"Can't you guess what he is?" he inquired. "I say 'he' because, like the
Waam G'il, he is sometimes personified. Come now! Apply the test. He
doesn't typify the Waam Islander point of view: he isn't a mat. But
examine your huts and your conversation, and you'll easily spot him. No,
I'm not talking of money, or power, or success: you may bow down to
these,--but not blindly. You at least know what you are doing. The
worship of a G'il is unconscious, and hence more insidious. Even when an
explorer points it out, you won't see its importance. It will seem
insignificant to you. And yet, while the Bashwa to whom you build
temples is only occasionally deferred to, this G'il of yours sways you
in all things. He is the first whom you think of when you rise, and the
last when you go to bed. You speak of your G'il hourly or oftener, all
day long. Those of you who heed him too little are disapproved of by
everybody, while the American who succeeds in life is the man who is
most careful of G'il.
"I have habits," he morosely continued, "of doing certain
things,--eating my meals for instance,--at quite different hours from
those that are prevalent here. I find that every one who hears of this
is surprised at my ways. Their attitude, while not openly intolerant, is
distinctly disapproving. When I ask them why, I get no answer--no
rational answer. They say simply, 'It's the wrong time.' Following up
this clue I have noticed that not only is the time for performing an act
supposed to be sometimes 'wrong' and sometimes 'right,' but that the
idea of time governs all of you, like an absolute tyrant. Even your
so-called free-thinkers, who lead a life without God, never dream of
daring to live without a clock and a calendar. And just as the Waam-folk
are unconsciously obsessed by their hut-thought, and see everything from
that angle, so you have drifted into an exaggerated pre-occupation with
time. No matter what you may want to do, you first look at the clock, to
see if it is the right time for doing it: if it isn't, you wait. You
feel that you 'ought' to.... And each caste among you has its own hours.
A difference of thirty minutes in the hour at which a family has dinner,
marks a difference in their social scale. 'There isn't time,' you sigh,
submissively, when you give up something you'd like to do. 'Time is
money,' is one of your phrases. 'Give me time,' is your prayer. Your big
books of maxims are full of the respect you feel toward him. 'The
greatest crime is loss of time.' 'Time flies.' 'Time waits for no man.'
These are only small instances, but their total effect is not small, for
it is life itself that you sacrifice to this fetish. Your G'il actually
won't let you take good full draughts of existence--he keeps you so busy
dividing it into months, days, and minutes. You imagine that it is
because you lead crowded lives that you do it. But it is because you're
always thinking of time that you lead crowded lives.
"You are smiling at me good humoredly, my friend. I see that, like the
Waam Islanders, you think I am preposterous. It is the old story. You
cannot view yourself from without. You will admit that considerations of
time enter into all your acts, and yet--this seems trivial? And it is
inconceivable to you that you are its slaves?"
"My dear sir," I interposed, "a strict observance of the laws of time
enables a man to live a much fuller life."
"It is what all devotees say of all gods," he murmured.
"We are not its slaves," I continued. "That's absurd. We have only a
sensible regard for it, as every one must."
"Ah! ah!" he cried. "But you do not say 'one must' when your Bashwa
speaks.
"Your Bashwa thinks highly of those who do good works without ceasing.
You profess to think highly of them too; that is your official attitude.
In reality, how very few of you lead that life. It happens to be
na-g'il, you see. You haven't the time.
"Look about you if you would convince yourself. The concrete evidence
alone is enough. On the breasts or the wrists of your women, and in
every man's pocket you see a G'il amulet, a watch, to remind them of
time every hour. What other god was ever so faithfully worshipped? In
every hut in the land you will find his altar, and in your large huts
you will find one in every principal room. No matter how free and
unconventional their owners may be, no matter how those rooms may vary
in their arrangement or furnishings, there stands always in the most
prominent place the thing called the mantel; on it, ceremonially flanked
by two candlesticks, or vases, sits G'il, the timepiece; and his is the
face of all others you most frequently consult. Blind and idolatrous
tribesman! time is your deity!"
Well, that's all there was to our interview, for at this point he came
to a pause and I rose to leave, explaining to him, soothingly (though I
must confess it had a strangely opposite effect) that I had to go
because it was getting so late.