What They Mean by It

I have given the above mythology at some length, but it is only a small part of what they have upon the subject. My first feeling on reading it was that any amount of folly on the part of the unborn in coming here was justified by a desire to escape from such intolerable prosing. The mythology is obviously an unfair and exaggerated representation of life and things; and had its authors been so minded they could have easily drawn a picture which would err as much on the bright side as this does on the dark. No Erewhonian believes that the world is as black as it has been here painted, but it is one of their peculiarities that they very often do not believe or mean things which they profess to regard as indisputable.

I have described the mythology above at some length, but it is only a small part of what they have on the subject. When I first read it, I felt that any foolishness on the part of the unborn in coming here was justified. They must have wanted to escape such unbearable droning. The mythology obviously gives an unfair and exaggerated picture of life and the world. If its authors had wanted to, they could easily have painted a picture just as exaggerated in its brightness as this one is in its darkness. No Erewhonian believes the world is as dark as it has been painted here. But one of their peculiarities is that they often do not believe or mean things they claim are beyond dispute.

In the present instance their professed views concerning the unborn have arisen from their desire to prove that people have been presented with the gloomiest possible picture of their own prospects before they came here; otherwise, they could hardly say to one whom they are going to punish for an affection of the heart or brain that it is all his own doing. In practice they modify their theory to a considerable extent, and seldom refer to the birth formula except in extreme cases; for the force of habit, or what not, gives many of them a kindly interest even in creatures who have so much wronged them as the unborn have done; and though a man generally hates the unwelcome little stranger for the first twelve months, he is apt to mollify (according to his lights) as time goes on, and sometimes he will become inordinately attached to the beings whom he is pleased to call his children.

In this case, their stated views about the unborn come from their desire to prove something. They want to prove that people were given the gloomiest possible picture of their prospects before they came here. Otherwise, they could hardly tell someone they are about to punish for a heart or brain condition that it is all his own doing. In practice, they change their theory considerably. They seldom refer to the birth formula except in extreme cases. For habit, or something else, gives many of them a kindly interest even in these creatures. This is true even though the unborn have wronged them so much. A man generally hates the unwelcome little stranger for the first twelve months. But as time goes on, he tends to soften, according to his own understanding. Sometimes he becomes excessively attached to the beings he is pleased to call his children.

Of course, according to Erewhonian premises, it would serve people right to be punished and scouted for moral and intellectual diseases as much as for physical, and I cannot to this day understand why they should have stopped short half way. Neither, again, can I understand why their having done so should have been, as it certainly was, a matter of so much concern to myself. What could it matter to me how many absurdities the Erewhonians might adopt? Nevertheless I longed to make them think as I did, for the wish to spread those opinions that we hold conducive to our own welfare is so deeply rooted in the English character that few of us can escape its influence. But let this pass.

Of course, by Erewhonian reasoning, people would deserve punishment and ridicule for moral and intellectual diseases just as much as for physical ones. To this day, I cannot understand why the Erewhonians stopped halfway. Nor can I understand why their stopping bothered me so much, though it certainly did. What did it matter to me how many absurd ideas the Erewhonians adopted? Nevertheless, I longed to make them think as I did. The desire to spread opinions we believe benefit us is deeply rooted in the English character. Few of us can escape its influence. But let that pass.

In spite of not a few modifications in practice of a theory which is itself revolting, the relations between children and parents in that country are less happy than in Europe. It was rarely that I saw cases of real hearty and intense affection between the old people and the young ones. Here and there I did so, and was quite sure that the children, even at the age of twenty, were fonder of their parents than they were of any one else; and that of their own inclination, being free to choose what company they would, they would often choose that of their father and mother. The straightener’s carriage was rarely seen at the door of those houses. I saw two or three such cases during the time that I remained in the country, and cannot express the pleasure which I derived from a sight suggestive of so much goodness and wisdom and forbearance, so richly rewarded; yet I firmly believe that the same thing would happen in nine families out of ten if the parents were merely to remember how they felt when they were young, and actually to behave towards their children as they would have had their own parents behave towards themselves. But this, which would appear to be so simple and obvious, seems also to be a thing which not one in a hundred thousand is able to put in practice. It is only the very great and good who have any living faith in the simplest axioms; and there are few who are so holy as to feel that 19 and 13 make 32 as certainly as 2 and 2 make 4.

