"And in 1914," said Ellador, turning to that handy volume again, "you had a public school primary enrollment of 17,934,982. A drop in high school enrollment down to 1,218,804—only one out of seventeen to get that far; and an- other drop to a college enrollment of 87,820. That free public education does not seem to go far does it?"
"But most of these children have to go to work early—they cannot take the time for more education, even if they could af- ford it."
"Does going to work early make them better citizens?"
"I dare say it does—some of the college graduates aren't any too good."
She shook her head at this, and confronted me with more fig- ures. The college graduates certainly made a pretty good showing, and the terrible dregs, as she called the criminals and paupers, were not as a rule well educated.
"Do look at it reasonably, Van. I'm not trying to be unpleas- ant and I know I am ignorant of this "economics you talk of. But I'm looking as a stranger, of average intelligence, and with the additional advantage of an entirely different background at your country. You have natural advantages as good as earth af- fords. You have plenty of room. You have good racial stocks in large variety. You have every element of wealth. You have a good many true principles to go on. And yet—in the time you have been at it—in a hundred and forty years, you have built up the most crowded cities on earth, robbed, neglected and wasted the soil, made politics a thing of shame, developed private wealth that is monstrous and general poverty that is— disgraceful."
There was some silence after this.
It was extremely unpleasant. It was quite true.
"I know it is better here than in Europe," she went on, "I know that, with all your imperfections and errors you are bet- ter off than Germany—poor, mistaken Germany, so authoritat- ively perfect that she became proud; so proud that She became hateful, so hateful that it will take generations before the world can forgive her. You are not lost, Van—not a bit of it. But surely you can see that it is as I say?"
I could. Who couldn't?
"It is very easy for me to show what could be done, how eas- ily and how ,soon. In ten years' time you could see an end of poverty, in twenty of crime, in thirty of disease. This whole great land could be as fair and clean and healthy and happy as my own— and vastly richer in products Even richer in happi- ness—with this heavenof married love to crown all else!"
She took my hand at the end and was still for a little.
"But for the most part—you don't have that," she continued evenly. "Van, I've been reading. I've been talking with doctors and many wise persons, and, it seems to me, dear, that you don't appreciate marriage."
I had to grin at that. This Herlander, who never saw a man till a few years ago, and had only married one of them. Moreover, I recalled, with a momentary touch of bitterness, that we were not "married people" at present—not in the usual sense. And then I was ashamed. I had accepted my bargain, such as it was, with open eyes; I had had all this time of un- broken, happy love, living so near a beautiful women who gave me comfort and rest and calmness in some mysterious, super- sexual way, and keeping always the dear hope of a further fulfilment.
We had had no misunderstandings, no quarrels, and while I own that at first there had been periods of some unease for me, they were as nothing to our larger joy. It was as if, in clean vigor and activity, I was on an expedition with a well-loved sis- ter—a sister dearer and sweeter than all the world, and with that background of a still happier future.
From this I looked at the world about me, seeing it as I had never seen it before, as it was. All the eager, fresh young boys and girls, all the happy, hopeful lovers, the marriages, and then, how painful a proportion of miserable failures. It was not only the divorces, not only the undivorced illdoing; but the low order of happiness among so many.
That was what Ellador had in mind, with her fine sense of personal relationship. She did not know as much as I of the deeper gulf; what she meant was the dreary level.
"You make fun of it, you know," she went on. "It's a joke, a question for discussion—'Is Marriage a Failure?'— it is being discussed by many, ignored, made the subject of cheap talk."
"There are many who feel this," I answered her. "There is great effort to check the divorce evil, to preserve the sanctity of marriage."
Another thing my Ellador had learned, I think from being in America, was a spice of mischief. It became her well. With a mind as keen and powerful as hers, lack of humor would have been a serious loss.
"Have they tried benzoate—to preserve the sanctity of mar- riage?" she inquired. "Or is it enough to be hermetically sealed—under pressure—at the boiling point?"
I'm not much of a cook, nor is she for that matter, but I could smile at that, too.
"Without going into the marriage question at present, I wish you would go on with your Herland view of economics," I told her. "It looks to me as if you wanted to adopt socialism at once. And that's out of the question— most of us don't believe in it."
"Most of you don't seem to understand it, it seems to me," she answered.
"If you mean by socialism, the principles of socialism—yes, that is the way we manage in Herland. The land is ours, visibly. We never divided it up into little bits as you people have. What we raised on it and out of it was ours, too, visibly—when there was little, we had little—children first, of course—and now that there is a balanced plenty why, of course, every one has enough."
"Had you no selfish women? No ambitious women? No super- women trying to get ahead of the others?"
"Why of course we had; still have some few." "Well—how did you manage them ?"
"Why that is what government is for isn't it?" she replied. "To preserve justice, to prevent the selfish and ambitious from in- juring the others, to see io it that production is increased and distribution fairly carried on."
"We say that government is the best that governs least," I told her.
"Yes, I've heard that. Do any of you really believe it? Why do you believe it? How can you?"
"But look at Germany!" I cried; "there you see what comes of too much government."
"I wish you would look at Germany —every other nation might study Germany with great improvement," she replied, a little hotly. "Just because Germany has gone criminally insane, that is no reason for underating all the magnificent work she has done. The attitude of some people toward Germany is like that of your lynchers. Nations that do wrong are not to be put to death with torture, surely! Like individual criminals, they need study— help—better conditions. I think Germany is one of the most glorious, pathetic, awful examples of—of the way our world works," she concluded solemnly.
