THE HALL OF THE NEW FAITH
The Place, as Mr. Edmund Gray modestly called it, was a meek and
unpretending Structure. The word is used advisedly, because no one could
call it anything else. Not an Edifice; not a Building--a Structure. It
turned its gabled front to the street, with a door below and a window
above. It was of gray brick with a slate roof--a very plain and simple
Structure. It might have been a Primitive Methodist Chapel--the
Connexion are fond of such neat and unpretending places: or a room
belonging to the Salvation Army: or one of those queer lecture halls
affected by Secularists and generally called the Hall of Science. On the
doorpost was affixed a small handbill, announcing that every Sunday
evening at seven o'clock an address would be pronounced by Edmund Gray,
on the subject of 'Property.' On the same bill, below the line of the
principal title, were suggestive sub-titles. Thus:
'PROPERTY AND ITS ORIGIN.'
'PROPERTY AND ITS EVILS.'
'PROPERTY AND ITS DANGERS.'
'PROPERTY AND LIBERTY.'
'PROPERTY AND PROGRESS.'
'PROPERTY AND ITS DECAY.'
The Master pointed to the Bill. 'Read it,' he said. 'There you have my
mission clearly announced. No mistake about it. A bold pronouncement,
which cannot be mistaken. I make war against Property--I am the enemy
irreconcilable--the enemy to the death--of Property. I am almost alone
against the world, for my followers are a feeble folk and without power.
All the interests, all the prejudices, all the powers, all the
intellect, of the whole world are against me. I stand alone. But I
fear nothing, because the future is given over to me and to
mine--yea--though I do not live to see the day of Victory.'
He opened the door, and Elsie entered. She found herself in a room about
sixty feet long by twenty broad, and lofty--a fine and goodly room. It
was furnished with a long and narrow table running down the middle, and
a few benches. Nothing else. The table was laid with a white cloth, and
provided with plates of ham and beef, cold sausages, hard-boiled eggs,
cakes, toast, muffins, bread and butter, marmalade, jam, shrimps,
water-cresses, and teacups. In fact, there was spread out a Tea of
generous proportions.
The room was half filled with thirty or forty people, mostly young,
though there were some elderly men. Among them Elsie remarked, without
surprise, the decayed Barrister of Gray's Inn. Perhaps he was attracted
as much by the loaves as by the sermon. Three-quarters of them were
young men. Elsie noticed that they were young men of a curious
type--their faces keen, their eyes hard, their manner aggressive. They
belonged to a Church Militant. They longed to be fighting. On the
appearance of their preacher they flocked about him, shaking hands and
inquiring after his health. At least, therefore, he had the affection of
his followers.
'My friends,' said the Prophet, 'I bring you a new Disciple. She comes
to us from the very stronghold of Property. Her friends'--yet he had
shown no sign of recognition--'are either those who pillage the
producer, or those who rob the possessor on pretence of defending him.
She is at present only a recruit. She comes to listen and to learn. She
will go home to remember and to meditate. She is a recruit now who will
be hereafter a Leader.'
The people received her with curiosity. They were not of the higher
classes, to put it mildly, and they had never had a young lady among
them before. Two or three girls who were present--girls from the
dressmaker's workrooms--looked at her frock with envy, and at her bonnet
and her gloves with a yearning, helpless, heart-sinking admiration. To
the young men she seemed a goddess, unapproachable. They stood at a
distance: men of the rank above them would have worshipped. These young
men only gaped. Such a girl had nothing to do with their lives.
Apparently they had been waiting for the Master, for at the moment a
stout woman and a girl appeared bearing trays with teapots and jugs of
hot water, which they placed upon the board. Mr. Edmund Gray took the
chair. Elsie began to feel like Alice in Wonderland. She came to see a
'Place': she expected to hear a sermon or a lecture; and behold a Tea!
'Sit beside me,' said the Master. 'We begin our evening on Sunday with a
simple feast, which I provide. It is a sign of brotherhood. Every Sunday
we begin with this renewal of fraternity. Those who break bread together
are brothers and sisters. In the good time to come every meal shall be
in common, and every evening meal shall be a Feast. Eat and drink with
us, my daughter. So you will understand that you belong to a
Brotherhood.'
'Try some shrimps, Miss,' said her neighbour on the right, an elderly
man, who was a builder's foreman.
