#xd21e1304src">&uarr;</a></p>
</div>
</div>
<div id="ch9" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pagenum">[<a href=
"#xd21e308">Contents</a>]</span>
<div class="divHead">
<h2 class="label">CHAPTER IX</h2>
<h2 class="main">RELIGION: THE FINE ARTS: LITERATURE</h2>
</div>
<div class="divBody">
<p class="par first">A good many people contemplate the future of the
world with an alarmed feeling that vast material progress and enlarged
knowledge of the visible and tangible universe are likely to be
accompanied by intellectual developments dangerous to the religious
spirit in mankind. But to consider thus is to overlook the manifest
trend of human thought at the present time. Of the two influences
named, material progress and enlarged information about the universe,
the former is probably much more directly liable to affect religious
feeling adversely than the latter. Epochs of high civilisation and
great luxury have often accompanied a general tendency to scepticism,
and these conditions are also perhaps (and for the same reasons) not
highly favourable to the highest developments of poetry. There have
been periods of scientific discovery which have coincided with the
spread of irreligion. During the second half of the nineteenth century
there was, for instance, no doubt a great increase of popular
scepticism <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb176" href="#pb176" name=
"pb176">176</a>]</span>arising out of popular deductions (or supposed
deductions) from science. Religion unquestionably lost ground in the
sense that dogmatic irreligion became rather fashionable. When the
people began to learn that geological research had entirely upset the
Biblical chronology, and that biological research had proved the
development of animal life by evolutionary processes not compatible
with a literal acceptance of the account of the creation in Genesis;
when knowledge of the developments of language proved that the various
tongues of mankind could not possibly have been the subject of a
sudden, cataclysmal &ldquo;confusion&rdquo; at Babel or elsewhere, and
when it became common knowledge that the sun and stars were not
suddenly produced for the convenience of man, but were, on the
contrary, for the most part much older, as suns and stars, than the
earth itself; it is not surprising that minds untrained in
philosophical deduction leaped towards atheism, although, of course,
none of these discoveries has any more to do with religion, as
religion, than, say, chemistry has to do with music. Unless one takes a
highly anthropomorphic view of the subject they are not even inimical
to revelation. Of course it is open to anyone who chooses, to say that
if the statements in the Bible, said to be inspired, are incorrect, the
Creator (and Inspirer) either did not know how He had done His work, or
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb177" href="#pb177" name=
"pb177">177</a>]</span>told untruths about it; and consequently that
scientific discovery has disproved revelation. But that is what I have
called a highly anthropomorphic argument, and it may safely be left to
the apologists to demolish. Assuredly it is not a sort of argument
likely to be met with in the cultured and logical future. But it was an
argument which commended itself very widely to the uncultured and
illogical past, and great efforts were made to deal with it. These
efforts were really inimical to religious faith. Religion having been
declared to rest upon the irrefragable rock of Holy Scripture, there
appeared to many excellent people an urgent necessity that science
should be set right, that the theory of Evolution (by which was meant,
for these thinkers, Darwinism) must be disproved: otherwise all faith
must go by the board, and the world must descend into pure materialism.
The Biblical criticism produced in Germany, and apparently received in
the very heart of the Christian camp, seemed to plain men not merely to
assail this irrefragable rock but to strike at the roots of religion
itself. Atheism, having become unfashionable, was exchanged from an
&ldquo;agnosticism&rdquo; of which the popular conception was not a
great deal more philosophical. The whole question of religion was
conceived to hang together. The Bible was the Word of God: if the Bible
could not stand, God must fall. And the stability of <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb178" href="#pb178" name="pb178">178</a>]</span>the
Bible was considered to rest upon scientific accuracy. A miscellaneous
collection of writings, certainly of great, but of variously computed
antiquity, was to be absolutely right (which no other documents of
anything like the same age have ever been) on scientific facts;
otherwise it could not be retained as a text-book of the churches. The
latter (sometimes themselves claiming inspiration) had declared the
Bible to be directly inspired: and by some people inspiration was taken
to imply literal and detailed truth, though literal and detailed truth
would certainly have made the collection utterly incomprehensible by
the persons who have used it during all but the last comparatively
insignificant portion of its existence, and to most persons even then.
Evidently such a conception of the Bible, accompanied by the opinion
that religion could only exist on the basis of the Bible, was dangerous
to popular religion in proportion as the opinions here summarised met
with public support.</p>
<p class="par">Hardly less dangerous was the endeavour of some
apologists to assist the difficulty of belief by attenuating the
minimum required of it. The exposure of their rather circular
arguments&mdash;basing Faith on the inspired Bible, and the inspiration
of the Bible on its internal evidence&mdash;titillated in the untrained
thinker who had rejected (as he was encouraged to reject) the claim of
the Church to <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb179" href="#pb179" name=
"pb179">179</a>]</span>be the repository of inspired tradition, a sense
of his own logical acuteness. With a warm glow of self-approval he
abandoned the ancient shibboleths and left off going to church, being
convinced that no really well-informed intelligence could tolerate the
mutual contradiction of science and religion. With no more ability to
understand the arguments which supported the one than the philosophy
which lay at the root of the other, and quite unaware that religious
belief is capable of development and is as much a product of evolution
as any material phenomenon, he considered according to temperament that
religion was either a mischievous invention calculated to clog the
progress of the world, or a pardonable aberration of amiable minds
seeking consolation in superstition of one sort or another. The
religiously-minded thinker of the same calibre welcomed with enthusiasm
the antagonisms of scientific schools discovered for him by the less
wary of his teachers, and decided that Darwin was wrong, that Huxley
was following false scents, and that science would have to revise all
its later conclusions. In neither case (naturally) was</p>
<div class="lgouter">
<p class="line xd21e1359">... &ldquo;divine philosophy,</p>
<p class="line">Not harsh and crabb&egrave;d as dull fools suppose,</p>
<p class="line">But musical as is Apollo&rsquo;s lute,&rdquo;</p>
</div>
<p class="par first">called into the assize. &ldquo;Mistakes of
Moses,&rdquo; <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb180" href="#pb180" name=
"pb180">180</a>]</span>to be either proved or justified, were popularly
supposed to be the touchstone of religion&rsquo;s fate. Meanwhile,
though the combatants in the popular arena were quite unaware of it,
the true thinkers were realising vast depths which science had left
still unexplored, and the very investigations undertaken to account for
the beginnings of life on this planet were proving the belief in the
spontaneous generation of life a figment. Whatever effect science may
have had upon myth, it was doing nothing to assail the ultimate mystery
which is the basic fact of religion.</p>
<p class="par">By degrees, too, the philosophical untenableness of
materialism began to be popularised, and although it is a great deal
easier to accept (or decline) scientific discoveries without
understanding the evidence for or against them than to grasp such
abstract considerations as the subjectivity of phenomena, popular
scepticism began to be directed into new channels. If we could only
know phenomena we really know nothing; and it was just as likely that
the most absurd myths of the hagiologist might be true as that they
might be false&mdash;since one could know nothing. Towards the end of
the century there is no doubt that among the masses of the people the
incomprehensibleness of things in general had the effect of
popularising a certain tolerance of Christianity among the class which,
a little <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb181" href="#pb181" name=
"pb181">181</a>]</span>earlier, had been repudiating it altogether; and
if church-going, Sabbath-keeping and other formal acts of religion
continued to be mentioned by the clergy and their adherents as the
subject of lamentable negligence, the habits thus deplored arose, less
and less from conviction and more and more from taste. People stayed
away from church not because they rejected Christianity but because
church-going bored them. If the clergy saw their congregations dwindle
they had themselves to thank for it. The atrocious dulness of nearly
all sermons drove away more churchmen than were lured from their pews
by militant irreligion. There is not the smallest reason to believe
that &ldquo;free thought&rdquo; propaganda had any really important
part in producing the indifference denounced by the churches. The
simple fact is that a growing appetite for amusements, athletic and
other, and an intolerance of the boredom inflicted by preachers too
indolent or too imperfectly educated to make their discourses tolerable
by an active mind, robbed the churches of their visitors. A good
preacher never lacked a crowded congregation even in the middle of a
week-day in the city of London; nor are such congregations lacking
now.</p>
<p class="par">No doubt the form of education generally adopted in
non-Catholic countries has been a great cause of indifferentism. The
fostering of <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb182" href="#pb182" name=
"pb182">182</a>]</span>parental indolence by States which profess to
relieve it of the duty of religious as well as the expense of other
teaching, cannot tend to promote religious education. To take our own
country for an example, fathers, who would make it a duty to instil as
well as they were able the principles of their own faith into the minds
of their children if the board schools were not supposed to teach
Christianity, doubtless neglect that task in the existing conditions, a
fact which makes it quite easy to understand why congregations are so
largely made up of elderly people, while boys and girls, not young
enough to be haled unwillingly to the parental pew, and young men and
maidens, young wives and husbands &ldquo;educated&rdquo; on the
prevailing system, tend more and more to amuse themselves, not in
irreligion but in indifference. The squabbles of the sects have made it
impossible to invest Christianity in board schools, unless the law be
flagrantly violated, with any of the importance necessary to the
foundation of a genuinely religious spirit; and the very children find
that religion is treated as a thing of much less importance than sums
or a good handwriting. No one struggles and wrangles about the right
way to do long division. Long division, therefore, is a settled thing
and important. But everybody quarrels and snarls as to who shall teach
his particular kind of religion. Religion, therefore, is a doubtful
sort of thing, <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb183" href="#pb183" name=
"pb183">183</a>]</span>about which even grown-up people do not agree.
It cannot be of much importance. If you ask father about it, he says it
is the teacher&rsquo;s business to answer you. And in school, it has to
be attended to at a certain time so as not to interfere with the real
business of the day. Clearly it doesn&rsquo;t much matter; and the
child resolves, as soon as it is old enough, to escape from the weekly
boredom of sitting still for two hours in a stuffy church or chapel,
saying the same things over and over again, and listening to a dull man
in a sort of elevated and ornamented witness-box talking in a
patronising tone about things not easy to understand, and not in the
least practically useful when heard.</p>
<p class="par">Of course this is not the only sort of influence which
has been at work to produce a result likely to affect the attitude of
the present century towards the question. If the facts are as I have
stated them (which I do not think anyone will dispute) we see one very
good reason why the younger generation is just now somewhat
irreligious. I do not believe it is nearly as irreligious as many good
people (on both sides) think. But I do believe that we, at all events,
have as a nation been doing every thing we can to make it so. There is
no surer way of preventing a thing&rsquo;s being done than for the
State to make a show of doing it and then neglect it. If the school
boards had <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb184" href="#pb184" name=
"pb184">184</a>]</span>not assumed the duty of teaching children
Christianity, parents would have attended to the matter, and probably
done it a great deal better than the boards could possibly have done
it, even in the best conditions. And if anyone says that you
can&rsquo;t teach Christianity, the reply is, that in the sort of
conditions which exist in England at the present time, the religious
spirit is not favoured unless religion <i>is</i> taught. I said at the
beginning that the sort of life we lead now, and that we are likely to
go on living during the next hundred years, is probably more
unfavourable to the spirit than any directly irreligious influence of
science or discovery. People who are crowded into towns, where they are
out of constant touch with Nature and the immensities of space, and
lead a hurried, busy existence unfavourable to deep thought and
mysticism, are much less liable to yearn for some explanation of the
vast incomprehensible universe, the profound misgivings of the soul,
than people who have other opportunities, who know the massive face of
solitude and have lain under the inscrutable stars. The very frequency
of terrible experience, when death stalks in the streets and a funeral
procession is so common a sight that men hardly turn their unbared
heads to look upon it, blunts the sense of awe; and in the cheap Press
the alleged humorist finds it a choice subject for joking. A hundred
years hence, <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb185" href="#pb185" name=
"pb185">185</a>]</span>though I hope our humorous Press won&rsquo;t be
quite so ghastly, still more of us will have lived always in cities,
and been rarely intimate with Nature. Unless, therefore, some new
influences supervene, it is likely that the new age will be even less
religiously inclined than the age we live in. Is it probable that such
an influence will arise? Or will the next century have turned its face
altogether from faith and given up in despair the world-old riddle of
the universe?</p>
<p class="par">Assuredly, with the increase, impossible to be denied,
of conditions unfavourable to church-going, the influence which could
arrest the tendencies of thought at present supposed to exist must be a
powerful one. But in computing the exact potency which it would require
to possess we must take an accurate view of the tendencies themselves.
Now, although dogmatic religion has to a certain extent lost ground,
and though formal observances are somewhat neglected, it would be a
fallacy to consider that morality is in consequence retrograding. The
steady growth of such things as teetotalism; the revolt of the public
conscience against tame stag hunting and against what was aptly called
&ldquo;murderous millinery&rdquo;; the support afforded to the
societies for the Protection of Children and for the Prevention of
Cruelty to Animals; the generous responses made to any appeal for
public subscriptions to <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb186" href=
"#pb186" name="pb186">186</a>]</span>meet any great disaster; the
remarkable way in which the working people, out of their miserable
poverty, help each other in time of strikes; the waves of public
indignation which the exposure of any great injustice is able to
arouse; all show that the world is by no means retrograde in respect of
morals. What is often called the growing sentimentality of the age,
which opens all pockets at the call of want, and doubtless sometimes
leads to ridiculous exhibitions of mistaken feeling, is a proof that
the ethical sense of the people is by no means blunt; and it shows a
constant tendency to become keener. It is mysticism rather than
morality which is chiefly lacking to a re-development of the religious
spirit. And although the opinions of the mass of the people are likely
to be influenced at all times more by the results at which what are
called leaders of thought arrive than by the reasons which lead up to
those conclusions, it is rational to expect that with the improved and
much more thoroughly disseminated education which the necessities of
the coming century are going to enforce upon us, will make the people
more accessible to philosophical reasoning than they have ever been
since Socrates. Consequently, the general attitude of the world a
hundred years hence towards mysticism will depend greatly upon the
conclusions of eminent thinkers. These conclusions will require time in
order to exercise <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb187" href="#pb187"
name="pb187">187</a>]</span>their influence; but it seems probable that
the influence will be towards and not away from mysticism.</p>
<p class="par">An attempt to foresee the probable position, as an
institution, of religion in the future therefore demands the
consideration of what net result is likely to be deduced from science
and philosophy by the improved average intelligence of this century. I
speak expressly of religion as an institution, intending thereby to
limit the inquiry to an attempt to determine the popular view of
religion; the pretence to anticipate the opinions of the great
philosophers that this century will no doubt produce being a little too
presumptuous even for the present writer, who may not be considered in
any event to have fallen into many errors resulting from excessive
modesty.</p>
<p class="par">We can only come within reasonable limits of safety and
consistency in such an inquiry by allowing here, as I have allowed all
through, for a great increase in general intelligence. Probably the
mass of the population will be less greatly removed in reflective and
reasoning powers from the greatest minds than at present; because the
changes which have been predicted are likely to have more effect in
raising the general standard of intelligence than in producing
individual and exceptional minds of very great calibre.</p>
<p class="par">No doubt the people will be in closer touch <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb188" href="#pb188" name="pb188">188</a>]</span>with
advanced thinkers than now. But I do not see any reason for supposing
that the latter can be conspicuously greater than the thinkers of past
time, from Plato to Herbert Spencer. Consequently it is impossible to
restrict the inquiry to strictly popular developments. We must ask what
direction abstract thought is likely to take: and it certainly does not
seem that the influence of recent discoveries in
physics&mdash;especially those which have produced the new theory of
the constitution of the atom&mdash;can tend to materialism. With atoms
resolved by the latest science into electrons, which have been declared
in a passage already cited to be not merely carriers of electrical
charge but the electrical charges themselves, the objectivity of matter
has assuredly not received any new support. And if speculation as to
the beginning of things (always the kind of speculation most important
to philosophy, where philosophy is made the handmaid of religion) is
relieved of the necessity of accounting for the creation of matter, and
only has to concern itself with the creation of force, we evidently
approach the more abstract conception of a &ldquo;Something not
ourselves&rdquo; which is admittedly the philosophical necessity most
favourable to spiritual religion.</p>
<p class="par">But for many people natural religion is a poor
alternative for revelation, and if we <span class="pagenum">[<a id=
"pb189" href="#pb189" name="pb189">189</a>]</span>interrogate
probability as to the future of a faith in directly-revealed religion
we approach a much more difficult question. The verbal inspiration of
Scripture appears to be no longer regarded as a necessity of this
faith; and with its final abandonment we shall no doubt enter upon a
period of much more abstract thought and of vaguer belief, but (as I
think) also a far more spiritual attitude towards the Unseen. From the
moment when faith is relieved of all danger from the critical
discrediting of any particular set of documents, it is of course freed
from certain great dangers. Probably the Christian of the year 2000
will have abandoned all dependence upon the authenticity of the
original sources of information, and will be quite ready to let what
used to be regarded as the foundations of belief take their place with
other mythologies. But this position need not be regarded as
irreligious; possibly it need not be considered un-Christian. The
hospitality which all truly religious thought begins to extend, not
merely to uncanonical scriptures but to the best religious thought of
all ages, will strengthen rather than weaken the spiritual attitude;
and, however we may probe into the sciences of life and of the
universe, the awful mysteries which lie beyond the sphere of science
will always tempt man to speculate and to aspire. Always we shall yearn
towards the eternities which preceded <span class="pagenum">[<a id=
"pb190" href="#pb190" name="pb190">190</a>]</span>and the eternities
which must follow the little interval that we call Time. Always beside
the grave that has closed upon what we have loved, despair will lure us
on to seek consolation in a faith which promises re-union beyond the
bourn. Always the manifold injustice of Fate will make aspiration
inevitable. Always the uplifting spectacle of the stars, the
immensities of ocean and infinite mysteries of the soul of man will
make us welcome the spiritual teaching which can throw gleams of mystic
illumination upon the riddles of the universe and justify the ways of
God to man. We may not always see our way to find efficacy in ritual
incense; we may not long continue to ask direct interventions of the
Deity in prayers which we know in a literal sense to be unthinkable and
profane; we may cease the impertinence of offering suggestions to the
Maker of the world on the subject of next week&rsquo;s weather; and yet
when we uplift our hearts in aspiration and beg that we may divine more
spiritually the nature of the Creator, and learn to love our neighbour
more effectually and with a better enlightenment, we may still pray and
know that our prayer is answered. If we cease to think that wicked men
descend into some chastisement of which fire and flames are the
abandoned symbols, we may still realise that none can act against the
moral intuitions of <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb191" href="#pb191"
name="pb191">191</a>]</span>his nature without mutilating his own soul:
and if this soul of man be immortal, its punishment is thus eternal
also, and can be cancelled only by the act of divine mercy which we
shall still call man&rsquo;s redemption. We begin to know something of
the mind&rsquo;s independence of the body where (in phenomena of which
evidence seems to be accumulating) mind can speak to mind by other
means than the senses: and everything which points that way cuts fresh
ground from under the notion that bodily death is the end of us.
Although the philosophical theory of immortality does not need this
evidence, faith is assisted by it. On the great ideas which are the
support and justification of religion there seems no reason to suppose
that the discoveries of the next hundred years are likely to throw
discredit.</p>
<p class="par">To sum up, then, I believe that the effect of improved
education will be to conserve rather than to destroy religion; but I do
not believe that religion will be a historical so much as a
philosophical conception. The present great obstacle to religious
feeling in non-Catholic countries, namely the pretence of the State to
&ldquo;teach religion&rdquo; as if it were a science or an art, will
have been removed some while before this time next century, and
individual effort will be cultivated in this, as in certain other
respects, instead of being repressed. The Bible will be read for its
morals, its poetry, its <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb192" href=
"#pb192" name="pb192">192</a>]</span>literature; and the aspiration to
conceive the Divine will continue to take the shape of some kind of
public worship probably much unlike anything which we now practise, and
totally divorced from any faith in miracles and verbal inspiration. In
religion men will seek their consolation against the buffeting and
injustice of destiny, and in a more reasoned notion of immortality dry
their eyes before the poignant spectacle of Death.</p>
<p class="par">The whole tendency of the modern mind is to become more
spiritually imaginative. We are often scornfully told that this is an
age of hysteria, when the mere fact is that it is an age of
imagination. The highly civilised life of our day<a class="noteref" id=
"xd21e1417src" href="#xd21e1417" name="xd21e1417src">1</a> naturally
exalts intelligence in comparison with mere activity of body; mind
gains ascendency over muscle. It is much more important to worldly
success just now that a man should be able to think accurately than
that he should be able to lift great weights, endure great physical
fatigues or fight satisfactorily. Consequently, there is a great
premium upon intelligence, and only a much smaller premium upon bodily
strength; and this condition of affairs is likely to become accentuated
as the present century develops. With increase of intellectual agility
we obtain increase of subtlety and intuition, and of those finer
perceptive and <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb193" href="#pb193" name=
"pb193">193</a>]</span>critical faculties which make expression of the
emotions important and interesting. It has often been argued that
epochs of high civilisation are unfavourable to poetry and the fine
arts, and a well-known passage of Macaulay argues the point at some
length. Whether such an epoch as that of a hundred years hence be
probably fertile in art or no, assuredly appreciation of the fine arts
will be widespread and acute. Of course you can never account for the
extraordinary phenomenon called genius, and while it is no doubt true
that genius, like everything else, is the product of its age, yet
genius consistently transcends its age. The number of minds in a
thousand able to bring a reasonable degree of competent appreciation to
the writings of Shakespeare is much greater now than when Shakespeare
wrote. There never was a time when a great writer, or a great painter
(despite what happened to Whistler) was in less danger of public
neglect than the present. And the next century will be yet more
critical than this. Every one of the fine arts will be more generally
and more subtly appreciated than now. The existing masterpieces of
antiquity will be even more reverently enjoyed than now, and the
lessons they embody will be more completely assimilated. It remains to
be answered, whether the next century will be fertile in new
masterpieces of literature and art. <span class="pagenum">[<a id=
"pb194" href="#pb194" name="pb194">194</a>]</span></p>
<p class="par">There has been, in my opinion, too great a readiness on
the part of most writers to assume that high civilisation necessarily
creates epochs of ugliness. No doubt railways, factories and other
civilised and civilising conveniences do not, in the natural course of
things, tend to assume forms gratifying to the &aelig;sthetician. The
present tendency of domestic architecture, for instance, shows an
abject sort of spirit by basing any effort which it may make for
comeliness on an attempt to imitate the picturesqueness of the past
rather than to form new and beautiful styles adapted to modern
requirements. Because old red-brick, timbered rough-cast, and the
quaintly-shaped buildings of old time please the eye by contrast more
than by inherent beauty, unintelligent builders just now think they can
redeem dwelling-houses from plain ugliness by imitating these
peculiarities, and they are encouraged in this course by the people who
are to live in such houses and by the exploiters of estate development.
