Current Opinions

This is what I gathered. That in that country if a man falls into ill health, or catches any disorder, or fails bodily in any way before he is seventy years old, he is tried before a jury of his countrymen, and if convicted is held up to public scorn and sentenced more or less severely as the case may be. There are subdivisions of illnesses into crimes and misdemeanours as with offences amongst ourselves—a man being punished very heavily for serious illness, while failure of eyes or hearing in one over sixty-five, who has had good health hitherto, is dealt with by fine only, or imprisonment in default of payment. But if a man forges a cheque, or sets his house on fire, or robs with violence from the person, or does any other such things as are criminal in our own country, he is either taken to a hospital and most carefully tended at the public expense, or if he is in good circumstances, he lets it be known to all his friends that he is suffering from a severe fit of immorality, just as we do when we are ill, and they come and visit him with great solicitude, and inquire with interest how it all came about, what symptoms first showed themselves, and so forth,—questions which he will answer with perfect unreserve; for bad conduct, though considered no less deplorable than illness with ourselves, and as unquestionably indicating something seriously wrong with the individual who misbehaves, is nevertheless held to be the result of either pre-natal or post-natal misfortune.

This is what I learned. In that country, a man may become ill, catch a disease, or suffer any physical decline before he is seventy. If he does, he is tried by a jury of his fellow countrymen. If convicted, he is publicly shamed and given a sentence of varying severity, depending on the case. Illnesses are divided into crimes and misdemeanours, just as offences are in our own country. A man is punished very heavily for a serious illness. But a man over sixty-five who has been healthy until then is only fined for failing eyesight or hearing. If he cannot pay, he is imprisoned. But suppose a man forges a cheque, sets his house on fire, or robs someone by force. Or suppose he does anything else that would be a crime in our own country. He is either taken to a hospital and cared for with great attention at public expense, or, if he is well-off, he tells all his friends that he is suffering from a severe fit of immorality. He does this just as we do when we are ill. His friends visit him with great concern. They ask with interest how it all happened, what symptoms first appeared, and so on. He answers these questions quite openly. Bad conduct is considered no less regrettable than illness is among us. It is also taken as an unmistakable sign that something is seriously wrong with the person who misbehaves. Nevertheless, it is held to result from a misfortune that occurred either before or after birth.

The strange part of the story, however, is that though they ascribe moral defects to the effect of misfortune either in character or surroundings, they will not listen to the plea of misfortune in cases that in England meet with sympathy and commiseration only. Ill luck of any kind, or even ill treatment at the hands of others, is considered an offence against society, inasmuch as it makes people uncomfortable to hear of it. Loss of fortune, therefore, or loss of some dear friend on whom another was much dependent, is punished hardly less severely than physical delinquency.

The strange part of the story, however, is this. They believe that moral defects result from misfortune, whether in a person's character or surroundings. Yet they refuse to accept misfortune as an excuse in cases that receive only sympathy and compassion in England. Any kind of bad luck, or even mistreatment by others, is considered an offense against society. That is because hearing about such things makes people uncomfortable. So losing a fortune is punished hardly less severely than physical wrongdoing. The same is true of losing a dear friend on whom one depended heavily.

Foreign, indeed, as such ideas are to our own, traces of somewhat similar opinions can be found even in nineteenth-century England. If a person has an abscess, the medical man will say that it contains “peccant” matter, and people say that they have a “bad” arm or finger, or that they are very “bad” all over, when they only mean “diseased.” Among foreign nations Erewhonian opinions may be still more clearly noted. The Mahommedans, for example, to this day, send their female prisoners to hospitals, and the New Zealand Maories visit any misfortune with forcible entry into the house of the offender, and the breaking up and burning of all his goods. The Italians, again, use the same word for “disgrace” and “misfortune.” I once heard an Italian lady speak of a young friend whom she described as endowed with every virtue under heaven, “ma,” she exclaimed, “povero disgraziato, ha ammazzato suo zio.” (“Poor unfortunate fellow, he has murdered his uncle.”)

