XXIX

The so universally-recognized type of human excellence indicated by the

term "gentleman," cannot go hand in hand with true originality that

makes itself prevail. For one of the chief characteristics of the

gentleman is the respect for group ideas, the obedience to the voice of

the herd; while the characteristic quality of the Original is precisely

his breaking away from the group union, his reversing of ideas, his

making himself obeyed instead of obeying.

The seceder who is not able to change the ideas of the group and to

make the herd follow, is annihilated and deserves annihilation. In the

human economy he is only harmful and his existence is unwarranted.

The gentleman on the contrary has a pre-eminently useful and important

function. He is that member of the group who without separating from

the union retains most of the original element. He combines the highest

possible originality with the strictest subordination to the group

nature, which only very few exceptional natures can defy with impunity.

He changes nothing, but he inclines toward the original, thus making

the entire herd more adaptable to change, while be lacks the

ever-dangerous tendency of the originals to break loose, and keeps

alive in the herd the lofty, indispensable virtue of respecting and

upholding the sacredness of the union.

The more the group ideas diverge from the elemental ideas of human

nature, the rarer the type of "gentleman" becomes in the group. And so

my little brother Shaw's lament that the true English gentleman has

become extinct is comprehensible, as in the entire tremendous herd of

the nations of West-European or Anglo-Saxon civilization, ideas are

current which every original immediately recognizes as conflicting with

the nature of humanity, as hostile to Christ.

The term "un-Christian" is with just consistency applied to them.

Un-Christian means the enriching oneself at the cost of others, the

enriching oneself by means of craft, the enriching oneself without

bound or measure. In many groups of ancient times these things were not

lawful. But the great herd of the nations calling themselves Christian,

include these so unmistakably un-Christian actions among the lawful,

even honorable and generally admitted. And this moreover in the very

worst form. It is one of the group-ideas of the great herd, that

without oneself doing any work, one may enrich oneself unrestrictedly,

by means of craft, at the expense of the very poorest. Only the

unprecedented magnitude of the herd and its unparalleled firm coherence

made so great a deviation from Primal Reason conceivable and possible.

The type of "gentleman" has changed, however, and grown rarer in this

process. It is well-nigh impossible to preserve one's originality

without separating from the union of the group, or without, as the

socialists and anarchists, forming new groups that stand hostile to the

great herd. The respecting of group-ideas and at the same time

preserving one's original human feelings, demands a forcing and

straining of truth that only few sagacious and honest people succeed in.

Judge Elkinson still represented the fast disappearing type of

gentleman, and I knew that for him this was possible through an

extraordinary suppleness of mind, fineness of tact and feeling, and a

philosophic broadness of view.

Honest in the strict sense of the word, with naïve uprightness - that

he could not be any more than any other faithful member of the herd,

with some astuteness. But he was at least capable of giving everyone

the impression that he always desired to be honest. He forgave himself

the necessary distortion demanded by the group union, as the humane

physician does not charge himself with the lies he tells for the good

of his patients. He also comprehended the relativeness of words, the

vagueness of conceptions, the faultiness of all communion, but was

nevertheless not so broad-minded that he found extenuating

circumstances everywhere and for everyone. His great power lay in his

demand for fixedness of opinion. Growth and development were thereby

excluded, but he sacrificed these, for the sake of the support so

necessary to the herd, that positiveness and regularity afford.

One could depend on him absolutely; he was called "a man of character"

and thereby exercised the most beneficial influence at the cost of

personal development, actuated as it were by unconscious love, by a

preservative instinct for the masses. His moral code was as broad as

the group-ideas allowed, but beyond that point - immutable. He

maintained it with the same sacred respect which as judge he demanded

for the law, though his philosophic reason told him that neither could

by any means exclude injustice. He called a rogue a rogue, though he

realized that complete comprehension means complete forgiveness; he

considered an anarchist an enemy to mankind, a harmful monster, even

though he had to admit that the anarchistic criticism of society was

well founded.

If the group-ideas and the group-union of those calling themselves

socialists, had not been so wretchedly vague, confused and based on

pseudo-science and hollow rhetoric, he would perhaps have joined that

brotherhood. For he had the full measure of American courage and

resolution. And he would have represented the "gentleman" in that

confederacy just as well as in the old union. But, as every

"gentleman," he had the intuitive dislike of bad company, the natural

and wholesome aristocracy that makes one shun a group if it is

represented by inferior people. And in the socialist herd he saw

nothing much better than uncultured followers driven by fanatic

leaders, a very sorry realization of the Originals who had brought

about the movement. Moreover the union of this group was so weak, so

entirely based upon the negative, so badly formulated, that it was

impossible for him to transfer to it his natural respect for the union.

