Added Upon Part 27

"But, my dear friend, we have no common workmen. It is just as important that a table should be put together properly, and that it be well finished as that there should be a superintendent of the works. No man in our industrial system can say to another, 'I have no need of thee.'

Each is important, each has his place, each supports the other. The polisher or the sawyer, therefore, should have his needs supplied, and so should the overseer--but no more. What would he do with more, anyway?

Tell me."

"Why, why," replied Remand, "He could save it, put it in the bank, invest it."

Paulus smiled. "What good would h.o.a.rded wealth be to a man whose needs are all provided for as long as he lives, as also his children after him. We have but one bank here--the Lord's storehouse, and all profits derived from investments are there deposited. But speaking again of wages, I happen to know that the superintendent of this factory is a man with a wife only to support, and they are very simple in their tastes. The wood-carver whom we spoke of has a large family of children.

His needs are greater than the superintendent's, therefore he receives more for his portion. That is just, is it not?"

"Yes," replied Remand, "the theory seems to be all right but its application, among us at least, would bring endless complications to be adjusted."

"Perhaps so," replied Paulus. "We are not perfect, even here. While we are in mortality, we have weaknesses to contend with; but you must remember that we look on every man as a brother and a friend, and as I have stated, we have the spirit of the Master to help us. When this help proves insufficient by reason of our own failure to do the right, and in our weakness we are unjust or overbearing, or oppressive, then there is the Lord Himself whose throne is with us. He balances again the scales of justice, and metes out to every man his just deserts."

Paulus arose, and the others followed him reverently out into the park-like s.p.a.ce surrounding the factory. They walked slowly along the paths as they talked.

"The argument usually urged against all orders of equality," remarked Remand, "is that it takes away man's incentive to work."

"Have you seen any idle men in or about Zion?" asked the guide.

They acknowledged that they had not.

"The new order has not taken away incentives to work; it has simply changed the incentive from a low order to a higher. We can not afford to work for money as an end. Wealth, with us, is simply a means to an end, and that is the bringing to pa.s.s of saving righteousness to the race, individually and collectively. Wealth is not created to be used for personal aggrandizement; and, in fact, its power to work mischief is taken away when all men have what they need of it. The attainment of worldly wealth was at one time the standard of success. It was, indeed, a low standard."

"What is your standard?" asked the king.

"Among us the greatest of all is the servant of all. He who does his best along the line of his work, and contributes the results of his efforts to the general good, is successful. Quant.i.ty is not always the test, for the gardener who supplies us with the choicest vegetables is counted just as successful as he who digs from the mountain his thousands in gold.... Who, in your country, is counted the greatest success in history?"

Neither Remand nor the King replied to this query.

"I will not confuse you by urging a reply," said Paulus. "You, of course, understand our view of that matter. He who did the greatest good to the greatest number made the greatest success. That was the Lord and Master. 'If I be lifted up, I shall draw all men to me,' he said; and that is being fulfilled. In like manner the greatest among us is he who serves us best."

They seated themselves on a bench and watched the workers flock from the workshop homeward to their mid-day meal. It was an interesting sight to the two visitors. The people appeared so happy and contented that the king noticed it and commented on it.

"Yes," replied Paulus; "why should they not be happy? When I think of the times in the past--how so many of the human race had to struggle desperately merely to live; how men, women and children often had to beg for work by which to obtain the means of existence; how sometimes everything that was good and pure and priceless was sold for bread; while on the other hand many others of the race lolled in ease and luxury, being surfeited with the good things of the world--I say, when I think of this, I can not praise the Lord too much for what He now has given to us."

"What are these men's working hours?" asked Remand.

"The hours vary according to the arduousness of the work, though it is now much more easy and pleasant, owing to our labor-saving machinery.

From three to four hours usually const.i.tute a day's work. Some prefer to put in their allotted time every day, and then spend the remainder in other pursuits. Others work all day, perhaps for a week, which would give them a week to do other things. Others, again, who wish more leisure for their self-appointed tasks, keep steadily on for a year, thus earning a year for themselves."

"And what is done with this leisure?" asked the king.

"Most of it is devoted to working in the temples of the Lord, where the saving ordinances of the gospel are performed for those who had not the privilege to do them for themselves in this life; but many other things are done. For instance, he who thinks he is an inventor, devotes his time to perfecting his invention; those who wish to pursue a certain line of study, now have time to do so; some spend time in traveling."

"Is there no compet.i.tion among you?" said Remand. "Such a condition, it seems to me, would bring stagnation."

