labour were two of the causes of industrial civilization--and still
are in “the world without.” That one town or district should be given
over to the weaving of cotton or the spinning of wool; that shoes
should chiefly be produced in Lynn, furniture in Grand Rapids, glass in
Pittsburgh, beer in Milwaukee, hams in Chicago; that from all over a
vast district the raw material of manufacture should be transported for
hundreds, perhaps thousands of miles, to various howling wildernesses
of highly specialized factories, only to be shipped back again after
fabrication to be used or consumed by many of the original producers,
was and is one of the preposterous absurdities of an industrial system
supported on some of the most appalling sophistry that ever issued out
of the Adullamite caves of political economy.
In the Walled Towns all this is changed. In the first place no man is a
free burgess unless he is a land-holder, and the minimum is garden land
sufficient to supply all the needs of his family that can be satisfied
from this source; the maximum is that amount of farm land that he
can maintain at a minimum standard of productivity. So far as I know
every family also keeps as many cows and poultry as will furnish the
normal requirements in the shape of dairy products, eggs, and fowl for
eating. The farms, which lie outside the walls and quite surround the
town, do more than this, and much produce finds its way to the communal
dairy, which is used for the production of butter and cheese for the
townspeople, and also for sale outside the walls. As each town has its
own special products, maintained always at the highest standard, the
market never fails.
In the matter of cloth and clothing, wool and flax are grown both by
individuals and by the community, and the spinning and weaving are
done in the town mills. These are built and equipped at the common
charge and managed by officials who serve for fixed salaries. A certain
percentage on the value of all raw material brought in for working
up into the finished product is assessed on the owner, and this may
be paid in cash or in kind. No raw material is ever acquired from
outside the community; all internal surplus is purchased and made up
into cloth, which is sold first to any townspeople who wish to buy, or
second to outside purchasers, the profits going to defray the running
expenses. As a matter of fact, there is always a large surplus of wool
and flax over and above the normal needs of each producer, and the
mills not only run at a profit but pay well on the original investment.
In these mills highly perfected machinery is used, for while the Walled
Towns were formed partly for the elimination, so far as possible, of
machines in the affairs of life, it is realized that they may be used
as actual labour-savers, and without serious injury to the workman,
where they are employed on bulk-production such as cloth, and where
the element of competition is eliminated. Since in manufacture of this
kind division of labour is unavoidable and the work is mechanical
and akin to drudgery, the wages paid are high, while the hours of
employment never exceed thirty a week. Practically all the employees
are able to take care of their own gardens and many have small farms as
well. During the seed-time and harvest periods the mills are shut down.
When it happens (as it often does) that a mill shows a profit, all in
excess of three per cent on the value of the plant is divided between
the employees and the clerical force, for one of the established laws
of all Walled Towns is that capital is entitled only to a fixed return,
the surplus belonging to the labour, both mental and physical, that
produces the results. Stock companies as such are strictly prohibited
and it is unlawful to pay money for the use of money furnished by
inactive investors. The mills are of course not large; they are
pleasantly situated, not without architectural quality, and they are
always run either by water-power or by electricity hydraulically
generated. Steam is not used in any case.
The restoration of real crafts has resulted in reducing the use of
machinery to the lowest terms. Handicraft has been restored, in wood,
metals, all fancy weaving, glass making, pottery, leather-work, and
to a certain extent in printing, not only because the results are in
every way finer and more durable, but because labour so employed is
intelligent, mentally stimulating and physically satisfying, while
by so much the production of coal, the mining, smelting and forging
of iron ore, and the fabricating of articles of iron and steel are
reduced. The Walled Towns hold that such labour is mentally stultifying
if not actually degrading, and it is with them a point of morals that
they should make it necessary to the smallest degree possible.
The main street leads into the central square of the town, a spacious
open place of great dignity and beauty, surrounded by admirable
buildings of public character, where the simplicity of the houses
and shops gives place to considerable richness both in design and in
colour. On one side is the parish church, in this particular case
not unlike St. Cuthbert’s, Wells, only half hidden by fine trees and
surrounded by a green and shady churchyard. On another side is the
Town Hall, also with a lofty tower flying the great flag of the city,
while the other sides of the square are filled with the rich façades
of the Guild Halls. Opening out of this central square is the Market
Place, entered through a noble archway between two of the Guild Halls,
and in this square is the Market House and several more Guild Halls.
Opposite, a street connects after some few hundred feet with a third
open place, in this case a pleasure garden, and here are the theatre,
the concert hall, the public baths, the principal inn and several cafés
and shops, the latter being more especially devoted to those things
which are associated with the lighter side of life.