With this man, then, I considered that I might try my luck. He had

grown very rich by clever, but according to group-ideas perfectly

lawful money transactions, as commissioner of all sorts of large

undertakings, and he had a fine mansion in Washington and in New York.

Toward me he would, as a philosopher, sometimes jokingly excuse his

wealth, referring in this connection to the example of Seneca the sage.

I called on him as soon as I knew he was in New York, and was received

most cordially.

Elkinson had a large, bony head upon a lean, muscular body. He was not

yet sixty, and his clean-shaven face was of a youthfully fresh and

ruddy complexion. His hair was snow-white, but still thick and full,

parted in the middle and trimly cut. His strongly-pronounced jawbones,

large teeth and firm chin, lent him an expression of will-power and

energy; the thin-lipped large mouth and the clear, gray, steady eyes

commanded respect and marked the man who would not let himself be

imposed upon or put out of countenance; his eyes twinkled at the

slightest occasion with an expression of subtle roguishness, evidence

of the general American inclination for jesting and joking.

"It is very kind of you, my dear Count Muralto, very kind indeed to

look me up again. Have you been assigned to the post at Washington

again? And how are the countess and the children?"

"Don't bother about using my title, Mr. Elkinson. It must be

distressing to your democratic spirit."

The mocking eyes twinkled as though they enjoyed my sally.

"On the contrary! on the contrary! - that is atavism! It does us good.

We are above such things, to be sure, but just as eager to do them as a

worthy professor to sing the college songs at a reunion."

"Then I regret that I must deprive you of this pleasure. I am no longer

a count and intend to become a citizen of your republic."

"What is that you tell me? Well, well, well! that is a remarkable

decision."

"Your enthusiasm is not as hearty as one should expect of a true

American. I believe you think that something is lost by this

transaction after all."

"Perhaps I do! - Italian counts are rarer than American citizens. With

these titles it's the same as with sailing vessels and feudal castles.

They are unpractical and out of date. And yet it is a pity to see one

after another disappearing."

"Would you put me into a museum and have the state support me?"

"No! No! - we are glad to make use of such excellent working powers. We

need men like you. And what does madame say to it?"

"Contessa Muralto remains Contessa Muralto. I have broken completely

with her and with my old life. I wish to make my position clear to you.

I have come here as an emigrant, poor, and accompanied by a woman who

is my true wife, but can never be lawfully recognized as such."

"H'm! H'm! - that is grave, very grave," said Judge Elkinson. The

roguish twinkle in his eyes vanished and he assumed the severe,

inexorable expression of the judge.

Then, as simply as possible and with the trusting uprightness that

would make the strongest appeal to his kind heart, I recounted the

vicissitudes of my lot. Mutely he listened to my story, obviously

interested and touched, wondering what to make of this cage.

"And now?" he finally asked. "What do you expect now? I know that a

deep sensibility to what we here call the tender passion is one of your

national characteristics. But after all you are no longer a boy, and

you have enough sense and experience of life to know that your present

position does not offer you much chance of success, not even in this

country."

"I do not expect or desire success in the American sense of the word. A

frugal, existence is all I want. I shall endeavor to obtain that. By

giving lessons, for example."

"And had you hoped to be in any degree supported by me in that

direction?" asked the careful and practical American.

"No! - I did not come to you for that. I have not the slightest

intention of burdening my old acquaintances by presuming on our former

relations."

"Good!" said Elkinson honestly.

"I know them too well for that," said I, perhaps a bit scornfully.

"You know what it would signify for them, don't you? You can easily put

yourself in their position. You defy public opinion for the sake of a

woman, but you can't expect that your former friends should do it for

your sake."

"If I had thought that they were friends, I should perhaps expect it.

But I know that they are not friends, only acquaintances, and I demand

nothing of them."

The judge looked at me a while, not without kindliness. He seemed to

feel a certain respect for my stoicism.

"Good!" he said again. "But what can I do for you then? What is your

object in calling on me?"

"To make you happier than you are."

"That is indeed very generous. For after all I did not get the

impression that I was the unhappier of us two. And if you would have me

continue to believe in your mental balance, you must give me a more

plausible reason."

"Is it so unlikely that I should increase my own happiness by means of

yours?"

"Aha! Of what kind of happiness are we talking?"

"Of the most desirable, that can alone be attained by straining all our

energies to their utmost capacity, their utmost efficiency."

