News from Nowhere; Or, An Epoch of Rest<br />Being Some Chapters from a Utopian Romance, William Morris [best big ereader TXT] 📗

assure you that some of the natural rockeries of our garden are worth seeing.  Go north this summer and look at the Cumberland and Westmoreland ones,—where, by the way, you will see some sheep-feeding, so that they are not so wasteful as you think; not so wasteful as forcing-grounds for fruit out of season, I think.  Go and have a look at the sheep-walks high up the slopes between Ingleborough and Pen-y-gwent, and tell me if you think we waste the land there by not covering it with factories for making things that nobody wants, which was the chief business of the nineteenth century.”

“I will try to go there,” said I.

“It won’t take much trying,” said he.

CHAPTER XI: CONCERNING GOVERNMENT

“Now,” said I, “I have come to the point of asking questions which I suppose will be dry for you to answer and difficult for you to explain; but I have foreseen for some time past that I must ask them, will I ’nill I.  What kind of a government have you?  Has republicanism finally triumphed? or have you come to a mere dictatorship, which some persons in the nineteenth century used to prophesy as the ultimate outcome of democracy?  Indeed, this last question does not seem so very unreasonable, since you have turned your Parliament House into a dung-market.  Or where do you house your present Parliament?”

The old man answered my smile with a hearty laugh, and said: “Well, well, dung is not the worst kind of corruption; fertility may come of that, whereas mere dearth came from the other kind, of which those walls once held the great supporters.  Now, dear guest, let me tell you that our present parliament would be hard to house in one place, because the whole people is our parliament.”

“I don’t understand,” said I.

“No, I suppose not,” said he.  “I must now shock you by telling you that we have no longer anything which you, a native of another planet, would call a government.”

“I am not so much shocked as you might think,” said I, “as I know something about governments.  But tell me, how do you manage, and how have you come to this state of things?”

Said he: “It is true that we have to make some arrangements about our affairs, concerning which you can ask presently; and it is also true that everybody does not always agree with the details of these arrangements; but, further, it is true that a man no more needs an elaborate system of government, with its army, navy, and police, to force him to give way to the will of the majority of his equals, than he wants a similar machinery to make him understand that his head and a stone wall cannot occupy the same space at the same moment.  Do you want further explanation?”

“Well, yes, I do,” quoth I.

Old Hammond settled himself in his chair with a look of enjoyment which rather alarmed me, and made me dread a scientific disquisition: so I sighed and abided.  He said:

“I suppose you know pretty well what the process of government was in the bad old times?”

“I am supposed to know,” said I.

(Hammond)  What was the government of those days?  Was it really the Parliament or any part of it?

(I)  No.

(H.)  Was not the Parliament on the one side a kind of watch-committee sitting to see that the interests of the Upper Classes took no hurt; and on the other side a sort of blind to delude the people into supposing that they had some share in the management of their own affairs?

(I)  History seems to show us this.

(H.)  To what extent did the people manage their own affairs?

(I)  I judge from what I have heard that sometimes they forced the Parliament to make a law to legalise some alteration which had already taken place.

(H.)  Anything else?

(I)  I think not.  As I am informed, if the people made any attempt to deal with the cause of their grievances, the law stepped in and said, this is sedition, revolt, or what not, and slew or tortured the ringleaders of such attempts.

(H.)  If Parliament was not the government then, nor the people either, what was the government?

(I)  Can you tell me?

(H.)  I think we shall not be far wrong if we say that government was the Law-Courts, backed up by the executive, which handled the brute force that the deluded people allowed them to use for their own purposes; I mean the army, navy, and police.

(I)  Reasonable men must needs think you are right.

(H.)  Now as to those Law-Courts.  Were they places of fair dealing according to the ideas of the day?  Had a poor man a good chance of defending his property and person in them?

(I)  It is a commonplace that even rich men looked upon a law-suit as a dire misfortune, even if they gained the case; and as for a poor one—why, it was considered a miracle of justice and beneficence if a poor man who had once got into the clutches of the law escaped prison or utter ruin.

(H.)  It seems, then, my son, that the government by law-courts and police, which was the real government of the nineteenth century, was not a great success even to the people of that day, living under a class system which proclaimed inequality and poverty as the law of God and the bond which held the world together.

(I)  So it seems, indeed.

(H.)  And now that all this is changed, and the “rights of property,” which mean the clenching the fist on a piece of goods and crying out to the neighbours, You shan’t have this!—now that all this has disappeared so utterly that it is no longer possible even to jest upon its absurdity, is such a Government possible?

(I)  It is impossible.

(H.)  Yes, happily.  But for what other purpose than the protection of the rich from the poor, the strong from the weak, did this Government exist?

(I.)  I have heard that it was said that their office was to defend their own citizens against attack from other countries.

(H.)  It was said; but was anyone expected to believe this?  For instance, did the English Government defend the English citizen against the French?

(I)  So it was said.

(H.)  Then if the French had invaded England and conquered it, they would not have allowed the English workmen to live well?