Although such ideas are foreign to our own, traces of similar opinions can be found even in nineteenth-century England. If a person has an abscess, the doctor will say that it contains “peccant” or corrupt matter. People also say they have a “bad” arm or finger, or that they are very “bad” all over. They mean only that the arm or finger, or their whole body, is diseased. Erewhonian opinions can be seen even more clearly among foreign nations. The Mahommedans, for example, still send their female prisoners to hospitals. The New Zealand Maories respond to any misfortune by forcing their way into the sufferer’s house. They then break up and burn all his goods. The Italians, too, use the same word for “disgrace” and “misfortune.” I once heard an Italian lady speak of a young friend. She described him as having every virtue under heaven. “Ma,” she exclaimed, “povero disgraziato, ha ammazzato suo zio.” (“Poor unfortunate fellow, he has murdered his uncle.”)

On mentioning this, which I heard when taken to Italy as a boy by my father, the person to whom I told it showed no surprise. He said that he had been driven for two or three years in a certain city by a young Sicilian cabdriver of prepossessing manners and appearance, but then lost sight of him. On asking what had become of him, he was told that he was in prison for having shot at his father with intent to kill him—happily without serious result. Some years later my informant again found himself warmly accosted by the prepossessing young cabdriver. “Ah, caro signore,” he exclaimed, “sono cinque anni che non lo vedo—tre anni di militare, e due anni di disgrazia,” &c. (“My dear sir, it is five years since I saw you—three years of military service, and two of misfortune”)—during which last the poor fellow had been in prison. Of moral sense he showed not so much as a trace. He and his father were now on excellent terms, and were likely to remain so unless either of them should again have the misfortune mortally to offend the other.

I had heard this when my father took me to Italy as a boy. When I mentioned it to someone, he showed no surprise. He said that for two or three years he had used a young Sicilian cabdriver in a certain city. The driver had a pleasing manner and appearance, but then he lost touch with him. When he asked what had happened to the driver, he was told that the young man was in prison. He had shot at his father, intending to kill him, though fortunately his father was not seriously hurt. Some years later, the same charming young cabdriver greeted my acquaintance warmly. “Ah, caro signore,” he exclaimed, “sono cinque anni che non lo vedo, tre anni di militare, e due anni di disgrazia,” and so on. (“My dear sir, it has been five years since I saw you, three years of military service, and two of misfortune.”) During those last two years, the poor fellow had been in prison. He showed no trace of a moral sense. He and his father were now on excellent terms. They were likely to remain so unless one of them had the misfortune to offend the other deeply again.

In the following chapter I will give a few examples of the way in which what we should call misfortune, hardship, or disease are dealt with by the Erewhonians, but for the moment will return to their treatment of cases that with us are criminal. As I have already said, these, though not judicially punishable, are recognised as requiring correction. Accordingly, there exists a class of men trained in soul-craft, whom they call straighteners, as nearly as I can translate a word which literally means “one who bends back the crooked.” These men practise much as medical men in England, and receive a quasi-surreptitious fee on every visit. They are treated with the same unreserve, and obeyed as readily, as our own doctors—that is to say, on the whole sufficiently—because people know that it is their interest to get well as soon as they can, and that they will not be scouted as they would be if their bodies were out of order, even though they may have to undergo a very painful course of treatment.

In the next chapter, I will give a few examples of how the Erewhonians deal with what we would call misfortune, hardship, or disease. But for now, I will return to how they treat cases that would be criminal in our society. As I have said, these cases are not punishable by law, but they are recognized as needing correction. For this purpose, there is a class of men trained in soul-craft. They call them straighteners, the closest translation I can give for a word that literally means “one who bends back the crooked.” These men practise much like doctors in England and receive a fee on every visit, paid with some secrecy. People are as open with them and obey them as readily as they do our own doctors. That is to say, they generally obey them well enough. This is because people know it is in their interest to get well as soon as possible. They also know they will not be mocked as they would be if their bodies were out of order, even though they may have to undergo a very painful course of treatment.

When I say that they will not be scouted, I do not mean that an Erewhonian will suffer no social inconvenience in consequence, we will say, of having committed fraud. Friends will fall away from him because of his being less pleasant company, just as we ourselves are disinclined to make companions of those who are either poor or poorly. No one with any sense of self-respect will place himself on an equality in the matter of affection with those who are less lucky than himself in birth, health, money, good looks, capacity, or anything else. Indeed, that dislike and even disgust should be felt by the fortunate for the unfortunate, or at any rate for those who have been discovered to have met with any of the more serious and less familiar misfortunes, is not only natural, but desirable for any society, whether of man or brute.