"Ho capito! - accord! - now for the explanation. What slumbering

qualities in me would you rouse to action?"

"Your qualities as a leader of men. The qualities that I lack."

"And which in yourself then?"

"Those of the thinker. Of the original thinker."

Elkinson glanced at me with a look, sharp, cold and penetrating as a

dissecting-knife. He thought he understood what it was that he had to

deal with.

"A system?" he asked gruffly.

"On the contrary - the release from a system. The shattering of

inhuman, un-Christian morals. The breaking through a wall of horrible

institutions."

"Which?"

"First of all, that which everyone condemns and everyone nevertheless

maintains - the remuneration of the rich simply because he is rich,

even though he does nothing to deserve remuneration. The morally and

lawfully tolerated unlimited squandering of the products of common

labor by irresponsible persons. The exploiting of the weaker, approved

and even accounted honorable, without control, by means of craft,

through the agency of countless middle men. The tenant-farmer, the

laborer; the property owner, the tenant-farmer. The manufactory, the

factory hands; the share-holder, the manufacturer. The landlord, the

lessee; the lessee, the sub-lessee; the sub-lessee, the lodger. The

speculator again exploits all the others, while the waster of finance

exploits the speculator, and thus ad infinitum. The system, in one

word, of mutual ruthless exploitation and of irresponsible, no less

ruthless, squandering. A system in which what each holds in view as the

crowning ideal is to do nothing himself, to squander without measure or

care, and to have as many as possible work for his own personal profit,

without asking who they are and how they live. A system that slowly but

surely must demoralize and impoverish every nation to the core, even

the richest and the strongest. A system that gives peace to none and

can bring none to the highest possible grade of development and

happiness. A system by which at least ninety per cent of the national

wealth is lost without a trace. A system under which no art, no

science, no higher element in man can attain to perfect bloom. A system

that is further removed from the original desires and sentiments of

humanity than any other that has ever been maintained by large masses

of men - a system that no one with any consideration can approve or

wish to preserve, that is only maintained because we know or believe in

nothing better, and that is doomed to disappear because of its suicidal

character. A system that can only be declared lasting and necessary by

him who thinks that men are not capable of education and development

and, with open eyes, shall ever seek their own ruin."

Elkinson remained silent a while after I had finished speaking. The

expression in his eyes was serener now.

"As a criticism nothing new," he said, nodding his head. "But what new

remedy do you propose? - Government aid?"

"First morals, then laws," said I; "no Government initiative; perhaps,

if necessary, Government assistance. Begin with the most powerful

public opinion, the group instinct."

"And how? - orations? - pamphlets? - meetings? and addresses? - That

seems to me nothing exactly new either, nor has it proved effectual. Is

one deformity like the social democracy not enough?"

"More than enough. The dead child with two heads has itself made its

own name impossible. Use that name no more, for the mother who has

borne the child is ashamed of it and will hear of it no more. Give the

potion another label and another color if you would make men take it,

or better, give it no color. And talk as little as possible, but do,

act, carry out. Make of the deed your shepherd's staff and of facts

your milestones and your guideposts. Let your shepherd dog not bark,

but bite, and see to it that the flock find something to graze on."

"Clearer! clearer! - no Eastern metaphors, American facts."

"Very well! Judge Elkinson is acquainted with the psychology of the

mass and he knows the individuals of which it is composed. He has

governed a state, organized and conducted commercial undertakings,

instituted laws and seen them carried out. He knows thousands of

individuals, their worth and their abilities. He enjoys the universal

confidence, and possesses great influence. His name alone guarantees

the help of thousands, and of the very best moreover. Let him form a

group, with better group-ideas, with better group-ethics, better

morals, better customs, and higher standards of right and wrong, good

and evil, than the group in which he now lives and works."

"Clearer still and more concrete if you please. How do you imagine the

beginning?"

"As every group began always. As every business man forms his business,

every general his army. Select a staff of the most capable and tell

them what is essential for them to know. Formulate the plan so that in

the course marked out the chief idea cannot be missed, without

frightening off any one of the great herd by peculiar, unusual or

doubtful terms, theories or visions of the future. And then organize,

practically, systematically, always aiming directly at the concrete

reality without troubling yourself in the least about abstractions. And

see that your herd is fed and sheltered and stabled as quickly as

possible, and that it find gratification of its instincts in the course

once marked out. And on the way - heed it well, on the way, not

beforehand - teach them to comprehend the object of the fight and what

they shall gain. Teach them first to follow and to find gratification

in following, and then they will gradually go of their own accord, if

it agrees with them, and be less and less in need of guidance. Promise

as little as possible, but show and prove by the result, and predict

nothing that you cannot immediately prove."