Beyond the immediate vicinity of these squares come the
dwelling-places, each a separate house with a garden never less than an
acre in extent. No multiple houses of any sort are permitted and each
family must maintain a separate house and garden. The roads here wind
pleasantly and are well shaded by trees; niched statues, both secular
and religious, and shrines, are quite common. Here also are the several
conventual establishments belonging to various orders, and varying
much as between one town and another, but there is always a house for
men and one for women. In the particular town we are considering, the
chief monastic institution is Benedictine, and it stands on higher land
than the rest of the town and is a true abbey both in size and in its
official status. There is also a house of Dominican Sisters and one of
Canons Regular of St. Augustine. Where the land begins to drop down
again towards the river as it curves around on the side of the town
opposite that at which we entered, is the college, with very spacious
grounds, groves and gardens, the whole commanding a wide view out
across the zone of farms and so to the low hills on the horizon to the
west.
Let us now retrace our steps to the group of squares and see something
of the significance of the various buildings and the part they play in
the life of the Walled Town. We will interrogate some citizen in each
case who can best explain that portion of the polity with which he is
associated. The first shall be the parish priest, and he shall talk
to us as we sit in the lych-gate with the silvery grey church behind,
and in front the square where people are constantly passing back and
forth,--not the dull, drab throng of men in ugly “sack-suits” and
“derby” hats of the cities of the outer world, and women in fantastic
finery or sordid, sad-coloured gowns, but a self-respecting people with
some sense of beauty and a manifest delight in colour.
“There is,” says the parson, “as you will see, only one parish church,
though as the town has grown other chapels have been added in other
quarters, each of which is under a vicar who is one of the general body
of parish clergy. The whole town forms one parish and the whole body
of parochial clergy sit together to deal with the spiritual affairs
of the town, while all the free burgesses meet in common to deal with
the temporal interests of the parish. No, there are no denominational
divisions. Each town as it is founded is made up only of those of the
same religious convictions, and thereafter none is added who is not
of the same belief. Denominationalism is inconsistent with unity of
action, coöperation and true democracy, and however much the laws and
customs of the Walled Towns may vary (and there is no little diversity)
in this there is complete unanimity. No one is of course constrained
to go to church or accept the ministrations of the clergy, although
refusal is practically unheard of. There have been cases of those who
have lost their faith, but sooner or later this means their withdrawal
from the town itself. The parish church is actually the centre of
spiritual life of the community. Its services are very numerous,
particularly on Sundays and holy days, and it is, as you have seen,
a sort of synthesis of all the arts raised to the highest attainable
level. Each guild has either its own chapel or altar, and once a year
it holds a great service at which its members are bound to be present.”
“The relationship between the Church and civic life is, I suppose,
about what it was before the Reformation. Religion enters into all
the affairs of life as it did then, and the visible manifestations
are pretty much the same. You will have noticed the many shrines and
statues in all parts of the town, and you can also see within a few
days’ time one of the many festival processions through the streets. In
the Walled Towns religion is not a hidden thing, nor is it segregated
in a few places and confined to one day in the week. In the world
outside the walls, where the old sectarian divisions still continue,
this realization of religion would be impossible; but within the walls,
because of the unanimity of conviction on the part of those that are
drawn to any particular town, it is not only possible but inevitable.”
We cross the square and enter the Town Hall with its shady arcades
and its painted and gilded statues like those on the Hôtel de Ville
of Bourges. We go up a broad stone stairway and enter the anteroom
of the Provost, who is the head of the government. The room has fine
tapestries on the walls, with much well-carved furniture, and the
guards and ushers suggest neither by their costumes nor their manners
the familiar police officers on duty in the ordinary city hall. The
building and the officials and the grave and rather stately ceremonial
all convey the impression that a Walled Town is both a City State and
a Free State, and that its formal and personal expression is a matter
of dignity, reverence and self-respect. Once, not long ago, being in
a large city of the North-West, I was invited to address the Mayor
and Aldermen on certain matters pertaining to that department of my
own city government of which I happened to be the head. The corridors
were crowded with dirty or sinister loafers interspersed with burly
policemen. There were spitoons everywhere which served only a part of
their purpose. The Mayor’s reception room was not unhandsome, but it
was full of knots of whispering and sly-eyed political hangers-on,
reporters, and more loafers, while the air was rank with tobacco-smoke.