When I say they will not be shunned, I do not mean an Erewhonian will face no social inconvenience for, say, committing fraud. Friends will drift away because he is less pleasant company. In the same way, we ourselves are reluctant to befriend people who are poor or in poor health. No one with any self-respect will treat people as equals in affection when they are less fortunate in birth, health, money, looks, ability, or anything else. Indeed, it is natural for the fortunate to feel dislike and even disgust toward the unfortunate. At least, they feel this way toward those found to have suffered more serious and less familiar misfortunes. And these feelings are not only natural but desirable in any society, whether of humans or animals.

The fact, therefore, that the Erewhonians attach none of that guilt to crime which they do to physical ailments, does not prevent the more selfish among them from neglecting a friend who has robbed a bank, for instance, till he has fully recovered; but it does prevent them from even thinking of treating criminals with that contemptuous tone which would seem to say, “I, if I were you, should be a better man than you are,” a tone which is held quite reasonable in regard to physical ailment. Hence, though they conceal ill health by every cunning and hypocrisy and artifice which they can devise, they are quite open about the most flagrant mental diseases, should they happen to exist, which to do the people justice is not often. Indeed, there are some who are, so to speak, spiritual valetudinarians, and who make themselves exceedingly ridiculous by their nervous supposition that they are wicked, while they are very tolerable people all the time. This however is exceptional; and on the whole they use much the same reserve or unreserve about the state of their moral welfare as we do about our health.

The Erewhonians, then, attach no guilt to crime as they do to physical illness. Even so, the more selfish among them may neglect a friend who has robbed a bank until he has fully recovered. But they would never think of treating criminals with a contemptuous tone that seems to say, “I, if I were you, would be a better man than you are.” They consider that tone quite reasonable when dealing with physical illness. So they conceal ill health through every trick, deception, and pretense they can devise. But they are quite open about even the most flagrant mental diseases, if they happen to have them. To do the people justice, that is not often. Indeed, some are, so to speak, spiritual hypochondriacs. They make themselves extremely ridiculous by nervously imagining that they are wicked, when all along they are quite decent people. This, however, is exceptional. On the whole, they are about as open or secretive about their moral condition as we are about our health.

Hence all the ordinary greetings among ourselves, such as, How do you do? and the like, are considered signs of gross ill-breeding; nor do the politer classes tolerate even such a common complimentary remark as telling a man that he is looking well. They salute each other with, “I hope you are good this morning;” or “I hope you have recovered from the snappishness from which you were suffering when I last saw you;” and if the person saluted has not been good, or is still snappish, he says so at once and is condoled with accordingly. Indeed, the straighteners have gone so far as to give names from the hypothetical language (as taught at the Colleges of Unreason), to all known forms of mental indisposition, and to classify them according to a system of their own, which, though I could not understand it, seemed to work well in practice; for they are always able to tell a man what is the matter with him as soon as they have heard his story, and their familiarity with the long names assures him that they thoroughly understand his case.

For this reason, all our ordinary greetings, such as “How do you do?” and the like, are considered signs of terrible manners. Polite people will not even tell a man he is looking well. Instead, they greet each other with, “I hope you are good this morning,” or “I hope you have recovered from the snappishness you were suffering from when I last saw you.” If the person greeted has not been good, or is still snappish, he says so at once. The other person then offers sympathy. Indeed, the straighteners have gone so far as to name all known forms of mental indisposition. They use the hypothetical language taught at the Colleges of Unreason. They also classify these conditions according to a system of their own. I could not understand the system, though it seemed to work well in practice. As soon as the straighteners have heard a man's story, they can always tell him what is wrong with him. Their familiarity with the long names assures him that they thoroughly understand his case.

The reader will have no difficulty in believing that the laws regarding ill health were frequently evaded by the help of recognised fictions, which every one understood, but which it would be considered gross ill-breeding to even seem to understand. Thus, a day or two after my arrival at the Nosnibors’, one of the many ladies who called on me made excuses for her husband’s only sending his card, on the ground that when going through the public market-place that morning he had stolen a pair of socks. I had already been warned that I should never show surprise, so I merely expressed my sympathy, and said that though I had only been in the capital so short a time, I had already had a very narrow escape from stealing a clothes-brush, and that though I had resisted temptation so far, I was sadly afraid that if I saw any object of special interest that was neither too hot nor too heavy, I should have to put myself in the straightener’s hands.

