THE NEW UTOPIA.

Waikato Times, Volume XXXVIII, Issue 3100, 28 May 1892, Page 1 (Supplement)

THE NEW UTOPIA.

[By Jerome K. Jerome."] I had spent an extremely interesting evening. I had dined with some very " advanced" friends at the National Socalist Club. We had an excellent dinner; the pheasant stuffed with truffles was a poem, and when I say that the '49 Chateau Lafitte was worth the price we had to pay for it, I do not see what more I can add in its favour. After dinner and over the cigars (I must say that they do not know how to stock good cigars at the National Socialist Club), we had a very instructive discussion about the coming equality of man and the nationalisation of capital. I was not able to take much part in the argument myself, because having been left when a boy in a position which made it necessary for me to earn my own living, I have never enjoyed the time and opportunity to study these sort of questions. But I listened very attentively while my friends explained how, for the thousands of centuries during which it had been in existence, and before they cams, the world had been going on all wrong, and how, in the course of the next few years or so, they meant to put it right. Equality of all mankind was their watchword—perfect equality in all things—equality in possessions, and equality in position and influence, and equality in duties, resulting in equality in happiness, and contentment. The world belonged to all alike, and must be equally divided. Each man's labour was the property, not of himself, but of the State which fed and clothed him, and must be applied not to his own aggrandisement, but to the enrichment of the race. Individual wealth — the social claim by which the few hud enslaved the many ; the bandit's pistol, by which a small gang of robbers had thieved from the whole community the fruits of its labours—must be taken from the hands that too long had held it. Social distinctions—the barriers by which the rising tide of humanity had hitherto been fretted and restrained —must be for ever swept aside. The human race must pn.'ss onward to its destiny (whatever that might be) not as at present —a scattered horde, scrambling each man for himself over the broken ground of unequal birth and fortune —the soft sward where the feet of the pampered may run, the cruel stones where the feet of the cursed must bleed—but an ordered army, marching side by side over the level plain of equity and equality. The great bosom of our Mother Earth should nourish all her children, like and like ; none should be hungry, none should have too much. The strong man should not grasp more than the weak ; the clever should not scheme to seize more than the simple. The earth was man's and the fullness thereof; and among all mankind it should be portioned out in even shares. All men were equal by the law of nature aud must be made equal by the laws of man. With inequality came misery, crime, sin, selfishness, dishonesty, arrogance, hypocrisy, cowardice. In a world in which all men were equal, there would exist no temptation to evil, and our natural nobility would assert itself. When all men were equal, the world would be heaven —freed from the degrading despotism of God. We raised our glasses and drank to Equality, sacred Equality, and then ordered the waiter to bring us green Chartreuse and more cigars. I went home very thoughtful. I did not go to sleep for a long while; I lay awake thinking over this vision of a new world that had been presented to me. How delightful would it be if only the scheme of my socialistic friends could be carried out —no more of this struggling and striving against each other, no more jealousy, no more disappointments, no more fear of poverty. The state would take charge of us from the hour we were born until we died, and provide for all our wants, from the cradle to the coffin, both inclusive, and we need give no thought even to the matter—no more hard work (three hours' labour a day would be the limit, according to our calculations, that the State would require from each adult citizen, and nobody would be allowed to do more), no poor to pity, no rich to envy—-no one to look down upon us, no one for us to look down upon (not quite so pleasant this latter reflection)— all our life ordered and arranged for us—nothing to think about except the glorious destiny (whatever that may be) of human- > ity ! 5 The thought crept away to sport ' in chaos, and I slept. * * * * * When I awoke I found my sell B lying under a glass case in a higl' B cheerless room. There was a labe 5 over my head ; I turned and reac : it. It ran as follows :— ' Man Asleep. Period —19th Century, g This man was found asleep iti a house ii London. after the great social revolution o lS'.l!). Km in the account given by the laud lady of the house, it would appear that h luid already, when discovered, beoii aslee] fur over ten yours (she having forgotten _t. _ call him). It was decided, for scientifi purposes, not to awake hiin, but to just se ;o how long he would sleep on, and he wa :e accordingly brought and depo,sited in th

