# The Diothas, or, A Far Look Ahead/Chapter 12

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What I learned in regard to the origin of the social condition and government of his period was communicated to me by Utis in a series of conversations. I here give the substance of these conversations, adhering to the original form as closely as is permitted by the comparative inferiority of our language as a medium of expression. The ideas then received, too, have been modified and enlarged by subsequent reading and observation.
"The more or less democratical forms of government," he began, "that rose on the ruins of the decayed monarchical and aristocratical systems of your time, soon showed symptoms of decay. Based, as they were, upon principles, some sound, others utterly false, they contained within themselves the germs of dissolution. Loudly claiming to be the embodiment of justice and natural right, they soon rivalled the worst of former despotisms in corruption, and high-handed disregard of individual rights.
"Governors, legislators, and judges, appointed under the dictation of colossal sharpers and political quacks, were naturally the pliant tools of those that made them. ​The law, its enforcement and interpretation, became equally engines of oppression and extortion. As if this were not enough, weak-minded enthusiasts joined with the toadies, and representatives of the criminal classes, in weakening the already insufficient safeguards of life and property. The law and its officers became simply an organization for favoring the escape of criminals from deserved punishment. In some countries, the industrious classes actually disappeared at last, ground to powder between the upper and lower millstones of oppressive government and unchecked crime. Learning, honesty, industry, died out, or took refuge in other lands. Society relapsed to a form of barbarism more frightful even than that of primitive ages, man being now armed for evil with a terrible control over the forces of nature.
"From this seething and fermenting mass were gradually evolved new political organizations. From the extremes of democracy and lawlessness, government, in these lands, naturally reverted to various systems of despotism and repression. Not only was this the sole refuge from anarchy, but it was the only means of preventing a reversion to mere savagery. Despots, however, and their satellites, do not work for nothing: some one must work to supply them with what they regard as an adequate reward for their arduous labors. Rigorous laws were put in operation to repress idleness among the thinned population left by terrible civil conflicts. Industry and prosperity revived, and even as much education as can flourish under a jealous despotism. Most acquiesced readily in the change. Better, they thought, the possibility of being crushed at a blow by an irresistible power, than to perish ​piecemeal, devoured by political vermin. Had the inhabitants of these countries occupied a planet by themselves, they would, in all probability, after passing through the usual changes, gradually have raised themselves to a higher plane of civilization than before; but their despotic rulers regarded with jealousy and fear the countries where free institutions still held their own.
"You must keep in mind, that the series of changes just related did not take place in a day, nor in a century; also that the political disease ran its course with greater rapidity and with greater virulence in some countries than in others. Certain nations served as frightful examples to others.
"On these latter the warning was not always lost. The better disposed of their citizens had time to take alarm, on seeing the downward course of their neighbors. They saw the folly of being led by party cries into the support of knaves. They resolved no longer to be oppressed under the forms of liberty, and robbed in the name of law.
"In the political upheaval that ensued, the phonograph played much the same important part once filled by the printing-press during the great religious upheaval of the sixteenth century. Charlatans no longer found it so easy to palm themselves off as statesmen, when their every legislative utterance was spoken, as it were, in the ears of their assembled constituents.
"In the excitement of the times, many things were done that a cooler posterity has not approved. Here, in the United States, for example, the eighth article of the Constitution was abrogated by an enormous majority, in order ​to attain the means of bringing to justice the worst of the monopolists and their legislative tools. A thorough weeding of the political garden was effected. By an important law, rigidly enforced by a special tribunal, every public officer became responsible, in means and person, for the due fulfilment of his duties. He that neglected the recovery of a fine due the State, was made to pay it from his own property: he that allowed a prisoner to escape, was made to suffer the full penalty in his stead. Trial by jury, having fallen into utter contempt, was abolished, except in political trials.
"In proportion as the consequences of the general relaxation of the bonds of law and morality among certain nations became evident, the temper of the people over here became stern, almost savage. Offences against the person were punished according to the lex talionis. The murderer was put to death, as nearly as possible in the manner he had slain his victim. In atrocious cases he was handed over to the mercies of physiological experimentists, to endure what they saw fit in the interests of the humanity he had violated.