But such fine examples as the new Westminster Cathedral show that the
spirit of beauty has not left our architects. The growing intelligence
of the new age ought, at all events, to develop, as its resources will
reward, originality. And the developed &aelig;stheticism of the age
will demand beautiful buildings, not slavishly copied from the antique,
but created by the imagination of the modern. Reverence <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb195" href="#pb195" name="pb195">195</a>]</span>for
natural beauty, already manifest in the revolt against
advertisement-boards in juxtaposition with notable scenery and even
along the sides of railways (where one would have thought that a little
more ugliness could do no great harm) will no doubt be accentuated when
the unviolated virginities of Nature have become fewer; and a steady
growth of public taste is evidenced even now by the success of the
better sort of street advertisements and the failure of the uglier
kind, as demonstrated by the steady abandonment of the latter. The most
fashionable artists no longer think it beneath them to design
wall-posters. If the advertisers who pay their large fees find it
profitable to purchase art in an expensive market, it must be because
popular taste is better than it used to be; and even if the cult of the
photograph and the process block in illustrated newspapers, to the
detriment of drawings and wood engravings, be cited as evidence in the
other direction, we have a right to quote in rebuttal of this the
rather violent efforts of the more intelligent class of amateurs to
secure a recognition of selective and manipulated photography as an
art. Moreover, just as some critics have argued that it is better for
the people to read the atrocious letterpress of the popular papers than
not to read anything, it can also presumably be contended that it is
better for the people to look at photographs reproduced by <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb196" href="#pb196" name=
"pb196">196</a>]</span>&ldquo;process&rdquo; than not to look at any
pictures at all, though, in reality, it is doubtful whether bad
pictures and inferior &ldquo;literature&rdquo; are not much worse and
much more degrading to popular taste than none. That we really do care
for pictures even in England (however little critical ability we may
possess to distinguish good pictures from bad) is evidenced by the
crowds which throng the Royal Academy. It would be better if they
thronged the National Gallery; but even the Royal Academy is evidence:
and the success of the sixpenny-admission plan on the days when it is
adopted, and the large attendance at Burlington House on Bank Holidays,
prove that the taste for pictures is shared even by the least educated
part of the public. Thus there is no reason to be found in present
tendencies for apprehending a decay of &aelig;stheticism as a result of
material progress. Probably even the cheap papers will eventually
improve, both in their reading-matter and in their illustrations, when
it grows less profitable than it is at present to print the worst
attainable examples of both.</p>
<p class="par">Of course it would be very easy to argue that the
tendency of all this is rather to develop a somewhat higher standard of
mediocrity than to produce brilliant examples of art in any
manifestation. Beauty, up to a certain point, can be bought. The demand
will evoke the <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb197" href="#pb197" name=
"pb197">197</a>]</span>supply. But the highest manifestations of the
beautiful must be the spontaneous product of subtle brains and lissom
fingers working for Art&rsquo;s sake. Yet it is also not very difficult
to show that circumstances affect production even of the highest. An
example may be found in the extraordinary merit of modern French
sculpture, as compared with the wretched work produced in England. In
the Paris Salon, which may be said to correspond with our Royal
Academy, sculpture is shown in a manner which renders the huddled
cloak-room full of mediocre marble and third-rate work in clay at
Burlington House almost too painful to be ludicrous. However
meritorious the work of an English statuary, he would get no
chance&mdash;does get no chance&mdash;in the Academy exhibition: and
there is every justification for the opinion that it is not bad work
which in this country produces official neglect, nor good work which in
France has for many years led to the loving care with which sculpture
is shown in Paris; but on the contrary, that the real opportunity which
a French sculptor obtains has been just as instrumental in fostering
the art there as our own utter neglect to appreciate sculpture of
genius has been in stifling the art here. The French treatment of
sculpture has not merely raised the standard of average production. It
has fostered actual genius. Even so the opportunities which the
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb198" href="#pb198" name=
"pb198">198</a>]</span>social conditions of a hundred years hence will
afford to art will assuredly promote the artistic conditions favourable
to the development and fostering of genius, whenever genius, in its
shy, fairy-like way, contrives to be born, no man knows how. A general
power of appreciating masterpieces has never been alleged to be
unfavourable to their production. What is unfavourable to it in a
highly civilised age is the hurry and preoccupation which leave no time
for the appreciative faculties to employ themselves. It has been very
well said that the feature most inimical to art in American
civilisation is the absence of a &ldquo;leisure class.&rdquo; If there
be any validity in the conclusions for which I have been trying to win
acceptance<a class="noteref" id="xd21e1435src" href="#xd21e1435" name=
"xd21e1435src">2</a> in the earlier chapters of this work, the new age
will be an age of greatly increased leisure in all ranks, and this
condition ought to favour art in every way as highly as the improvement
in the nature as well as in the extent of education must also favour
it. And in this there will be both action and reaction&mdash;increased
leisure and improved appreciation tending to foster genius, genius in
the glorious perfection of its work generously returning the benefit by
cultivating and refining the &aelig;sthetic sense of the new age.</p>
<p class="par">Similarly in literature we may hope that the atrocious
consequences of instruction applied <span class="pagenum">[<a id=
"pb199" href="#pb199" name="pb199">199</a>]</span>to a vast number of
minds which no attempt is made to educate will be only temporary.
Popular &ldquo;literature&rdquo; and journalism at the present time
might well strike with despair the most hopeful heart. But when we
remember that no attempt whatever is being made to educate the faculty
of imagination, and that we stubbornly restrict all teaching to a
vehement effort to cram as many facts as possible into the mind of the
scholar, with no endeavour at all to improve the qualities of that mind
itself; and when we grant, as I think any reasonably intelligent
prevision of the future must grant, that all this will before many
decades have to give place to really educational processes: it seems
evident that the future will gradually fling aside in deserved contempt
the basely illiterate products of the printing press which enrich
popular publishers and newspaper proprietors to-day, redeem poetry from
its present practical neglect, and revive and enrich the <i lang=
"fr">belles lettres</i>, which, even in the latter part of the
nineteenth century and these latter years of the dawning twentieth
century, have contrived to appear in masterpieces for which readers,
fit, if few, have never ceased to exist. One result of this will be to
end, and end for ever, the idiotic and reactionary policy of
&ldquo;limited editions&rdquo; for beautiful books, by which alone, in
many cases, the production of such books <span class="pagenum">[<a id=
"pb200" href="#pb200" name="pb200">200</a>]</span>has been made
possible. As the public for fine literature decently printed becomes
gradually larger, there will no longer be any object in accentuating
popular ignorance by withholding from the greatest part of the public
the opportunity to possess and to enjoy the best work in letters that
the age is producing, and it will be possible for the poet of delicate
imagination, the essayist of subtle insight, and the story-teller of
restrained and modest genius, to be as well paid as the inventors of
nightmare horrors and the biographers of impossibly ingenious
detectives apparently are to-day.</p>
<p class="par">There remains to be considered the much less difficult
problem of the sort of progress likely to be made in the mechanical
implements of the fine arts. Some conceivable developments in what may
be called the mechanism of literature have been discussed in the
chapter on journalism, and just as it was there predicted that the
forms of language hallowed by tradition and made classic by antiquity
and intrinsic beauty must always continue to be employed, so in the
arts it is impossible to believe that the classical methods of
expression can ever become obsolete. But to say this is not to imply
that new processes are incapable of being applied to the arts. Nothing
which the future may evolve as a modelling substance can conceivably
render obsolete clay or make marble <span class="pagenum">[<a id=
"pb201" href="#pb201" name="pb201">201</a>]</span>antiquated; but
innovation is always possible and may always in the right hands yield
new tributes of loveliness. Prejudice is difficult to overcome where
art is in question. But as was recently seen in the invention of solid
oil paints, new media are quite capable of creating new modes of
expression, and daring as is the flight of imagination required by such
a notion, may it not be conceived that the new methods of
intercommunication between mind and mind, which may develop out of the
new psychology of our own age, might furnish the medium of a new
literature?</p>
<p class="par">In music it does not seem necessary to surmise that the
classical gamut must be the last word of melodic thought. The barrier
between East and West in regard to musical expression&mdash;a barrier
as yet so firm as to make us feel that &ldquo;never the twain can
meet&rdquo;&mdash;is precisely of this nature. A remark by an Indian
scholar educated in England, and as well versed in Western as in
Eastern art, is pregnant of promise. He said to a friend of the present
writer, &ldquo;There is no doubt that in every form of invention, in
every development of intellect, you surpass us, save in one. Your music
is poor and mean, compared with the music of the East.&rdquo;</p>
<p class="par">Now to any English ear the music of Asia is as yet a
mere snarl of incomprehensible cacophonies, destitute alike of melody,
harmony <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb202" href="#pb202" name=
"pb202">202</a>]</span>or rhythm. But that it has laws of its own,
intricate, involved and subtle, no one can doubt. I remember, one
night, finding my way into a Chinese lodging-house in an Australian
city. From one of the cubicles with which it was filled came what
seemed to me &ldquo;a rueful noise and a ghastful&rdquo;&mdash;a noise
as if some more than usually vocal tom-cat were being severely
ill-used.</p>
<p class="par">From time to time the noise ceased, to be succeeded by
energetic disputations in the thin nasal and guttural tones of South
China, themselves, I knew, graduated in pitch, as all Chinese talk
requires to be in order to be understood. Making my way to the source
of these sounds, I found four young Chinamen. One of them was engaged
in an unabashed bathing of his lower limbs. Other two were squatting on
the floor to enjoy the music of the fourth, who sat on a high
packing-case, holding a book in his toes, and performing on an
instrument something like a violin. From time to time one of the others
would interrupt, criticising the executant, and the book would then be
referred to with energy and something as much like excitement as one
ever sees a Chinaman display. The musician would extract a few notes
from the instrument, clearly in defence of his rendering. Then the
tumult would die down while the wailing of the smitten strings went on
again. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb203" href="#pb203" name=
"pb203">203</a>]</span></p>
<p class="par">Now it cannot be impossible to fathom the obscurities of
Oriental music: and it is quite possible that they may, in the future,
yield new harmonies and melodies as yet undreamed-of to the West; for
the difference is mainly, if I understand aright what Orientals say of
it, a difference of scale. No doubt the conventions are all different.
I have often observed in India that music considered to possess a
jovial character is a shrill wailing in slow time; whereas funereal
music always sounds a lively air. Western civilisation finds no
difficulty in comprehending the decorative art of India and the Far
East, nor in highly appreciating it. May not Eastern music have gifts
for us as yet undreamed-of?</p>
<p class="par">But of course painting has a much more direct appeal to
the emotions than music, and it is not at all difficult to
imagine&mdash;nay, it is hardly possible to doubt&mdash;that a new
manner in painting will from time to time develop, arriving out of
newly-invented implements and materials.</p>
<p class="par">Doubtless improved methods of reproduction will multiply
the numbers of those who can enjoy the masterpieces of the new age and
of the old, just as in music it will unquestionably be possible to
repeat satisfactorily an indefinite number of times any sounds that
have once existed. Neither will any of the arts permanently
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb204" href="#pb204" name=
"pb204">204</a>]</span>suffer by the mechanical improvements applied to
them&mdash;though the first employment of the latter will doubtless
often have results which will be, to the artist, rather terrible.
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb205" href="#pb205" name=
"pb205">205</a>]</span></p>
</div>
<div class="footnotes">
<hr class="fnsep">
<p class="par footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id=
"xd21e1417" href="#xd21e1417src" name="xd21e1417">1</a></span>
Over-civilised, if one please, but I do not admit for an instant that
man can be over-civilised.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href=
"#xd21e1417src">&uarr;</a></p>
<p class="par footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id=
"xd21e1435" href="#xd21e1435src" name="xd21e1435">2</a></span> <i lang=
"la">Ante</i>, <a href="#ch3">Chapter III</a>.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow"
href="#xd21e1435src">&uarr;</a></p>
</div>
</div>
<div id="ch10" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pagenum">[<a href=
"#xd21e318">Contents</a>]</span>
<div class="divHead">
<h2 class="label">CHAPTER X</h2>
<h2 class="main">THE AGE OF ECONOMIES</h2>
</div>
<div class="divBody">
<p class="par first">The next century will certainly be a frugal age in
the sense of planetary frugality. With a greatly-increased call on the
resources of the world entailed by the vast increase of population it
will be absolutely necessary for us to &ldquo;make the most of what we
here do spend.&rdquo; And with the more humane and gentler notions
which will prevail it is also certain that the new age will be an age
of cheapness. Of course, cheapness is a purely relative matter. The
suit of clothes which would be very cheap at seven guineas in the
United States would be very dear at that price here, not merely because
by reason of the tariff clothes and other things are expensive in
America, but also because wages are higher there than in England. In
spite of the enormous growth of population since, say, the accession of
Queen Victoria, the standard of comfort is much higher now than then,
and prices are lower, because production has increased more quickly
than population. Comforts are cheaper, wages <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb206" href="#pb206" name="pb206">206</a>]</span>are
higher. But the standard of comfort will be higher still a hundred
years hence. Workmen will earn a greater share of the commodities of
life, and whether their pay be higher, computed as money, or lower,
makes no difference to the question of cheapness. If wages are low
commodities will be low-priced: that is all.</p>
<p class="par">And probably this is the turn that events will take,
though, even then, the monetary earnings of the worker will probably be
much higher than they are nowadays. It is doubtful whether so clumsy a
contrivance as metallic currencies, of intrinsic values corresponding
with their titles, can survive at all; but of course everything will be
computed in terms of some currency or other&mdash;perhaps of an
obsolete currency. We are apt to think that the steady value of gold
can be counted upon to remain a constant factor of economics. But only
a very small part of the real business of the world is even now
transacted with actual gold. Much the greatest part is transacted in
paper&mdash;that is by the simple balancing of debits against credits
in various clearing-houses.</p>
<p class="par">Of course, if there were any reason to suppose that
State Socialism would be the political basis of future institutions,
currency of intrinsic value (which practically means, even now, only
gold currency) would be easily <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb207"
href="#pb207" name="pb207">207</a>]</span>dispensed with, because
almost every transaction would be effected by means of orders on the
national treasury, the State owning practically everything. Some
visionaries have long included the abolition of money in their schemes
for the immediate economic improvement of the race. But the disuse of a
currency is not really a means to any end. It is only an effect which
may or may not arise out of certain alterations in commercial method.
There are signs that the people are already growing tired of the
extravagance attached to the system of State, and even of municipal,
trading: and this fact makes socialism improbable. Constant complaints
are heard about such things as municipal tramways and municipal
gasworks, and the proposal to transfer the entire working of telephones
to the Government has been fiercely opposed. Where the post-office
works telephones side by side with a telephone company, as in London,
there is no indication that the public prefers the Government service
before the private service; and it is admitted that tramways privately
owned work more cheaply and yield better returns on their capital than
municipal tramways. Any interference of the State in matters that could
practically be left to private enterprise provokes incessant complaint.
When continued and developed, however, this interference has a vicious
habit of extending itself <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb208" href=
"#pb208" name="pb208">208</a>]</span>into fresh fields. Having first
undertaken the education of the people the State was not long in
carrying that system to its natural limit by relieving parents of
school fees. Now, free meals for poor children, or meals sold below
cost, are gradually becoming the fashion; what is the use of reading
out lessons to children who are too hungry to listen? So the State must
feed as well as educate. From this to the free clothing of school
children is a very short step. But once the unavoidable sequence of
such things is recognised, public opinion begins to revolt, asking
where, if we go on at this rate, we are likely to stop, so long as
there is any parental duty that the State has omitted to assume. We
perceive that, unless the process is arrested, the begetter of children
will have no obligations left, and the awful effects of relieving every
member of the public of all responsibility being at length recognised,
there is sure to be a reaction. It is certainly not beyond the wit of
man to contrive that it shall be impossible for parents to leave their
children untaught, without Government taking upon itself the function
of schoolmaster. A hundred years hence I hope that it will long have
been unnecessary to use force at all to compel parents to educate their
children: and by that time the folly of our (perhaps temporarily
unavoidable) expedients will be laughed at, and the fatuity
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb209" href="#pb209" name=
"pb209">209</a>]</span>of a minimum standard of proficiency, which
inevitably becomes the maximum standard also, will be wondered at. In
the matter here selected as the most convenient for illustration, and
in other matters where State powers, or powers devolved by the State,
are now employed in enterprises which do not properly fall into the
province of Governments, the abuses and wastefulness of governmental
interference are already acting as the best possible object-lessons
against further interferences of the kind which makes for
socialism.</p>
<p class="par">But of all the restraining influences inimical to
socialism, none will be anything like so powerful in the present
century as the new anxiety with which the people will safeguard their
own self-respect. It must be borne in mind, and cannot be too often
repeated, that before many decades, systems of education will be valued
chiefly in proportion as they tend to develop and establish character
in the individual. And with the recognition of the great truth that
character is much the most important thing in the world, there will
grow up a great jealousy of anything which tends to damage the public
sense of individual responsibility. This jealousy cannot but be adverse
to socialism, whose ideal is to relieve the individual of all
responsibilities and to throw them upon committees.</p>
<p class="par">Not that the value of organisation and <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb210" href="#pb210" name=
"pb210">210</a>]</span>combination for various objects will at all be
lost sight of. But we shall perceive that voluntary combination is a
form of self-government vastly more friendly to the preservation of
self-respect than legislative action, and also a form much less likely
to be oppressive. It will be seen, for instance, that it is more
desirable for working men to fix, through their trade-unions, the hours
of labour in various industries, arranging to meet exceptional
circumstances where the latter arise, than for Parliament to decree
that nobody shall work more than eight hours a day. Neither is the
panacea of compulsory arbitration in trade disputes likely to be a
feature of future politics, because we shall certainly not be long
before we perceive that, while it is no doubt quite easy to compel
employers and employed to submit their respective cases to a tribunal
appointed by law, there is no known way in which the award of such a
tribunal can be enforced, and if there were, the effect of its
employment would be almost intolerably injurious to the commerce of the
country. What will happen a hundred years hence is that trade disputes
will have disappeared, because all the workers will be practically
their own employers.</p>
<p class="par">Consequently free contract and not socialism will be the
basis of the political system of a hundred years hence, and the
standard of <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb211" href="#pb211" name=
"pb211">211</a>]</span>comfort will be adjusted in the same way as
everything else. But in order that this standard may be as high as the
advanced humanity of the new age will certainly demand for a population
vastly increased, it will be necessary that all the resources of the
planet be made the most of. That motive power, one of the most
important, if not the most important of all these resources, should be
economically produced is, as has already been said, an absolute
essential. When we make the most of the sources of power, and are able
to apply power in convenient and portable ways to all sorts of work at
present done by hand, one of the greatest economies conceivable will
have been effected. Probably muscle, as an element of workmanship, will
become quite obsolete, though muscular strength will be developed by
athletics as a recreation and a safeguard to the health of the race.
Here again self-respect will be sedulously nurtured, for nothing
fosters it so much as a man&rsquo;s sense of his inherent bodily power.
All sorts of wastefully laborious methods of labour will be superseded,
in the same way as the steam hammer has superseded the sledge hammer.
With the perfect development of power-production achieved, a great deal
of the dirtiness of manufacture will vanish: and moreover, a use will
have been discovered for every by-product of every manufacture. We are
hideously wasteful as <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb212" href=
"#pb212" name="pb212">212</a>]</span>yet: and wastefulness makes for
dirt. One perceives this at once on comparing a factory where the
by-products are of a nature to be utilised directly, with one where
these products are of small value. A goldsmith&rsquo;s shop is a clean
place compared with the gasworks of even a modern town: but these again
are clean compared with what they used to be before the various
chemical uses of coal-tar and gas-liquor were discovered.</p>
<p class="par">In the planning of machinery, notwithstanding the fact
that power will be obtained at a minimum of expense, all contrivances
which economise force will be highly valued. We have been increasingly
valuing them ever since steam first became important as a source of
motive power. Early machines in the Patents&rsquo; Museum at South
Kensington exhibit the most extraordinary recklessness in the waste of
power. Considering the feebleness of the motive force available, one
would have expected that every means would be sought to minimise
friction. But instead, the force was transmitted by contrivances which,
to a modern eye, seemed deliberately contrived to introduce as much
friction as possible. Every year brings out fresh inventions for the
avoidance of friction: and still we are but upon the very threshold of
the subject. It was only in 1904 that a party of railway engineers was
entertained by a patentee who wished to show them <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb213" href="#pb213" name="pb213">213</a>]</span>the
saving in coal per train-mile which can be saved by a new bearing for
passenger coaches, and the superior smoothness (which is of course a
factor in the economy) of their running. Hardly any vehicle except a
bicycle or a trotting buggy is yet constructed with any serious attempt
to save friction at the axles. The number of industrial machines to
which ball-bearings might be applied with great economy of power is
enormous. But ball-bearings are very little used. It is probably
considered as yet that the saving in coal would not pay for the working
expenses connected with them and with other improvements. But as
machinery is further improved economies at present merely theoretical
will become practical and remunerative. In a hundred years&rsquo; time
we shall certainly be able to make generally profitable the use of many
devices as yet applicable only to delicate and exceptional machines,
and shall be able to use much power which at present runs to waste.
Every time a locomotive is stopped there is a great waste of power in
the operation of the brakes, because it is not worth while to adopt any
contrivance for utilising it. It disappears, as heat, and is lost. Many
similar wastages could be cited, and engineers would scoff at the
citation, on the ground that the loss is not worth saving. But it will
be worth saving a hundred years hence. We shall not be able to afford
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb214" href="#pb214" name=
"pb214">214</a>]</span>any waste. The world will have to be worked, as
we say, &ldquo;for all it is worth.&rdquo;</p>
<p class="par">Of course all sorts of other wastes will be avoided
through the natural progress of discovery and the natural development
of thought. Illness is a waste. Illness will be much less common in a
hundred years&rsquo; time. A man who eats and consumes the
world&rsquo;s products without contributing to them will be too
expensive a luxury for the new age to indulge itself with: and the
present excuse for a &ldquo;leisure&rdquo; class&mdash;already scorned
in America&mdash;that a rich and leisured class fosters and patronises
the arts, will be absurd. All classes will foster and patronise the
arts. For, just as we shall see that idleness is waste (and even more
injurious to the idler than to his fellows), so we shall also see that
overwork is a waste, because the legitimate purpose of human endeavour
is not wealth, but happiness. When all work, all will be able to
play.</p>
<p class="par">Planetary economy will be a determining factor in the
change of diet which the coming century must inevitably witness. Such a
wasteful food as animal flesh cannot survive: and even apart from the
moral necessity which will compel mankind, for its own preservation, to
abandon the use of alcohol, the direct and indirect wastefulness of
alcohol will make it impossible for beverages containing it to be
tolerated. Very likely tobacco will follow it. <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb215" href="#pb215" name="pb215">215</a>]</span>We
are already in sight of legislation to restrain the use of tobacco by
the young. It will probably be unnecessary for the law to prohibit its
use by adults. The frugal adult of the new age will abandon it
unbidden, the change taking place as smoothly and silently as the
process from the universal drunkenness of our great-grandfathers to the
relative sobriety of ourselves, a process of which it is surprising
that anyone can fail to perceive that the natural end must be the total
disuse of alcoholic drinks. All things work their way to their natural
conclusion, and there is no more fertile source of sociological
blindness than the fallacy which treats certain phenomena of society as
static, whereas all phenomena of society are really in the dynamic
state, and always must be so.</p>
<p class="par">In such matters as the exhaustion of the soil, and the
reckless waste of wood, our present practice will certainly be
reformed. There will be great improvements in agricultural chemistry,
necessitated by the disappearance of animal manure. The obsolescence of
the horse is already in sight; probably we ourselves shall see the day
when the horse will cease to be employed except in the organised
material of war: and as soon as we cease to eat animals we shall cease
to herd cattle, sheep and poultry. But some means will have to be found
for returning to the soil the materials we take out of it. Of course
the idiotic wastefulness of <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb216" href=
"#pb216" name="pb216">216</a>]</span>many systems of sewage disposal,
and the dangers, inconveniences and degrading occupations associated
with existing alternatives, will be rectified. By improved agricultural
methods, lands at present unutilised will be brought under cultivation:
and the wasteful and selfish reservation of game preserves, deer
forests and excessive pleasure-grounds will have to be
abolished&mdash;not by legislative enactment, but probably by
spontaneous social developments; by the natural development, in short,
of economy in the world&rsquo;s possessions. A hundred years hence we
shall cease to behave as though the resources of the planet were
illimitable and could be wasted at will. In the succession of the ages
the spendthrift will have given birth to the miser, reversing the usual
order of generations. No doubt the attention concentrated upon
agriculture as a consequence of the greatly increased use of vegetable
and cereal foods will have, as one of its consequences, the discovery
of new means for improving all sorts of crops&mdash;means of which even
the wonderful achievements of the scientific agriculture of the present
day do not contain even the first germs. We shall also, perhaps, find
means for avoiding the terrible losses and wastage entailed by climatic
accidents. At all events, irrigation will be perfected, and probably we
shall be able by acclimatisation and modification to find uses for
crops that will flourish during that portion <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb217" href="#pb217" name="pb217">217</a>]</span>of
the year when, in temperate climates, the land at present lies idle.