Although the revolting theory has been modified in practice in many ways, relations between children and parents are less happy there than in Europe. I rarely saw genuine, warm, intense affection between parents and children. Now and then I did see it. I was quite sure that the children in those families, even at twenty, loved their parents more than anyone else. When free to choose their own company, they would often choose their father and mother. The straightener’s carriage was rarely seen at the doors of those houses. I saw two or three such families during my stay in the country. I cannot express the pleasure I took in seeing so much goodness, wisdom, and patience so richly rewarded. Yet I firmly believe the same would happen in nine families out of ten if parents simply remembered their own youth. They would also have to treat their children as they wished their own parents had treated them. But though this seems simple and obvious, hardly one person in a hundred thousand seems able to put it into practice. Only the truly great and good have any real faith in the simplest truths. Few are holy enough to feel that 19 and 13 make 32 as certainly as 2 and 2 make 4.

I am quite sure that if this narrative should ever fall into Erewhonian hands, it will be said that what I have written about the relations between parents and children being seldom satisfactory is an infamous perversion of facts, and that in truth there are few young people who do not feel happier in the society of their nearest relations⁴ than in any other. Mr. Nosnibor would be sure to say this. Yet I cannot refrain from expressing an opinion that he would be a good deal embarrassed if his deceased parents were to reappear and propose to pay him a six months’ visit. I doubt whether there are many things which he would regard as a greater infliction. They had died at a ripe old age some twenty years before I came to know him, so the case is an extreme one; but surely if they had treated him with what in his youth he had felt to be true unselfishness, his face would brighten when he thought of them to the end of his life.

I am quite sure that if this account ever falls into Erewhonian hands, people will call my claim an outrageous distortion of the facts. I have said that relations between parents and children are seldom satisfactory. They will say that, in truth, few young people feel happier with anyone than with their closest relatives⁴. Mr. Nosnibor would certainly say this. Yet I cannot help thinking that he would be very uncomfortable if his dead parents reappeared and proposed a six-month visit. I doubt there are many things he would find more unpleasant. They had died at a ripe old age some twenty years before I met him, so this is an extreme case. But surely, if they had treated him with what he had felt in his youth was genuine selflessness, his face would brighten whenever he thought of them for the rest of his life.

In the one or two cases of true family affection which I met with, I am sure that the young people who were so genuinely fond of their fathers and mothers at eighteen, would at sixty be perfectly delighted were they to get the chance of welcoming them as their guests. There is nothing which could please them better, except perhaps to watch the happiness of their own children and grandchildren.

I came across one or two cases of true family affection. In those cases, the young people were genuinely fond of their parents at eighteen. I am sure that at sixty, they would be delighted to have the chance to welcome their parents as guests. Nothing could please them more, except perhaps watching the happiness of their own children and grandchildren.

This is how things should be. It is not an impossible ideal; it is one which actually does exist in some few cases, and might exist in almost all, with a little more patience and forbearance upon the parents’ part; but it is rare at present—so rare that they have a proverb which I can only translate in a very roundabout way, but which says that the great happiness of some people in a future state will consist in watching the distress of their parents on returning to eternal companionship with their grandfathers and grandmothers; whilst “compulsory affection” is the idea which lies at the root of their word for the deepest anguish.

This is how things should be. It is not an impossible ideal. In a few cases, it already exists. With a little more patience and tolerance from parents, it could exist in almost every case. But it is rare at present. It is so rare that they have a proverb I can only translate in a very roundabout way. It says that some people's great happiness in the afterlife will come from watching their parents suffer. Their parents will suffer when they return to the eternal company of their own mothers and fathers. Meanwhile, “compulsory affection” is the idea at the root of their word for the deepest anguish.