Presently the Mayor and Aldermen strolled in, hailing various
individuals by nicknames and slang phrases, and disposed themselves
at ease around a long table; some were in their shirt-sleeves, for it
was a hot midsummer day. I was listened to politely enough, and the
questions asked were not unintelligent; it was the attitude, the form,
that was at fault. The whole thing was more like a social meeting of
commercial travellers in the office of a country hotel than a session
of the governing body of a great city.
After this digression let us return to our Walled Town. From the
anteroom we are conducted to the state reception room, and here we are
received by the Provost in his long, furred gown and his gold chain
of office. He is an old man, grey-bearded, and his courtly manners
indicate at once his breeding, his self-respect and his sense of the
dignity and significance of his position. From him we learn that only
land-holders are burgesses of the town and that no others possess a
vote or may hold office; the distinction is less invidious than it
might appear, for land-holding is so fundamental a principle in the
Walled Towns that there are almost none who cannot qualify. Government
is in the hands of the Provost and Council, with a small group of
department heads who with the Provost form the executive. Any hundred
burgesses may unite for the purpose of choosing one of their number to
the Council, and as this particular town contains about three thousand
burgesses the Council consists of thirty men who are chosen annually,
while the Provost, who is elected by the Council, holds office for
ten years. There would appear to be very little legislation; each
year the Provost presents, with the financial budget, a programme of
legislation, and until this is disposed of, private legislative bills
may not be considered. A further guard against the universal curse of
democracy, reckless and ill-digested legislation initiated by single
individuals, is the provision that any private bill must be indorsed by
one fifth of all the Councillors before it can be introduced.
Taxation is almost wholly in the form of rent of land, and here the
scale is fixed from the moment the land is taken over, while it
varies as between arable land, forest, orchard, pasture, garden and
“tenement,” _i. e._ land on which is a dwelling. If through his own
industry a land-holder improves any portion of his holding, he receives
a rebate on his taxes; if he allows any land to degenerate, his tax
is increased. The tax revenue is supplemented by various fees, small
in amount and not numerous, and by the “gate tax” imposed on those
from outside who are admitted to buy or sell within the walls. Public
indebtedness is prohibited by law, the revenue must always meet the
annual expenditure, and no bonds secured by public credit may be issued.
The Walled Towns have definitely abandoned the nineteenth century
theory that the vote is a “natural right.” As said before, this
privilege is exercised only by land-holders (the great majority of
citizens) but it may be withdrawn for long or short periods and for
reasons specified in the charter. Any man found guilty of a crime or
misdemeanour forfeits the franchise, and for periods varying from one
year to life, dependent on the gravity of the offence. The burgesses
vote only through their “hundreds” and solely for the choosing of
Councillors, but the election of a Provost must be confirmed by a
mass-meeting of all burgesses, and any change in the charter must be
submitted for the same approval.
The Law Courts of a Walled Town offer many points of difference to
those of “the world without.” In the first place, it is a fundamental
principle that the object of a Court of Law is the administering of
justice, the defence of right, and the punishment of wrong. An appeal
to technicalities is therefore prohibited, and any advocate who makes
such an appeal is promptly disbarred. Normally all cases are tried and
determined by a bench of judges, though in certain cases the plaintiff
or defendant may demand a jury trial. Of course all Judges are
appointed by the Provost for life. In addition to the regular municipal
courts there is a Court of Conciliation. Under the oath of each citizen
to obey and support the charter, every case must be taken to the Court
of Conciliation before recourse is had to the regular courts of law,
the result being that very few cases fail of adjustment without formal
legal process. The Law Courts themselves are housed in a building of
a degree of beauty unusual even in a Walled Town where ugliness is
unknown, while the form and ceremony reach the final height of grave
majesty.
Let us now visit one of the guild halls, for it is in the guild that
we may find the root of the entire economic system which so sharply
differentiates society within the walls from that without. We may
take any one of the half-dozen or more, for all are practically the
same except in the design of their buildings and the decoration, the
liveries of the members and officials, and the guild banner.
All society is organized under the guild system, and every man must
be a registered member of one guild or another. The guild of the
farmers is the largest, and usually it is to this that those citizens
belong who are officials or professional men. Then there are guilds of
metal-workers of all kinds, cloth-makers, builders, artists, etc. When
a Walled Town is founded with small numbers the list of guilds is very
small, but as the town increases so do the guilds, and the different
industries organize their own groups. A guild is an artificial family
made up of all those of a common interest. Its objects are: human
fellowship, coöperation, mutual aid in illness or misfortune, the
maintaining of the highest standard in the product of all its members,
prevention of inordinate profits, regulation of the relationship
between masters, journeymen and apprentices, the standardizing of wages
and profits, craft training and education, the maintenance of and
common participation in religious services, and finally the purchase
of raw materials and the ownership and maintenance of large and costly
machinery in the few cases where that is employed.