This will both stimulate and further necessitate the improvements in
agricultural chemistry already mentioned.</p>
<p class="par">As the combustions of solids will no longer be a general
method of obtaining heat, we shall greatly economise wood; and the
wickedly mischievous word &ldquo;inexhaustible&rdquo; will not be
applied to timber regions like the Rocky Mountain district of Canada.
Arboriculture will become a more practical art than it as yet shows any
signs of being; and along with careful afforestation will go skilled
improvement in tree-growing. We shall replace all the trees we use by
better trees, better cultivated. Even so, however, there will have to
be devised great economies in the use of wood&mdash;economies like the
recent invention of a method by which, instead of being wastefully sawn
into planks, a tree-trunk can be cut up spirally, so that almost the
whole of it may be used. In many places where wood is now employed in
the arts, metals will doubtless be used instead, their greater neatness
and durability making it advisable thus to substitute them, for reasons
of convenience as well as economy; and probably new alloys, into which
the lighter metals, as aluminium, will enter, may give us increased
strength without increased weight, which will again be an economy,
because it will save power. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb218" href=
"#pb218" name="pb218">218</a>]</span>But even so, the world&rsquo;s
expenditure of wood will continue to be enormous.</p>
<p class="par">War has been alluded to above. War is too wasteful, as
well as too imbecilely uncivilised, to survive this century. It may be
well to inquire as to the manner in which its abolition is most likely
to be brought about. We may take it for granted that no sudden
political or revolutionary movement will abolish the physical conflict
of peoples. &ldquo;All the arts which brutalise the practical
polemist&rdquo; will not be abandoned at a moment&rsquo;s notice on the
bidding of any potentate or combination of potentates. To conceive of
them as thus abandoned is to overlook the whole nature of political
change. It is absurd (as Herbert Spencer remarks) to assume &ldquo;that
out of a community morally imperfect and intellectually imperfect,
there may in some way be had legislative regulation that is not
proportionately imperfect.&rdquo; But it would be equally absurd to
believe that the moral and intellectual advance which our present
tendencies show to be gradually taking place&mdash;an advance certain
to be greatly accelerated during the middle half of the next hundred
years&mdash;can fail to put a stop to war as a political device.</p>
<p class="par">War will probably not be dispensed with in response to
any great and sudden revolt of the world&rsquo;s conscience against the
bloodshed and other evils much worse than bloodshed which <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb219" href="#pb219" name="pb219">219</a>]</span>it
entails&mdash;of which indeed it actually consists. The world knows
quite well already that war is wicked, wasteful and silly: if it were
possible for a suddenly-exasperated realisation of this to take an
instantaneous effect, we could and should similarly abolish numerous
other evils which we show every disposition to tolerate for some time
yet. The fact that single families are able to hold wealth in enormous
excess of the maximum amount which it can possibly be good for the
community that individuals should hold, is such an evil. The
&ldquo;Yellow&rdquo; journalism of America and England is another evil
just about as difficult, or as easy, to abolish at a stroke as war, and
not much less injurious. The manipulation of tariffs and currencies to
suit the greedy aims of manufacturers, landowners and capitalists is
another evil which is constantly experienced or threatened in one part
of the world or another; and if as a race we were yet enlightened
enough to utter that great &ldquo;Peace; be still!&rdquo; which must
some day be breathed over the troubled waters of international
diplomacy, we should be enlightened enough to rid ourselves of these
other evils. But instead, the change must be gradually worked up to. It
is not even at all certain that the whole world will at one given
moment decide to abandon war. It is not necessarily the case that the
first nation enlightened enough to lay down the sword <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb220" href="#pb220" name=
"pb220">220</a>]</span>would immediately fall under the oppression of
its armed neighbours, as Bismarck prophesied, and would no doubt have
practised to arrange. Nor need we assume, as so many have thought it
necessary to believe, that universal peace can only follow the
exhaustion of universal war, the dove winging her first flight over the
shambles of Armageddon. I do not for an instant believe that the actual
horrors of war are the likely or possible source of peace; on the
contrary, war always tends to breed war, partly through international
exasperation, partly through the unashamed and cynical self-seeking of
professional warriors. Peace hath her outrages no less severe than war.
It is against the preparation for war, rather than against war itself,
that we shall revolt.</p>
<p class="par">Of course the increased urbanity of future thought, the
tenderer conscience of the future, will help the cause of peace. The
world&rsquo;s rulers will be more humane, less reckless than those set
up by the inferior morality and intellect of the present age. It is not
from the rulers, but from the ruled, however, that peace will come. It
is the peoples that will refuse to be the supporters of idle, useless,
profligate and dangerous millions, trained to no duty but slaughter,
skilful only in the service of national crime. Every decade will see
the burden of armament grow heavier. In every decade fresh efforts will
be made to lift the weight of them <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb221"
href="#pb221" name="pb221">221</a>]</span>off the rich, the governing
classes, and throw it upon the poor, the governed classes. The workers
will be taxed, and their taxes manipulated to their disadvantage. And
they must pay in person as well as purse. There is no civilised and
highly developed country in the world that can possibly escape
universal military service within the next quarter of a century, unless
it be the United States: and only that country if the people of the
United States abandon absolutely their present dreams of empire and
renounce the luxury of an effective Foreign Office. As for ourselves,
it is most likely universal naval service that we shall have to endure.
And the rulers of the nations will play the chess of diplomacy, using
the peoples as their pawns, until the pawns, grown wiser than the
bishops, and more agile than the knights, reach the eighth square of
intellect and become sovereign in themselves. It is not by high
diplomacy that war will be abandoned, but by the will of the workers.
Only a very careless and unthoughtful observer of the last fifteen
years&rsquo; history can have failed to note the steady growth of
international solidarity in labour questions. The trade societies of
different nations frequently contribute to each other&rsquo;s
strike-funds: they constantly communicate and confer, and they do so
with increasing frequency and effectiveness every time there is any
special advantage to be seen <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb222" href=
"#pb222" name="pb222">222</a>]</span>in joint action against the common
enemy&mdash;greed. Conceive for an instant what is going to be the
effect of this when working men and women, infinitely the most
important and most worthy part of the race, are no longer degraded by
stupid restrictions of education, no longer brought up on the insane
system of striving only for a stuffed memory instead of for a developed
character, and have learned to think about their political duties
instead of only transacting them without thought, without any possible
opportunity of learning how to think. The whole mass of workers
throughout the world will come to an understanding. They have no
possible conflicting interests which can compare in importance with the
interests which, for their class, are identical all the world over.
Already the improved morality of the peoples will have yielded improved
governments, more enlightened parliaments, wiser statesmanship. The
administrative organ will only need to be properly stimulated by the
solid agreement of workers throughout civilisation. There is never the
least sign of international or racial jealousy among working men in
their international relations, and what, by reason of the clash of
international interests and the danger of national aggression
diplomatists could not accomplish, the irresistible volition of the
unanimous peoples will force upon the cabinets of the world. It will
come about by degrees. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb223" href=
"#pb223" name="pb223">223</a>]</span>The preparations for it will be
long visible, long misunderstood. And we shall usefully tinker at the
question, often stave off little dangers of war by arbitrations,
treaties of mutual understanding, peace conferences and the like; and
though probably no great war necessary to reconcile the conflicting
destinies of peoples was ever prevented by such means, we shall avoid
many fights which might have arisen out of the vain notions of
<i>prestige</i>, dignity, and national self-sufficiency. But once means
have been found for the destruction of the machinery of war, the worst
danger of war will have been got rid of: and then the practice we shall
have had in settling disputes peacefully will be of the greatest
service to us.</p>
<p class="par">When the armies and the navies of the world are
disbanded there will be a condition of affairs which it is highly
necessary to consider. In all nations entitled to rank as world-powers
there is an enormous military class. When the armies go home for the
last time, and magazine rifles and machine guns become museum objects
and nothing more; when it is no longer conceived to be the greatest
service a man can render to his country to organise clubs wherein men
may inexpensively learn how to shoot, so as to be able to kill each
other with a creditable precision when the chance comes; then there
will arise the problem of how to employ these disbanded drones: and to
some this <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb224" href="#pb224" name=
"pb224">224</a>]</span>problem has appeared to present acute
difficulties on account of the labour-problem involved.</p>
<p class="par">But to apprehend anything beyond the most transient
embarrassments from this cause is surely to misconceive the whole
subject of economics. The men at present withdrawn from productive
labour by employment, either transiently (as in countries where
conscription is used), or more or less permanently (as in England),
have to be fed, clothed and housed in any event; and they can only be
thus supplied with the commodities of life by the labour of other men.
What the term of their military service happens to be is immaterial to
the subject. Whether there are standing armies and navies with long or
short service, and a reserve; or armies and navies served for three
years by successive drafts; the amount of labour withdrawn in any
community is at any one period the same in that community. The return
to civil life of the volunteer armies employed in the United States
during the Civil War and the war of the deliverance of Cuba did not
produce troublesome economic conditions; and only those persons who
think that a society is enriched by the circulation of money spent in
wasteful expenditure like the fireworks and banquets consumed in
celebrating an event like the visit of a foreign potentate, or
commemorating more or less irrelevantly the <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb225" href="#pb225" name=
"pb225">225</a>]</span>failure of &ldquo;Gunpowder treason and
plot,&rdquo; can imagine that a nation would be impoverished by the
vast accession to its productive power yielded by the abolition of
armaments. Similarly, to think that the suppression of Woolwich arsenal
and the closing of Krupp&rsquo;s gun factory would be an industrial
calamity instead of an enormous saving of national money, is to adopt
the uninstructed view of politics which conceives of governments as
self-supported and self-created institutions whose expenditure is a
gift to the people; instead of as being organisations paid by the
people out of earnings which would otherwise be enjoyed by themselves.
This sort of conception, fatuous as it appears when once reduced to
logical terms, is common enough. Whenever any object of popular desire
appears inaccessible we are always being told that the Government ought
to provide it&mdash;as if Government were a sort of deity capable of
producing wealth from somewhere outside the world. But such notions
have only to be for a moment examined in order that their fallacy may
become manifest and palpable; and it is equally easy to see that the
wealth-producing power of the men composing armies would be a direct
gift to the community of the world if armies were abolished, and that
the moneys formerly, but no longer, expended upon their accoutrements,
weapons and sustenance would <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb226" href=
"#pb226" name="pb226">226</a>]</span>be so much waste obviated. Here
will, in fact, be one of the many economies of a hundred years
hence.</p>
<p class="par">It will be convenient to digress, in passing, in order
to notice one very curious contention sometimes rather fancifully
introduced into discussions on the subject of universal peace.</p>
<p class="par">It is stated that war is an inevitable feature of
national life, and that it exercises a beneficent effect upon national
character&mdash;that it fosters manliness and a respect for the virile
attributes of courage, steadfastness and self-respect; that nations
which have abandoned the art of war sink into effeminacy, slothfulness
and destructive luxury; and that the peace of the nations, if it ever
comes, will be associated with a terrible deterioration of the race. As
to the notion that anything can prevent the abolition of armed conflict
as a means of settling the differences of peoples, we may very well be
satisfied to await the issue. No one who recognises the steady growth
of humanitarian feeling; no one who remembers, even to deplore, our
growing sentimentalism; no one who has insight enough to perceive that
progress, at an ever-increasing speed, must inevitably be accompanied
by advanced intellectuality, increased self-restraint and greater
wisdom, can doubt that a process so illogical, barbarous and
brutalising as battle must be banished, as well by the new humanity as
by <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb227" href="#pb227" name=
"pb227">227</a>]</span>the economic necessities of our race. But the
notion of deploring, on moral grounds, the assured coming of a reform
so salutary, calls for more strenuous reprobation. One would have
thought it evident, from the popular effect of the war in South Africa,
that, so far from being a matter for self-congratulation, this highly
necessary war was a terrible lesson in the brutalising effect of armed
conflict, not alone on the men actually engaged, but also on the people
who remained at home. Indeed, since it is only a comparatively small
fraction of a community that can ever be personally active in military
operations, the effect on the home-stayers is evidently what the
upholders of war as a civilising influence must be thinking of. It
would be ridiculous, and it is quite unnecessary to the argument, to
deny the fine qualities of determination, of fortitude before national
disaster, and of calm confidence in the prowess of the nation&rsquo;s
arms which, in the bulk of the English people, the Transvaal war called
forth. It would be just as idle to deny the sublime exhibition of
patriotism and self-abnegation which, on one side at least, was
provoked by the Russo-Japanese war. But it would also be foolish not to
recognise the quite evident brutalisation which has followed our war in
South Africa, the remarkable increase in crimes of murderous violence,
and especially of double crimes&mdash;murder and <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb228" href="#pb228" name=
"pb228">228</a>]</span>suicide&mdash;which has lately occurred. The
true source of these increased evils is the reflex effect of
familiarity (either at first hand, or more remotely through newspaper
reading and through the personal narrative of returned soldiers) with
the notion of violent slaying, and the diminished sense of the sanctity
of human life which accompanies the spectacle of man-slaying by
wholesale held up to popular admiration, and indeed necessitated and
justified by the conditions of war and the duty of patriotism. No doubt
it is true (as has been finely said) that there is one thing which is
worse for a nation than war, and that is that a nation should be so
afraid of war as to submit to aggression rather than fight in defence
of its rights. But to subscribe to this doctrine, which no rational
thinker will dispute, is a very different thing from agreeing that the
nations would be otherwise than strengthened and civilised by the
universal abandonment of battle. Probably we are as yet some decades
from the time when we shall have sufficient nobility of sentiment to be
entirely agreed, without a single dissentient, in recognising the
enormous service to national and international morality which Mr
Gladstone rendered when he had the courage to withdraw from the
conflict with the Boers after Majuba. It will be long before we are
logical enough to see that the fact of this magnanimity having been
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb229" href="#pb229" name=
"pb229">229</a>]</span>basely abused does not in the least detract from
its moral weight and moral beneficence. But the influence of such an
act cannot be without effect upon progress. It is by such acts, and the
possibility of their glad acceptance by nations of sufficient moral
elevation to perform them, that war will be banished.</p>
<p class="par">In the meantime, while noble virtues can be displayed by
nations in time of combat, and by civilians as well as soldiers, it is
a new doctrine that we are asked to accept when we are told that there
is anything individually elevating to the character in sitting at home
while someone else goes out and fights for that home&rsquo;s
protection. One of the least satisfactory features of public interest
in games of manly endeavour and endurance, games of danger and violent
effort, like football and cricket, is that of the very greatly
increased numbers who &ldquo;follow&rdquo; these games and watch the
fortunes of selected teams in the Cup contests only a very small
proportion play the games themselves. Thousands of young men hardly see
a football match from September to April, though they keenly follow the
admirable descriptions of them in their sporting papers. It is taking a
very short-sighted view to applaud the growing interest in athletics,
which, just now, we show, as a sign of our manliness. Not very much
endurance is required in order to bet on the success of <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb230" href="#pb230" name="pb230">230</a>]</span>a
favourite team: and to assist, as a contributor to gate-moneys, in
paying selected athletes to endure risk and violent fatigue in a game
which one does not play for oneself is exactly on a level with
applauding the exploits of an army to which one contributes nothing but
taxes.</p>
<p class="par">Moreover, this beneficent effect of actual
war-in-progress could only exercise itself during limited and
distressful periods. No nation is able to be seriously at war, in
modern conditions, for very long, and great periods of recuperation
must intervene between war and war; the combatant nations being
meanwhile subject to aggressions from keepers of the peace, because
they are not in a position to fight again with a fresh and an
unexhausted adversary. Consequently, any beneficent effect must be
expected to be exercised chiefly in time of peace. And, in practice, it
does not seem to be the case that nations in which the military
standard is high and the military class is exalted above the civil
class, show always in any remarkable manner the virtues supposed to be
fostered by the manly art of war. No one would contend that the average
German is more self-reliant and self-respecting, quicker to decide on
action in a moment of stress, braver, manlier, more enduring of
reverses of fortune, than the average American. Yet Germany, where
military officers are held <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb231" href=
"#pb231" name="pb231">231</a>]</span>in such esteem that they can
behave with unrestrained arrogance and brutality towards civilians in
public places without provoking any signs of popular indignation,
unless when their acts are commented upon in the socialist newspapers;
and can even inflict disgusting and degrading indignities upon private
soldiers without being officially punished, except where they have
carried brutality to the limit (and they are punished with the greatest
tenderness even then): Germany, I say, ought to show the virtues of a
military state at their best. Whereas in America, where there is
practically no standing army, and where military titles, the residue of
wars conducted almost entirely by volunteer and amateur soldiers, are
so common that the very holders of them treat these titles as subjects
of humorous depreciation, the people are conspicuous for manliness, for
high endurance, for patience under the reverses of fortune, for
temperance: and in the average of physical courage America far excels
any military nation. There seems to be no reason at all for
apprehending that the obsolescence of militarism will have a
deleterious effect on the manhood of the race: while there are
incontestable evidences that it will greatly foster the equally
important virtues of gentleness, humanity, and respect for the weak.
Thus, while, for reasons of sentiment and common sense, war is certain
to become obsolete before <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb232" href=
"#pb232" name="pb232">232</a>]</span>the end of this century, we shall
find in the release of the funds and of the labour hitherto employed in
the organisation of war one of the greatest economies of an age which
in all things will be thrifty: and there is no reason at all to
apprehend difficulty in providing for the warrior who finds his
occupation gone, when we have so reorganised (as we must reorganise)
our social system, that no man will live in excessive luxury on the
labour of his fellows, but that all will be contributors to a common
frugality. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb233" href="#pb233" name=
"pb233">233</a>]</span></p>
</div>
</div>
<div id="ch11" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pagenum">[<a href=
"#xd21e329">Contents</a>]</span>
<div class="divHead">
<h2 class="label">CHAPTER XI</h2>
<h2 class="main">THE LAW A HUNDRED YEARS HENCE</h2>
</div>
<div class="divBody">
<p class="par first">Using the figurative words, &ldquo;the law,&rdquo;
in their widest possible sense, to mean the entire system which governs
the relations of the individuals in a community with each other and
with the community at large, we can easily see that in a
century&rsquo;s time many changes of law will have taken place. If it
be true that legislative restraints are mostly necessitated by the
ill-conceived energies of mankind, and that the right function of the
law is to assure to each citizen the largest possible liberty that is
consistent with the equal liberty of every other citizen and of all,
then it will be right to believe that the great extension of general
intelligence, and the equally great extension of general morality,
anticipated for the next century, will render many forms of existing
restraint obsolete because unnecessary. Regarding offences both against
the person and against property as manifestations, for the most part,
of unintelligence, we may expect that increased intelligence will lead
to a diminution of their number. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb234"
href="#pb234" name="pb234">234</a>]</span>In applying statistics to an
examination of the question whether and to what extent improvements in
the general standard of education have in the past diminished crime,
and consequently how far crime is likely to be still further diminished
in the future, we must be careful to keep in sight two
considerations&mdash;first, that an increased vigilance and elaboration
on the part of authority may easily make it appear that crime has
failed to diminish under educational influences, when it is only the
detection and punishment of crime that have been rendered more perfect;
and second, that if one kind of education have not had all the salutary
effects expected of it, it does not follow that a different kind will
not have all this expected efficacy and more. Manifestly, legislation
against crimes formerly outside the reach of the law&mdash;that
creation of &ldquo;new offences&rdquo; which one hears rather foolishly
objected to&mdash;will increase statistics of crime, if we compute
crime in terms of prison-admissions; and the fact that such increase,
due entirely to legislation, has taken place concurrently with some
other reform, such as the improvement of education, obviously does not
entitle us to connect the increase with the reform. The latter may even
be operating in exactly the opposite manner, despite the statistics. A
number of new offences were created, for instance, by what is called in
England the Criminal Law <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb235" href=
"#pb235" name="pb235">235</a>]</span>Amendment Act, and it would be
easy for a shocked observer of prison statistics to observe, in a
period of years during which the administration of that useful act was
being perfected, dreadful increases in the crimes which it represses;
whereas the fact probably is that crime of this sort has diminished,
largely through the action of the very causes which would make it
appear to have been increasing. Therefore, if anyone still argues that
education as a means of diminishing crime has proved a failure, it is
not upon judicial statistics that he must base his contentions.