There is no talisman in the word “parent” which can generate miracles of affection, and I can well believe that my own child might find it less of a calamity to lose both Arowhena and myself when he is six years old, than to find us again when he is sixty—a sentence which I would not pen did I not feel that by doing so I was giving him something like a hostage, or at any rate putting a weapon into his hands against me, should my selfishness exceed reasonable limits.

There is no magic in the word “parent” that can create miracles of affection. I can easily believe that my child might find it less of a tragedy to lose both Arowhena and me at six than to find us again at sixty. I would not write that unless I felt that doing so gave him something like a hostage. At least it puts a weapon in his hands against me if my selfishness goes beyond reasonable limits.

Money is at the bottom of all this to a great extent. If the parents would put their children in the way of earning a competence earlier than they do, the children would soon become self-supporting and independent. As it is, under the present system, the young ones get old enough to have all manner of legitimate wants (that is, if they have any “go” about them) before they have learnt the means of earning money to pay for them; hence they must either do without them, or take more money than the parents can be expected to spare. This is due chiefly to the schools of Unreason, where a boy is taught upon hypothetical principles, as I will explain hereafter; spending years in being incapacitated for doing this, that, or the other (he hardly knows what), during all which time he ought to have been actually doing the thing itself, beginning at the lowest grades, picking it up through actual practice, and rising according to the energy which is in him.

Money is largely at the root of all this. If parents helped their children learn to earn a decent living earlier, the children would soon be self-supporting and independent. Under the present system, young people grow old enough to have all kinds of legitimate wants before they learn how to earn the money to pay for them. That is, if they have any “drive” in them. So they must either go without or take more money than their parents can be expected to spare. This is chiefly because of the schools of Unreason, where boys are taught according to hypothetical principles, as I will explain later. A boy spends years being made incapable of doing one thing or another, though he hardly knows what. All that time, he ought to have been doing the work itself, starting at the lowest level and learning through practice. He could then rise according to the energy he has.

These schools of Unreason surprised me much. It would be easy to fall into pseudo-utilitarianism, and I would fain believe that the system may be good for the children of very rich parents, or for those who show a natural instinct to acquire hypothetical lore; but the misery was that their Ydgrun-worship required all people with any pretence to respectability to send their children to some one or other of these schools, mulcting them of years of money. It astonished me to see what sacrifices the parents would make in order to render their children as nearly useless as possible; and it was hard to say whether the old suffered most from the expense which they were thus put to, or the young from being deliberately swindled in some of the most important branches of human inquiry, and directed into false channels or left to drift in the great majority of cases.

These schools of Unreason surprised me greatly. It would be easy to fall into pseudo-utilitarianism. I would like to believe the system may be good for very rich people's children. It may also be good for those with a natural instinct for learning hypothetical lore. But the trouble was their worship of Ydgrun. It required everyone who claimed any respectability to send their children to one of these schools. This cost them years and money. I was astonished by the sacrifices parents made to make their children as nearly useless as possible. It was hard to say who suffered more. Was it the parents, from the expense imposed on them? Or was it the children, who were deliberately cheated of knowledge in some of the most important fields of human inquiry? In the great majority of cases, the young were led in false directions or left to drift.

I cannot think I am mistaken in believing that the growing tendency to limit families by infanticide—an evil which was causing general alarm throughout the country—was almost entirely due to the way in which education had become a fetish from one end of Erewhon to the other. Granted that provision should be made whereby every child should be taught reading, writing, and arithmetic, but here compulsory state-aided education should end, and the child should begin (with all due precautions to ensure that he is not overworked) to acquire the rudiments of that art whereby he is to earn his living.

I cannot believe I am wrong about the growing practice of limiting family size through infanticide. This evil was causing widespread alarm throughout the country. I believe it was almost entirely due to the way education had become an obsession throughout Erewhon. Every child should have the opportunity to learn reading, writing, and arithmetic. But compulsory, state-funded education should end there. The child should then begin to learn the basics of the trade by which he will earn his living. All proper precautions should be taken to ensure that he is not overworked.