Museum of Curiosities on February 11th, 1900. Visitor* are requested not to squirt water through the air holes. An intelligent old gentleman who had been arranging some stuffed lizards in an adjoining case came over and took the cover off me. " What's the matter ?" he asked " anything disturbed you V " No," I said ; " I always wake up like this when I feel I've had enough sleep. What century is this ?" " This," he said, "is the 29th century. You have been asleep just one thousand years." " Ah, well, I feel all the better for it," I replied, getting down off the table. " There's nothing like having one's sleep out." " I take it you are going to do the usual thing," said the old gentleman to me, as I proceeded to put on my clothes, which had been lying beside me in the case. " You'll want me to walk round the city with you, and explain all the changes to you, while you ask questions and make silly remarks ?" " Yes," I replied, " I suppose that's what 1 ought to do." " I suppose so," he muttered. " Come, and let's get it over," and he led the way from the room. As he went down stair 3 I said, " Well, is it all right now ?" " Is what all right?" he replied. " Why the world." I answered. " A few friends of mine were arranging, before I went to bed, to take it to pieces and fix it up again properly. Have you got it all right by this time 1 Is everybody equal now, and sin and sorrow and all that sort of thing done away with 1" " Oh, yes," replied my guide { I " you'll find everything all right ! now. We've just got this earth about perfect now, I should say. Nobody is allowed to do anythiug wrong or silly ; and as for equality, tadpoles ain't in it with us." He talked in rather a vulgar manner, I thought; but I did not like to reprove him. We walked out into the city. It was very clean, and very quiet. The streets, which were designated by numbers, ran out from each other at right angles, and all presented exactly the same appearance. There were no horses or carriages about; all the traffic was conducted by electric cars. All the people that were about wore a quiet, grave expression, and were so much like each other as to give one the idea that they were all members of the same family. Every one was dressed, as was also my guide, in a pair of grey trousers, and a grey tunic, buttoned tight round the neck, and fastened round the waist by a belt. Each man was clean shaven, and each man had black hair. I said, " Are all these men twins 1" " Twins ! Good gracious, no," answered my guide. " Whatever made you fancy that ?" " Why, they all look so much alike," I replied ; " and they've all got black hair !" "Oh, that's the regulation colour for hair," explained my companion; " we've all got black hair. If a man's hair is not black naturally, he has to have it dyed black." "Why?" "Why?" retorted the old gentleman, somewhat irritably. " Why, I thought you understood that all men were now equal. What would become of our equality if one man or woman was allowed to swagger about with golden hair, while another had to put up with carrots ? Men have not only got to be equal in these happy days, but to look it as far as can be By causing all men to be clean shaven, and all men and women to have black hair cut the same length, we obviate, to a certain extent, the errors of nature." I said, " Why black ? " He said he did not know, but that was the colour which had been decided upon. " Who by?" I asked. j "By the Majority," he replied, raising Ma hat and lowering his eyes, as if in prayer. We walked further, and passed more men. I asked: " Are there no women m this city ? " "Women!" exclaimed my guide. "Of course there are. We've passed hundreds of them." "I thought I knew a woman when I saw one," I observed ; " but I can't remember noticing any." "Why, there are two now," he said, drawing my attention to a couple of persons near to us, both dressed in the regulation grey trousers and tunic, "How do you know that they are women? " I asked him. " Why, you see the metal numbers that everyone wears on their collars ? " " Yes; I wasjjust thinking what a number of policemen you had, and wondering where the other people were." " Well, the even numbers are the women; the odd numbers are the men." ' " How very simple," I remarked. ! "I suppose after a little practice [ you can tell one sex from another I almost at a glance." "Oh, yes," he replied; "if you, want to." We walked ou in silence for a while, and then I said, " Why does } everybody have a number ? " '•To distinguish him by," an--13 swered my companion. " Don't people have names, c then ? " e «N 0 » e "Why?"