Probably that argument is obsolete: but if it were not, and if it were
allowed all the validity of which it is capable, it would still furnish
no ground whatever from which to throw doubt upon the expectation that
in a hundred years&rsquo; time crime will have diminished very greatly,
as a result of the improved education of the new era. For indeed, as
education is at present conducted, it would be rather a remarkable
thing that it should have any effect upon criminality at all. What
influence increased intelligence may have in restraining one part of
the population from the desire to commit crime might easily be
neutralised by the effect, on another portion, of the increased craft
and subtlety imparted by education. Knowledge can facilitate crime as
well as deter from it. A man who has not learned to write, it has been
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb236" href="#pb236" name=
"pb236">236</a>]</span>shrewdly remarked, will not commit forgery: but
that is not a reason for thinking that a knowledge of writing tends to
promote criminality. The man who, being (perhaps unduly) proficient in
it, becomes a forger, would not necessarily have remained blameless if
he had continued illiterate. He would very probably have been a thief,
which does not require penmanship: but on the other hand, the increased
facility of obtaining employment when one can write might just as
easily have saved him from some temptations to dishonesty. It is not
very rational to expect a great moral effect upon character from the
mere acquisition of knowledge. But from the moment we conceive that
means and methods of education in the future will be valued in
proportion to their influence in developing character, and especially
intelligent self-control, it is impossible to doubt that the new
teaching will be among the most potent of moral influences. One benefit
derived from this will be the possibility of abandoning legislative
restrictions whose effect is inimical to self-control and to
intelligent self-protection. It will no longer be necessary to protect
the people by law from the consequences of their own foolishness, and
we shall have learned that it is much better for the public to be
encouraged to safeguard its own interests than to be relieved of the
necessity to do so. <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb237" href="#pb237"
name="pb237">237</a>]</span></p>
<p class="par">Anticipating, therefore, that many existing forms of
restraint will have become obsolete because unnecessary, we may very
fairly ask ourselves whether, in an improved moral and intellectual
atmosphere, it will not have been found advisable to abolish other
restraints and requisitions as a directly remedial measure. The
suggestion may, at the moment, appear chimerical, but so must every
intelligent anticipation of a coming time appear to anyone who
approaches the subject without allowing for the difference of
conditions, and conceives of changes which will take place so gradually
as to be almost unperceived, as if they were to occur <i lang="la">per
saltum</i>, without any process of slow moral preparation. So would
nearly every social condition of the present age have appeared
individually to a citizen of the world of 1800, if, possessing
intelligence to foresee it, he lacked the imagination necessary to
foresee the accompanying and subservient conditions. That public
opinion should be so shocked by the execution of capital punishment,
that only the most atrocious murders are thus punished&mdash;the
sentence, where there is any real extenuation at all, being habitually
commuted nowadays&mdash;is a condition which would hardly have
suggested itself even to the most alert imaginations in an age where
small thefts were constantly punished by death. Our sense of what may
be called the accidental influences <span class="pagenum">[<a id=
"pb238" href="#pb238" name="pb238">238</a>]</span>of punitive measures
is even yet so little developed that only a small minority of the
public at the present day is able to perceive that the deterrent effect
of flogging, as a punishment for violent robbery, is dearly purchased
at the expense of the brutalising relish with which sentences of
flogging are welcomed by the public, and even on the judicial bench,
where expressions of regret that the same penalty cannot be inflicted
for other crimes are still common. Yet it would seem obvious enough
that the sanction given to acts of violence by the deliberate adoption
of hanging and flogging by the law, which is supposed to be the
exemplar of public morality, must tend nearly as much to perpetuate
crimes of violence as fear of these chastisements to deter. In
attempting to foresee the spirit of legislation in the future it is
absolutely necessary to foresee concurrently the spirit of the
communities by which the legislation will be adopted. Anticipating, as
we cannot fail to anticipate, a sedulous care for moral effects in
education, we must anticipate an equal care in legislation. It would be
unworthy of the supremely logical age which assuredly is coming, to use
all possible measures in the schoolroom to foster in childhood
self-reliance and intelligent self-protection, while continuing by
&ldquo;grandmotherly&rdquo; government of the people to remove as often
as possible any need for self-reliance <span class="pagenum">[<a id=
"pb239" href="#pb239" name="pb239">239</a>]</span>in the adult. The
advantages attending little bits of protective law-making often blind
us to their ill-effects. It is no doubt very useful to provide, as we
do provide, that condensed milk, when deprived of its full proportion
of cream, shall only be sold in packages notifying that deprivation. If
we did not do this children would be starved by their parents&rsquo;
ignorance. But the necessity for this enactment is at least in part
created by the existence of a host of similar laws, the aggregate
effect of which is to give a general impression that anything sold as
food is good and useful unless it bears some warning to the contrary;
and meantime every evasion of commercial morality which does not come
under legislative restraint is naturally held to be perfectly
justifiable&mdash;not at all a good thing for commercial morality. Now
it would be a highly perilous measure to abolish, at a stroke, all
protective legislation against adulterated or impoverished foods. We
have built up a social condition in which every man thinks himself
entitled to be protected against such frauds. But in a community which
has been taught to take care of itself, and protect itself against
frauds by its own intelligence, such protections would be retrograde
and injurious. The aim of legislatures in the next century will be to
foster all kinds of self-reliance. They will perceive that even the
high importance of a reform which can be more <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb240" href="#pb240" name="pb240">240</a>]</span>or
less easily enforced by law does not compensate for the bad effect of
thus enforcing it, if it could be maintained by the spontaneous
vigilance of a wisely-nurtured public; and the degrading effect of
superfluous law will be more dreaded than the temporary dangers against
which the law might protect the citizens.</p>
<p class="par">Nevertheless, it is inevitable that, during a period
more or less extended, material progress will be accompanied by
numerous legal enactments such as a perfect state would dispense with,
and possibly the end of all of them will not have been reached even in
a century&rsquo;s time. How invention tends to promote legislation has
recently been noticeable in the new laws affecting automobile traffic
on roads. In a perfect state it would doubtless be unnecessary to
provide legal machinery to compel the owners of powerful and rapid
vehicles to respect the rights of their fellow-citizens and to abstain
from running away without identifying themselves when they had caused
an accident. In proportion as the moral condition of the next century
approximates to perfection, such ordinances as the motor-car laws will
be unnecessary. But for a long time new laws will always be coming into
necessity as a result of new inventions. For instance, when, as was
suggested in an earlier chapter, business is carried on largely through
the medium <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb241" href="#pb241" name=
"pb241">241</a>]</span>of recording telephones, wirelessly actuated,
special laws will have to be devised to protect trade against the
various kinds of fraud which this method of transaction would otherwise
facilitate, and some methods will have to be devised for giving legal
force to arrangements made by telephony, akin to the methods which now
give legal force to written contracts. Similarly, various by-laws will
have to be enacted to protect the public against the accidents
incidental to the various methods of rapid transit that will have come
into use. Probably it will no longer be necessary, and it will have
been perceived to be injurious, to protect travellers against their own
rashness.</p>
<p class="par">It is a well-known phenomenon that periods of material
prosperity and high wages are fruitful in crime. Probably increased
consumption of alcohol in prosperous times is the sole cause of this.
There can be no direct connection between wealth and criminality; the
bulk of the criminal population is, on the contrary, poor. It would be
idle to speculate as to whether the next century will or will not
continue to legislate against intoxicants, because it is morally
certain that intoxicants will have been legislated out of existence
already, without waiting for the period when it would no longer be
necessary to abolish them forcibly. For at present, and in the more
immediate future, there is no ground whatever for anticipating
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb242" href="#pb242" name=
"pb242">242</a>]</span>that the legislative hand will be withheld
wherever law-making appears the simplest and most obvious method of
getting rid of any crying evil: and there can be no doubt that the
abuse of alcohol is an evil of precisely the sort that legislature will
be active in suppressing. Some changes in the method of government will
have to take place before Parliament can legislate against alcohol: but
that it will so legislate before the middle of this century is morally
certain. In what country the alcohol law is first likely to be passed
is immaterial. Every country which adopts it will thereby assist in
forcing the same measure upon other countries, because, with
international travel constantly becoming cheaper and more easy, it is
certain that numerous people who object to being deprived of stimulants
and intoxicants in one country will migrate to others where their
appetite can have full play, and will intensify the drink problem in
those countries until these, too, are forced, or will think themselves
forced, to legislate in self-protection. Thus such laws will become
universal. No doubt this condition will be reached gradually, measures
of restriction preceding measures of prohibition. But the end will be
the same, and it will be forced upon the world as much by the increased
evils inflicted by alcohol on nerves increasingly susceptible to its
influence, as by any other consideration. <span class="pagenum">[<a id=
"pb243" href="#pb243" name="pb243">243</a>]</span>Anyone who has taken
the trouble to observe the nervous and physical condition of men and
women in the average, during even so short a period as the last quarter
of a century, must have been impressed by the marked increase of
neurotic states, not merely in exceptional individuals, but in all the
people. The neurotic temperament is much more adversely affected by
alcohol than any other; and we are all growing more neurotic. All the
conditions of modern life tend that way: and it is not alcohol alone
that will have to go, but all sorts of habit-inducing drugs, such as
morphine, cocaine, and the rest, all of which, like alcohol itself,
will soon be so restricted in regard to their sale that their abuse
will be rendered practically impossible, and their use restricted to a
purely medical employment. It is even quite possible, and I have
already ventured to predict,<a class="noteref" id="xd21e1614src" href=
"#xd21e1614" name="xd21e1614src">1</a> that when the progress of
neurotism has worked itself out, even such mild exhilarants as tea and
coffee will have to be made the subjects of legal restriction. There
exist many individuals at the present moment upon whom coffee acts as a
stimulant nearly as powerful as alcohol, moderately employed, upon the
rest of us&mdash;that is to say, they experience the same mild
exhilaration after a cup of strong coffee as a moderate man does after
a glass of burgundy or a whisky-and-soda. These <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb244" href="#pb244" name=
"pb244">244</a>]</span>effects are no more injurious, at present, than
those of a moderate use of wine or spirits: but they can become
perilous, and may develop in all sorts of ways, when the nervous
organisation becomes more delicate. Thus, the abolition of alcoholic
beverages, at present the fad of a minority not always very respectable
in the methods of its propaganda, will presently be an indispensable
feature of social progress.</p>
<p class="par">Unless all criminologists are wrong in their deductions,
something like fifty per cent. of all crime will be got rid of when
alcohol no longer exists to cause crime. There are further ameliorative
influences certain to be at work which will tend to reduce the sorts of
crime chiefly troublesome at present. Adopting the familiar division of
crime into (<i>a</i>) offences against the person and (<i>b</i>)
offences against property, it is very easy to see that what may be
called private crime (as distinguished from crime against the body
politic) will diminish automatically. When the extremes of wealth and
poverty have become as much less marked as I have endeavoured to show
that they must become, it is evident that the temptation to offences of
greed will be greatly diminished. A large proportion of all these
crimes arises out of poverty alone, or out of poverty coupled with
stupidity. A man who has not enough intelligence to earn is very likely
to steal in order to provide for himself; and one who is <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb245" href="#pb245" name=
"pb245">245</a>]</span>equipped by the knowledge of a trade is
consequently not so liable to be dishonest as one who is less hopefully
situated. He is also likely to be more intelligent, and consequently
better qualified to perceive that the balance of comfort is on the side
of the honest worker and not on the side of the burglar or thief.
Anyone who has had occasion to observe the proceedings of criminal
courts must have noticed the frequency with which the description
&ldquo;labourer&rdquo; is adopted by the offenders charged.
&ldquo;Labourer&rdquo; means an unskilled worker&mdash;a man who has
learned no trade, and brings nothing to his work but thews and sinews.
It is much less common to find a trade claimed: one rarely sees a thief
or burglar described on the charge sheet as &ldquo;John Doe,
carpenter,&rdquo; or &ldquo;Richard Roe, gas-fitter.&rdquo; They do not
even profess to have a trade. Of course where a man&rsquo;s business is
such as to lend itself to criminal pursuits, the case is different: one
finds banknote forgers described as &ldquo;engravers&rdquo; and
&ldquo;lithographers,&rdquo; and makers of counterfeit money as
&ldquo;die sinkers.&rdquo; But in the average of crime&mdash;at least
crime of the more stupid sorts&mdash;it is the tradeless man who is
nearly always charged. It is impossible to resist the inference that
poverty is a determining cause in most crimes of greed. In a hundred
years&rsquo; time the spread of technical education will <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb246" href="#pb246" name="pb246">246</a>]</span>have
thinned the ranks of the unskilled. At the same time the inducements to
honesty and steady industry will have been enormously increased through
the universality of the profit-sharing system; and the position of the
steady worker will have become so greatly more attractive than that of
the casual thief, that only the utmost stupidity can tempt anyone to
the latter&rsquo;s course of life. Self-respecting labour for a share
in the profits of labour, instead of mechanical toil for wages that do
not bear any relation to profits nor to anything else except the
fluctuations of the labour-market, will so elevate the average of
industrial character that it will be rare for workmen to drift into
crime. At the same time, and similarly, the restraint placed upon undue
accumulation of wealth will diminish temptation to crimes of greed at
the other extremity of social life. It will no longer be worth
anyone&rsquo;s while to organise colossal schemes of dishonest
company-promoting. Thus, crimes against property are certain to become
relatively infrequent, because the greatest temptations to them will
have been removed.</p>
<p class="par">Apart from the largely preponderating number of cases in
which offences against the person&mdash;assaults and the
like&mdash;arise now out of intoxication, the tendency to crimes of
violence will also diminish as the temper of <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb247" href="#pb247" name=
"pb247">247</a>]</span>society grows milder. An age so much advanced in
sentimentality as to revolt against the cruelty of breeding horses for
traction and cattle for food is not likely to be fruitful in offences
of violence. These offences, where associated neither with drink nor
robbery, probably arise more often from jealousy between the sexes than
anything else. It is unfortunately impossible to suggest that sexual
jealousy can be wholly eliminated from human nature. But no doubt its
violent exhibition will have been educated out of us to a large
measure. Other personal offences, as rape, criminal assault and various
criminal vices will doubtless diminish in frequency as a consequence of
general moral improvement. In short, the work of the policeman will be
greatly eased in the course of this century, and no doubt many
functions at present relegated to the police, such as the direction of
street traffic, the care of vagrant dogs, and the like, will be
performed by officials of a different character. Even these duties will
be far less onerous than they now are, when we have become intelligent
enough to see that the best way for every man to secure his own freedom
and comfort is to respect the freedom and the rights of others.</p>
<p class="par">It remains an open question whether at some time during
this century it may not be temporarily needful for the State to
undertake the restraint of offences against the intellect, such
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb248" href="#pb248" name=
"pb248">248</a>]</span>as the publication of false or grossly
exaggerated news, and of matter calculated to encourage vice, as
betting. No doubt the balance of advantage is in favour of the entire
freedom of the Press; but it cannot be denied that this freedom is at
present greatly abused. It would be easy to name a dozen types of
periodicals whose forcible suppression would be an enormous gain to the
public; and in an age so increasingly prone to look to the governing
body for assistance in every conceivable matter no one can deny the
probability of some legislative steps being taken, when the public
first begins to concern itself seriously with public morals. But this
possibility is much nearer at hand than the end of this century; at the
latter period public opinion will probably be well able to take care of
itself, and any laws of the kind I have suggested will, like numerous
other forms of legislation, including many now operative, have fallen
into desuetude because there will be no temptation to the misdemeanours
they are, or may be, framed to repress.</p>
<p class="par">The question of the form which the repression of crime
will take a hundred years hence can only be answered if we first
endeavour to see what the developments of penology, or the science of
punishment, are likely to be during the next hundred years. Naturally,
they will have the same tendencies as the society which <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb249" href="#pb249" name=
"pb249">249</a>]</span>produces them. We may safely anticipate that the
more savage punishments, as death, flogging and painful labour will be
eliminated, together with all punishments that are not believed to be
reformatory in their character. And even the relatively mild penalty of
long imprisonment may to the gentler mind of a new age appear unduly
vindictive.</p>
<p class="par">Punishment will be regarded as a diminishingly necessary
evil; and our &ldquo;object all sublime&rdquo; will not be to make it
fit the particular crime for which it is awarded, but to make it
diminish crime as a whole. Punition as a moral force will be judged
according to its effect in two different directions, namely, its force
as a means of reforming the convicted individual by preventing his
relapse into crime, and its force as a means of deterring other persons
from committing the same crimes at all; and of these two the second
will be considered greatly the more important in an age that will be
logical as well as mild; because it is obviously a greater object to
produce an effect upon the minds of a possibly great number than to
produce it upon the mind of one culprit. Consequently, although a
benevolent solicitude for the reformation of the detected offender will
not be excluded from the consideration of future penologists, the
deterring from crime of the tempted classes will be much more demanded.
As to this, it cannot <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb250" href=
"#pb250" name="pb250">250</a>]</span>be questioned that improvements in
detection and in legal procedure (eliminating the chances of escape for
the guilty without endangering the freedom of the innocent) are capable
of accomplishing a great deal more than could possibly be looked for
from any alteration in the nature of the punishment used. Experience
shows that hitherto a ferocious punishment not very certainly applied
does not deter anything like so much as comparatively mild punishment
with very little chance of escape. Coining, for instance, is less
common now than when coiners were slowly pressed to death under
weights, <i>if detected</i>; and the diminution of this crime has not
been due to fear of the punishment now long abandoned; neither was that
penalty removed from our system of criminal law because it had done its
work and stamped out counterfeiting. On the contrary, improvements in
the minting of real money, by rendering the detection of counterfeits
easy, may be said to have almost eliminated the offence in question,
and this result is all the more remarkable when we remember that, owing
to the appreciation of gold, real silver shillings, half-crowns and
other pieces just as good in assay as the royal mintage could be coined
by counterfeiters at a handsome profit.</p>
<p class="par">Our very proper anxiety to avoid every possible chance
of committing and punishing the innocent doubtless enables many guilty
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb251" href="#pb251" name=
"pb251">251</a>]</span>persons to escape every year; and probably quite
half the prisoners acquitted at every assize are really guilty in some
degree. The jurisprudence of a hundred years hence will certainly have
been so much improved that innocent persons will rarely be accused at
all, and that guilty ones will not be able to escape on technical
grounds: and with improved detective methods the chances of escape in
any given case will be greatly diminished. What punishments are
inflicted will be of a reformatory character, and no doubt provisional
release, freed from the many crying scandals of the ticket-of-leave
system, will play a great part in scientific penology. Recidivism will,
of course, be the subject of much sharper punishment. In the meantime,
the study of mental science in its relation to crime will have made
great strides, and if the views of our own age in regard to heredity
should be maintained, a very great source of crime will probably be got
rid of altogether, because men and women with just that mental twist
which leads to crime will, by one device or another, be absolutely
prevented from propagating their race.<a class="noteref" id=
"xd21e1660src" href="#xd21e1660" name="xd21e1660src">2</a> <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb252" href="#pb252" name="pb252">252</a>]</span></p>
<p class="par">It is impossible to work out here the various methods of
individual reform applicable to convicts of various sorts, because the
nature of these methods must necessarily depend, to a great extent,
upon the conditions of a society of which only the most salient and
extreme peculiarities can be foreseen even by the most imaginative. But
all evidence seems to suggest that actual crime will have become much
diminished in amount, while the necessity for dealing with what may be
called technical crimes&mdash;misdemeanours, and offences against
regulations made for the convenience of society rather than for the
defence of life and morals&mdash;will probably have been reduced to a
minimum, partly by the intelligence of the population, and partly
through the fact that the minor offences will have ceased to be dealt
with by law, and will be sufficiently repressed by natural causes. Not
only, therefore, will the amount of necessary restraint become less,
through the diminution of crime and of temptation to crime, but the
employment of legal restraint will be less demanded, the latter being
recognised as, when avoidable, dangerous to public morals. <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb253" href="#pb253" name="pb253">253</a>]</span>And,
while criminal law will be less active, civil litigation will also
probably be much less heavy. The same causes which will tend to make us
more careful to avoid committing offences against the common right of
others, will make us more scrupulous to perform contracts. And as a
consequence of the improved morality which there seems every reason to
anticipate, a hundred years hence, it will no doubt have become
possible to execute a reform which many thinkers have desiderated as an
element of perfected polity. It is hardly necessary here to
recapitulate the arguments in favour of the contention that the cost of
civil suits should be borne, as the cost of criminal prosecutions is
always supposed to be borne, by the State. That the man who brings
successfully an action at law, or successfully defends one, should be
able to do so only at an expense to himself, is against public policy:
and there are even now numerous cases every year in which even the
unsuccessful party in a lawsuit is really doing the public a service.