The reader will have no trouble believing that people often got around the laws on ill health by using accepted fictions. Everyone understood these fictions, but even seeming to understand them was considered extremely bad manners. A day or two after I arrived at the Nosnibors’, one of the many ladies who visited me explained why her husband had only sent his card. She said he had stolen a pair of socks while passing through the public marketplace that morning. I had already been warned never to show surprise, so I simply expressed my sympathy. I said that, though I had been in the capital only a short time, I had already come very close to stealing a clothes brush. So far I had resisted the temptation. But I was sadly afraid that if I saw anything especially interesting that was neither too hot nor too heavy, I would have to put myself in the straightener’s hands.

Mrs. Nosnibor, who had been keeping an ear on all that I had been saying, praised me when the lady had gone. Nothing, she said, could have been more polite according to Erewhonian etiquette. She then explained that to have stolen a pair of socks, or “to have the socks” (in more colloquial language), was a recognised way of saying that the person in question was slightly indisposed.

Mrs. Nosnibor had been listening to everything I said. After the lady left, she praised me. She said nothing could have been more polite according to Erewhonian etiquette. She then explained that to have stolen a pair of socks was a recognized way of saying someone was slightly unwell. In more casual language, this was called “to have the socks”.

In spite of all this they have a keen sense of the enjoyment consequent upon what they call being “well.” They admire mental health and love it in other people, and take all the pains they can (consistently with their other duties) to secure it for themselves. They have an extreme dislike to marrying into what they consider unhealthy families. They send for the straightener at once whenever they have been guilty of anything seriously flagitious—often even if they think that they are on the point of committing it; and though his remedies are sometimes exceedingly painful, involving close confinement for weeks, and in some cases the most cruel physical tortures, I never heard of a reasonable Erewhonian refusing to do what his straightener told him, any more than of a reasonable Englishman refusing to undergo even the most frightful operation, if his doctors told him it was necessary.

Despite all this, they have a keen sense of the pleasure that comes from being “well.” They admire mental health and love it in others. They do all they can to secure it for themselves, as long as they can still fulfill their other duties. They strongly dislike marrying into families they consider unhealthy. Whenever they have committed a seriously wicked act, they send for the straightener at once. They often do so even if they think they are about to commit such an act. His treatments are sometimes extremely painful. They involve close confinement for weeks and, in some cases, the most cruel physical torture. Even so, I never heard of a reasonable Erewhonian refusing to follow his straightener’s advice. Nor have I heard of a reasonable Englishman refusing even the most frightening operation if his doctors said it was necessary.

We in England never shrink from telling our doctor what is the matter with us merely through the fear that he will hurt us. We let him do his worst upon us, and stand it without a murmur, because we are not scouted for being ill, and because we know that the doctor is doing his best to cure us, and that he can judge of our case better than we can; but we should conceal all illness if we were treated as the Erewhonians are when they have anything the matter with them; we should do the same as with moral and intellectual diseases,—we should feign health with the most consummate art, till we were found out, and should hate a single flogging given in the way of mere punishment more than the amputation of a limb, if it were kindly and courteously performed from a wish to help us out of our difficulty, and with the full consciousness on the part of the doctor that it was only by an accident of constitution that he was not in the like plight himself. So the Erewhonians take a flogging once a week, and a diet of bread and water for two or three months together, whenever their straightener recommends it.

In England, we never hesitate to tell our doctor what is wrong just because we fear he might hurt us. We let him do his worst and endure it without complaint. That is because we are not ridiculed for being ill. We also know that the doctor is doing his best to cure us and can judge our case better than we can. But we would hide every illness if we were treated as the Erewhonians are when something is wrong with them. We would do as we do with moral and intellectual diseases. We would pretend to be healthy with the greatest skill until we were found out. We would hate a single flogging given merely as punishment more than the amputation of a limb. That is, if the amputation were performed kindly and courteously to help us out of our difficulty. The doctor would also have to be fully aware that only an accident of constitution kept him from being in the same plight himself. So the Erewhonians accept a flogging once a week and a diet of bread and water for two or three months at a time, whenever their straightener recommends it.

I do not suppose that even my host, on having swindled a confiding widow out of the whole of her property, was put to more actual suffering than a man will readily undergo at the hands of an English doctor. And yet he must have had a very bad time of it. The sounds I heard were sufficient to show that his pain was exquisite, but he never shrank from undergoing it. He was quite sure that it did him good; and I think he was right. I cannot believe that that man will ever embezzle money again. He may—but it will be a long time before he does so.