"An earnest attempt, finally successful, was made to stamp out the criminal classes. The thief found guilty for the third time was put to death as incorrigible, painlessly as might be, but inexorably. The lazy and shiftless were gathered into what they soon found were workhouses in more than name, means being taken that effectually put it out of their power to curse society with a progeny similar to themselves. Offences against the family relation, justly regarded as the foundation of the State, were visited with such punishment as, in conjunction with ​other causes, soon rendered offences of that nature among the rarest. These severe measures elicited, at first, loud shrieks from the maudlin sympathizers with crime,—the Hugos and Dickenses of the period. But, finding themselves treated with contemptuous disregard, they finally held their peace.
"The two sets of nations developing thus on such divergent lines became known, finally, as Absolutists and Liberals. The Absolutists believed, or pretended to believe, that the rule of an intelligent despot is the highest type of government. This theory found eloquent advocates, whose zeal was not allowed to go unrewarded. The Liberals held the opposite view, but never found it worth while arguing the matter.
"For centuries Absolutists and Liberals, in spite of occasional bickerings, and a few trials of strength, continued to develop, each in their own way attaining a high degree of material prosperity. But at last arose a great military genius. By a series of successful campaigns, he reduced all the Absolutist monarchies under one huge empire. He next attacked and overwhelmed, in spite of a desperate resistance, the Liberal nations of the Old World. It was during this conflict that London was reduced to a heap of ruins.
"Fired with the hope of universal empire, he next resolved on the subjugation of America. His fleets, armed with the tremendous inventions of scientific warfare, overbore all opposition, and landed an immense army upon our shores. Never was the cause of liberty in greater peril. For almost a full year he held the whole Atlantic region; but finally, at a cost still frightful to recall, the ​invader was first checked, then driven back toward the coast, and, at last, captured with what remained of his army. The vanquished monarch would fain have prated of generosity to a fallen foe; but the gray-haired farmer, whom the course of events had raised to the dictatorship, took no such view. He sternly replied,—
"'This has been no childish game. Two millions of our people have perished. Your success meant death to us: ours means death to you, and the system you represent.'
"The dictator kept his word. Within six months he carried out his threat by hanging, in his own capital, the 'Last of the Despots,' in company with all his ministers and chief officers. There had been but slight resistance. The nations joyfully accepted the free institutions for which they had long secretly pined. Despotism had received its final blow. A sort of federal union of nations was then formed, by which all became pledged to preserve a republican form of government throughout the world, and to guarantee to each nation the integrity of its territory, even amicable arrangements for transfer or union being subject to the approval of all.
"Since then, the progress of mankind in good government has been peaceful and continuous. The stern temper generated by the long struggle between rival principles gradually softened away; though the maxims, 'Resist the beginnings of evil,' and 'Mercy to the bad is cruelty to the good,' have become settled principles of action.
"Our main reliance, after all, is upon education. The training of the young is regarded as the one great duty, ​both of the family and of the State. Having no army, no navy, no expensive hierarchy of public functionaries, we are able to devote a great part of our energies and resources to this most important of duties. The acquisition of the knowledge to be obtained from books, though by no means neglected, we regard as the least important branch of education. Regarding a sound, equally developed body as the foundation of all the rest, we impart to our youth of both sexes a twofold physical training. The æsthetic training includes such exercises, by means of formal gymnastics, games, and a species of complicated dance somewhat resembling the military evolutions of ancient times, as tend to impart activity and grace. Mere muscular strength we leave to follow as it may; yet we know, from various sources, that we have degenerated neither in strength nor stature. The industrial training includes such training in the use of tools and instruments as shall make the hands the reliable servants of the brain.
"In our system of mental culture, including moral, intellectual, and aesthetic training, we combine the advantages of private with those of public tuition. Morals, including politeness, self-government, the acquisition of lofty ideals of conduct, we regard as specially, though not exclusively, the province of family training. At home, too, the children go over their book-lessons with the guidance and assistance of their elders. This task, or, rather, this most delightful of our occupations, the parents share, according to individual preference for certain studies; though either would be able and glad to undertake the whole.
​"At school much of the time is occupied in that industrial training already referred to, and in the practical application of the mechanical and scientific principles that underlie our industrial system. At special schools, when arrived at a suitable age, the young receive instruction in the handicraft they intend to practise during life."
"Do all learn a mechanical occupation?" I inquired.
"All, without exception."
"But the children of wealthy parents?" I asked.