In a perfect state of public morality he would always be doing so: and
in a hundred years&rsquo; time he will certainly be more often worthy
of public thanks than he is now&mdash;he will be less often seeking to
impose or defend a wrong. As matters stand, it is notorious that the
grant of costs following the judgment in a civil suit is only a partial
relief to the successful suitor. He has <span class="pagenum">[<a id=
"pb254" href="#pb254" name="pb254">254</a>]</span>to pay his solicitor
more than his solicitor can obtain leave from the taxing master to
collect from the other side; while if (as not infrequently happens) the
other side cannot pay, the costs awarded by the Court have to be borne
by the winner of the suit. It is a frequent reply of dishonest
defendants, when threatened with legal proceedings, that they
&ldquo;will meet the plaintiff in the Bankruptcy Court.&rdquo; On the
other hand, a man will often submit to oppression rather than be
subjected to the expense of even a successful defence. Every litigant
who maintains his right, whether as plaintiff or defendant, renders
very much the same service to the public which we often hear applauded
on the part of persons who &ldquo;come forward to prosecute&rdquo; in
criminal or misdemeanour cases. He is assisting to make probity
profitable and evasion dangerous; in other words, he is subserving
public morality and helping to repress dishonesty. It would be much to
the public advantage that his costs should be borne by the public
purse, and borne generously, every expense legitimately incurred being
allowed him. Logically, he ought also to receive a sufficient, and even
a fairly liberal, <i lang="la">solatium</i> for his trouble and loss of
time: and an honest loser ought to be able to receive a certificate
from the court entitling him to the same amenities, the withholding of
which would constitute a deterrent penalty against factious
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb255" href="#pb255" name=
"pb255">255</a>]</span>litigation. But it may be urged on practical
grounds that to make the path of the litigant too easy would lead to
too much invocation of the law, and that the full recognition of the
public usefulness of litigants must be postponed to the
millennium&mdash;which age of ideal perfection will not occur (it may
be thought necessary to concede) a hundred years hence. And it is not
difficult to imagine means by which the public can be protected against
the factious and unnecessary litigation to which, in the absence of
some safeguard, we should certainly be exposed. The plaintiff might be
required to obtain some sort of <i>fiat</i>, such as is required now
before a suit of criminal libel can be prosecuted: and there would be
no hardship in the litigant who failed to obtain the <i>fiat</i> being
left to bear his own expenses up to the time of failure, though, in the
event of his success, he would of course have them repaid. The legal
machinery for obtaining permission to sue need not be made too
complicated: it must not be allowed to develop into a sort of
preliminary trial. Probably some sort of arrangement as the above will
be instituted a hundred years hence, and all law-costs borne by the
State, except in the case of obvious dishonesty or bad faith; the
trouble and loss of time necessarily incurred exercising a restraining
influence upon the litigious.</p>
<p class="par">In regard to the general machinery of the <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb256" href="#pb256" name="pb256">256</a>]</span>law
it would be tedious to attempt to foresee all the reforms of which the
growing complexity of human affairs will certainly impose the necessity
upon us. The clumsiness of a system by which important civil cases have
to be tried three times, in ways differing in detail, before a final
decision is reached, needs no insisting upon: and there is a manifest
inconsistency in the fact that an action about a matter worth
&pound;101 can be twice appealed, while a man tried for his life, or
something even more important than life, has no appeal at all against
an adverse verdict, except to a secret tribunal of Civil Service
clerks&mdash;for in the &ldquo;commutation&rdquo; of sentences the
Crown stands for the Home Secretary, and the Home Secretary is
necessarily obliged to depend upon his assistants, who in their turn
may very possibly have to derive their information from officials whose
credit would be damaged if some fact favourable to the prisoner came
out. To admit this inconsistency is not by any means equivalent to
admitting the necessity for courts of criminal appeal: and anyone who
knows the methods of criminal jurisprudence in the United States must
recognise that such courts are capable of abuse highly dangerous to
public morality, so dependent upon respect for law. But with the great
increase in scrupulosity and in the mildness of public temper which the
tendencies of human development clearly vaticinate for the <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb257" href="#pb257" name="pb257">257</a>]</span>next
century, it seems impossible to doubt that some method will be adopted
by which criminal trials can be reviewed, even though the class of
cases in which the necessity for review is most often mentioned now
will no doubt have disappeared with the abolition of capital
punishment. And it does not seem likely to be beyond the ingenuity of
the coming time to discover some means by which civil cases can be
settled in one trial, instead of requiring three, without danger to the
justice of any individual suit.</p>
<p class="par">It is sometimes questioned whether trial by jury will
continue a feature of modern civilisation. The remark of a legal cynic
that &ldquo;the man with a good case is always safe with a judge, while
the man with a bad case has always a chance with a jury,&rdquo; is
sufficiently sound to make it a question whether juries are worth the
trouble given to the members of them, and the vast amount of additional
labour which their employment inflicts on the courts of which they are
a feature. The conditions which make trial by jury &ldquo;the blest
<i>palladium</i> of our liberties&rdquo; have passed away in civilised
countries, and to a great extent in Ireland. It is no doubt
characteristic of the British people that we should so long as this
have retained the use of juries in civil suits, though even here there
are many cases (especially in divorce and libel) where the average
common <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb258" href="#pb258" name=
"pb258">258</a>]</span>sense of a jury is really helpful to the judge,
and constitutes a check upon his prejudice or impatience. There was a
time when the jury was a genuine safeguard against oppression in
private as well as Crown cases, and it is like us, as a nation, to have
retained them when their usefulness in this respect was happily
obsolete. But it seems to the writer pretty certain that in civil
trials juries will have been dispensed with long before the end of this
century, and this dispensation will probably be the stepping-stone to a
system whereby criminal causes will be tried by a bench of judges,
instead of by a judge and jury. The whole tendency of modern conditions
(in which must be included our growing, and highly discreditable,
individual impatience of the trouble of jury-service) seems to point to
this.<a class="noteref" id="xd21e1697src" href="#xd21e1697" name=
"xd21e1697src">3</a></p>
<p class="par">Reforms of judicial procedure of course <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb259" href="#pb259" name=
"pb259">259</a>]</span>constitute only a relatively small part of the
legislative work which will have been accomplished by the end of the
century. Apart from the work of gradually remodelling the law with the
idea (which nowhere seems to suggest itself to present-day legislators)
of making it act beneficially upon public character, there will no
doubt be a vast amount of work for the various parliaments of the world
in codifying existing statute- and common-law systems, which in all
communities have fallen into complexity and confusion of a degree which
makes them highly unsatisfactory instruments of social protection: and
there will also be a great amount of constructive legislation,
particularly in regard to the tenure of land, to the simplification of
conveyancing, to a more intelligent machinery of contracts, to the
equitable handling of such accidental or conditional sources of wealth
as we call &ldquo;unearned increment&rdquo; and the discovery of
unexpected minerals, to the useful limitation of inheritance, and to
other matters too numerous to be safely named. And in order that these
great works may be accomplished, it is quite certain that, not only in
England, but in all those States where really free parliaments exist,
great reforms will have been found necessary, and will have become so
much a part of the machinery of legislation and administration a
hundred years hence, that our descendants will hardly <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb260" href="#pb260" name="pb260">260</a>]</span>be
able to realise how Government was ever carried on without them.
Indeed, it is by the difficulty of administering anything at all by
parliamentary methods&mdash;every year more evidently breaking
down&mdash;rather than by the desire to undertake large schemes of
legislation, that statesmen will in a very short time be forced to
initiate the changes whose full development will have become
time-honoured by the end of this century. The organisation of political
opposition in parliaments has reached a point which makes it evident
that before long the minority in parliaments will have become a
nonentity. The minority, in fact, has already, here and in other
countries (of which the Austro-Hungarian empire is, at the moment, the
most noticeable example), become so powerful for obstruction of
business that, by a sort of paradox, its power is on the eve of
complete destruction. At St Stephen&rsquo;s the effect of obstruction
working in this manner is plainly visible. Whatever party is in power
will always, so long as the existing system continues, be obliged to
silence the opposition by the force of parliamentary machine; and
whatever party is in power will always be accused of tyranny and
autocracy by the other party. In practice there is no method by which
any important government measure can be passed through the House of
Commons except by force. It is a mere farce <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb261" href="#pb261" name="pb261">261</a>]</span>to
make a show of debating the details in committee. Naturally the
Opposition, when it does not want the measure passed at all, will delay
its passage to the last possible moment, and will make its enactment
impossible unless a term is set to the deliberations of committee of
the whole house. Whether the time granted by the Government be long or
short makes no difference: it is impossible to pass any serious and
complex bill except by the closure. In other words, the Government
(which practically means the Civil Service officials and parliamentary
draftsmen employed by the particular department concerned with the
bill&mdash;the Home Office, the Local Government Board Office, the
Exchequer, or what not) must triumph. Even the suggestions of
individual supporters of the administration in power must be ignored,
unless there is a cave which might turn out the ministry altogether. In
detail, therefore, we are governed, not by Parliament, but by the
permanent officials, so far as really important Government measures are
concerned: and it is quite evident that bills introduced by private
members will very soon not be considered at all. The private member is
rapidly being reduced to nothingness by the force of parliamentary
development. Meantime, the waste of public time by the introduction and
debating of bills which the Opposition eventually succeeds in
destroying, is appalling, and of <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb262"
href="#pb262" name="pb262">262</a>]</span>course it is aggravated by
the idiotic rule which destroys at the end of each session all the work
which has been begun and not completed. The system, not less imbecile,
in which opinion is ascertained in Parliament is another great
time-waster. It is only necessary to ask for a single moment what our
grandsons, or even the younger of our children, will think of a
Parliament in which a vote was taken by solemnly walking through
lobbies, with elaborate arrangements for counting and checking the
members (when it might all be done by the simple use of an electric
signal in front of each seat in the chamber) in order to perceive the
miserable inadequacy of even the mechanical arrangements of all the
parliaments of the world. And if even all the crass follies and
medi&aelig;val stupidities of modern parliamentary arrangements were
reformed, as nine-tenths of them could be by any competent board
composed of a few engineers, electricians and architects, we should
still be in possession of a legislative machine such as the
intelligence of a hundred years hence would laugh to scorn if its
restoration were suggested.</p>
<p class="par">Nor is this all. The whole institution of parliaments,
as a contrivance for giving effect to the will of the peoples, has long
been utterly inadequate, and must be reformed from the bottom. We elect
members to carry out schemes of legislation and forms of policy
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb263" href="#pb263" name=
"pb263">263</a>]</span>never fully, and sometimes not even partially,
formulated, upon which, even if they were set out in full detail, we
could not possibly have any complete influence in giving our votes. For
instance, let us suppose that, at a general election, one party wishes
to increase the Navy, to abolish publicans&rsquo; compensation, and to
legalise marriage with a deceased wife&rsquo;s sister: while the other
party not only objects to all these three proposals but also wishes to
put a protective tariff on foodstuffs and machinery, to give Home Rule
to Ireland, and to disestablish the Church of England. A Home Ruler who
was also a teetotaler could not vote for either party without outraging
one or other of his convictions. A believer in the support of our
national supremacy who also considered that the Church ought to be
disestablished would have to choose between voting against the increase
of the Navy or against the Disestablishment: and the Deceased
Wife&rsquo;s Sister Bill advocate must vote against all the proposals
on the other side (all of which he may agree with) if he do not wish to
assist in perpetuating what he believes to be a hardship to his
fellow-countrymen, and very possibly to some of his own friends, or to
himself. And any of these perplexed voters, having somehow contrived to
strike a balance with his conscience, and to give a vote, will,
perhaps, in a year&rsquo;s, or in six years&rsquo;, time find that he
has been the <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb264" href="#pb264" name=
"pb264">264</a>]</span>instrument of placing in power an administration
which is now proceeding to pass measures that he abhors. He has no
redress. Nor, abandoning the extreme case of such highly-mixed policies
as I have endeavoured to amuse the reader by imagining, has the voter
who changes his mind, or who finds that he has been bamboozled with
false promises, any means of helping to undo the harm he has helped to
do. It used to be said that, on an average, parliamentary government
worked well&mdash;that it carried out in a rough way the will of the
people. But the peoples of a hundred years hence are going to be much
more particular about matters of such high importance. They are not
going to be content with a rough approximation in matters of the very
highest moment when they are able to secure with perfect accuracy most
of their wishes in matters of quite minor importance. They will not be
satisfied to know exactly what time it is at any moment of the day (as
of course they will know, all instruments for time-measuring being
controlled by wireless synchronisation) and not to know exactly what
their rulers are going to do about matters upon which the very fate of
the country may depend. Neither will they have remained so stupid as to
think that whatever one body of politicians considers right must
<i>be</i> right and that whatever another body thinks right must
necessarily be <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb265" href="#pb265" name=
"pb265">265</a>]</span>wrong. It is quite certain that in a really
intelligent age so clumsy a system as that of party government will
have been relegated to oblivion.</p>
<p class="par">The political machinery to replace it will be of a
nature determined by causes much too complex to be foreseen, except in
the merest outline, as yet; and probably it will, like most political
institutions, be a development rather than an invention. The system,
already talked of, by which any matter of great national importance
should be made a <i>referendum</i>, the subject of a direct vote by the
whole nation, is no doubt capable of ingeniously modified arrangement
so as to provide for its expeditious use, without undue interference
with the course of ordinary business. But obviously this device is only
capable of limited application, and it could not be employed at all,
without producing dangerous confusions and incongruities, except in a
community whose political education had made strides almost
inconceivable in the light of our present limited experience. It is
difficult to see how the general legislative business of a considerable
nation could be carried on unless by committees of a parliamentary
character; and limited as we are by the history of political
institutions arising out of states of public intelligence which will
have become contemptible in comparison with the intelligence of the
next century, there is a <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb266" href=
"#pb266" name="pb266">266</a>]</span>difficulty in conceiving how such
committees or parliaments could work out otherwise than on some sort of
party system. But the analogy of progress in general may help us to a
conjecture, which is here offered only for what it is worth. All
progress, as we know it, is a development from the homogeneous to the
heterogeneous. One form of progress consists of the development of
specialism. At one time, and not so very long ago, every housewife made
her own jams, pickles, perfumes, essences and condiments, which are now
purchased ready made. A man of science, in Davy&rsquo;s time, often
embraced a number of different branches as his province; whereas now
even a single science is seldom completely handled by any individual
professor, entomologists differentiating themselves from general
biologists, and coleopterists from general entomologists. Does it not
appear likely, then, that the functions of the politician and of the
legislator will presently be differentiated, with great advantage to
nations? In a legislature of the present time professional law-makers
are numerically few, and not very highly regarded. While in a matter
relatively unimportant, like coach-building, civilisation has made
specialism necessary; in a matter of the highest importance, the making
of a nation&rsquo;s laws, we continue to trust the general
practitioner, and the suggestion that specialists <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb267" href="#pb267" name=
"pb267">267</a>]</span>alone should be employed in it would probably
awaken a torrent of objection not unmingled with execration. But
specialism of all sorts will have extended its sway to such an extent a
hundred years hence that the likeliest solution of the difficulties at
present envisaged is that the business of law-making will be relegated
to a specially qualified and specially educated class, and that
parliaments, if they exist at all, will have nothing to do with it, but
will concern themselves with what they are often rather contumeliously
told now is not their business (though it ought to be); namely, the
management of international policy. The way in which this evolution
will come about is, moreover, fairly easy to imagine. At some time
during the century the manifold confusions, inconsistencies and evident
inconveniences of the existing <i>corpus</i> of the law are pretty sure
to require drastic and laborious treatment, which can only be
administered by professional experts. At the same time, the public,
having awakened to the ludicrous fact that laws are passed in every
session of every Parliament in the world, which, when they come to be
administered, break down because they have either been so stupidly and
unimaginatively conceived, or so clumsily expressed in the statutes
which embody them, that practical working immediately reveals their
fatal defects. A clever young lawyer once said to the present
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb268" href="#pb268" name=
"pb268">268</a>]</span>writer that he knew of no intellectual pleasure
so delightful as that of discovering how to circumvent the provisions
of an Act of Parliament. This diverting, if immoral, remark illustrates
the faults of a social system in which laws are made chiefly by persons
having little experience in the working of laws, and elected to that
duty by persons having no such experience at all. Having in mind the
fact that international law is already relegated practically to
specialists, it requires no great effort of imagination to foresee that
the Hercules that will cleanse the Augean stable of the Statute Book
will be a committee of professors of law. And once the public has
become familiarised with the idea, what more natural than that a
similar body should be formed to provide against such legislative
blunders as we were all recently laughing at, when, having provided for
the restraint of habitual drunkards by placing them on what was called
the black list, Parliament presently learned that it had so framed the
law that no one could be black-listed except by his own consent? The
development from this to a system by which laws would not merely be
amended, but devised <i lang="la">ab ovo</i>, by professional
legislators, is easy to foresee; and with properly-devised precautions
to ensure that the laws created shall express the will of a sovereign
people sufficiently educated in political duty to possess a will worthy
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb269" href="#pb269" name=
"pb269">269</a>]</span>of consideration, probably no better solution of
the legislative difficulty can be imagined.</p>
<p class="par">The conduct of foreign affairs is a matter much less
easy to reform. If despotisms were not such desperately untrustworthy
things, a good sound autocracy would probably be the best form of
government for the function of conducting the affairs of one nation
with another. The extraordinary diplomatic success of Russia is an
evidence of this. But Russia also illustrates the drawbacks of
despotism. In its management of foreign affairs Russia has (despite the
habit which its departments occasionally display of acting in conflict
with one another) beaten all the civilised nations. Russia has a
&ldquo;continuous&rdquo; foreign policy. There are no changes of
ministers to nullify each other&rsquo;s work and to encourage the
diplomatists of other nations to procrastinate and shilly-shally over
negotiations in the hope that a general election will bring in a new
set of statesmen, easier to deal with. And Russia can herself
procrastinate, prevaricate and play all sorts of tricks, neglect her
promises, ignore her pledges, and prosecute her cryptic aims, without
the smallest fear of a question in Parliament to spoil her game by
letting all the world into her dark and devious secrets. The more a
nation becomes democratised, the less competent it is to manage its
foreign policy against less democratic nations, and a truly
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb270" href="#pb270" name=
"pb270">270</a>]</span>popular Government is, in the present state of
the world, about the worst conceivable instrument for that purpose.
With an ever-increasing democratisation of all governments such as we
are sure to witness during this century, foreign offices of the present
kind will become more and more incompetent until some sort of machinery
is invented in their place.</p>
<p class="par">Nor will the disappearance of the ultimate resort to
arms, as a possibility always threatening in the background, tend to
improve matters. It will, on the contrary, make them worse. There can
be no doubt that the awful fear of war, which must haunt the pillow of
every statesman in our day with dreams of pitiable horror, does
exercise an influence in settling controversies which, without this
terror, would drag their slow length along from generation to
exasperated generation. And if we try to imagine that the increased
conscientiousness of a better time will help nations to deal more
honourably with each other, it is to be feared that even the vast
progress of the quick-moving century on which we have entered will not
suffice to bind the princes to its pleasure and teach their senators
wisdom. It is unfortunately in regard to honour between nation and
nation that conscience develops most slowly, and many a man who would
scorn to trick a fellow-citizen, or even defraud a railway company,
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb271" href="#pb271" name=
"pb271">271</a>]</span>and who would quite possibly hesitate before
smuggling a box of cigars through the custom-house, will calmly
advocate acts of international dishonesty and oppression abhorrent to
any conscientious mind.</p>
<p class="par">There can be no doubt that the most deleterious
influence of our times, which encourages nations to delay and deny to
each other justice and the fulfilment of solemn obligations, is the
habit of waiting upon the chances of a minister&rsquo;s fall, and a
resulting change of policy. So long as almost any day may bring a new
set of statesmen, predisposed against anything which their predecessors
may have approved, diplomacy will be disfigured by ways that are dark
and tricks that are vain: and the logical twentieth of the centuries
may be trusted to perceive this. Consequently some method will have to
be devised by which a continuous foreign policy may be made compatible
with the performance of a nation&rsquo;s will. And here the wiser
nature of the new age will assist the constructive genius of the
reformer. No doubt the habit of changing our minds on the basic
principles of government about once every six years will have been
eradicated. Peoples will deliberate more intelligently upon the
important questions which they decide by their votes: and it will no
longer be thought&mdash;or rather, we shall no longer act as if we
thought&mdash;that a modification <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb272"
href="#pb272" name="pb272">272</a>]</span>of general opinion in regard
(say) to Home Rule for Ireland must necessarily carry with it a change
of opinion as to whether it is desirable to extend our influence in
Afghanistan. When this error is abandoned, probably foreign affairs
will no longer be made part and parcel of the work of the same set of
men that is elected to manage domestic policy. It will then be possible
for the people to express&mdash;as they rarely have any opportunity to
express under the present system&mdash;their sovereign will in regard
to international matters. And here, as everywhere, responsibility will
certainly exercise an educative influence. When men intelligently
realise that by their votes they are deciding the fate of their
country, they will deliberate long before yielding a decision so
momentous. Inasmuch as the foreign affairs of any nation are truly
understood only by a very limited class, because very few people are
willing to give up enough of their leisure to the studies necessary for
such an understanding, it seems reasonable to think that one feature of
the polity of the year 2000 may be the limitation of the right to vote
on foreign affairs to men and women who have demonstrated in some
sufficient manner their competence to assist in directing the action of
their representatives in matters so intricate. The increased leisure
with which other reforms already foreseen will endow the <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb273" href="#pb273" name=
"pb273">273</a>]</span>people will of course facilitate the acquirement
of this competence, and the right to vote on foreign affairs will
doubtless be a coveted social distinction, subserving the perennial
love of titles and the childlike pleasure of having letters after
one&rsquo;s name. Nor need we be too much daunted in this conjecture by
the whispered word &ldquo;oligarchy.&rdquo; When oligarchy really means
government by those best qualified to govern&mdash;the nature of this
&ldquo;bestness&rdquo; being intelligently determined&mdash;oligarchy
will be recognised as the most satisfactory form of government: and in
order to exclude objectionable one-sidedness in the method of selecting
voters for the high duty of guarding the nation&rsquo;s honour, no
doubt some method of selection by vote can be discovered, free from
liability to reintroduce the baleful evil of party.</p>
<p class="par">Coming now to other functions of a State, the most
obvious subject for conjecture is that suggested by the tendency in
recent times of governments (and following their example of
municipalities) to engage in trade. The comment which gained currency
over a decade ago, that we were all socialists then, is still more
justified now. Will States continue their increasing practice of
usurping the place of private adventurers? Will railways, canals,
telephonic and teleautographic systems, street conveyances, and so
forth, be owned and <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb274" href="#pb274"
name="pb274">274</a>]</span>controlled by various public authorities,
after education, some other functions, including the feeding and
clothing of poor children during school age, and the care of the
unemployed (which States before long will certainly have embraced) have
by a more enlightened polity been returned to the proper hands? The
whole question of whether socialism is a probable solution of the
difficulties which its advocates believe it capable of solving is here
involved. Applying our familiar principle of estimating the tendencies
of the future by the trend of events in the past, it seems certain that
there will for a good many years immediately to come be an increase in
the functions assumed by the State: but that the whole plunge into
socialism will not be undertaken. For, while measures undisguisedly
socialistic in character are more and more advocated and adopted, the
open principle of State socialism seems to find less support every
year. Whenever distress becomes prevalent, plenty of writers, for
instance, loudly denounce Governments for not finding work for everyone
who fails to find work for himself&mdash;so long as he is a man! (No
one appears to think it the Government&rsquo;s duty to find work for
women.) But when socialism is openly propounded, the same authors just
as vehemently denounce the socialistic system to which this principle
of regarding the State as the duty-bound <span class="pagenum">[<a id=
"pb275" href="#pb275" name="pb275">275</a>]</span>employer of the
workless clearly tends. What will most likely happen is that devices,
more and more socialistic, for dealing with emergencies, and
inconveniences of various sorts, will be adopted and maintained until
their own inconvenience and injustice have made themselves felt: and
then a more reasonable age will get rid of them&mdash;better remedies
having meantime been discovered&mdash;at the same time perceiving their
deleterious effect upon private responsibility, and wondering why it
has tolerated the old methods so long. In other words, socialistic
experiments will have demonstrated their own evils before the habit of
indulging in them has gone so far as to allow States to drift the whole
way into socialism. It is even possible that the example of some single
nation, drifting thus far, and setting up a socialistic State, may
serve as a useful warning to the rest of the world, and determine the
gradual abandonment of the dangerous tendencies which will have
increasingly manifested themselves. For it is certain that, unless in
exceptional and abnormal instances&mdash;of which the Australian
Commonwealth is very likely to furnish an example&mdash;political
systems will always continue to develop by evolutionary, and not by
revolutionary, steps. We shall pass gradually, and by a process of