He cannot acquire these in what we in England call schools of technical education; such schools are cloister life as against the rough and tumble of the world; they unfit, rather than fit for work in the open. An art can only be learned in the workshop of those who are winning their bread by it.

He cannot acquire these in what we in England call technical schools. Such schools are sheltered from the rough and tumble of the world. They make people less fit, rather than more fit, for work in the outside world. An art can only be learned in the workshop of those who earn their living by it.

Boys, as a rule, hate the artificial, and delight in the actual; give them the chance of earning, and they will soon earn. When parents find that their children, instead of being made artificially burdensome, will early begin to contribute to the well-being of the family, they will soon leave off killing them, and will seek to have that plenitude of offspring which they now avoid. As things are, the state lays greater burdens on parents than flesh and blood can bear, and then wrings its hands over an evil for which it is itself mainly responsible.

Boys generally hate what is artificial and delight in what is real. Give them a chance to earn money, and they soon will. Parents may find that their children are not made a burden by artificial means, but instead begin contributing to the family’s well-being early on. If so, they will soon stop killing their children and seek to have the many offspring they now avoid. As things stand, the state places more burdens on parents than they can bear. Then it wrings its hands over an evil for which it is itself largely responsible.

With the less well-dressed classes the harm was not so great; for among these, at about ten years old, the child has to begin doing something: if he is capable he makes his way up; if he is not, he is at any rate not made more incapable by what his friends are pleased to call his education. People find their level as a rule; and though they unfortunately sometimes miss it, it is in the main true that those who have valuable qualities are perceived to have them and can sell them. I think that the Erewhonians are beginning to become aware of these things, for there was much talk about putting a tax upon all parents whose children were not earning a competence according to their degrees by the time they were twenty years old. I am sure that if they will have the courage to carry it through they will never regret it; for the parents will take care that the children shall begin earning money (which means “doing good” to society) at an early age; then the children will be independent early, and they will not press on the parents, nor the parents on them, and they will like each other better than they do now.

The harm was not so great among the less well-dressed classes. Their children had to start doing something at about ten years old. If a child was capable, he worked his way up. If he was not, at least what his friends chose to call his education did not make him less capable. People usually find their level. Though they unfortunately sometimes miss it, it is generally true that people with valuable qualities are recognized and can sell them. I think the Erewhonians are beginning to realize these things. There was much talk of taxing all parents whose children were not earning a decent living suited to their station by age twenty. I am sure that if the Erewhonians have the courage to carry this through, they will never regret it. Parents will make sure their children start earning money at an early age. And earning money means “doing good” to society. The children will then become independent early. They will not be a burden on their parents, nor will their parents be a burden on them. And they will like each other better than they do now.

This is the true philanthropy. He who makes a colossal fortune in the hosiery trade, and by his energy has succeeded in reducing the price of woollen goods by the thousandth part of a penny in the pound—this man is worth ten professional philanthropists. So strongly are the Erewhonians impressed with this, that if a man has made a fortune of over £20,000 a year they exempt him from all taxation, considering him as a work of art, and too precious to be meddled with; they say, “How very much he must have done for society before society could have been prevailed upon to give him so much money;” so magnificent an organisation overawes them; they regard it as a thing dropped from heaven.

This is true philanthropy. A man makes a huge fortune in the hosiery trade. Through his energy, he has managed to lower the price of woolen goods by one thousandth of a penny per pound. That man is worth ten professional philanthropists. The Erewhonians are so impressed by this that they exempt a man from all taxes if his fortune brings him over £20,000 a year. They see him as a work of art, too precious to be meddled with. They say, “How much he must have done for society before it could be persuaded to give him so much money.” Such a magnificent being fills them with awe. They regard him as something dropped from heaven.