"They wouldn't thank you for calling them pathetic," I said. "No; I know they wouldn't. Their weakest spot is their blind pride. I find all of your nations are proud—it's easy to see why." "Well—if you see it easily, do tell us."
"Why, it's one of your laws of nature," she explained, with a twinkle in her eye.
"You know something of perspective? The farther a thing is away from you the smaller it is, the less well you can see it, the less you are able to understand it, and by the 'law of nature' you look down upon it! That was the reason when nations were really far apart and separate. Now that you are all so close to- gether you should have long since come to see and know and understand and work together— that means love, you know. But to prevent that are two big, unnecessary, foolish things.
One is ignorance—the common ignorance which takes the place of distance. The man next door is as strange as the man in the antipodes—if you don't know him.
"The nations of the earth don't try to understand each other, Van. Then as a positive evil you have each built up for yourselves an artificial wall of brag and boastfulness. Each na- tion ignores the other nations and deliberately teaches its help- less children that It alone is the greatest and best——"
"Why, Van——" The tears always came when she touched upon children, but this time they vanished in a flashing smile.
"Children!" she said. "Anything more like the behavior of a lot of poor, little, underbred children it would be hard to find. Quarrelsome, selfish, each bragging that he can 'lick' the oth- ers— oh, you poor dears! How you do need your mother! And she's coming at last."
"I suppose you think she will solve these economic problems forthwith."
"Why not, Van? Look here, dear— why can't you people see that——" (Here she spoke very slowly as if she were writing some A, B, C's very large on a blackboard.) "There is nothing to prevent human beings in this historic period from being healthy, beautiful, rich, intelligent, good—and happy."
"That's easy to say, my dear," I remarked, rather glumly. "I wish it was true."
"Why isn't it true?" she demanded. "Do you think Satan pre- vents you, or God, or what? Don't you see—can't you see? God's on the side of all the growing good of life. God's with you— what's against?"
"I suppose it is only ourselves," I agreed; "but that's something. Of course I know what you mean. We could, con- ceivably, do and be all that you say, but there's an 'if—an 'if as big as all the world. If we knew what to do, and IF we would act together."
"That is not half such an obstacle, as you think, Van. You know enough now easily to set everything going in the right direction. It doesn't have to be done by hand, you know. It does itself, give it a chance. You know what to do for one baby, to give it the best chance of health, full growth and happy useful- ness, don't you?"
"Well, yes; we do know that much," I admitted.
"Very well then, do it for all of them, and you lift the whole stock; that's easy. You know how good roads, waterways and efficient transportation build up the wealth of a community. Very well. Have them everywhere."
She was splendid in her young enthusiasm—that keen, strong face, all lit and shining with love for the naughty world and wise suggestions for its betterment. But I could not catch the fire.
"I don't want to dash your hopes, my dear," I told her gently. "You are, in a sense, correct; even I could make a plan that would straighten things out quite a bit. The difficulty is to get that plan accepted by the majority. No king is going to do it, and in a democ,racy you have to convince more than half the people; that's slow work."
She sat silent, looking out of our high hotel window, and thinking of what I said.
"It isn't as if our minds were empty," said I, "we don't think we're ignorant. We think we know it all. Only the wise are eager to learn, I'm afraid, and for everything you tell the people as truth there are no end of other teachers to tell them something else. It's not so easy as it looks. There's more excuse for us than would appear at first sight."
* * *
We had made special studies as we traveled about, of differ- ent industries and social conditions. Now we plunged more deeply into economics, politics and the later researches of soci- ology and social psychology. Ellador became more and more in- terested. Again and again she wished for the presence and help of certain of her former teachers in Herland.
"How they would love it," she said. "They wouldn't be tired or discouraged. They'd just plunge in and find a way to help in no time. Even I can see something."
From time to time she gave me the benefit of the things she saw.
"The reason we had so little trouble is that we had no men, I'm sure of that. The reason you have made so much progress is because you have had men, I'm sure of that, too. Men are splendid, but " here was a marked pause, "the reason you had so much trouble is not because of the men, but because of this strange dissociation of the men and women. Instead of the smooth, helpful interelationship, you have so much misery. I never knew—of course not, how could I ?—that there could be such misery. To have two kinds of people, evidently adapted for such perfect coordinate action—once in a while you see it, even now—and then to have them hurt and degrade one another so."
Another time she propounded this suggestion:
"Can't some of your big men, and women, of course, work out an experiment station in methods of living—an economic and social unit, you know— to have for reference, to establish facts, as you do in other things?"
"What do you mean?" I asked her. "Compulsory eugenics and a co-operative colony?"
"Don't tease me, Van. I'm not as foolish as that. No, what I mean is something like this. Take a given piece of ground, most anywhere, and have it surveyed by competent experts to see how much it could produce under the best methods known. Then see how many persons it would take to do the necessary work to insure that production. Then see by what arrange- ments of living those persons could be kept healthful and happy at the least expense. For that unit you'd have something to go on—some definite proof of what the country could do."
"You leave out the 'human side of the problem, my dear. We have so many different causes for living where and how and as we do. Our people are not pawns on a chessboard; they can't be managed to prove theories."
It was no wonder that Ellador, for all her wonderful clarity of vision, her exceptionable advantage of viewpoint, should be- come somewhat overwhelmed in our sociological morass. The very simplicity and ease of living to which She was accustomed made her see a delusive simplicity and ease in attempting to solve our problem.
"How about the diagnosis?" I suggested. "Suppose we merely consider symptoms awhile. What strikes you most forcibly in the way of symptoms?"
"Physically?"
"Yes, physically, first."