"They too," was the reply. At a very early period it was found that the excessive accumulation of wealth in certain families led to very serious evils. Of those, that, without any merit or exertion on their part, became rich by inheritance, it was found, that, for one useful to society in proportion to his riches, there were dozens of mere drones inflated with the idiotic pride of uselessness, Besides many actively noxious by their vices. The power of bequest was, accordingly, limited by law. After several fluctuations, it settled down to this: no person, however wealthy, was allowed to bequeath to any one person more than a certain amount. This, in the values of your period, might be estimated at about twenty thousand dollars. It was reasoned, that with a good education, and a capital of the specified amount, if a person could not manage to make a living, his living or dying was of very little consequence to the community.
"But that was rank socialism!" said I, to whom, for special reasons, such doctrines were most distasteful.
"The owner," replied Utis, "was not deprived of his property, nor even of the power of bequeathing it in ​other ways. But society considered itself justified in forbidding the owner to employ his wealth in a way that experience had shown to be injurious, nay, dangerous, to the community.
"Was not this found seriously to check the desire to accumulate?"
"It would have been desirable had it done so to a greater extent than was the case," replied Utis. "Few, with all their efforts, can in a lifetime accumulate so much as to be hampered, in any way, by such a law. As for the accumulation of colossal fortunes, that was a result to be feared rather than favored. Men, after all, amass great wealth, rather from favoring circumstances than as the result of far-reaching plans having any reference to posterity. The result of the above-mentioned laws, adopted by the community solely as a means of self-defence, was not the cessation of saving, but the more equal diffusion of wealth. Some, after providing for their immediate family and more distant relatives, as far as the law permitted, would leave the residue for some public object. Others, desirous of perpetuating some great business in their name, would distribute shares. among the most faithful of their employees, leaving the control in the hands of their own family. In this way, what would once have been restricted to the support of a single family in superfluous luxury, became the comfortable maintenance of a number."
"If so much time is devoted to industrial training," was my next objection, "there cannot be much left for the culture to be obtained from books."
"Your remark is based upon a misconception," was the ​response. "For one thing, our industrial is also our professional training, to which even in your period, a certain amount of time must have been devoted. Our children, besides, have many advantages over those of the nineteenth century. By the aid of a rational alphabet, though they do not learn to read in one week, yet they do acquire the power of spelling any word as pronounced in our language. Not being obliged to fritter away our energies on the study of other tongues, we are able to devote the more time and care to the mastery of our own."
"I can easily conceive," said I, "that the study of what, in my time, were called the classical tongues, has passed away since their influence on thought and expression must have become extensively diluted by subsequent influences. But do you not study other languages contemporaneous with your own?"
"How can there be more than one living language?" he exclaimed with some surprise. Then, recollecting himself, he added, "I ought to have remembered the state of matters in your day. For us, however, it is as difficult to conceive of civilized man differing so widely in language, measures, and similar matters, as for you to realize the state of things when every district was inhabited by hostile tribes, differing in almost every respect."
"What an enormous economy of time and mental energy!" I exclaimed. thinking with regret of the years of effort spent on language alone. "But do none study any language but their mother-tongue?"
"Only those that do so for special purposes. Your father, for example, was well acquainted with the ancient ​Anglian current in the latter part of the second chiliad. But such knowledge as his and yours is as rare as was, in that time, the ability to decipher Accad or Himaritic inscriptions."
"But what language is this I am now speaking?" I inquired with surprise. I had hitherto spoken and understood the speech of those around me with all the unconsciousness of a child, who utters his thoughts without giving a thought to the means of utterance.
"The present universal language is based upon the Anglian of your day much as that was based upon Saxon. The introduction of a rational orthography, at a period when it was already the mother-tongue of more than one hundred millions of people, led to its rapid adoption as a universal means of communication. The language first became modified in the direction of greater grammatical simplicity. subsequently in increased harmony of pronunciation. The greatest change arose from the enormous increase of the vocabulary by the adoption of a great variety of synonymes from many languages. In your time there were about a dozen different words signifying a dwelling. Now there are more than a hundred; each, when appropriately employed, conveying a different shade of meaning.
"Such a language," he continued, "necessarily demands careful study if its full capabilities are to be elicited. Arithmetic, again, is greatly simplified among us by the universal use of the duodecimal system. No fractions but duodecimals being employed, our entire arithmetical instruction is comprised in a thorough drill in the use of the four fundamental rules and their appli​cations. A year is found amply sufficient for this, the more so because intricate calculations are, for the most part, performed by the aid of machines. The same economy of effort is observed throughout the other branches of pure mathematics, and all sciences worthy of the name are now but branches of mixed mathematics.