construction and elimination, from one condition to another, until the
very greatly improved system of government <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb276" href="#pb276" name="pb276">276</a>]</span>and
administration whose period of existence I have ventured to place at
about the beginning of the next century, has become general throughout
the world.</p>
<p class="par">We may, for instance, very easily imagine how a more
intelligent electorate will abolish some abuses, by considering the
condition of the post-office department of this and other countries. It
is hardly thinkable that, during any period of the world&rsquo;s
history, the business of carrying letters can be thrown open to anyone
who chooses to undertake it. If there were nothing to be dealt with
except the domestic correspondence of each nation, probably it would be
a great deal better that it should be thus thrown open to competition:
it is hardly likely that the vast business of international
correspondence can ever be satisfactorily conducted, except by
administrations acting in the name and behalf of every State. But there
is not the least reason for thinking that the abuses which deface the
postal department of this and every other nation will be perpetual. The
British post-office contributes annually a &ldquo;profit&rdquo; of
several millions sterling to the Exchequer. Every person who writes a
letter, therefore, is taxed for doing it. In proportion to the
intelligence, commercial enterprise, family affection, or professional
diligence by which he is prompted to use correspondence, every one of
us is compelled <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb277" href="#pb277"
name="pb277">277</a>]</span>to contribute something more to the up-keep
of the State than his neighbour who is too lazy, too ignorant or too
callous to trouble himself with letter-writing. No doubt it is
impossible, without a loss which would amount to
subsidising<span class="corr" id="xd21e1768" title=
"Not in source">,</span> in an equally objectionable manner, the users
of the post-office, to conduct that department except at a profit of
some sort: but it surely will not be pretended that it could not be
conducted without exacting such a surplus as the post-office does
annually contribute to the Budget. The vicious manner in which we treat
the postal service as a sort of trading department, expected to yield
the Chancellor of the Exchequer a convenient sum towards his
expenditure, is illustrated by the disgraceful underpayment of the
minor officials, such as postmen, small post-masters, telegraph
messengers and the like. The post-office buys its labour in the
cheapest market: there is but too much reason for the belief that it
treats with oppressive harshness attempts on the part of its servants
to better their wages by organisation: and when reproved in the House
of Commons for sweating his work-people, a postmaster-general can
always reply, amid applause, that he dare not embarrass his
right-honourable friend the Chancellor of the Exchequer. The polity of
the enlightened future will assuredly desist from penalising
intelligence, enterprise, and the other commendable <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb278" href="#pb278" name=
"pb278">278</a>]</span>characteristics which tend to increase a
man&rsquo;s correspondence; and the postmaster-general who will be
praised a hundred years hence will be that one who has succeeded in
managing his department with the smallest possible surplus. We have
only to envisage the obvious justice of this ambition to perceive the
objections which attach to the adoption of trading functions by the
State. Though it is very likely that railways will be nationalised in
this, as they have been nationalised or subsidised in many other
countries, it is quite certain that if we do nationalise them we shall
be compensated by none of the advantages which make us tolerant, and
even unconscious, of the abuses of the British post-office&mdash;itself
in most respects one of the least imperfect of bureaucracies. The
faults generally found with railways are precisely the faults of
bureaucracy, and in proportion as railways become more and more united
in their policy, through amalgamation and arrangements for mutual
assistance, those faults constantly increase. The same will presently
be found true of all governmental usurpations of private enterprise:
and it cannot be doubted that in this, as in so many other respects,
the functions of governments will be greatly reduced a hundred years
hence.</p>
<p class="par">One subject which cannot be neglected in any attempt to
foresee the conditions of the <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb279"
href="#pb279" name="pb279">279</a>]</span>law in the next century is
the delicate and difficult one of marriage laws: and on no subject are
differences of opinion so numerous and so acute. All that seems to be
generally agreed is that under the present system inconveniences and
immoralities occur: and it is (of course) supposed to be a corollary
that if the system were changed these inconveniences and immoralities
would disappear. This is the usual method of considering social
difficulties. Hardly anyone will consent to base plans for the future
upon experience of the past. It is always presumed that new laws can
reform abuses, without changes in the spirit of the age, which gives
rise to the abuses. One class of thinkers, despairing of moral
improvement, considers that, immorality being irremediable, the only
thing to be done is to give it sanction; as it must exist, it must be
made respectable and unscandalous. Another set of reformers would
penalise immorality by forbidding the guilty party in a divorce suit to
re-marry, just as there are people who would prevent the physically
unfit from marrying at all. Both forget that the prohibition of legal
unions is much more likely to lead to an increase of irregular
connections than to produce any other effect. No doubt we could improve
the physical standard of the legitimately born by the prohibition last
digressively mentioned: but it would be at the expense of <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb280" href="#pb280" name="pb280">280</a>]</span>an
increase in illegitimate births accompanied by the additional
disadvantage of bodily weakness. Similarly, so far from the prohibition
of re-marriage restraining the immorally disposed, it is much more
likely that it would encourage them: the fact that a co-respondent
could not be called upon to marry the woman divorced in consequence of
her guilty association with him would hardly act generally as a
deterrent; while, if he had been willing to face the probable
consequences of publicity, expense and inconvenience attending a
liaison with a woman under coverture, the co-respondent would not think
it necessary to abandon his confederate, if he wished, and she were
willing, to continue their connection after all the penalties had been
suffered, merely because the law prevented a regular union. It is
agreed by all jurists that the only justification for the greater
severity with which matrimonial infidelity is visited on women as
compared with men is the greater social degradation with which society
visits women who have offended. To penalise their offence by
prohibiting re-marriage would only perpetuate their degradation, and
does in fact so perpetuate and increase it in countries where the
condemned party in a divorce is forbidden the altar.</p>
<p class="par">On the other hand, to recognise a sort of promiscuity,
as some writers have suggested <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb281"
href="#pb281" name="pb281">281</a>]</span>that we shall be obliged to
do, would probably be attended by worse effects than the bold and
straightforward acceptance of polygamy as a necessary remedy for the
excess of feminine population, which a writer of letters to the shocked
and astonished newspapers of this city recently proposed. Neither
expedient is capable of being adopted: nor does there seem much
likelihood that public morality can be improved by legislation, though
it is certain to be much improved by the spontaneous amelioration of
public sentiment<span class="corr" id="xd21e1783" title=
"Source: ,">.</span> No doubt in one or two particulars the marriage
laws will gradually undergo amendment. It will be realised that it is
much more immoral to compel unwilling couples to live together
matrimonially, than to set them free to remedy one of the most hideous
of all possible mistakes. The difficulty of determining what shall be
done where one party wishes for divorce, while the other does not, is
greater: but on the whole it will probably be considered more conducive
to morality to dissolve the marriage here, after a precautionary and
experimental period of provisional separation, than to insist upon its
perpetuation. That age will only be ripe for such a reform as this,
which, by moral progress, has rendered intolerable the position of a
libertine capable of entering into matrimony with the deliberate
intention of getting out of <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb282" href=
"#pb282" name="pb282">282</a>]</span>it again when it ceases to be
attractive, and in which the social estimate of a person who acted in
the same manner through instability of character would be not much
better. In any reform of the kind suggested, it would no doubt be
arranged that pecuniary liabilities, allocated to the support and
education of children, would follow the party insisting on divorce; and
this also would act as a check upon dishonest contracts of
marriage.</p>
<p class="par">Thus, for any radical improvement in the system of
matrimonial connections, we must look to a corresponding improvement in
the spirit of the age, and the first step in advance will have been
taken when marriage ceases to be the only legal contract which is
enforced notwithstanding the ignorance of a contracting party as to the
engagement entered into. The frequency of divorce petitions will be
greatly diminished from the time we get rid of the idiotic and almost
incredibly wicked convention by which we take every possible precaution
we can think of to ensure that a girl, when she marries, shall have no
possible means of knowing to what she is committing herself. No more
ingenious contrivance for obtaining marital infelicity could be
imagined. The next step will have been taken when it is recognised as
disgraceful for parents to put pressure upon the inclinations of their
children <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb283" href="#pb283" name=
"pb283">283</a>]</span>of either sex to induce them to marry, and when
social execration renders such pressure impossible. Concurrently with
this, or as a result of it, a third step will be some abatement of our
present entire neglect of any demand for good character in a bridegroom
who would be outraged if he thought that the least aspersion could be
suggested concerning his bride. In other words, the greatest
improvements in the status of the world with regard to matrimony will
be effected when we recognise the claim of woman to be made the equal
of man in knowledge, in discretion and in social rights. No legislative
reform as yet ever suggested could have anything like as much effect in
removing the evils under which we groan, in respect to matrimony, as
this natural and inevitable development.</p>
<p class="par">Naturally the improvement in the position of women in
the new age will not arrive at a bound, nor will their rights in
relation to marriage be unaccompanied by other rights at present
withheld, and perhaps not always unreasonably withheld. On the
contrary, the recognition of one set of rights will facilitate and
accelerate the recognition of the other. It is generally agreed that
the tendency of the sexes is to become less divergent, intellectually
and morally, for reasons connected with what Spencer calls &ldquo;the
less early arrest of individual <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb284"
href="#pb284" name="pb284">284</a>]</span>evolution, and the result
everywhere seen throughout the organic world, of a self-preserving
power inversely proportionate to the race-preserving
power.&rdquo;<a class="noteref" id="xd21e1796src" href="#xd21e1796"
name="xd21e1796src">4</a></p>
<p class="par">As it will have been realised, long before the advent of
the next century, that the surest way to improved capacity is to be
found in increased responsibility, women will not, a hundred years
hence, be allowed or compelled to shirk their political obligations. We
may see with half an eye that every year women are becoming more
capable, and also more desirous of aiding the counsels of the public:
and in some of our Colonies, as well as in some States of the American
Union, they are already voting, and voting (as it turns out) with the
most wonderful intelligence and usefulness. The influence of the female
vote in, for example, New Zealand has been for some time perceptible in
the legislation of that highly-enlightened colony: and I never heard
anyone object to the results of this influence except persons whose
conduct, or the conduct which they approved in their associates, was
likely to be inconvenienced by them. It is no doubt true that women are
a great deal more fond of demanding that the law should do work which
it would be better to leave to natural developments of public character
than could be wished: but then so are men, and it is an unquestionable
thing that the misdeeds which <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb285"
href="#pb285" name="pb285">285</a>]</span>men more readily condone than
women are much more likely to be bad for public morality than those
which women condone more freely than men. There is no particular reason
for thinking at the present time (though there was ample reason for
thinking a few decades ago) that women will be more prone to legislate
unnecessarily, and therefore mischievously, than men: and we are in any
case bound to pass through a good many years of parliament-worship
before we awaken to the fact that the law cannot do everything, and
that any reform which is accomplished by the spontaneous influence of
public opinion is always a great deal more complete, a great deal more
conducive to public self-respect, and a great deal better adjusted to
the special requirements of every individual circumstance that it
touches, than one which is laboriously and mechanically embodied in
statutes which cannot but be imperfect, cannot possibly fail to act
oppressively and unjustly in one place or another, and frequently prove
to be unworkable from beginning to end. <span class="pagenum">[<a id=
"pb286" href="#pb286" name="pb286">286</a>]</span></p>
</div>
<div class="footnotes">
<hr class="fnsep">
<p class="par footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id=
"xd21e1614" href="#xd21e1614src" name="xd21e1614">1</a></span> <i lang=
"la">Ante</i>, <a href="#ch2">Chapter II</a>.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow"
href="#xd21e1614src">&uarr;</a></p>
<p class="par footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id=
"xd21e1660" href="#xd21e1660src" name="xd21e1660">2</a></span> Against
some methods of securing this object no doubt the unintelligent
sentimentality of the present time would rebel; but if any
inconsistency be detected in my suggestion that the next century, which
is expected to be even milder than this, will accept them, it only
needs to be replied that the gentleness of our descendants will be a
reasonable and ordered gentleness, not a mere effect of morbid
sentimentality. They will not hesitate before an apparent and temporary
cruelty which is capable of preventing much greater suffering in a much
greater number of persons. The crime of permitting children to be born
with brains abnormally predisposed to evil of any sort will more
greatly revolt an intelligent age than any conceivable measure adopted
for its prevention.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href=
"#xd21e1660src">&uarr;</a></p>
<p class="par footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id=
"xd21e1697" href="#xd21e1697src" name="xd21e1697">3</a></span> It may,
perhaps, be thought that the disuse of trial by jury would be liable to
perpetuate a somewhat glaring abuse of our present
jurisprudence&mdash;the disproportionately severe repression of
offences against property as compared with the disproportionately light
repression of offences against the person. But the mere fact that the
&ldquo;unlearned&rdquo; bench is conspicuously inept in this particular
is no reason for thinking that &ldquo;learned&rdquo; courts would be
so: and meantime, as judges, like other men, are children of their
epoch, we may suppose that the increased mildness of the new age will
be reflected here as elsewhere, and that extenuating circumstances will
be allowed more weight in determining a sentence for larceny, and less
weight in determining a sentence for assault.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow"
href="#xd21e1697src">&uarr;</a></p>
<p class="par footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id=
"xd21e1796" href="#xd21e1796src" name="xd21e1796">4</a></span> <i>Study
of Sociology</i>, Chapter XV.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href=
"#xd21e1796src">&uarr;</a></p>
</div>
</div>
<div id="ch12" class="div1 chapter"><span class="pagenum">[<a href=
"#xd21e339">Contents</a>]</span>
<div class="divHead">
<h2 class="label">CHAPTER XII</h2>
<h2 class="main">GENERAL CONCLUSIONS</h2>
</div>
<div class="divBody">
<p class="par first">&ldquo;On the other hand, after observing how the
processes that have brought things to their present stage are still
going on, not with a decreasing rapidity indicating approach to
cessation, but with an increasing rapidity that implies long
continuance and immense transformations; there follows the conviction
that the remote future has in store, forms of social life higher than
any we have imagined: there comes a faith transcending that of the
Radical, whose aim is some re-organisation admitting of comparison to
organisations which exist. And while this conception of societies has
naturally evolved, beginning with small and simple types which have
their short existences and disappear, advancing to higher types that
are larger, more complex, and longer-lived, coming to still-higher
types like our own, great in size, complexity, and duration, and
promising types transcending these in times after existing societies
have died away&mdash;while this conception of societies implies that in
the slow course <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb287" href="#pb287"
name="pb287">287</a>]</span>of things changes almost immeasurable in
amount are possible, it also implies that but small amounts of such
changes are possible, within &ldquo;short periods&rdquo;&mdash;Herbert
Spencer: <i>The Study of Sociology</i>, Chapter XVI.</p>
<p class="par">It has repeatedly been necessary, in the course of this
survey, to stimulate the indulgence of the reader by a reminder, based
upon the speed of our progress in the past and its steady acceleration
in recent decades, that there is much more danger of underestimating
than of exaggerating the advances likely to have been achieved a
hundred years hence. In order to guard against misconception of the
manner in which these advances will be brought about, it is now
advisable to mention specifically what has been once or twice hinted
parenthetically, namely, the fact that the progress of the Future is
certain to be produced in a way perfectly capable of being deduced from
the manner of our progress in the past. One of the most fruitful causes
of error in existing prognostications has been the tacit assumption
that, at some vague moment in the spacious middle-distance of the
coming time, sudden and cataclysmal movements of society, and also
unexpected and revolutionary discoveries in science, will occur: and it
is as a precaution against one aspect of this mistake that a weighty
quotation from the writings of one of the sanest and most perspicuous
thinkers who <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb288" href="#pb288" name=
"pb288">288</a>]</span>have ever written upon that science of society
which he may almost be said to have created has been recalled to the
memory of the reader at the head of this chapter.</p>
<p class="par">The forecast now almost concluded, imperfect and
visionary as it must necessarily be, was commenced with some
reflections on the rate of future progress made probable by the
movements of the recent past. But nothing whatever can be deduced from
what history, remote or recent, shows us, to suggest that any stable
institution can be created otherwise than by steady development: it is
only the speed of development which is likely to alter, and even this
will only alter by a progression gaining impetus from the influence of
its own components. Whether we consider material improvements effected
by science and invention and the interaction of these; or social
improvements effected by readjustment of the conditions of life forced
upon us through the influence of intellectual and moral changes in the
individual units of society making themselves felt as aggregated
forces; the manner of attainment is nearly identical. It is commonly
objected to this view, that whereas science and invention commonly
progress in a movement characterised (so to speak) by a succession of
jerks, social conditions change imperceptibly. But thus to object is to
overlook the fact that, while no doubt society develops from time to
time certain <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb289" href="#pb289" name=
"pb289">289</a>]</span>needs whose growth is so steady as to preclude
the possibility of pointing to a final moment when the satisfaction of
them has become at length inevitable, yet, when this satisfaction is
gained by legislative enactment, there is always a moment when the
public, ripe for a given reform, takes definite possession of it. For
example (to name a comparatively recent case), no doubt the desire for
some method by which the public could distinguish between foreign and
home-made articles of merchandise had for some time been generally felt
before the passing of the Merchandise Marks Act fixed a moment at which
all dubiety on the subject would vanish, by endeavouring to require
that any imported object bearing marks calculated to give the
impression that it had been manufactured in England should also bear a
definite and correct statement as to its place of origin. Whether we
consider this enactment to have been desirable or not, it is impossible
to deny that there was a specific moment when it took effect. And
similarly, the bill for the repression of secret commissions in
business has come so near to being passed through Parliament that many
people imagine it to be already law, though it is not, at the time of
writing, even (in a technical sense) before the legislature. Without
question, therefore, public opinion is ripe for this reform, and has
with great gradualness become so: but the reform itself, when it takes
place (as it may quite <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb290" href=
"#pb290" name="pb290">290</a>]</span>conceivably have taken place by
the time this book is printed), will occur suddenly. There will be a
day when the manager of a business house could, with immunity from any
overt punishment except the loss of his employment, receive a secret
bribe from another house with which he was doing business on behalf of
his master; and a succeeding day on which, for the same offence against
commercial integrity, he could be charged before a magistrate and
ultimately punished by the law. Thus the difference between scientific
progress and social progress is not so great as has been sometimes
imagined. And on the other hand, although to the casual observer
scientific discoveries and new inventions often appear to have been
attained at a single step, to a person interested in the particular
branch of science, or the particular path of invention where a new
achievement occurs, it is generally quite evident that the latter has
been led up to by steady progress extending over a long period. The
existence of unidentified constituents in atmospheric air, for
instance, must have been long suspected before the isolation of argon
gave, to the public eye, the impression of a sudden discovery: and
astronomical disturbances have generally puzzled a great army of
observers for a long time before the public is indulged by the
announcement of a &ldquo;new&rdquo; star in the heavens.</p>
<p class="par">To the reader who has been good enough to <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb291" href="#pb291" name=
"pb291">291</a>]</span>grant any validity at all to the arguments by
which I have sought to show that, as time goes on, there will be a
decreasing tendency to attempt desired reforms by legislative process,
and an increasing tendency to make the public the guardian of its own
security, it will be evident that any differences which exist between
the nature of scientific progress and the nature of social progress are
likely to be accentuated rather than diminished in the course of this
century. A change brought about by the spontaneous activity of the
people naturally occurs without the definite line of demarcation
created by an Act of Parliament.</p>
<p class="par">But there is one way in which the analogy between
scientific and social progress will be noteworthy. It is a commonplace
of industrial history that an improvement in one machine, or the
introduction of some novel method of applying power, always produces,
and may very often necessitate, modifications in a number of procedures
not previously seen to be connected with it: and great results from
little causes flow. No one foresaw, when Mr Edison discovered the
differences in the electrical conductivity of carbon induced by slight
variations of pressure&mdash;a discovery at first utilised only in the
micro-tasimeter, the appliance used for measuring small changes in the
size of objects submitted to it&mdash;that the same discovery would
presently render commercially practicable the <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb292" href="#pb292" name=
"pb292">292</a>]</span>electrical transmission of speech and numerous
other conveniences, themselves the progenitors of fresh inventions now
in constant use. Similarly, political and social changes quite easy to
foresee will undoubtedly have effects which in their entirety no one
can possibly foresee. The rate of advancement cannot be calculated like
a geometrical progression: all that we can hope to do is to realise
more or less vaguely the acceleration which the action and interaction
of anticipated (and often antagonistic) forces will produce; the
general manner of the world&rsquo;s progress representing the resultant
of their activities. What we must constantly keep in mind is the fact
that changes in the institutions of society can only be stable when
they are the result of corresponding changes in the temper of the age
which yields them. As this temper is a thing of gradual development, we
must believe that many temporary expedients will have to be tolerated
by advanced thinkers since (as Spencer remarks) society can only be
held together when the institutions existing, and the conceptions
generally current, are in tolerable harmony. We can foresee many
changes which will be in beneficent existence a hundred years hence;
but it would be irrational to show impatience because these changes
cannot be immediately proposed; since, being not yet in harmony with
the current conceptions of the world, their immediate adoption
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb293" href="#pb293" name=
"pb293">293</a>]</span>would be mischievous instead of beneficial, and
their results anarchic instead of stable. For a great many years we
must go on passing laws for the regulation of social life, which we can
quite easily perceive that the altered social life of a future age will
not need, because they would be injurious to it. The zealous reformer
who wishes, as we must all wish, to help the world in its wearied way
to perfection must aim rather to assist the mind of people to demand
greater reforms than it could as yet assimilate, than to procure the
arrival of reforms for which society is not yet ripe, and must be
content with the effort</p>
<div class="lgouter">
<p class="line xd21e1226">&ldquo;... to ease the burden of the
world</p>
<p class="line">Laboriously tracing what must be</p>
<p class="line">And what may yet be better.&rdquo;</p>
</div>
<p class="par first">To say this is not to deprecate the greatest
possible energy in all endeavour that makes for progress. The doctrine,
founded upon a perception of the impossibility of regenerating society
except by utilising the natural and evolutionary movement of society
itself, that nothing ought to be done except to wait upon this
movement, betrays an evident confusion of thought, akin to the fallacy
of the schoolmen, commonly called realism, partly adopted by Comte.
&ldquo;Society&rdquo; is not in itself an entity separable from the
units of society; a progress of society is only possible as the result
of <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb294" href="#pb294" name=
"pb294">294</a>]</span>human volition progressively exercised. What we
have to look for is a steady enlightenment of public ideals, issuing in
the triumph of wisdom over folly, of virtue over laxity, of progress
over reaction and <i>inertia</i>. Always there will be differences of
opinion, exercising a salutary check upon hasty public action, and
giving time for the establishment of harmony between the spirit of the
age and the new institutions which mark its progress.</p>
<p class="par">Naturally there will have been many changes in the
material of daily life which, either because they did not fit in with
any one of the divisions into which a forecast of the future naturally
fell, or because the consideration of them would have obscured the
exposition of matters more immediately connected with each other, it
has not been possible to mention. For example, we have had occasion to
debate the methods by which men and women will transact the business of
trade and commerce with the aid of certain foreseen conveniences; and
we have glanced at the probable future aspect of dwellings, conveyances
and similar conveniences; but nothing has been said as to the clothes
in which our descendants are likely to attire themselves or the
enjoyment of these advantages. The latter and a few other minor
subjects may perhaps be considered now, without very much mutual
connection.</p>
<p class="par">The clothing of men and women happens to <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb295" href="#pb295" name=
"pb295">295</a>]</span>illustrate rather appropriately the very same
tendency of civilised institutions to develop by gradual, rather than
violent, changes which has just been referred to. For, while a good
deal is heard about the &ldquo;vagaries&rdquo; of fashion, technical
writers on the subject always seem to be able to predict some time in
advance the movements of modish costume; and they sometimes even
condescend to explain the processes of thought and observation by which
their apparently inspired predictions are arrived at. Moreover,
admitting, and allowing for, the extremest variations in detail,
costume in civilised countries can hardly be said to have materially
and intrinsically altered&mdash;cannot, that is to say, be said to have
altered its fundamental characteristics&mdash;during a century, in the
case of men, nor during a great many centuries in the case of women.
Since the age of knee-breeches succeeded the age of doublet and hose,
men have always protected their legs with &ldquo;bifurcated
integuments&rdquo;&mdash;some sort of double tube secured to a copious
bag enclosing the middle of the body&mdash;and the upper part of the
trunk with a coat and waistcoat; while women have always worn bodices
and petticoats of one shape or another. Neither has the loudest outcry
against the irrationality of costume as a whole, nor even the ridicule
showered upon single elements of it, ever had the least effect in
producing revolutionary modification. <i>Punch</i> <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb296" href="#pb296" name=
"pb296">296</a>]</span>laughed in vain at crinolines; Lord Ronald Gower
protests in vain against the silk &ldquo;chimney-pot&rdquo; hat. Will a
more scientific and a more logical age replace absurd or otherwise
objectionable garments by others more reasonably designed, to such an
extent as to produce an entire change in the sartorial aspect of
civilised peoples?</p>
<p class="par">It is impossible to doubt that in some respects it will.
