The Forerunner Part 35

Ross had turned to her--was holding out his arms to her. "You won't go, my darling!" he said.

"I am going Wednesday on the 7.10," said Diantha.

THE "ANTI" AND THE FLY

The fly upon the Cartwheel Thought he made all the Sound; He thought he made the Cart go on-- And made the wheels go round.

The Fly upon the Cartwheel Has won undying fame For Conceit that was colossal, And Ignorance the same.

But to-day he has a Rival As we roll down History's Track-- For the "Anti" on the Cartwheel Thinks she makes the Wheels go back!

THE BARREL

I was walking, peacefully enough, along a plain ordinary road, when I lifted my head and observed an impressive gateway. The pillars were of stone, high, carven, ma.s.sive; mighty gates of wrought iron hung between them, the gray wall stretched away on either side.

As the gates were open and there was no prohibitory sign, I entered, and for easy miles walked on; under the springing arches of tall elms, flat roofs of beech, and level fans of fir and pine; through woodland, park and meadow, with glimpses of starred lily-ponds, blue lakelets, and bright brooks; seeing the dappled deer, the swans and pheasants--a glorious place indeed.

Then a smooth turn, and across velvet lawns and statued gardens I saw a towering palace, so n.o.bly beautiful, so majestic, I took off my hat involuntarily. Approaching it I was met by courteous servingmen; told that it was open to visitors; and shown from hall to hall, from floor to floor; where every object was a work of art; where line, color and proportion, perfect architecture and fitting decoration made an overwhelming beauty.

"Whose it is?" I inquired. "Some Duke?--King?--Emperor? Who owns this palace?--this glorious estate?"

They bowed and offered to lead me to him.

Downward and toward the back; through servants' apartments; through workroom, scullery and stable; out to the last and least and meanest little yard; narrow and dark, stone-paved, stone-walled, shadowed by caves of barns; there, huddled in a barrel, they pointed out a man.

They bowed to him, they called him master. They told me he was the owner of this vast estate.

I could not believe it--but they stood bowing--and he ordered them away.

"What!" I cried. "_You!_--you are the owner--the master of all this wealth of beauty--this beauty of wealth! You own these miles of breezy upland and rich valley--still forests and bright lakes! You own these n.o.ble trees--those overflowing flowers--those glades of browsing deer!

You own this palace--a joy to the eye and uplift to the soul! This majesty and splendor--this comfort, beauty, form, you own all this--and are living--_here._"

He regarded me superciliously, with a weary expression.

"Young man," he said, "you are a dreamer--a visionary--a Utopian!--an idealist! You should consider Facts, my young sir; fix your mind on Facts! The _Fact_ is that I live in this Barrel."

It was a fact;--he did visibly live in the Barrel.

It was also a fact that he owned that vast estate.

And there was no lid on the Barrel.

OUR ANDROCENTRIC CULTURE; or, THE MAN-MADE WORLD

III.

HEALTH AND BEAUTY.

NOTE--The word "Androcentric" we owe to Prof. Lester F. Ward. In his book, "Pure Sociology," Chap. 14, he describes the Androcentric Theory of life, hitherto universally accepted; and introduces his own "Gyneacocentric Theory." All who are interested in the deeper scientific aspects of this question are urged to read that chapter.

Prof. Ward's theory is to my mind the most important that has been offered the world since the Theory of Evolution; and without exception the most important that has ever been put forward concerning women.

Among the many paradoxes which we find in human life is our low average standard of health and beauty, compared with our power and knowledge.

All creatures suffer from conflict with the elements; from enemies without and within--the prowling devourers of the forest, and "the terror that walketh in darkness" and attacks the body from inside, in hidden millions.

Among wild animals generally, there is a certain standard of excellence; if you shoot a bear or a bird, it is a fair sample of the species; you do not say, "O what an ugly one!" or "This must have been an invalid!"

Where we have domesticated any animal, and interfered with its natural habits, illness has followed; the dog is said to have the most diseases second to man; the horse comes next; but the wild ones put us to shame by their superior health and the beauty that belongs to right development.

In our long ages of blind infancy we a.s.sume that sickness was a visitation frown the G.o.ds; some still believe this, holding it to be a special prerogative of divinity to afflict us in this way. We speak of "the ills that flesh is heir to" as if the inheritance was entailed and inalienable. Only of late years, after much study and long struggle with this old belief which made us submit to sickness as a blow from the hand of G.o.d, we are beginning to learn something of the many causes of our many diseases, and how to remove some of them.

It is still true, however, that almost every one of us is to some degree abnormal; the features asymmetrical, the vision defective, the digestion unreliable, the nervous system erratic--we are but a job lot even in what we call "good health"; and are subject to a burden of pain and premature death that would make life hideous if it were not so ridiculously unnecessary.

As to beauty--we do not think of expecting it save in the rarely exceptional case. Look at the faces--the figures--in any crowd you meet; compare the average man or the average woman with the normal type of human beauty as given us in picture and statue; and consider if there is not some general cause for so general a condition of ugliness.

Moreover, leaving our defective bodies concealed by garments; what are those garments, as conducive to health and beauty? Is the practical ugliness of our men's attire, and the impractical absurdity of our women's, any contribution to human beauty? Look at our houses--are they beautiful? Even the houses of the rich?

We do not even know that we ought to live in a world of overflowing loveliness; and that our contribution to it should be the loveliest of all. We are so sodden in the dull ugliness of our interiors, so used to calling a tame weary low-toned color scheme "good taste," that only children dare frankly yearn for Beauty--and they are speedily educated out of it.

The reasons specially given for our low standards of health and beauty are ignorance, poverty, and the evil effects of special trades. The Man with the Hoe becomes brother to the ox because of over-much hoeing; the housepainter is lead-poisoned because of his painting; books have been written to show the injurious influence of nearly all our industries upon workers.

These causes are sound as far as they go; but do not cover the whole ground.

The farmer may be muscle-bound and stooping from his labor; but that does not account for his dyspepsia or his rheumatism.

Then we allege poverty as covering all. Poverty does cover a good deal.

But when we find even a half-fed savage better developed than a well paid cashier; and a poor peasant woman a more vigorous mother than the idle wife of a rich man, poverty is not enough.

Then we say ignorance explains it. But there are most learned professors who are ugly and asthmathic; there are even doctors who can boast no beauty and but moderate health; there are some of the petted children of the wealthy, upon whom every care is lavished from birth, and who still are ill to look at and worse to marry.

All these special causes are admitted, given their due share in lowering our standards, but there is another far more universal in its application and its effects. Let us look back on our little ancestors the beasts, and see what keeps them so true to type.

The type itself set by that balance of conditions and forces we call "natural selection." As the environment changes they must be adapted to it, if they cannot so adapt themselves they die. Those who live are, by living, proven capable of maintaining themselves. Every creature which has remained on earth, while so many less effective kinds died out, remains as a conqueror. The speed of the deer--the constant use of speed--is what keeps it alive and makes it healthy and beautiful. The varied activities of the life of a leopard are what have developed the sinuous gracile strength we so admire. It is what the creature does for its living, its daily life-long exercise which makes it what it is.

But there is another great natural force which works steadily to keep all animals up to the race standard; that is s.e.xual selection.

Throughout nature the male is the variant, as we have already noted.

His energy finds vent not only in that profuse output of decorative appendages Ward defines as "masculine efflorescence" but in variations not decorative, not useful or desirable at all.