"We have the keenest kind of compet.i.tion," was the reply--"a compet.i.tion of the highest order that brings the most joyous life-activity into our work. Each steward competes with every other steward to see who can improve his stewardship the most and bring the best results to the general storehouse. For example, you noticed as you came into the city the beautifully kept gardens and farms lying for miles out into the country. These are all stewardships, and there is the keenest compet.i.tion among the farmers and gardeners to see who can make the land produce--first the best crops, and then the most of that best. One man last year who has a small farm turned into the storehouse as his surplus one thousand bushels of wheat. It was a remarkable record which this year many others are trying to equal or exceed. This sort of rivalry is found among all the various businesses and industries in Zion and her stakes; so you see, that even what you term the wealth producing incentive is not lost to us, but is used as an end to a mighty good, and not to foster personal greed."

The three strolled farther away from the large factory building, out into a section where residences stood here and there among the trees in the park-like grounds. Approaching a beautiful sheet of water bordered by flowering bushes, lawns, and well-kept walks, they saw a man sitting on a bench by the lake. As his occupation seemed to be throwing bread crumbs to the swans in the water, the King and his companion concluded that here, at last, they had discovered one of the idle rich, whom they still had in their own country. Remand expressed his thought to the guide.

"He idle?" was the reply. "Oh, no; he is one of our hardest working men.

That is one of our most popular writers, and in many people's opinion, our best. We must not disturb him now, but we will sit down here and observe him. We are told that when he is planning one of his famous chapters of a story, he comes down to this lake and feeds the swans."

"And do you still write, print, and read stories?" asked Remand.

"Certainly. Imaginative literature is one of the highest forms of art.

This man has most beautifully pictured the trend of the race, his special themes being the future greatness and glory of Zion. Why should he not paint pictures by words, as well as the artist who does the same by colors and the sculptor by form? If you have not read any of his books, you must take some of them home with you. See, he is moving away. Would you like to meet him?"

They said they would. The author was soon overtaken, and he received his visitors graciously.

"Yes," he laughingly acknowledged to Paulus, "you caught me fairly. I was planning a most interesting scene of the book on which I am now engaged, and the swans are a great help."

He led his visitors into the grounds surrounding his home, and then into his house. He showed them his books, his studio, and his collection of art treasures. From an upstairs balcony he pointed out his favorite bit of landscape, a mixture of hill and dale, shining water, and purple haze in the distance.

"Yes," he said, in answer to an inquiry, "I have read how, in former times, the workers in art, and especially the writer were seriously handicapped. The struggle for bread often sapped the strength which ought to have gone into the producing of a picture, a piece of statuary, or a book. Fear of some day wanting the necessities of life drove men to think of nothing else but the making of money; and when sometimes men and women were driven by the strong impulse of expression to neglect somewhat the 'Making a living,' they nearly starved. How could the best work be produced under such conditions? I marvel at what was done, nevertheless."

After spending a pleasant and profitable hour with the writer, the three visitors went on their way. They partook of some lunch at one of the public eating houses, then they went out farther into the country to look at the farms and gardens. Lines of easy and rapid transit extended in every direction, so that it took but a few minutes for Paulus and his friends to arrive at the place they desired. They alighted at an orchard, looked at the growing fruit and listened to the orchardist's explanations. After they had been left to themselves, Paulus continued:

"I want you to see and taste a certain kind of apple that this man has produced. Apples are his specialty." He led the way to another part of the orchard, and found a number of ripening apples which he gave his friends. "What do you think of them?" he asked.

"Most delicious!" they both exclaimed. "This might be the identical fruit that tempted Eve in the Garden of Eden," remarked Remand.

As they walked amid the trees, the conversation reverted again to the writer of books whom they had just left.

"This author's royalties must be very great--" began the King's counselor, and then checked himself when he remembered the conditions about him.

"Royalties?" replied Paulus; "yes, they are great; but they are not in money or material wealth. They consist in the vast amount of help, encouragement, hope, and true happiness he brings to his readers."

"But do not men like treasure for treasure's sake? Have your very natures changed?" asked the King.

"To some extent our natures have changed, but not altogether in this.

Men and women still like to lay up treasures. It is an inevitable law that when men do some good to others, credit is given them for that good in the Book of Life. This wealth of good deeds may acc.u.mulate until one may become a veritable millionaire; and this treasure can never be put to an unrighteous use; moth can not corrupt it, nor thieves break through and steal."

"One more question," asked Remand. "I observed that your novelist had a beautiful house, many rare books, and some priceless paintings and pieces of sculptured marble. Are these among the 'needs' that you have spoken of so many times?"

"To him, certainly. Each man gets that which will aid him most in his particular line of work. Those things are not needless luxuries or extravagances. The writer is surrounded by beautiful things that he may be influenced by them to produce the most beautiful literature, just the same as any other laborer is provided with the best tools, helps, and environments that he may produce the best work."

From the orchard they went to the gardens and other workshops, closing the day with a visit to one of the large mercantile establishments of the city.

The next morning Paulus was on hand again to be their guide, but the King said:

"We must now return home. Much as we would like to remain--to take up our permanent abode here, I see that my duty calls me home. The Great King has something for me to do, and I shall try to do it. Let us be going."

Then the two visitors thanked their guide most graciously as he set them on their homeward way.