“Money,” they say, “is the symbol of duty, it is the sacrament of having done for mankind that which mankind wanted. Mankind may not be a very good judge, but there is no better.” This used to shock me at first, when I remembered that it had been said on high authority that they who have riches shall enter hardly into the kingdom of heaven; but the influence of Erewhon had made me begin to see things in a new light, and I could not help thinking that they who have not riches shall enter more hardly still.

“Money,” they say, “is the symbol of duty. It is the sacrament of having given mankind what mankind wanted. Mankind may not be a very good judge, but there is no better one.” At first, this shocked me. I remembered that a great authority had said that the rich would have difficulty entering the kingdom of heaven. But Erewhon’s influence had made me begin to see things differently. I could not help thinking that the poor would have even more difficulty entering the kingdom of heaven.

People oppose money to culture, and imply that if a man has spent his time in making money he will not be cultivated—fallacy of fallacies! As though there could be a greater aid to culture than the having earned an honourable independence, and as though any amount of culture will do much for the man who is penniless, except make him feel his position more deeply. The young man who was told to sell all his goods and give to the poor, must have been an entirely exceptional person if the advice was given wisely, either for him or for the poor; how much more often does it happen that we perceive a man to have all sorts of good qualities except money, and feel that his real duty lies in getting every half-penny that he can persuade others to pay him for his services, and becoming rich. It has been said that the love of money is the root of all evil. The want of money is so quite as truly.

People set money against culture. They suggest that a man who has spent his time making money will not be cultured. What a ridiculous fallacy! As if anything could help a man become cultured more than earning an honorable living and becoming financially independent. And as if any amount of culture could do much for a penniless man, except make him feel his position more keenly. The young man who was told to sell all his possessions and give to the poor must have been exceptional. Otherwise, the advice was hardly wise, either for him or for the poor. How much more often do we see a man with all sorts of good qualities but no money? We feel that his real duty is to get every penny he can persuade others to pay him for his services, and become rich. It has been said that the love of money is the root of all evil. The lack of money is just as truly the root of all evil.

The above may sound irreverent, but it is conceived in a spirit of the most utter reverence for those things which do alone deserve it—that is, for the things which are, which mould us and fashion us, be they what they may; for the things that have power to punish us, and which will punish us if we do not heed them; for our masters therefore. But I am drifting away from my story.

What I have just said may sound irreverent, but it comes from a spirit of complete reverence for the only things that deserve it. These are the things that exist and shape us, whatever they may be. They have the power to punish us and will do so if we do not heed them. They are therefore our masters. But I am drifting away from my story.

They have another plan about which they are making a great noise and fuss, much as some are doing with women’s rights in England. A party of extreme radicals have professed themselves unable to decide upon the superiority of age or youth. At present all goes on the supposition that it is desirable to make the young old as soon as possible. Some would have it that this is wrong, and that the object of education should be to keep the old young as long as possible. They say that each age should take it turn in turn about, week by week, one week the old to be topsawyers, and the other the young, drawing the line at thirty-five years of age; but they insist that the young should be allowed to inflict corporal chastisement on the old, without which the old would be quite incorrigible. In any European country this would be out of the question; but it is not so there, for the straighteners are constantly ordering people to be flogged, so that they are familiar with the notion. I do not suppose that the idea will be ever acted upon; but its having been even mooted is enough to show the utter perversion of the Erewhonian mind.

They have another plan that is causing a great deal of noise and fuss, much like women’s rights in England. A group of extreme radicals claim they cannot decide whether age or youth is superior. At present, everything rests on the assumption that the young should be made old as soon as possible. Some say this is wrong. They argue that education should aim to keep the old young as long as possible. They say each age group should take turns being in charge, one week for the old and the next for the young. The dividing line would be thirty-five years of age. But they insist that the young should be allowed to physically punish the old. Without this, they say, the old would be quite impossible to correct. In any European country this would be out of the question. But it is not so there, because the straighteners constantly order people to be flogged. People are therefore familiar with the idea. I do not suppose the plan will ever be put into practice. But the fact that it has even been proposed is enough to show the utter perversity of the Erewhonian mind.