"Oh, there was so much inequality iii names. Some peoplo were called Montmnrency, and they looked down on the Smiths ; and tho Sinythes did not like mixing with the Joneses. So to save bother it was decided to aboiish names altogether and to give everybody a number," " Did not the Montmorencies and the Smythos object ?" "Yes, but the Smiths and the Joneses were in The Majority." " And did not the ones and twos look down upon the threes and fours, and fo on ?" "At first, yes. But with tke abolition of wealth, numbers lost their value, and now No. 100 does not consider himself in any way superior to No. 1,000,000. I had not washed when I got up, there being no convanienees for doing so in the Museum, and I was beginning to feel somewhat hot and dirty. I said, "Can I wash myself anywhere?" He said, "No; we are not allowed to wash ourselves. You must wait until half-past four, and then you will be washed for tea." '• Be washed !" I cried, " Who by?" " The State." He said that they had found that they could not maintain their equality when people were allowed to wash themselves. Some people washed three or four times a day, while others never touched soap or water from one year's end to the other, and in consequence there got to be two distinct classes, the Clean and the ;Dirty. AH the old class prejudices began to be revived. The clean despised the dirfcy, and the dirty hated the clean. So, to end dissension, the State decided to do the washing itself, and each citizen was now washed twice a day by government appointed officials, and private washing was prohibited. I noticed that wo passed no houses as we went along, only block after block of huge, barrack-like buildings, all of the same size and shape. Occasionally, at a corner, we came across a smaller building, labelled, "Museum," "Hospital," " Debating Hall," " Bath," " Gymnasium," " Academy of Sciences," " Exhibition of Industries," ■' School of Talk," etc., etc. ; but never a house. I said, " Doesn't anybody live in this town!" He said, " You do ask silly questions ; upon my word, you do. Where do you think they live?" I said, "That's just what I've been trying to think. I don't see any houses anywhere." He said, " We don't need houses —not houses such as you are thinking of. We are socalistic now; we live together in fraternity and equality. We live in these blocks that vou see. Eoch block accommodates one thousand citizens. It contains one thousand beds—one hundred in each room—and bath rooms and dressing rooms in proportion, a dining hall and kitchen. At seven o'cloek every morning a bell is rung, and every one rises and tidies up his bed. At seven-thirty they go into the dressing rooms, and are washed and shaved and have their hair done. At' eight o'clock breakfast is served in the dining hall. Tfc comprises a pint of oatmeal porridge and half a pint of warm milk for each adult citizen. We are all strict vegetarians now. The vegetarian vote increased enormously during the last century, and their organisation being very perfect,they have been able to dictate every election for the past fifty years. At one o'clock another bell is rung, and the people return to dinner, which consists of beans and stewed fruits, with rollypolly pudding twice a week, and plum duff on Saturdays. At five o'clock there is tea, and at ten the lights are pur. out, and everybody goes to bed. We are all equal, and we nil live alike—clerk and scavenger, tinker and artist— all together, in fraternity and liberty. The men live in the blocks on this side of tho town, and the women are at the other end of the city." " Where are the married couples kept 1" I asked. " Oh, there are no married couples," he replied. " Wβ abolished marriage two hundred years ago. You see, married life did not work at all well with our system. Domestic life, we found, was thoroughly antisocialistic in its tendencies. Men thought more of their wives and families than they did of the State. They wished to labour for tho benefit of their little circle of beloved ones rather than for the good of the community. They cared more for the future of their children than about the Destiny of Humanity. The ties of love and blood bound men together fast in little groups instead of one great whole. Before the advancement of the human race, men thought of the advancement of their kith and kin. Before the greatest happiness of the greatest number, men strove for the happiness of the few who were near and dear to them. In secret, men and women hoarded up and laboured and denied themselves so as, in secret to give some little extra gift of joy to the beloved. Love stirred the vice of ambition in men's hearts. To win the smiles of the women they loved, to leave a name behind them that their children might be proud to bear, men sought to raise themselves above the general level, to do some deed that should make the world look up to them and honour them above their fellow-men, to press a deeper footprint than another's upon