"Thus a non-political organization? An ethical corporation?"

"A business proposition, judge, a business proposition. But a great and

holy business. A business for making money, for accumulating as much

and as quickly as possible. The herd must eat, must have a good time,

must have abundance and must have its future assured. What kind of

business is indifferent. Every kind that is possible. If the group only

learns that it can obtain enough and much more even than before - much

greater wealth and much more happiness and content - by no longer

pilfering one another and squandering, but by intelligent mutual

agreement and by restriction of personal boundless liberty for the sake

of the whole common welfare."

"And your own part in this affair? How do you imagine that?"

"As the part of a match at a forest fire. For myself full of profound

satisfaction, for the outer world absolutely obscure. I shall come to

talk with you now and then. Judge Elkinson is the man, the benefactor

of his people, the liberator of mankind."

"And for you - nothing? No money, no glory, no honor?"

"This disinterestedness seems incredible to you. But it is a natural

outcome of our different functions. Every different function involves

different passions and desires. Practical work involves a love of glory

and honor. We are so organized that we find enjoyment only in what our

own peculiar endowment can yield. A very sensible organization which

you may take as an example. My work is contemplative, speculative and

affords enjoyment through the satisfaction of correct discoveries and

clear vision. In practical life I am unhappy, with money, honor, glory

and all. But you, Judge Elkinson, have need of me for this very

quality. Humanity must not only act organizedly but also think

organizedly. No greater folly than to imagine that the safe way for the

herd shall be found by its own blind instinct, or that as a mass it can

itself think out what it must do. No greater nonsense than the work of

these sages who sling a few formulas at the masses, and then, with the

aid of these uncomprehended and incorrectly interpreted terms and

abstractions, would let them find the way alone. Humanity would and

must think, and advance by the light of contemplation and reflection,

but it must think organizedly, so that each in this great thinking

process exercises his own peculiar function - the scholar, the

business-man, the statesman, the artist, the poet. And only when this

organization for the good of all is completed, is there a chance that

every member of the herd will participate more and more in the thinking

functions, and thus also in the delights of the others, that we obtain

a world of free men and majors, a truly mature and full-grown humanity,

the flaming ideal in which the poor anarchistic moths now still scorch

their wings."

"My dear Mr. Muralto, in a way I really feel that you are placing me in

the position of Dr. Faustus, to whom every imaginable glory was held

out, all that human ambition could desire, if he would but sign his

name. You will pardon the comparison, I hope."

"Certainly, but you will probably have something more to do than sign

your name. And I will gladly give you every occasion to search your

deepest conscience whether I should be counted among the good or the

bad demons."

"Until now, my friend, I considered myself capable of getting on

without guiding spirits."

"But after all that was only an opinion, as all other opinions very

open to criticism."

"That is possible! - At any rate I am very grateful to you for the most

interesting conference. I hope that we may continue it another time."

"I gave you my address. I shall be at your disposal there at any

moment."

"Much obliged! - I feel myself, honored by your confidence and by the

high opinion you seem to entertain of me. Once more - many thanks."

With these ceremonious courtesies we parted from one another.

Then I went back to my little house where Elsje awaited me. I had the

dissatisfied and well-nigh angry feeling of one who has not been able

to do himself and his ideas justice. The process of realizing our ideas

is always full of surprises and disappointments, like the performing of

a play or the developing of a photograph.

Elsje awaited me, with everything in readiness that the little house

could offer of comfort and of cheer - and best of all, with eager

interest in that which stirred my heart so deeply. She knew that this

was my first stroke in the campaign and she participated in it, with

all her soul, as I gratefully read by her looks and her attitude when I

came home.

"How was it?" she asked.

"So, so! dearest. - I did what I could. But I do not know whether I

said just what I should have to make the most impression. It isn't

enough to say the right thing, but one must say it in such a way and so

often that it makes an impression and takes effect. You can never do

that all at once. But nevertheless I am not dissatisfied with my first

attack."

And I told her how my words had been received.

"You dear, good man! You do your best so faithfully. If only they knew

what I know, how good you are, and how sincere your intentions."

One usually attaches little value to a loving woman's judgment upon the

man she loves. But the perfect faith of a pure spirit is not alone a

wondrous comfort and consolation, but also a mighty creative power for

the good. And it is not confusing and blinding, but calming and

beneficial to see oneself reflected in a clear glass, in a favorable

light.