I doubt that even my host suffered more than a man would willingly endure from an English doctor. This was after he had swindled a trusting widow out of everything she owned. And yet he must have had a very bad time. The sounds I heard showed that his pain was intense, but he never shrank from enduring it. He was quite sure it did him good, and I think he was right. I cannot believe that he will ever embezzle money again. He may, but it will be a long time before he does.

During my confinement in prison, and on my journey, I had already discovered a great deal of the above; but it still seemed surpassingly strange, and I was in constant fear of committing some piece of rudeness, through my inability to look at things from the same stand-point as my neighbours; but after a few weeks’ stay with the Nosnibors, I got to understand things better, especially on having heard all about my host’s illness, of which he told me fully and repeatedly.

During my time in prison and on my journey, I had already discovered a great deal of what I have described. But it still seemed extraordinarily strange. I was constantly afraid of being rude because I could not see things from the same point of view as my neighbours. After a few weeks with the Nosnibors, however, I understood things better. This was especially true after I heard all about my host’s illness, which he told me about fully and repeatedly.

It seemed that he had been on the Stock Exchange of the city for many years and had amassed enormous wealth, without exceeding the limits of what was generally considered justifiable, or at any rate, permissible dealing; but at length on several occasions he had become aware of a desire to make money by fraudulent representations, and had actually dealt with two or three sums in a way which had made him rather uncomfortable. He had unfortunately made light of it and pooh-poohed the ailment, until circumstances eventually presented themselves which enabled him to cheat upon a very considerable scale;—he told me what they were, and they were about as bad as anything could be, but I need not detail them;—he seized the opportunity, and became aware, when it was too late, that he must be seriously out of order. He had neglected himself too long.

It seemed that he had worked on the city’s Stock Exchange for many years and had amassed enormous wealth. His dealings had never gone beyond what was generally considered justifiable, or at least permissible. But eventually, on several occasions, he had felt a desire to make money through fraudulent claims. He had actually handled two or three sums in ways that made him rather uncomfortable. Unfortunately, he had made light of this and dismissed the ailment. Then circumstances arose that allowed him to cheat on a very large scale. He told me what they were, and they were about as bad as anything could be, but I need not describe them. He seized the opportunity and realized, when it was too late, that he must be seriously unwell. He had neglected himself for too long.

He drove home at once, broke the news to his wife and daughters as gently as he could, and sent off for one of the most celebrated straighteners of the kingdom to a consultation with the family practitioner, for the case was plainly serious. On the arrival of the straightener he told his story, and expressed his fear that his morals must be permanently impaired.

He drove home at once and broke the news to his wife and daughters as gently as he could. The case was clearly serious, so he sent for one of the kingdom's most celebrated straighteners to consult with the family doctor. When the straightener arrived, he told him what had happened. He said he feared that his morals must be permanently damaged.

The eminent man reassured him with a few cheering words, and then proceeded to make a more careful diagnosis of the case. He inquired concerning Mr. Nosnibor’s parents—had their moral health been good? He was answered that there had not been anything seriously amiss with them, but that his maternal grandfather, whom he was supposed to resemble somewhat in person, had been a consummate scoundrel and had ended his days in a hospital,—while a brother of his father’s, after having led a most flagitious life for many years, had been at last cured by a philosopher of a new school, which as far as I could understand it bore much the same relation to the old as homoeopathy to allopathy. The straightener shook his head at this, and laughingly replied that the cure must have been due to nature. After a few more questions he wrote a prescription and departed.

The eminent man reassured him with a few encouraging words, then examined his case more carefully. He asked whether Mr. Nosnibor’s parents had been in good moral health. He was told that nothing had been seriously wrong with them. But Mr. Nosnibor’s maternal grandfather, whom he was thought to resemble somewhat, had been a complete scoundrel. He had ended his days in a hospital. His father’s brother, meanwhile, had led a thoroughly wicked life for many years. At last, a philosopher of a new school had cured him. As far as I could understand, this school’s relationship to the old one was much like homeopathy’s relationship to allopathy. The straightener shook his head and laughed, saying that nature must have been responsible for the cure. After a few more questions, he wrote a prescription and left.

I saw the prescription. It ordered a fine to the State of double the money embezzled; no food but bread and milk for six months, and a severe flogging once a month for twelve. I was surprised to see that no part of the fine was to be paid to the poor woman whose money had been embezzled, but on inquiry I learned that she would have been prosecuted in the Misplaced Confidence Court, if she had not escaped its clutches by dying shortly after she had discovered her loss.