Already sensible women decline to injure themselves and risk the injury
of their possible offspring at the command of fashion. Tight-lacing and
the wearing of such corsets as unnaturally compress the internal organs
of the body are evidently near the end of their long reign. In a
comparatively short time it is hardly possible to doubt that at least
these, the most evidently injurious articles of clothing still
surviving, will have joined the farthingale and the ruff in the
lumber-room of the obsolete, and when what is really the more
reasonable moiety of mankind is thus within easy reach of sacrificing
to hygiene what was dedicated to a wholly mistaken conception of
&aelig;sthetics, can we question that reforms in male dress founded
upon convenience and reason will follow, even to the abandonment of the
silk hat? If one were asked to suggest the various steps by which the
ultimate costume of the century, whether male or female, will be
arrived at, few would not boggle at the task. <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb297" href="#pb297" name="pb297">297</a>]</span>But
the general nature of the more-or-less-perfected dress of a hundred
years hence may perhaps be not unsuccessfully imagined, having in mind
the considerations likely to determine it.</p>
<p class="par">We may be quite certain that two characteristics will be
demanded of all costume&mdash;that it shall give to all movements of
the body the greatest possible freedom consistent with warmth, and that
it shall be as easy as possible to put on and take off. The highly
intellectual life of the next century will certainly be impatient of
anything which detains it with occupations so uninteresting as the
putting on and taking off of clothes from pursuits more attractive.
Hence there will doubtless be a great deal of simplification of
details, the greatest practical diminution in the number of single
objects worn. The essentials of a satisfactory outfit will be, first,
an inner garment next the skin, worn merely for cleanliness; next a
middle garment for warmth, and finally an outer suit for protection.
The innermost garment will no doubt be made of some fabric not much
unlike the soft silky papers now made in Japan, so that it can be
destroyed as soon as it is taken off. It is not in the least likely
that so insanitary and degrading an occupation as that of the
washerwoman can survive in a civilisation really advanced. The middle
garment, completely cleansable by vacuum action and oxygenation,
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb298" href="#pb298" name=
"pb298">298</a>]</span>will of course have to be made of some vegetable
fibre like cotton or flax. It will most likely be some developed form
of &ldquo;combination,&rdquo; easy to put on and take off, fastening by
means of a single knot or button, and will be just tight enough to give
freedom to the movements. Its warmth will be dependent upon contained
air, and it, like everything else we wear, will be highly porous; for
the importance of properly ventilating the skin, perfectly well
understood even now, will by that time be also acted upon. Thus far
male costume and female costume will be practically identical. There is
no reason to expect, however, that this identity will be carried so far
as the externals of dress, because realising (as we shall of course
realise) the tendency of the sexes to become less divergent in their
natural and moral characteristics, we shall instinctively seek to
maintain all the salutary and romantic contrast that we can. But it is
not to be believed that woman, already long since emancipated from the
corset, will have continued a slave to the skirt, the petticoat and
other restraining garments. With underclothes practically identical
with the sensible garments of men, our female descendants will no doubt
wear a costume much like what Miss Rehan wore as Rosalind&mdash;a tunic
and knee-skirt (probably in one) with gaiters made of some elastic
material.</p>
<p class="par">Deprived as we shall be of animal products, <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb299" href="#pb299" name="pb299">299</a>]</span>the
leather boot will naturally be unavailable, and a totally different
kind of foot covering will be used. But it is not the absence of
leather which will determine this change. Perfectly satisfactory boots
of the present form are worn by some extreme vegetarians already,
carrying consistency to its limit. With the disappearance of the horse
from the streets, however&mdash;a disappearance which will doubtless be
at least seventy years old by this time next century (for the motor car
is fast pushing out the horse already)&mdash;the chief need for an
entirely impervious foot-covering will have been obviated. Towns will
be sanitary underfoot&mdash;they are disgusting now&mdash;and free from
mud; while the drying appliances mentioned in an earlier chapter will
clear away rain as fast as it falls. Consequently it will no longer be
necessary to wear uncomfortable, unhealthy and deforming boots; the
human foot will cease to be the source of discomfort it now more or
less acutely is to nine people out of every ten, and we shall be much
better walkers and athletes. For health will be the consideration
dominating all our actions, health being a subject of careful tuition
in every school: and as men and women will rarely need to use muscular
strength in their work, they will gratify the natural yearning of
healthy animals for exertion, in athletic sports, by no means confined
to the male sex.</p>
<p class="par">Whether fashion as an institution will continue
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb300" href="#pb300" name=
"pb300">300</a>]</span>to exist is doubtful, but probably it will not
exhibit the extravagances, nor the capricious development which now
characterise it, and &ldquo;a general uniformity with infinitesimal
differences,&rdquo; which has been defined as one of Nature&rsquo;s
uniformities, will be perceptible in the natural development of the
race.</p>
<p class="par">Of course one object sought consciously or unconsciously
to be attained by the use of fashions is class distinction; and
similarly jewellery is probably worn much more because it is a sign of
wealth than because of any intrinsic beauty which it is supposed to
possess. At one time a man&rsquo;s occupation (and consequently his
rank in society) could be ascertained by his dress; and sumptuary laws
occasionally made such distinctions obligatory. It is no doubt of some
law of his own time that Shakespeare was thinking<a class="noteref" id=
"xd21e1883src" href="#xd21e1883" name="xd21e1883src">1</a> when he made
the tribune in <i>Julius C&aelig;sar</i> reprove the workmen for
appearing on a business-day without the leather aprons which marked
their trade:&mdash;</p>
<div class="lgouter">
<p class="line xd21e1890">&ldquo;What, know you not</p>
<p class="line">Being mechanical you ought not walk,</p>
<p class="line">Upon a labouring day, without the sign</p>
<p class="line">Of your profession?&rdquo;</p>
</div>
<p class="par first">Will class distinction survive the democratising
influence of a century? <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb301" href=
"#pb301" name="pb301">301</a>]</span></p>
<p class="par">The dress of our own time tends to obliterate the
evidence of these distinctions; but a development from heterogeneity to
homogeneity is a reversal of the usual law of progress, and it can
hardly be called a sign of social advancement that artisans of our day
generally wear, when at work, the cast-off clothes of the employing
classes, bought second-hand, and for &ldquo;Sunday best&rdquo; often
ape the fashions of the rich. In a hundred years&rsquo; time assuredly
no worker will be ambitious to give himself the aspect of an idler, and
one may perpend the dry answer of an American to the remark that in the
United States there is no leisure-class. &ldquo;Oh, yes, there
is,&rdquo; said the moralist, &ldquo;only we don&rsquo;t call them
that; we call them tramps.&rdquo; Everyone will take pride in his work,
when work is no longer treated with the disgraceful contempt which we
are only by degrees becoming ashamed of. Consequently the clothes worn
at work will no doubt be, in every trade, specially designed to
facilitate the exertions of the worker: and in the copious hours of
leisure there will be variety, increased by the wearing of special
garments for special amusements. It is difficult to believe that
anyone, whatever his work, will dispense with the comfort of a complete
change of dress when play-time comes: and the ingenious simplification
of fastenings, and the reduced number of garments worn, will facilitate
the enjoyment of <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb302" href="#pb302"
name="pb302">302</a>]</span>this luxury. Everyone will dress for
dinner&mdash;but not (one fancies) in a &ldquo;swallow-tail&rdquo; coat
and stiff shirt. It is quite certain that all our clothes will be soft,
supple, porous, light and warm a hundred years hence, and the
clear-starcher will no longer have the opportunity to destroy them.</p>
<p class="par">Some attempt has already been made to suggest the
general domestic and architectural conveniences of the next century,
but the subject of furniture has not been referred to in detail.
Allowing for the fact that animal fabrics, as wool, leather, etc., will
be absent, there is no particular reason why chairs, carpets and
curtains should be very different from what they are now. No doubt
light metallic alloys will often be used in the framework of chairs and
tables instead of wood, because the tendency of civilisation is to make
things lighter and less cumbersome whenever this is possible. At one
time it might have been thought that upholstery, carpets and curtains
would have to be dispensed with. But to a thoughtful observer there
must always have been a difficulty here. A wooden chair, and even a
rattan one, however cunningly shaped, is so extremely discomfortable to
sit in without cushions, that it was easier to imagine that invention
would correct the unhealthiness of cushions and stuffing, than that an
advanced age would consent to dispense with these <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb303" href="#pb303" name=
"pb303">303</a>]</span>luxuries. The manner in which the former
solution of the difficulty would be attained was actually foreseen by
the present writer before the introduction of vacuum cleaning was
accomplished, and several passages in an earlier chapter had to be
rewritten when what had been somewhat fancifully described as a
convenience of the future suddenly became an existing factor of the
present: and in one or two places innovations have similarly called for
changes in the text&mdash;a circumstance which, it is to be hoped, will
give pause to critics disposed to condemn certain suggestions in this
book as chimerical.<a class="noteref" id="xd21e1909src" href=
"#xd21e1909" name="xd21e1909src">2</a> Obviously, now that we can
thoroughly cleanse and free from every particle of dust by a simple
mechanical process any fabric or mass of fabrics, there is no longer
any reason to expect that our descendants will, on hygienic grounds,
find it necessary to dispense with comforts so essential to restful
leisure as easy-chairs, soft carpets and wall hangings.</p>
<p class="par">On the other hand, it is quite certain that numerous
inventions will enhance and beautify the luxury of an age where
rational luxury will reign universally. One source of frequent
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb304" href="#pb304" name=
"pb304">304</a>]</span>discomfort to-day is the necessity of living
always in rooms of one size. Whether we sit alone, or entertain a
number of friends, the same apartment has to serve our needs:
consequently we are crowded on one day and chilly on the next. With
combustion abolished as a heating device, there will be no objection
against light sliding walls&mdash;a convenience long since adopted by
our allies the Japanese&mdash;which would be rather dangerous nowadays
and not particularly desirable, at all events in England, where we have
no means of warming most rooms except a fire on one side, and no means
of cooling them at all except by letting in draughts and noise through
the window. No doubt when matches and fireplaces, about equally
causative of conflagration, have vanished, and when we have invented
methods of warming the air in houses without the horrible drying of it
caused by the American pipe-stove system, houses will be much more
lightly built: and it is certainly not going to be impossible to use
thin, light walls without being able to hear in each room every sound
that occurs in the next. Concurrently, we shall be able to change the
size of rooms&mdash;a convenience greater than might be supposed by
those who have not thought about the matter. In summer we shall just as
easily cool our houses as we shall heat them in winter. Very few
servants will be required (another great <span class="pagenum">[<a id=
"pb305" href="#pb305" name="pb305">305</a>]</span>comfort); and
lighting arrangements will naturally be free from their present
inadequacy.</p>
<p class="par">Except that no one has yet troubled to think about it,
there is surely no reason why bathing should be such a tedious
operation as it is. Probably the speediest dresser of our own day does
not consume less than a quarter of an hour over his morning tub and the
operation of drying himself. A hundred years hence, people will be so
avid of every moment of life, life will be so full of busy delight,
that time-saving inventions will be at a huge premium. It is not
because we shall be hurried in nerve-shattering anxiety, as it is often
complained that we now are, but because we shall value at its true
worth the refining and restful influence of leisure, that we shall be
impatient of the minor tasks of every day. The bath of the next century
will lave the body speedily with oxygenated water delivered with a
force that will render rubbing unnecessary, and beside it will stand
the drying cupboard, lined with some quickly-moving arrangement of soft
brushes, and fed with highly desiccated air, from which, almost in a
moment, the bather will emerge, dried, and with a skin gently
stimulated, and perhaps electrified, to clothe himself quickly and pass
down the lift to his breakfast, which he will eat to the accompaniment
of a summary of the morning&rsquo;s news read <span class=
"pagenum">[<a id="pb306" href="#pb306" name="pb306">306</a>]</span>out
for the benefit of the family, or whispered into his ears by a
talking-machine.</p>
<p class="par">Does this manner of beginning the day sound like a
nightmare? That is only because the purpose of it has been overlooked.
Not because they will be &ldquo;short&rdquo; of time will our
descendants thus arrange their lives, but because they wish to reserve
as much time as possible for culture (physical as well as intellectual)
and for thought; which the better distribution of wealth and labour
will facilitate; while labour itself, everywhere performed
intelligently and with interest, will be no longer irksome. The working
man will ply his trade with zest&mdash;working for himself and
family&mdash;instead of seeking every opportunity to shirk and evade
it. And, his task accomplished, he will hasten to enjoyments as
elevating as labour itself.</p>
<p class="par">Will man then, the critic may ask incredulously, have
really been perfected in a century? Decidedly not. But unless we doubt
the evidence which shows that improved institutions not only arise out
of improved popular character, but also help to promote it, we cannot
resist the inference that the removal of many causes of degradation
must bring us nearer to perfection, to which the moral evolution of the
race is slowly proceeding. There is nothing Utopian in the belief that
honesty, truthfulness, respect for the rights of others, will
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb307" href="#pb307" name=
"pb307">307</a>]</span>be fostered by the increased intelligence of the
new age; and from the moment when this intelligence, disseminated
throughout all society, begins to make the moral improvement of the
race a prime object in every social reform, in every piece of
legislation (emancipating as well as restrictive) we have a right to
expect the progress of morality to receive a marked impetus.
&ldquo;Nature, careless of the single life,&rdquo; will be assisted in
the perfecting of the moral type, and the dishonest man, the liar, the
sensualist, and the man too stupid to be unselfish, will become with
every decade less fit for survival, because the same unwisdom which is
at the bottom of his faults will handicap him in the battle of life,
will hinder him in the competition for the right to perpetuate his
characteristics in children born of his loins. It is only those who
conceive of the race as capable of remaining stationary, or moving
backward, in morals, while in every other respect it moves forward with
constantly-increasing momentum, who imagine that cunning and
unscrupulousness are likely to be fostered by enlarged civilisation. So
long as we allow the world to be exploited for the selfish advantage of
a handful of millionaires, no doubt these characteristics will continue
at a premium. But it is impossible to believe that the irresistible
power of the mass of humanity will submit in perpetuity to be thus made
the tools of a minority. If the <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb308"
href="#pb308" name="pb308">308</a>]</span>&ldquo;ruling&rdquo; classes
wished to maintain that <i>status</i> they should have kept the people
from the schoolroom. Numbers must inevitably prevail, and the world
will have reorganised itself in ways which, if we could foresee them in
their entirety, would suggest an almost unthinkable perfection.
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb309" href="#pb309" name=
"pb309">309</a>]</span></p>
</div>
<div class="footnotes">
<hr class="fnsep">
<p class="par footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id=
"xd21e1883" href="#xd21e1883src" name="xd21e1883">1</a></span> At least
this was the opinion of the editors of the Clarendon Press edition of
the Plays.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href="#xd21e1883src">&uarr;</a></p>
<p class="par footnote"><span class="label"><a class="noteref" id=
"xd21e1909" href="#xd21e1909src" name="xd21e1909">2</a></span> While
actually correcting the proof sheets I read in a London evening
newspaper, <i>The Star</i>, that gramophones had been utilised in
certain schools for the teaching of foreign languages, a device I had
suggested in the chapter on Education as likely to be adopted in the
schools of the future.&nbsp;<a class="fnarrow" href=
"#xd21e1909src">&uarr;</a></p>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="back">
<div id="index" class="div1 index"><span class="pagenum">[<a href=
"#xd21e346">Contents</a>]</span>
<div class="divHead">
<h2 class="main">INDEX</h2>
<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pagenum">[<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>
<div class="divHead">
<h3 class="main">A</h3>
</div>
<div class="divBody">
<p class="par first">Actor, the (his art), <a href="#pb61" class=
"pageref">61</a></p>
<p class="par">Agriculture, economies in, <a href="#pb216" class=
"pageref">216</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash;, scientific development of, <a href="#pb127" class=
"pageref">127</a></p>
<p class="par">Alcohol, abandonment of, <a href="#pb36" class=
"pageref">36</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash; and the law, <a href="#pb242" class=
"pageref">242</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash; and crime, <a href="#pb244" class="pageref">244</a></p>
<p class="par">Alphabet, the, <a href="#pb42" class=
"pageref">42</a></p>
<p class="par">An&aelig;sthetics, <a href="#pb120" class=
"pageref">120</a></p>
<p class="par">Animal food, abandonment of, <a href="#pb34" class=
"pageref">34</a>, <a href="#pb126" class="pageref">126</a></p>
<p class="par">Antisepsis and asepsis, <a href="#pb10" class=
"pageref">10</a></p>
<p class="par">Arboriculture, <a href="#pb217" class=
"pageref">217</a></p>
<p class="par">Architecture, <a href="#pb194" class=
"pageref">194</a></p>
<p class="par">Argon, <a href="#pb11" class="pageref">11</a>, <a href=
"#pb290" class="pageref">290</a></p>
<p class="par">Art, <span class="sc">A.D</span>. 2000, <a href="#pb196"
class="pageref">196</a></p>
<p class="par">Atheism, <a href="#pb177" class="pageref">177</a></p>
</div>
</div>
<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pagenum">[<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>
<div class="divHead">
<h3 class="main">B</h3>
</div>
<div class="divBody">
<p class="par first">Bacillary diseases, destruction of, <a href=
"#pb123" class="pageref">123</a></p>
<p class="par">Ballot, the (its inadequacy), <a href="#pb262" class=
"pageref">262</a></p>
<p class="par">Bathing, <span class="sc">A.D.</span> 2000, <a href=
"#pb305" class="pageref">305</a><a id="xd21e2047" name=
"xd21e2047"></a></p>
<p class="par">Bedroom, the, A.D. 2000, <a href="#pb25" class=
"pageref">25</a></p>
<p class="par">Bellamy, Edward, <a href="#pb5" class=
"pageref">5</a></p>
<p class="par">Bible, inspiration of the, <a href="#pb176" class=
"pageref">176</a></p>
<p class="par">Birth-rate, the (its artificial restriction), <a href=
"#pb14" class="pageref">14</a></p>
<p class="par">Bread, wholemeal, <a href="#pb34" class=
"pageref">34</a></p>
<p class="par">Buildings, high, <a href="#pb17" class=
"pageref">17</a></p>
</div>
</div>
<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pagenum">[<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>
<div class="divHead">
<h3 class="main">C</h3>
</div>
<div class="divBody">
<p class="par first">Calculating machines, <a href="#pb45" class=
"pageref">45</a></p>
<p class="par">Canada (its future), <a href="#pb97" class=
"pageref">97</a></p>
<p class="par">Casabianca, <a href="#pb155" class="pageref">155</a></p>
<p class="par">Cereals, <a href="#pb35" class="pageref">35</a></p>
<p class="par">Climate, artificial manipulation of, <a href="#pb128"
class="pageref">128</a></p>
<p class="par">Clothes, <span class="sc">A.D.</span> 2000, <a href=
"#pb294" class="pageref">294</a><a id="xd21e2114" name=
"xd21e2114"></a></p>
<p class="par">Coal (its utilisation), <a href="#pb7" class=
"pageref">7</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash;, exhaustion of, <a href="#pb104" class=
"pageref">104</a></p>
<p class="par">Combination, voluntary, as a mode of self-government,
<a href="#pb210" class="pageref">210</a></p>
<p class="par">Comte, Auguste, <a href="#pb293" class=
"pageref">293</a></p>
<p class="par">Conscience, public, <a href="#pb185" class=
"pageref">185</a></p>
<p class="par">Cooper, E. H. (<i>The Twentieth Century Child</i>),
<a href="#pb145" class="pageref">145</a>, <a href="#pb150" class=
"pageref">150</a>, <i>note</i></p>
<p class="par">Co-operation, <a href="#pb51" class="pageref">51</a></p>
<p class="par">Cooking, <a href="#pb22" class="pageref">22</a></p>
<p class="par">Crime and heredity, <a href="#pb251" class=
"pageref">251</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash; and poverty, <a href="#pb244" class=
"pageref">244</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash; elimination, <a href="#pb247" class=
"pageref">247</a></p>
<p class="par">Criminal appeals (in law), <a href="#pb257" class=
"pageref">257</a></p>
</div>
</div>
<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pagenum">[<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>
<div class="divHead">
<h3 class="main">D</h3>
</div>
<div class="divBody">
<p class="par first">Daily Telegraph, the, <a href="#pb84" class=
"pageref">84</a></p>
<p class="par">Darwin, Charles, <a href="#pb179" class=
"pageref">179</a></p>
<p class="par">Davy, Sir Humphry, <a href="#pb6" class=
"pageref">6</a></p>
<p class="par">Diplomacy, <span class="sc">A.D.</span> 2000, <a href=
"#pb269" class="pageref">269</a></p>
<p class="par">Domestic servants, <a href="#pb18" class=
"pageref">18</a>, <a href="#pb24" class="pageref">24</a></p>
<p class="par">Drainage, <a href="#pb25" class="pageref">25</a>,
<i>note</i>, <a href="#pb127" class="pageref">127</a></p>
</div>
</div>
<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pagenum">[<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>
<div class="divHead">
<h3 class="main">E</h3>
</div>
<div class="divBody">
<p class="par first">Economy in agriculture, <a href="#pb215" class=
"pageref">215</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash;, relation of prices to, <a href="#pb205" class=
"pageref">205</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash; in use of wood, <a href="#pb215" class=
"pageref">215</a></p>
<p class="par">Edison, T. A., <a href="#pb291" class=
"pageref">291</a></p>
<p class="par">Education, <span class="sc">A.D.</span> 2000,
<i>apparatus</i> of, <a href="#pb140" class="pageref">140</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash;, art in, <a href="#pb171" class="pageref">171</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash;, books in, <a href="#pb163" class="pageref">163</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash; by pleasure, <a href="#pb149" class=
"pageref">149</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash;, corporal punishment in, <a href="#pb144" class=