the dusty highway of the age. The fundamental principles of Socialism were being daily thwarted and condemned. Each house was a revolutionary centre for the propagation of individualism and personality. From tho w.irmth of each domestic hearth grew up the vipers of independence, self-interest and clanishness, to sting the state and poison the minds of men. " The doctrines of equality were openly disputed. Men, when they loved a woman, thought her superior to any other woman, and hardly took any pains to disguise their opinion. Loving wives believed their husbands to be wiser and braver and better than all other men. Mothers laughed at the idea of their children being in no way superior to other children. Children imbibed the hideous heresy that their father and mother were the best father and mother in the world. "From whatever point we look at it, the family stood forth as our foe. One man had a charming wife and two sweet - tempered children; his neighbour was married to a shrew, and was the father of eleven noisy, ill-dispositioned brats—where was the equality ? •'Again, wherever the Family existed, there hovered, ever contending, the angel of joy and sorrow ; and in a world where joy and sorrow are kaown, equality cannot live. One man and woman, in the night, stand weeping beside a little bed. On the other side «f the lath and plaster, a fair young couple, hand in hand, stand laughing at the silly antics of a grave-faced, gurgling baby. What is poor Equality doing ? " Such things could not be allowed. All Love, we saw, was our enemy at every turn. He made equality impossible. He brought pain and suffering in his train. He disturbed men's beliefs and imperilled the Destiny of Humanity, so we abolished him and all his works. "Now, there are no marriages, and therefore no domestic troubles ; no making of love, and therefor© no jealousies and heartaches; no loving, therefore no sorrowing; no kisses and no tears. " We all live together in equality, free from trouble and pain and care." I said, "It must be very peaceful ; but, tell me—l ask the question merely from a scientific standpoint—how do you keep up the supply of men and women ? ' He said, " Oh, that's simple enough. How did you in your day keep up the supply of horses and cows? In the spring so many children, according as the State requires, are arranged for, and carefully bred, under medical supervision. When they are born they are taken away from their mothers (who else might grow to love them) and brought up in the public nurseries and schools until they are fourteen. They are then examined by State-appointed inspectors, who decide what calling they shall be brought up to, and to such calling they are thereupon apprenticed. At twenty they take their rank as citizens, and are entitled to a voto. No difference whatever is made between men and women. Both sexes enjoy equal privileges." I said, "What are the privileges ?" He said, "Why, all that I've been telling you." We wandered on for a few more miles, but passed nothing but street after street of these huge blocks. I said, " Are there no shops or stores in this town ?" " No'" he replied ; " what do we want with shops and stores i The State feeds us, clothes us, houses us, doctors us, washes and dresses us, cuts our corns, and buries us. What could we do with shops?" I began to feel tired with oui walk. I said, " Can we go in anywhere and have a drink ? " He said, " A ' drink !' What's a ' drink ? ' We have half a pin! of cocoa with our dinner. Do you mean that?" I did not feel equal to explaining the matter to him, and he eviaentlj would not have understood if I had ; so I said, " Yes, I meant that.'' We passed a very fine-looking man a little further on, and I no ticed that he had only one arm. 1 had noticed two or three rather big looking men with only one arm ii the course of the morning, and it struck me as curious. I remarkoc about it to my guide. He said, " Yes, when a man is much above the average size anc strength, we cut one of his legs oi arms off, so as to make things mor< equal ; we lop him down a bit, as it were. Nature, you see, is somewhat behind the times, but we do whai we can to put her straight." I said, "I suppose you can't abolish hGr ?" " Well, not altogether," he re plied. "We only wish we could But," he added, afterwards, wit! pardonable pride, " we've done f great deal." I said, " How about an exception ally clever man. What do you d< with him ?" " Well, we are not much troublec in that way now," he answered «We have not come across any thing dangerous in the shape o brain power for some very consider able time now. When we do wi perform a surgical operation upoi the head, which softens the brail down to the average level." " I have sometimes thought, : mused the old gentleman, " that i was a pity we could not level U] sometimes, instead of always level

I ling down ; but, of course, that is I impossible." i I said, "Do you think it right of you to cut these people up and tone them down in this manner ?" He said, " Of course it is right." " You seem very cocksure about the matter," I retorted. " Why is it ' of course ' right?" " Because it is done by The Majority-." " How does that make it right ?" I asked. " A Majority can do no wrong," he answered. " Oh! and what do the people who are lopped think 1" "They!" he replied, evidently astonished at the question. " Oh, they are in the minority, you know." " Yes, but eren the minority has a right to its arms and legs and heads, hasn't it?" " A minority has no rights," he answered, after a pause. 