I saw the prescription. It ordered a fine paid to the State of twice the amount embezzled. It also ordered a diet of nothing but bread and milk for six months, and a severe flogging once a month for twelve months. I was surprised that none of the fine would go to the poor woman whose money had been embezzled. But when I asked, I learned that she would have been prosecuted in the Misplaced Confidence Court. She escaped its clutches by dying shortly after discovering her loss.

As for Mr. Nosnibor, he had received his eleventh flogging on the day of my arrival. I saw him later on the same afternoon, and he was still twinged; but there had been no escape from following out the straightener’s prescription, for the so-called sanitary laws of Erewhon are very rigorous, and unless the straightener was satisfied that his orders had been obeyed, the patient would have been taken to a hospital (as the poor are), and would have been much worse off. Such at least is the law, but it is never necessary to enforce it.

As for Mr. Nosnibor, he had received his eleventh flogging on the day I arrived. I saw him later that afternoon, and he was still in pain. But there was no escaping the straightener’s prescription. The so-called sanitary laws of Erewhon are very strict. Unless the straightener was satisfied that his orders had been followed, the patient would have been taken to a hospital. That is what happens to the poor, and he would have been much worse off there. At least, that is the law, but it never needs to be enforced.

On a subsequent occasion I was present at an interview between Mr. Nosnibor and the family straightener, who was considered competent to watch the completion of the cure. I was struck with the delicacy with which he avoided even the remotest semblance of inquiry after the physical well-being of his patient, though there was a certain yellowness about my host’s eyes which argued a bilious habit of body. To have taken notice of this would have been a gross breach of professional etiquette. I was told, however, that a straightener sometimes thinks it right to glance at the possibility of some slight physical disorder if he finds it important in order to assist him in his diagnosis; but the answers which he gets are generally untrue or evasive, and he forms his own conclusions upon the matter as well as he can. Sensible men have been known to say that the straightener should in strict confidence be told of every physical ailment that is likely to bear upon the case; but people are naturally shy of doing this, for they do not like lowering themselves in the opinion of the straightener, and his ignorance of medical science is supreme. I heard of one lady, indeed, who had the hardihood to confess that a furious outbreak of ill-humour and extravagant fancies for which she was seeking advice was possibly the result of indisposition. “You should resist that,” said the straightener, in a kind, but grave voice; “we can do nothing for the bodies of our patients; such matters are beyond our province, and I desire that I may hear no further particulars.” The lady burst into tears, and promised faithfully that she would never be unwell again.

On a later occasion, I attended a meeting between Mr. Nosnibor and the family straightener. The straightener was considered qualified to oversee the completion of the cure. I was struck by how carefully he avoided even the slightest hint of asking about his patient’s physical health. My host’s eyes had a yellowish tint, though, which suggested a tendency toward biliousness. Noticing it would have been a gross breach of professional etiquette. I was told, however, that a straightener sometimes considers the possibility of a minor physical disorder. He does so if he thinks it important to help him make a diagnosis. But the answers he gets are generally untrue or evasive, so he draws his own conclusions as best he can. Some sensible men have said that a straightener should be told, in strict confidence, about every physical ailment likely to affect the case. But people are naturally reluctant to do this. They do not like to lower themselves in the straightener’s opinion, and his ignorance of medical science is absolute. I did hear of one lady who had the boldness to confess that her illness might have caused her troubles. She was seeking advice about a furious outburst of bad temper and wild fancies. “You should resist that,” said the straightener in a kind but serious voice. “We can do nothing for our patients’ bodies. Such matters are beyond our field, and I wish to hear no more details.” The lady burst into tears and faithfully promised that she would never be ill again.

But to return to Mr. Nosnibor. As the afternoon wore on many carriages drove up with callers to inquire how he had stood his flogging. It had been very severe, but the kind inquiries upon every side gave him great pleasure, and he assured me that he felt almost tempted to do wrong again by the solicitude with which his friends had treated him during his recovery: in this I need hardly say that he was not serious.

But to return to Mr. Nosnibor. As the afternoon went on, many carriages arrived with visitors asking how he had endured his flogging. The flogging had been very severe, but the kind inquiries from all sides gave him great pleasure. He assured me that his friends' concern during his recovery almost tempted him to do wrong again. I hardly need say that he was not serious.