History does not concern itself with what Elsie took. She found the meal
very much to the purpose after a long afternoon of talk, argument, and
emotion. She was young and she was hungry. The tea was good: the things
to eat were good: the cake and toast were admirable. Elsie ate and drank
and wondered what was coming next.
After a little, she began to look round her and to watch the company.
There were now, she counted, forty-five of them--forty-five disciples of
Mr. Edmund Gray. What had he to teach them? The destruction of Property.
Out of the four millions of London, forty-five were found who wanted to
destroy Property--only forty-five. But perhaps all who advocated that
step were not present. Her ancient prejudices whispered that this was a
reassuring fact, considering that the Preacher had preached his doctrine
for nine long years. Only forty-five. Next to her the foreman began to
talk to her of Fourier and Owen, and a dozen half-forgotten leaders in
the old experiments. He had been a Chartist in the Forties: he was a
Socialist in these, the Nineties: but he confessed that before any real
reform was attempted, Property must first be destroyed.
'It's the selfishness,' he whispered earnestly, 'that's got to be torn
out by the roots. Take that away, and there's a chance for the world. It
never can be taken away till a man finds that he can't work no longer
for himself, and that he must work for all, whether he likes it or lumps
it. Don't give him the choice nor the chance, I say. Take away Property,
and there's neither choice nor chance left. You hear Mr. Gray upon
that. Oh, he's powerful! What do they say? Naked we came into the world.
Naked we enter into the Kingdom of Heaven. There's a wonderful lot of
fine things hangin' to that. You must wait till you hear Mr. Gray upon
that theme.--Kingdom of Heaven! To hear the parsons talk, it's away
above the clouds. Not so. It's here--close beside us--on this earth. All
we've got to do is to put out our hands and reach it.'
'You may put out your hands as much as you like,' said one of the
younger men; 'but you won't reach it, all the same. Property stands
between.'
'At our place,' said a girl sitting opposite--a girl of intelligent
face, pale and thin,--'we work from eight till eight, and sometimes
longer, for twelve shillings a week. I know what things cost and what
they sell for. I could produce enough to keep me--ah! a good deal better
than I live now--if I could sell what I made myself--for four hours'
work a day. So I work eight hours a day, not counting the dinner hour,
just to keep the boss and to make Property for him. My Property it
is--well--I know--in here, we say, _our_ Property: outside we say, _my_
Property. Where's your Kingdom of Heaven, then, if you reach out your
hand ever so far, so long as I've got to work to make somebody else
rich? Let's destroy Property, and then we shall see.'
A desire--a foolish concealed desire, born of prejudice, seized Elsie to
argue. For she perceived in the girl's reasoning certain confusions and
intricacies. But she had the courage to suppress the inclination: she
refrained. She was a disciple. She must listen.
'I am a slave, like all the rest of us,' another young man remarked
cheerfully. 'My Master owns me. He can sell me if he likes, only he
calls it by another name; he can't take a whip and lash me, though he'd
like to, because, if he did, I'd break every bone in his body for him,
but he can cut down the work and the money. I do editing and reporting
for a local paper. Thirty shillings a week. The proprietor makes ten
pounds a week out of it. And I'm not allowed to tell the truth for fear
of advertisers.' He added a few words not commonly heard in a place that
looks like a chapel on a Sunday evening.
Elsie observed that their faces showed two variations of
expression--only two. The majority of the company had the eyes of the
dreamer, the theorist, the enthusiast. They are soft eyes, and in repose
are heavy, and they look through stone walls into space, far away--space
where their dreams are realised and men and women live according to
their theories. In moments of enthusiasm and passion they become flaming
fires. These eyes belonged to most of those present. The rest--the
minority--were those who are angry and restless and eager for the
practical application of the doctrine. These want revolution: they are
impatient: they feel for themselves the injustices and impressions which
enthusiasts feel for others: these are always resentful: the others are
always hopeful: these want to convert the world at once with bludgeon
and with gun: the others are certain that before long the world will be
converted by reason. The one despairs of anything but force: the other
will have no force: the one hates his enemy: he would kill him if he
could: he has no words too bad for him: the enthusiast, on the other
hand, regards his enemy with pity, and would at any moment welcome him,
forgive him, and--well--invite him to a Fraternal Tea if he would only
desert his ranks and come over. And these are the two divisions in every
party, and such is the nature of man that there must always be these two
divisions.