"The acquaintance with the tools of knowledge is usually obtained by the age of fifteen. At this age the boy,—I say boy, as I shall first speak of his further training; though up to this point boys and girls receive the same training,—the boy, I say, is expected to have a fair mastery of language as an instrument of expression, and a slight knowledge of literature. I say a slight knowledge, because he has hitherto been carefully kept from indiscriminate reading. A thorough knowledge of a few books is thought of more value than a skimming over many. He is expected also to possess all the mathematical knowledge required for his further studies. In addition to drawing, photography, and similar aids, he has acquired the management of the most important tools, and has had practice in the working of metals and other materials. His handicraft is now chosen for him."
"Can he not choose for himself?" I inquired.
"The matter is arranged somewhat as follows: if my son, for example, wishes to follow my pursuit, he may do so; since there are many evident advantages in so doing, But if, as is often the case, he does not wish to do so, he adopts the line of work assigned to him. A great part of the misery of ancient times arose from waste of various kinds. Not the least of these was the waste of misdirected effort, resulting in the overcrowding of callings. ​The avoidance of waste in every way is one of the chief means that enables us to live in comfort with so much less exertion than the people of ancient times. Carefully gathered statistics enable us to estimate, not only the amount of any product on hand at a given time, but also the number of new producers of any class that will be required within a given number of years. Guided by these estimates, we avoid over-production in either direction. A certain number of each class of employments is assigned to each district every year, and divided among the boys of the proper age. Much latitude is permissible, however, in the carrying out of this law; and none is made to adopt a trade to which he has a decided objection.
"As a great part of every trade is performed by machinery, and the boys have already great manual skill, a year suffices for them to master their handicraft. Then begins the serious study of his professional, skilled, or artistic pursuit."
"Has every one two occupations?" I inquired.
"Yes, each follows two employments; some, like myself, three."
"What are those?" inquired I.
"My handicraft is, as you have seen, bolt-making,—that of my father before me. By profession I am a physician. But there is so little call for my advice in my specialty, that first as an amusement, now as a business, I make the finer parts of microscopes. You have seen my tools. Ulmene, again, has for handicraft, weaving. By a curious reversion to the practice of primitive ages, the making of all textile fabrics is now the peculiar occu​pation of woman. Ialma, as you may know, is a stocking-weaver. Her artistic pursuit is photography, in which she shows no mean skill. You must have her show you her workroom, and some specimens of her work.
"Is each allowed to choose his artistic employment?"
I asked.
"Yes: that is left entirely to the taste of the individual concerned. Thus, Ulmene from childhood showed an unusual aptitude for music. You have heard her play. Urged on by the impulse of the moment, she poured out that flood of harmony. By a device on the principle of the phonograph, every note was correctly recorded, so that she is enabled at leisure to correct and improve what was poured out in a moment of inspiration. Being in no haste to publish, she will probably spend a year in polishing that first impulsive effort."
"Reva Diotha," I could not refrain from inquiring,—"what are her employments?"
"Reva," said Utis, "is a peculiar girl, with somewhat boyish tastes. She passes her early morning-hours in brass-turning. Her work is of wonderful finish, and I have often been glad of her assistance in my specialty. The afternoon she devotes to the artistic chasing of the clasps for those silken girdles,—the most expensive article of feminine attire."
"Girls are permitted, then, to follow such masculine employments as brass-turning?" said I.
"Boys and girls have an equal right to enter any employment. By tacit consent, however, weaving has been conceded to woman as being neat, and demanding no ​great muscular exertion. No boy would dare the ridicule caused by his infringing on woman's work. A girl willing to soil her hands with men's work is merely thought odd.
"Reva's mother died in giving her birth, and her father has never quite recovered from the shock. The girlish love that would have been her mother's is shared between her father and brother, to both of whom she bears an extraordinary affection. It was in order to be in their company as much as possible that she elected to learn their craft. Her father, a silent, self-contained man, is regarded as one of the greatest of living mathematicians. It is said that there are only a dozen people, or so, in the world, capable of fully appreciating his last work. At present he is engaged on a more popular subject,—the history of his favorite science. The tender affection Reva bears that father seems to leave no room for other love. You are by no means the first for whom she has declined to bind up her pretty dark-brown locks."
Utis smiled as he uttered those words, while his eyes twinkled with a quiet humor. Then, noting the lateness of the hour, he bade me good-night, and left me to dream of Reva Diotha.