In the Walled Town the division between capital and labour does not
and can not exist. Since production is for use, not profit, since
competition is impossible under the guild system, and since no
advertising is permitted beyond a sign-board (and they are sometimes
most notable works of art, these painted and gilded and carven signs),
exploitation, whether of labour or markets, is unknown. One of the
fundamental points in the town charters is the definite prohibition
of the “unearned increment.” Money may not be taken or paid for the
use of money, except within each guild, and here only under what are
practically emergency conditions, the rate of interest never exceeding
three per cent. Every guild has its own fund, made up from dues,
bequests, and a percentage of profits on the sale by the guild of such
surplus products as may be handed over to its officers for disposal;
but this fund cannot be invested at interest outside the walls nor is
any portion available for other than guild members, except that the
town may use it for current expenses in anticipation of the regular
land-taxes (or rent), paying three per cent therefor, and returning it
within the space of a year. The system is practically a restoration of
the guild system of the Middle Ages, and any one may find for himself
further details by referring to the many books on the subject; _e. g._
those of William Morris, Arthur Penty and Prince Kropotkin. It is the
precise antithesis of collectivism, socialism and trades-unionism of
whatever form.
Within the Walled Towns the educational system shows few points of
resemblance to the standards and methods still pursued outside. It is
universally recognized that the prime object of all education is the
development of inherent character, and for this reason it is never
divorced from religion; the idea of a rigidly secularized education is
abhorrent, and the dwellers in the Walled Towns rightly attribute to
its prevalence in the nineteenth century much of the retrogression in
character, the loss of sound standards of value, and the disappearance
of leadership which synchronized with the twentieth century break-down
of civilization even if it were not indeed its primary cause. Neither
is there any false estimate of the possibilities of education; it is
held that while it can measurably develop qualities latent in the
child by reason of its racial impulse, it cannot put in what is not
there already. The old superstition that education and environment
were omnipotent, and that they were the safeguards as well as the
justification of democracy, since given an identical environment
and equal educational opportunities an hundred children of as many
classes, races and antecedents would turn out equal as potential
members of a free society, has long since been abandoned. It is
impossible to enter into this question at length, but the chief points
are these.
Education is not compulsory, but parents are bound to see that their
children can “read, write and cipher.” Primary schools are maintained
by the town and are conducted largely along the lines first developed
by Dr. Thomas Edward Shields in the early twentieth century. Beyond
primary grades the schools are maintained by various units such as the
guilds, the parish and the monasteries and convents. While considerable
variation exists as between one school and another, they are all under
the supervision of the Director of Education in order that certain
standards may be maintained. Variety both in subjects taught and in
methods followed is held to be most desirable, and complete freedom of
choice exists between the schools, though a parent wishing to send a
child to some school other than those maintained by his own guild pays
an annual fee for the privilege. Beyond reading, writing, arithmetic
and music, which are common to all, the curriculum varies widely,
though history, literature and Latin are practically universal. In some
schools mathematics will be carried further than in others, in some
natural science, while elsewhere literature, history, modern languages
will be emphasized. There is no effort to subject all children to the
same methods and to force them to follow the same courses,--quite the
reverse; neither is the object the carrying of all children through the
same schools to the same point. It is held that beyond a certain stage
most children profit little or nothing by continued intensive study.
On the other hand, there are always those whose desires and capacities
would carry them to the limit. These are watched for with the most
jealous care, and if a boy or girl shows special aptitude along any
particular line he becomes an honour student, and thereafter he is
in a sense a ward of the community, being sent without charge to the
higher schools, the college, and even on occasion to some university
beyond the limits of the Walled Town if he can gain there something not
available within the walls. Of course any student may continue as far
as he likes, or is able, but this is not encouraged except in the case
of the honour student, and he must himself meet his own expenses. The
authorities are particularly careful to discover any special ability in
any of the arts, literature and philosophy, and it is the boast of the
Walled Towns that no one who gives promise along any one of these lines
need fail of achievement through lack of opportunity. In the case of
the various crafts also the same care is exercised, and a boy showing
particular aptitude is at once given the opportunity of entrance into
the proper guild as an apprentice, after he has been prepared for this
by a modified course of instruction adapted to his particular ability.