"pageref">144</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash;, crime in relation to, <a href="#pb234" class=
"pageref">234</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash;, history in, <a href="#pb170" class=
"pageref">170</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash;, rational obedience in, <a href="#pb154" class=
"pageref">154</a> <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb310" href="#pb310"
name="pb310">310</a>]</span><br>
<span class="corr" id="xd21e2293" title=
"Source: Education">&mdash;&mdash;</span>, languages in, <a href=
"#pb164" class="pageref">164</a>, <a href="#pb166" class=
"pageref">166</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash;, literature in, <a href="#pb171" class=
"pageref">171</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash;, mathematics in, <a href="#pb163" class=
"pageref">163</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash;, mixed (of boys and girls), <a href="#pb146" class=
"pageref">146</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash;, phonograph in, <a href="#pb141" class=
"pageref">141</a>, <a href="#pb303" class="pageref">303</a>,
<i>note</i><br>
&mdash;&mdash;, physical science in, <a href="#pb161" class=
"pageref">161</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash;, punishments in, <a href="#pb158" class=
"pageref">158</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash;, specialised, <a href="#pb162" class=
"pageref">162</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash;, Spencer on, <a href="#pb151" class="pageref">151</a>
note</p>
<p class="par"><i>Education</i>, <i>Intellectual</i>, <i>Moral and
Physical</i> (H. Spencer), <a href="#pb151" class="pageref">151</a>,
<i>note</i></p>
<p class="par">Electricity, the end of its age, <a href="#pb11" class=
"pageref">11</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash;, wireless transmission of, <a href="#pb114" class=
"pageref">114</a></p>
<p class="par">Eton, punishments at, <a href="#pb144" class=
"pageref">144</a></p>
<p class="par">Euclid, <a href="#pb157" class="pageref">157</a>,
<a href="#pb158" class="pageref">158</a></p>
<p class="par">Evolution (the term), <a href="#pb37" class=
"pageref">37</a>, <i>note</i></p>
</div>
</div>
<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pagenum">[<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>
<div class="divHead">
<h3 class="main">F</h3>
</div>
<div class="divBody">
<p class="par first">Fashion, <span class="sc">A.D.</span> 2000,
<a href="#pb299" class="pageref">299</a></p>
<p class="par">Flying-machines, <a href="#pb27" class="pageref">27</a>,
<a href="#pb55" class="pageref">55</a></p>
<p class="par">Foods, vegetable, <a href="#pb33" class=
"pageref">33</a></p>
<p class="par">Freight transportation, <a href="#pb46" class=
"pageref">46</a></p>
<p class="par">Furniture, <span class="sc">A.D.</span> 2000, <a href=
"#pb302" class="pageref">302</a></p>
</div>
</div>
<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pagenum">[<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>
<div class="divHead">
<h3 class="main">G</h3>
</div>
<div class="divBody">
<p class="par first">Games in education, <a href="#pb143" class=
"pageref">143</a></p>
<p class="par">Gases, liquefied, as a source of power, <a href="#pb116"
class="pageref">116</a></p>
</div>
</div>
<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pagenum">[<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>
<div class="divHead">
<h3 class="main">H</h3>
</div>
<div class="divBody">
<p class="par first">Handicrafts, revival of, <a href="#pb50" class=
"pageref">50</a></p>
<p class="par">Horse traffic (its abolition), <a href="#pb22" class=
"pageref">22</a></p>
<p class="par">House construction, <a href="#pb20" class=
"pageref">20</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash; cleaning, <a href="#pb21" class="pageref">21</a></p>
<p class="par">Huxley, Thomas H., <a href="#pb6" class="pageref">6</a>,
<a href="#pb179" class="pageref">179</a></p>
<p class="par">Hydrogen, uses of, <a href="#pb9" class="pageref">9</a>,
<a href="#pb102" class="pageref">102</a></p>
<p class="par">Hypnotism, <a href="#pb131" class="pageref">131</a></p>
</div>
</div>
<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pagenum">[<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>
<div class="divHead">
<h3 class="main">I</h3>
</div>
<div class="divBody">
<p class="par first">Id&aelig;ography, Chinese, <a href="#pb166" class=
"pageref">166</a>, <i>note</i></p>
</div>
</div>
<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pagenum">[<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>
<div class="divHead">
<h3 class="main">J</h3>
</div>
<div class="divBody">
<p class="par first">Journalism and literature, <a href="#pb92" class=
"pageref">92</a></p>
<p class="par">Jury, trial by, <a href="#pb257" class=
"pageref">257</a></p>
</div>
</div>
<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pagenum">[<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>
<div class="divHead">
<h3 class="main">K</h3>
</div>
<div class="divBody">
<p class="par first">Kelvin, Lord, <a href="#pb108" class=
"pageref">108</a></p>
<p class="par">Kipling, Rudyard, <a href="#pb147" class=
"pageref">147</a></p>
<p class="par">Kitchen, the, <span class="sc">A.D.</span> 2000,
<a href="#pb22" class="pageref">22</a></p>
</div>
</div>
<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pagenum">[<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>
<div class="divHead">
<h3 class="main">L</h3>
</div>
<div class="divBody">
<p class="par first">Lamb, Charles, <a href="#pb158" class=
"pageref">158</a></p>
<p class="par">Land tenure, <a href="#pb99" class="pageref">99</a>,
<a href="#pb259" class="pageref">259</a></p>
<p class="par">Lang, Andrew, <a href="#pb123" class="pageref">123</a>,
<i>note</i>, <a href="#pb164" class="pageref">164</a>, <i>note</i>,
<a href="#pb168" class="pageref">168</a></p>
<p class="par">Language, a &ldquo;universal,&rdquo; <a href="#pb165"
class="pageref">165</a></p>
<p class="par">Languages, modern, <a href="#pb19" class=
"pageref">19</a></p>
<p class="par">Literature, <span class="sc">A.D.</span> 2000, <a href=
"#pb193" class="pageref">193</a>, <a href="#pb198" class=
"pageref">198</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash; and journalism, <a href="#pb92" class=
"pageref">92</a></p>
<p class="par">Latey, John, <a href="#pb144" class=
"pageref">144</a></p>
<p class="par">Law, the, <span class="sc">A.D.</span> 2000, <a href=
"#pb233" class="pageref">233</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash;, alcohol and, <a href="#pb241" class=
"pageref">241</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash;, changes in, necessitated by new
conditions, <a href="#pb240" class="pageref">240</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash;, cost of civil suits to be borne by
Government, <a href="#pb253" class="pageref">253</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash;, education and, <a href="#pb234" class=
"pageref">234</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash;, marriage and, <a href="#pb278" class=
"pageref">278</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash;, methods of legislation, <a href="#pb259"
class="pageref">259</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash;, &ldquo;new offences&rdquo; and, <a href=
"#pb234" class="pageref">234</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash;, penology and, <a href="#pb249" class=
"pageref">249</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash;, poverty and, <a href="#pb244" class=
"pageref">244</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash;, protective enactments injurious where
avoidable, <a href="#pb239" class="pageref">239</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash;, protecting property, <a href="#pb245"
class="pageref">245</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash;, the person, <a href=
"#pb246" class="pageref">246</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash;, trial by jury, <a href="#pb257" class=
"pageref">257</a></p>
<p class="par">Legislation, reform of, <a href="#pb266" class=
"pageref">266</a></p>
</div>
</div>
<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pagenum">[<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>
<div class="divHead">
<h3 class="main">M</h3>
</div>
<div class="divBody">
<p class="par first">Macaulay, Lord, <a href="#pb193" class=
"pageref">193</a></p>
<p class="par">Manures (<i>see</i> Agriculture), <a href="#pb127"
class="pageref">127</a></p>
<p class="par">Marriage, law of, <span class="sc">A.D.</span> 2000,
<a href="#pb278" class="pageref">278</a></p>
<p class="par">Medicine, progress of, <a href="#pb119" class=
"pageref">119</a></p>
<p class="par">Memory (children&rsquo;s), <a href="#pb151" class=
"pageref">151</a></p>
<p class="par">Merchandise Marks Act, <a href="#pb289" class=
"pageref">289</a></p>
<p class="par">Middleman, the, <a href="#pb88" class=
"pageref">88</a></p>
<p class="par">Morality and education, <a href="#pb154" class=
"pageref">154</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash; as affected by education, <a href="#pb136" class=
"pageref">136</a>, <a href="#pb139" class="pageref">139</a>, <a href=
"#pb235" class="pageref">235</a>.<br>
&mdash;&mdash; as affected by progress, <a href="#pb64" class=
"pageref">64</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash;, improving tendency of, <a href="#pb307" class=
"pageref">307</a> <span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb311" href="#pb311"
name="pb311">311</a>]</span><br>
<span class="corr" id="xd21e2731" title=
"Source: Morality">&mdash;&mdash;</span>, progress of, <a href="#pb136"
class="pageref">136</a></p>
<p class="par">Morris, William, <a href="#pb5" class=
"pageref">5</a></p>
<p class="par">Motor-cars, slot-worked, <a href="#pb31" class=
"pageref">31</a></p>
<p class="par">Music, <span class="sc">A.D.</span> 2000, <a href=
"#pb58" class="pageref">58</a>, <a href="#pb201" class=
"pageref">201</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash;, Oriental, <a href="#pb201" class="pageref">201</a></p>
<p class="par">Musician, the (his art), <a href="#pb62" class=
"pageref">62</a></p>
</div>
</div>
<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pagenum">[<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>
<div class="divHead">
<h3 class="main">N</h3>
</div>
<div class="divBody">
<p class="par first">Napoleon, <a href="#pb4" class="pageref">4</a></p>
<p class="par">Newspapers, advertisements in, <a href="#pb83" class=
"pageref">83</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash;, editorship of, <a href="#pb68" class=
"pageref">68</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash;, <span class="sc">A.D.</span> 2000, how illustrated,
<a href="#pb80" class="pageref">80</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash;, language of, <a href=
"#pb82" class="pageref">82</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash;, how printed, <a href=
"#pb79" class="pageref">79</a></p>
</div>
</div>
<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pagenum">[<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>
<div class="divHead">
<h3 class="main">O</h3>
</div>
<div class="divBody">
<p class="par first">Ocean cities, <a href="#pb98" class=
"pageref">98</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash; and the anhydrator, <a href="#pb99"
class="pageref">99</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash;, urban traffic in, <a href="#pb98" class=
"pageref">98</a></p>
<p class="par">Oersted, <a href="#pb117" class="pageref">117</a></p>
<p class="par">Oxygen, uses of, <a href="#pb9" class="pageref">9</a>,
<a href="#pb26" class="pageref">26</a>, <a href="#pb102" class=
"pageref">102</a></p>
<p class="par">Ozone and ozonators, <a href="#pb27" class=
"pageref">27</a></p>
</div>
</div>
<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pagenum">[<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>
<div class="divHead">
<h3 class="main">P</h3>
</div>
<div class="divBody">
<p class="par first">Payn, James, <a href="#pb144" class=
"pageref">144</a></p>
<p class="par">Parliament, reform of, <a href="#pb260" class=
"pageref">260</a></p>
<p class="par">Penology, principles of, in <span class="sc">A.D.</span>
2000, <a href="#pb249" class="pageref">249</a></p>
<p class="par">Philosophy, <span class="sc">A.D.</span> 2000, <a href=
"#pb109" class="pageref">109</a></p>
<p class="par">Phonograph, the, <a href="#pb40" class=
"pageref">40</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash; in education, <a href="#pb141" class="pageref">141</a>,
<a href="#pb303" class="pageref">303</a>, <i>note</i><br>
&mdash;&mdash;, the printing, <a href="#pb41" class=
"pageref">41</a></p>
<p class="par">Photography, chromatic, <a href="#pb59" class=
"pageref">59</a></p>
<p class="par">Plato, <a href="#pb188" class="pageref">188</a></p>
<p class="par">Plumbers (their technical education), <a href="#pb25"
class="pageref">25</a></p>
<p class="par">Poetry of the future, <a href="#pb193" class=
"pageref">193</a></p>
<p class="par">Post Office, the, <a href="#pb276" class=
"pageref">276</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash; in <span class="sc">A.D.</span> 2000, <a href="#pb44"
class="pageref">44</a></p>
<p class="par">Power, economy of, <a href="#pb212" class=
"pageref">212</a></p>
<p class="par">Prayer in <span class="sc">A.D.</span> 2000, <a href=
"#pb190" class="pageref">190</a></p>
<p class="par">Press, freedom of the (its possible restriction),
<a href="#pb247" class="pageref">247</a></p>
<p class="par">Prices, relation of, and economy, <a href="#pb205"
class="pageref">205</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash;<span class="corr" id="xd21e2944" title=
"Not in source">,</span> significance of, <a href="#pb32" class=
"pageref">32</a></p>
<p class="par">Progress, rate of, <a href="#pb1" class="pageref">1</a>,
<a href="#pb135" class="pageref">135</a>, <a href="#pb288" class=
"pageref">288</a></p>
<p class="par">Psychical faculties, development of, <a href="#pb65"
class="pageref">65</a>, <a href="#pb130" class="pageref">130</a></p>
<p class="par">Punishment, capital, <a href="#pb237" class=
"pageref">237</a>, <a href="#pb257" class="pageref">257</a></p>
<p class="par">Punishments, violent, will be abandoned, <a href=
"#pb238" class="pageref">238</a> (<i>see</i> Penology)</p>
</div>
</div>
<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pagenum">[<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>
<div class="divHead">
<h3 class="main">R</h3>
</div>
<div class="divBody">
<p class="par first">Radiation in therapeutics, <a href="#pb119" class=
"pageref">119</a></p>
<p class="par">Radium, <a href="#pb11" class="pageref">11</a>, <a href=
"#pb108" class="pageref">108</a>, <a href="#pb118" class=
"pageref">118</a></p>
<p class="par">Railway transport, <a href="#pb27" class=
"pageref">27</a></p>
<p class="par"><i>Recent Development of Physical Science</i> (Whetham),
<a href="#pb116" class="pageref">116</a>, <i>note</i></p>
<p class="par"><i>Referendum</i>, <a href="#pb265" class=
"pageref">265</a></p>
<p class="par">Religion, <span class="sc">A.D.</span> 2000, <a href=
"#pb175" class="pageref">175</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash;, education and, <a href="#pb182" class=
"pageref">182</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash;, high civilisation and, <a href="#pb175" class=
"pageref">175</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash;, indifference towards, <a href="#pb181" class=
"pageref">181</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash;, morality and, <a href="#pb186" class=
"pageref">186</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash;, mysticism and, <a href="#pb186" class=
"pageref">186</a>, <a href="#pb188" class="pageref">188</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash;, &ldquo;natural,&rdquo; <a href="#pb188" class=
"pageref">188</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash;, philosophy and, <a href="#pb187" class=
"pageref">187</a></p>
<p class="par"><i>Review of Reviews</i>, the, <a href="#pb71" class=
"pageref">71</a></p>
<p class="par">Roadways, moving, <a href="#pb30" class=
"pageref">30</a></p>
</div>
</div>
<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pagenum">[<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>
<div class="divHead">
<h3 class="main">S</h3>
</div>
<div class="divBody">
<p class="par first">Sahara, desert of, proposal to flood, <a href=
"#pb95" class="pageref">95</a></p>
<p class="par">Saleeby, Dr. C. W., <a href="#pb108" class=
"pageref">108</a>, <a href="#pb123" class="pageref">123</a>,
<i>note</i></p>
<p class="par">Salpetri&egrave;re Hospital, <a href="#pb130" class=
"pageref">130</a></p>
<p class="par">Scott, Sir Walter, <a href="#pb4" class=
"pageref">4</a></p>
<p class="par">Sculpture, <span class="sc">A.D.</span> 2000, <a href=
"#pb198" class="pageref">198</a></p>
<p class="par">Sea air, <a href="#pb26" class="pageref">26</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash;, the, mineral wealth of, <a href="#pb101" class=
"pageref">101</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash; &mdash;&mdash;, utilisation of, <a href="#pb95" class=
"pageref">95</a></p>
<p class="par">Shakespeare, <a href="#pb186" class=
"pageref">186</a></p>
<p class="par">Ships, <span class="sc">A.D.</span> 2000, <a href=
"#pb30" class="pageref">30</a></p>
<p class="par">Shorter, Clement K., <a href="#pb144" class=
"pageref">144</a></p>
<p class="par">Siberia (its future), <a href="#pb93" class=
"pageref">93</a></p>
<p class="par">Socialism, <a href="#pb51" class="pageref">51</a>,
<a href="#pb206" class="pageref">206</a>, <a href="#pb210" class=
"pageref">210</a>, <a href="#pb273" class="pageref">273</a></p>
<p class="par">Society, gradual progress of, <a href="#pb287" class=
"pageref">287</a></p>
<p class="par">Socrates, <a href="#pb186" class="pageref">186</a></p>
<p class="par">Spencer, Herbert, <a href="#pb18" class=
"pageref">18</a>, <a href="#pb146" class="pageref">146</a>,
<i>note</i>, <a href="#pb188" class="pageref">188</a>, <a href="#pb287"
class="pageref">287</a>, <a href="#pb292" class="pageref">292</a></p>
<p class="par">Sports, athletic, <a href="#pb54" class=
"pageref">54</a></p>
<p class="par">State, the, usurpation of wrong functions by, <a href=
"#pb74" class="pageref">74</a>, <a href="#pb273" class=
"pageref">273</a> (<i>see</i> Socialism)</p>
<p class="par">Steam-engine, the (its imperfections), <a href="#pb7"
class="pageref">7</a></p>
<p class="par">Suburbs, <a href="#pb15" class="pageref">15</a>
<span class="pagenum">[<a id="pb312" href="#pb312" name=
"pb312">312</a>]</span></p>
</div>
</div>
<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pagenum">[<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>
<div class="divHead">
<h3 class="main">T</h3>
</div>
<div class="divBody">
<p class="par first">Talking-machines (<i>see</i> Phonograph), <a href=
"#pb61" class="pageref">61</a></p>
<p class="par">Teleautoscope, the (an instrument for seeing by
electricity), <a href="#pb43" class="pageref">43</a></p>
<p class="par">Telephones, recording, <a href="#pb39" class=
"pageref">39</a></p>
<p class="par">Telephony, wireless, <a href="#pb38" class=
"pageref">38</a></p>
<p class="par">Theatre, the, <a href="#pb60" class="pageref">60</a></p>
<p class="par"><i>Times</i>, <i>The</i>, <a href="#pb68" class=
"pageref">68</a>, <a href="#pb71" class="pageref">71</a>, <a href=
"#pb84" class="pageref">84</a></p>
<p class="par">Tobacco, <a href="#pb214" class="pageref">214</a></p>
<p class="par">Trade, retail (its development and changes), <a href=
"#pb86" class="pageref">86</a></p>
<p class="par">Traill, H. D., <a href="#pb169" class=
"pageref">169</a></p>
<p class="par">Transmutation of matter, <a href="#pb119" class=
"pageref">119</a></p>
<p class="par">Travel, pleasures of, <a href="#pb57" class=
"pageref">57</a></p>
<p class="par">Tyndall, John, <a href="#pb151" class="pageref">151</a>,
<i>note</i></p>
</div>
</div>
<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pagenum">[<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>
<div class="divHead">
<h3 class="main">U</h3>
</div>
<div class="divBody">
<p class="par first">Unemployed, problem of the, <a href="#pb48" class=
"pageref">48</a></p>
</div>
</div>
<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pagenum">[<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>
<div class="divHead">
<h3 class="main">V</h3>
</div>
<div class="divBody">
<p class="par first">Vacuum, cleaning by, <a href="#pb21" class=
"pageref">21</a></p>
<p class="par">Vice, effect of progress on, <a href="#pb64" class=
"pageref">64</a></p>
</div>
</div>
<div class="div2 letter"><span class="pagenum">[<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>
<div class="divHead">
<h3 class="main">W</h3>
</div>
<div class="divBody">
<p class="par first">Wages, <a href="#pb33" class="pageref">33</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash; and co-operation, <a href="#pb51" class=
"pageref">51</a></p>
<p class="par">War, abolition of, predicted, <a href="#pb76" class=
"pageref">76</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash; correspondence, <a href="#pb74" class="pageref">74</a>,
<i>note</i>, <a href="#pb76" class="pageref">76</a>, <a href="#pb78"
class="pageref">78</a>, <i>note</i><br>
&mdash;&mdash;, its supposed advantages discussed, <a href="#pb226"
class="pageref">226</a></p>
<p class="par">Waste by alcohol, <a href="#pb215" class=
"pageref">215</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash; by animal food, <a href="#pb215" class=
"pageref">215</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash;, illness regarded as a, <a href="#pb214" class=
"pageref">214</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash;, sewage disposal a, <a href="#pb215" class=
"pageref">215</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash;, war as a, <a href="#pb219" class="pageref">219</a>
(<i>see</i> Economy)</p>
<p class="par">Water, electrolysis of, <a href="#pb8" class=
"pageref">8</a></p>
<p class="par">Weaklings, perpetuation of, <a href="#pb125" class=
"pageref">125</a></p>
<p class="par">Wealth, limitation of, <a href="#pb49" class=
"pageref">49</a></p>
<p class="par">Wellington, <a href="#pb5" class="pageref">5</a></p>
<p class="par">Wells, H. G., <a href="#pb5" class="pageref">5</a>,
<a href="#pb20" class="pageref">20</a></p>
<p class="par">Whetham, W. C., <a href="#pb116" class=
"pageref">116</a>, <i>note</i></p>
<p class="par">Woman (her political influence), <a href="#pb283" class=
"pageref">283</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash; (her political influence in America), <a href="#pb284"
class="pageref">284</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash; (her political influence in New Zealand), <a href=
"#pb284" class="pageref">284</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash;, position of, <span class="sc">A.D.</span> 2000,
<a href="#pb283" class="pageref">283</a>, (<i>see</i> Law and
Marriage)</p>
<p class="par">Workmen, condition of, <a href="#pb52" class=
"pageref">52</a><br>
&mdash;&mdash;, trains for, <a href="#pb15" class="pageref">15</a></p>
<p class="par xd21e3462">THE END</p>
<p class="par xd21e3464">COLSTON AND COMPANY, LIMITED, PRINTERS,
EDINBURGH</p>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<div class="div1 ads"><span class="pagenum">[<a href=
"#toc">Contents</a>]</span>
<div class="divBody">
<p class="par first">Crown 8vo, cloth, 6s.</p>
<p class="par">IN PERIL OF CHANGE</p>
<p class="par">Essays written in Time of Tranquillity</p>
<p class="par">BY</p>
<p class="par">C. F. G. MASTERMAN, M.A.,</p>
<p class="par">Author of &ldquo;From the Abyss.&rdquo;</p>
<p class="par">&ldquo;Mr Masterman has a singular gift for correlating
widely different phenomena, and is always quick to discern the inner
significance of literary and other fashions. He attempts to describe
the tendencies of English civilisation, to estimate the nature of its
dominant ideals, and to point out recent changes which have occurred in
these, the nature of the foundation upon which they rest, and the
likelihood of catastrophes in the future.... The book is clever,
interesting, useful.... We welcome its
appearance.&rdquo;&mdash;<i>Athen&aelig;um.</i></p>
<p class="par">&ldquo;All who care to make acquaintance with one of the
new forces of which the twentieth century will see the victory or the
defeat will do well to read &lsquo;In Peril of
Change.&rsquo;&rdquo;&mdash;<i>Westminster Gazette.</i></p>
<p class="par">&ldquo;The essays are of high literary quality,
vigorous, yet unaggressive; just in appreciation and sympathetic in
treatment. One cannot overpraise such stimulating and thoughtful work
as Mr Masterman&rsquo;s.... It is a good thing for a man to think, but
it is better still to make others think, and this is exactly what
&lsquo;In Peril of Change&rsquo; does.&rdquo;&mdash;<i>Daily
Telegraph.</i></p>
<p class="par">&ldquo;Let everyone who wants to read quickening and
suggestive ideas on modern problems and principles buy the book, for
whether the reader agrees or disagrees he is compelled to
think.&rdquo;&mdash;<i>Pall Mall Gazette.</i> <span class=
"sc">London</span>: T. FISHER UNWIN</p>
</div>
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