1 said, " It's just as well to belong to the Majority if you are thinking of living here, isn't it?" "He said, "Yes; most of our people do. They seem to find it most convenient." I was finding the town somewhat uninteresting, and I asked if we could not go into the country for a change. My guide said, "Oh, yes, certainly ; but I do not think you would care much for it." '• Oh, but it used to be so beautiful in the country," I urged, " before I went to bed. There were great green trees and grassy windwaved meadows, and little rosedecked cottages,—" " Oh, but we've changed all that," interrupted the old gentleman ; " it is all one huge market garden now, divided by roads and canals, cut at right angles to each other. There is no beauty in the country now, whatever. We have abolished beauty ; it interfered with our equality. It was not fair that some, people should live amid lovely scenery and others upon barren moors. So we have made it pretty much alike everywhere now, and no place can lord it over another " "Can a man emigrate into any other country 1" I asked ; "it does not matter what country—any other country would do." " Oh, yes, if he likes," replied my companion; " but why should he ? All lands are exactly the same. The whole world is all one people now—one language, one law, one life." " Is there no variety, no change, anywhere ? " I asked. " What do you do for pleasure, for recreation? Are there any theatres?' " No," responded ray guide. " We had to abolish theatres. The histrionic temperament seemed utterly unable to accent the principles of equality. Each actor thought himself the best actor in the world, and superior, in fact, to most other people altogether. I don't know whether it was the same in your day ?" " Exactly the same," I answered. " But we did not take any notice of it." " Ah, we did," he replied, " and, in consequence, shut th« theatres up. Besides, our White Ribbon Vigilance Society said that all places of amusement were vicious and degradiig; and, being an energetic and stout-winded band, they soon won the Majority over to their views, and so all amusements are prohibited now." I said, " Are you allowed to read books ?" " Well," he answered, " there are not many written. You see owing to our living such perfect lives, and there being no wrong, or sorrow, oi joy, or hope, or love, or grief in the world, and everything going sc regular and proper, there is reallj nothing rrnich to write about—ex cept, of course, the Destiny oi Humanity." " True ! " I said. " I see that but what of the old works, the classics? You had Shakespeare, anc Scott, and Thackeray, and then were one or two little things of mj own that were not half bad. Whal have yon done with all those 1" " Oh, we have burned all thos< works," he said. They were full o the old wrong notions of the ole wrong wicked times, when mer were merely slaves and beasts o burden." He said that all the old paint ings and sculptures had been like wisrf destroyed, partly for the sann reason, and partly because the] were considered improper by th< | White Ribbon Vigilance Society which was a great power now while all new art and literature woi ' forbidden, as such things tended t< ' undermine the principles of equality They made men think, and the met that thought grew cleverer thai those that did not want to think and those that did not want t< think naturally objected to this, am being in The Majority, objectec to some purpose. ' He said that, from like consider ations, there -were no sports oi games permitted. Sports anc 1 games caused competition, and com petition led to inequality. ' I said, "How long do you: ■ citizens work each day?" ; " Three hours," he answered c "after that, all the remainder o ' the day bolongs to ourselves." 1 "Ah! that is just what I wa: 1 just coming to," I remarked 1 " now, what do you do with your selves during these other twenty ' one hours ?" t " Oh, we rest." , " What! for the whole twenty . one hours?"

" Well rest, and think and talk," " What do you think and talk about ?" " Oh ! Oh, about how wretched life must have been in the old 1 times, and about how happy we are now, and—and—oh, and tho Destiny of Humanity." " Do you ever get sick of the Destiny of Humanity!" " No —not much." "And what do you understand , by it? What is the Destiny of Humanity do you think ?" "Oh —why to —to go on being like we are now, only more so— everybody more equal, and more things doue by electricity, and everybody to have two votes instead of one, and—" j " That will do ; I don't want to hear any more about that. Is there , anything else that you think of 1 Have you got a religion 1" " Oh, yes." o " And you worship a God T' " Oh, yes." " What do you call him 1" " The Majority." " One question more. You don't mind my asking you all these questions, hy-the-hye, do you 1" " Oh, no. This is all part of my three hours' labour for the State." " Oh, I'm glad of that. I should not like to feel that I was encroaching on your rest; but what I wanted to ask was, do many of the people here commit suicide ?' " No—such a thing never occurs to them." I looked at the faces of the men and women that were passing. There was a patient, almost pathetic expression upon them all. I wondered where I had seen that look before ; it seem familiar to me. All at once I remembered. It was just the quiet, troubled, wandering expression that I had always noticed upon the faces of the horses and oxen that we used to breed and keep in the old world. No, these people would not think of suicide. * * * « * Strange! how very dim and indistinct all the faces are growing around me, and where is my guide, and why am I sitting on the pavement ; and, hark! surely that is the voice of Mrs Biggies, my only landlady. Has she been asleep a thousand years, too! She says it is twelve o'clock, only! and I'm not to be washed till half-past four, and I. do fool so stuffy and hot, and my head is aching. ITuIloa! I'm in bed! Has it all been a dream? and am I back in the 19 th century. Through the open window I hear j cho rush and roar of old life's battle. Men are fighting, striving, working, carving out each man his own lifo with the sword of strength and will. Men are laughing, grieving, loving, doing wrong deeds, doing great deeds, falling, struggling, helping one another, living! And I have a good • deal more than three hours' work to do to-day, and I meant to be* up at seven ; and, oh, dear! Ido wish I had not smoked so many cigars last night.