The Fraternal Tea finished, the company cleared the tables, everybody
lending a hand, perhaps as another sign or pledge of fraternity. It was
then nearly seven o'clock, the hour appointed for the address. The door
was thrown wide open for the admission of the world; but there was no
sign that the world took the least interest in the subject of Property.
No one came at all. Elsie learned afterwards that the world outside the
Hall had long since grown tired of the subject on which Mr. Gray had
been preaching for nine years. Those who came to the Tea were the inner
circle of believers or disciples, a small but faithful company, to whose
members there was rarely any addition.
At seven Mr. Edmund Gray rose to commence his address, standing at the
head of the table, so that it was like an after-dinner speech. Outside,
the sun was hot and bright and the air clear. Within the Hall, there
were the mingled odours and steams of long-protracted and hearty
Fraternal Tea: the air was heavy and the room dark. When the Master
began to speak, a young man--one of the ardent and wrathful kind--drew
out a note-book and took everything down: all listened with respect,
some with rapt interest. Some nodded--some groaned--some said 'Hear'
softly--to encourage the preacher and to show their adhesion to
principle.
Elsie sat at the right hand of the speaker. His discourses moved her
much less in this public place than in his chambers. The persuasive
voice was there, but it did not persuade her--moreover, she could not
meet his eyes. Their magnetism failed to touch her. So much the better,
because she could listen with cold judgment and watch the people.
'My friends,' he began, 'my brothers and my sisters--we are all long
since agreed that the root of all evil, the first form of disease, the
first fatal step that was leading to so many other mischiefs, was the
beginning of Property. We have proved that so often--we are all so
entirely agreed upon this vital principle, that we seldom, and only on
rare occasions, find it necessary to do more than assume its truth. That
occasion, however, is the present, when we have among us one who comes
as a stranger, yet a disciple: one who has a mind open to the influence
of reason: one who is anxious to clear herself of the prejudices and
absurdities in which she has been from infancy brought up. Let us,
therefore, briefly, for her instruction and for the strengthening of our
own faith, point out some of the arguments which support this position.
It is to us an axiom. To the world it still requires proof. And the
world refuses to accept the proof, because it is given over to the Chase
of the Abominable Thing.'
He proceeded to parade the reasons which made his School regard Property
as the root of all evil. The line which lie pursued was not new: many
men have pointed out before Mr. Edmund Gray the selfishness of mankind
as illustrated by the universal game of Grab: others, with equal force,
have shown that the protection of Things causes an immense expenditure
and a great shrinkage in Things: others have shown that it is the
continual efforts of men to get without working the Things for which
others have worked, that fill our jails and keep up an army of police.
'We start with a false principle,' the Master went on, 'which has ruined
the world and still keeps it down. If there are to be rich men, they
must become rich at the expense of the rest: they must be few and the
poor must be many. Therefore, the protection of Property is the robbery
of the poor by law. We all know that: in this place we have agreed, so
far a thousand times: the rich can only become rich by robbing the poor:
they rob their land: they rob their work: they rob their whole
lives--and they are permitted and encouraged by the Law. Shall we, then,
change the Law? No: it would be a work too vast. Shall we change the
minds of men? Not by reason: it is impossible by any argument so long as
by law and custom they can still rob the producer of his work. The only
way is to destroy all Property. When men can no longer by any kind of
thought get richer than their neighbours, then they will cease to think
for themselves, and think for the whole community. You will say--some
one may object--that some are not the same in strength of mind or of
body: there will be many, then, who will refuse to work at all, and
become burdens on the community. We have thought of that objection. At
first, there would be many such; but not for long. Because we should
kill them. Yes, my friends,' he added with a smile of the sweetest
benevolence. 'For the good of the community it will be necessary,
without any sentimental considerations, to kill all those who refuse to
work, all those who shirk their work, all those who persistently do
scamped and bad work. They must die. So the commonwealth shall contain
none but those who are vigorous, loyal, and true. For the
rest--Death--if it means the death of a million who were once
rich--Death is the only escape from the difficulty which is so often
objected.