During the remainder of my stay in the country Mr. Nosnibor was constantly attentive to his business, and largely increased his already great possessions; but I never heard a whisper to the effect of his having been indisposed a second time, or made money by other than the most strictly honourable means. I did hear afterwards in confidence that there had been reason to believe that his health had been not a little affected by the straightener’s treatment, but his friends did not choose to be over-curious upon the subject, and on his return to his affairs it was by common consent passed over as hardly criminal in one who was otherwise so much afflicted. For they regard bodily ailments as the more venial in proportion as they have been produced by causes independent of the constitution. Thus if a person ruin his health by excessive indulgence at the table or by drinking, they count it to be almost a part of the mental disease which brought it about, and so it goes for little, but they have no mercy on such illnesses as fevers or catarrhs or lung diseases, which to us appear to be beyond the control of the individual. They are only more lenient towards the diseases of the young—such as measles, which they think to be like sowing one’s wild oats—and look over them as pardonable indiscretions if they have not been too serious, and if they are atoned for by complete subsequent recovery.

For the rest of my stay in the country, Mr. Nosnibor gave constant attention to his business. He greatly increased his already considerable wealth. But I never heard a whisper that he had been ill a second time. Nor did I hear that he had made money by anything but the most strictly honorable means. Later, I was told in confidence that there was reason to believe the straightener’s treatment had seriously affected his health. But his friends chose not to inquire too closely. When he returned to business, they all agreed to overlook it. They thought it hardly criminal in someone who was already so afflicted. For they regard physical illnesses as more forgivable when they have causes unrelated to a person’s constitution. For example, someone may ruin their health by eating or drinking too much. They regard that as almost part of the mental illness that caused it, so they think little of it. But they show no mercy for fevers, colds, or lung diseases, which seem to us beyond a person’s control. They are more lenient only with the illnesses of the young, such as measles. They think of these as like sowing one’s wild oats. They overlook them as forgivable indiscretions if they have not been too serious, and if a complete recovery afterward makes amends.

It is hardly necessary to say that the office of straightener is one which requires long and special training. It stands to reason that he who would cure a moral ailment must be practically acquainted with it in all its bearings. The student for the profession of straightener is required to set apart certain seasons for the practice of each vice in turn, as a religious duty. These seasons are called “fasts,” and are continued by the student until he finds that he really can subdue all the more usual vices in his own person, and hence can advise his patients from the results of his own experience.

It hardly needs saying that a straightener needs long and specialized training. It stands to reason that anyone who wants to cure a moral ailment must know it firsthand in all its aspects. A student training to be a straightener must set aside certain periods to practice each vice in turn. This is a religious duty. These periods are called “fasts.” The student continues them until he finds that he can overcome all the more common vices in himself. He can then advise his patients based on his own experience.

Those who intend to be specialists, rather than general practitioners, devote themselves more particularly to the branch in which their practice will mainly lie. Some students have been obliged to continue their exercises during their whole lives, and some devoted men have actually died as martyrs to the drink, or gluttony, or whatever branch of vice they may have chosen for their especial study. The greater number, however, take no harm by the excursions into the various departments of vice which it is incumbent upon them to study.

Those who intend to be specialists rather than general practitioners focus on the branch they will mainly practice. Some students have had to continue their exercises throughout their lives. Some devoted men have even died as martyrs to drink, gluttony, or whatever vice they chose to study. Most students, however, suffer no harm from their excursions into the various branches of vice they must study.

For the Erewhonians hold that unalloyed virtue is not a thing to be immoderately indulged in. I was shown more than one case in which the real or supposed virtues of parents were visited upon the children to the third and fourth generation. The straighteners say that the most that can be truly said for virtue is that there is a considerable balance in its favour, and that it is on the whole a good deal better to be on its side than against it; but they urge that there is much pseudo-virtue going about, which is apt to let people in very badly before they find it out. Those men, they say, are best who are not remarkable either for vice or virtue. I told them about Hogarth’s idle and industrious apprentices, but they did not seem to think that the industrious apprentice was a very nice person.

The Erewhonians believe that pure virtue is not something to indulge in too freely. I was shown several cases in which the real or supposed virtues of parents brought consequences upon their children for three or four generations. The straighteners say that virtue's benefits considerably outweigh its drawbacks. They say that, on the whole, it is much better to be on the side of virtue than against it. But they warn that much false virtue is going around. It can get people into serious trouble before they recognize it for what it is. The best men, they say, are those who are remarkable for neither vice nor virtue. I told them about Hogarth’s idle and industrious apprentices, but they did not seem to think the industrious apprentice was a very nice person.