(I, laughing)  As far as I can make out, the English masters of the English workmen saw to that: they took from their workmen as much of their livelihood as they dared, because they wanted it for themselves.

(H.)  But if the French had conquered, would they not have taken more still from the English workmen?

(I)  I do not think so; for in that case the English workmen would have died of starvation; and then the French conquest would have ruined the French, just as if the English horses and cattle had died of under-feeding.  So that after all, the English workmen would have been no worse off for the conquest: their French Masters could have got no more from them than their English masters did.

(H.)  This is true; and we may admit that the pretensions of the government to defend the poor (i.e., the useful) people against other countries come to nothing.  But that is but natural; for we have seen already that it was the function of government to protect the rich against the poor.  But did not the government defend its rich men against other nations?

(I)  I do not remember to have heard that the rich needed defence; because it is said that even when two nations were at war, the rich men of each nation gambled with each other pretty much as usual, and even sold each other weapons wherewith to kill their own countrymen.

(H.)  In short, it comes to this, that whereas the so-called government of protection of property by means of the law-courts meant destruction of wealth, this defence of the citizens of one country against those of another country by means of war or the threat of war meant pretty much the same thing.

(I)  I cannot deny it.

(H.)  Therefore the government really existed for the destruction of wealth?

(I)  So it seems.  And yet—

(H.)  Yet what?

(I)  There were many rich people in those times.

(H.)  You see the consequences of that fact?

(I)  I think I do.  But tell me out what they were.

(H.)  If the government habitually destroyed wealth, the country must have been poor?

(I)  Yes, certainly.

(H.)  Yet amidst this poverty the persons for the sake of whom the government existed insisted on being rich whatever might happen?

(I)  So it was.

(H.)  What must happen if in a poor country some people insist on being rich at the expense of the others?

(I)  Unutterable poverty for the others.  All this misery, then, was caused by the destructive government of which we have been speaking?

(H.)  Nay, it would be incorrect to say so.  The government itself was but the necessary result of the careless, aimless tyranny of the times; it was but the machinery of tyranny.  Now tyranny has come to an end, and we no longer need such machinery; we could not possibly use it since we are free.  Therefore in your sense of the word we have no government.  Do you understand this now?

(I)  Yes, I do.  But I will ask you some more questions as to how you as free men manage your affairs.

(H.)  With all my heart.  Ask away.

CHAPTER XII: CONCERNING THE ARRANGEMENT OF LIFE

“Well,” I said, “about those ‘arrangements’ which you spoke of as taking the place of government, could you give me any account of them?”

“Neighbour,” he said, “although we have simplified our lives a great deal from what they were, and have got rid of many conventionalities and many sham wants, which used to give our forefathers much trouble, yet our life is too complex for me to tell you in detail by means of words how it is arranged; you must find that out by living amongst us.  It is true that I can better tell you what we don’t do, than what we do do.”

“Well?” said I.

“This is the way to put it,” said he: “We have been living for a hundred and fifty years, at least, more or less in our present manner, and a tradition or habit of life has been growing on us; and that habit has become a habit of acting on the whole for the best.  It is easy for us to live without robbing each other.  It would be possible for us to contend with and rob each other, but it would be harder for us than refraining from strife and robbery.  That is in short the foundation of our life and our happiness.”

“Whereas in the old days,” said I, “it was very hard to live without strife and robbery.  That’s what you mean, isn’t it, by giving me the negative side of your good conditions?”

“Yes,” he said, “it was so hard, that those who habitually acted fairly to their neighbours were celebrated as saints and heroes, and were looked up to with the greatest reverence.”

“While they were alive?” said I.

“No,” said he, “after they were dead.”

“But as to these days,” I said; “you don’t mean to tell me that no one ever transgresses this habit of good fellowship?”

“Certainly not,” said Hammond, “but when the transgressions occur, everybody, transgressors and all, know them for what they are; the errors of friends, not the habitual actions of persons driven into enmity against society.”

“I see,” said I; “you mean that you have no ‘criminal’ classes.”

“How could we have them,” said he, “since there is no rich class to breed enemies against the state by means of the injustice of the state?”

Said I: “I thought that I understood from something that fell from you a little while ago that you had abolished civil law.  Is that so, literally?”

“It abolished itself, my friend,” said he.  “As I said before, the civil law-courts were upheld for the defence of private property; for nobody ever pretended that it was possible to make people act fairly to each other by means of brute force.  Well, private property being abolished, all the laws and all the legal ‘crimes’ which it had manufactured of course came to an end.  Thou shalt not steal, had to be translated into, Thou shalt work in order to live happily.  Is there any need to enforce that commandment by violence?”

“Well,” said I, “that is understood, and I agree with it; but how about crimes of violence? would not their occurrence (and you admit that they occur) make criminal law necessary?”

Said he: “In your sense of the word, we have no criminal law either.  Let us look at the matter closer, and see whence crimes of violence spring.  By far the greater part of these in past days were the result of the laws of private property, which forbade the satisfaction of their natural desires to all but a privileged few, and of the general visible coercion which came of those laws.  All that cause of violent crime is