'It has been asked again how we differ from the Socialists. In this. We
would begin with no theories, no constitution, no code. Only let every
man give all his strength, all his heart, all his mind, to the good of
the commonwealth, without the least power of enriching himself, saving
money--of course there would be no money--without the chance of getting
better food and better clothes than the rest--and we may safely leave
the world to take care of itself. Why--my brothers--why--my
sisters--should we poor purblind creatures, unable to comprehend more
than a glimpse of that glorious future which awaits the world when
Property shall be destroyed--why--I say--should we dare to lay down
schemes and invent systems for that glorified humanity? Let us leave
them to themselves. They will be as far above us, my brothers, as we are
already above the holders and the defenders of Property.'
Elsie looked at the little gathering--five-and-forty--with a little
smile. They were then already far above the holders and the defenders of
Property, and again she thought, 'What if these words were heard in
Lincoln's Inn?'
'How, then, can Property be destroyed?'
At this practical question every one sat upright, coughed, and looked
interested. Their Preacher had often enough declaimed upon the evils of
Property. He seldom spoke of a practical way. Perhaps the time had come.
'There are, my friends, several ways. They are already beginning to be
understood and to be worked. The Irish and the politicians who wanted
the Irish vote have shown the world how to destroy property in land.
Believe me, that example will be followed. It was an evil day for the
holders of Property when the Government interfered between the landlord
and his tenant. That example will bear fruit elsewhere. We shall see
everywhere the owners of the land turned out and their places taken by
those who work the land. The next step is from land to houses. Why not
with houses as with land? Since a beginning has been made, it must be
carried on. But there is other property besides lands and houses. There
are companies with shares, railways, and so forth. We have only begun to
see what united labour can effect--since union of labour is, in fact,
not yet begun. When it is fairly started it will pay small respect to
shareholders and to dividends. When wages are paid, there will be
perhaps no dividend left at all. In a single year--nay, a single
week--the whole capital invested in all the companies will lose its
value: it will be so much waste-paper. My friends, we need not stir hand
or foot to bring about this end: it will be done for us by the
working-man, and by those who follow the example of Ireland. They will
do it for their own selfish ends first--but--Property once destroyed, we
shall never again allow it to be created.
'Oh!'--he warmed with his subject, his voice grew more musical, his face
glowed--'I see a splendid--a noble sight. I see the great houses in the
country fallen to ruin and decay: their contents are stored in museums:
the great palaces of the towns are pulled down: the towns themselves are
decayed and shrunk: there is no Property: there is no one working for
himself: the man of science works his laboratory for the community--but
he has the honour of his discoveries: the medical man pursues his work
with no thought of getting rich: there is plenty to go the round of
everything--oh! plenty of the best. We can have what we like, do what we
like, dress as we like, teach what we please--provided we work for the
State. If we refuse--Death! If we give bad work--Death! It is the only
Law. We shall have no lawyers--no power--no magistrates. Oh! great and
glorious time--you shall see it, you who are young--yes, you shall see
it--while I--I--I--who have dreamed of the time so long--I shall lie low
in the grave. What matter--so the time come and so the world rises free
at last to follow out the destiny of a new and glorified humanity!'
He sat down and laid his head upon his hand, as one in prayer. They
remained in silence till he raised his head. Then the young man who had
called attention to his slavery spoke.
'There is perhaps another way,' he said, 'which might do the job for us.
Suppose the chemists were to find out how to produce food--food of any
kind--artificially--just as good and as nourishing as if it was
butcher-meat or bread. Suppose it could be produced dirt cheap--most
chemists' things cost nothing. Then no one would need to work: because
he'd have his food found for him. If no one would need to work, no one
could get rich any more. And if no one wanted to buy anything, nobody
could sell. Then riches wouldn't count, and there you are. Let's get a
chemist to take the thing up.'
The conversation that followed struck out new ideas. Presently it
flagged, and one by one the people stole away.
The Master and the Disciple returned in the tram as far as Gray's Inn.
The Master fell into profound silence a quarter of an hour before the
end of the journey. When they got down, Elsie observed first, that he
buttoned his coat; next, that he put on gloves; thirdly, that he pulled
his hat forwards: and lastly, that he ignored her presence. He drew
himself erect, and walked away with firm and precise step in the
direction of Bedford Row, which is on the other side of Gray's Inn. He
was once more Mr. Edward Dering.
'I wonder,' said Elsie, 'how much, to-morrow, he will recollect?'