The World in 2000 Years Read online

  “However, as the objective of life is only accomplished by the union of two souls, the serious question of physical aptitude is not neglected. Sparta, whose far-sighted laws we hold up to ridicule, owed its strength to them for as long as its vigor lasted. It ordered that only those individuals recognized as being appropriate to fulfill the duties of marriage be coupled. Our descendants, searching ancient constitutions and collecting what was best from them, have exhumed that forgotten law. It is thus that future centuries will finish off the work of past centuries.

  “Humans, as created beings, must employ the sources of life that they bear within them for the reproduction of their species. To dissipate such a precious deposit in futile pleasures is an act of the utmost ingratitude to toward the Creator, whose confidence it betrays. It is a sort of misappropriation, prejudicial to humanity. The people of early times, according to the calculations of science, were more solidly built and much taller than those of the present day, but the social gangrene of debauchery, corruption, abuse, exhausting the generative principle, have diminished humankind over time; the further we go, the more diminished we are.

  “What has enabled the English aristocracy to remain so beautiful and so vigorous is that it has been able to reserve itself for marriage, and has only married within itself. The French aristocracy, by contrast, so strong and powerful in the Middle Ages, has debased itself and bastardized itself by misalliances, and even more so by the scandalous excesses of the reigns of François I, Henri II, Louis XIV and Louis XV, to such a point that the people, ashamed of bowing down before such despicable masters, have shaken off the yoke and proclaimed their independence.

  “We are going through an awkward period at present. Society, badly shaken in 1789, has not yet broken with tradition; it is not sufficiently solidly constituted to enjoy its conquest. Accustomed to submit to those whom, in good faith, people believe to be above them, society allows its sage resolutions to be blocked by ancient errors. On the day when it has cast down the ambitious men who undermine it, its work will bear fruit.

  “As I said before, there is nothing in creation that resembles a beginning so much as an end. If human morality were to regain its point of departure, human physique would also recover its primitive vigor. Excess has debased it; sobriety will re-elevate it, and generations to come will benefit progressively from the convalescence of their forebears.

  “The people of the milieu in which I find myself have already profited from that amelioration. Hideous maladies do not carry them off before old age; they are almost all born healthy and well-built; they die of old age. Disease is the result of human depravity. Medicine has therefore become a sinecure. The lifespan has been extended, the death that youth is spare only strikes before its time by accident. The mean lifespan is fixed at 80 years; people often surpass 100.

  “That is not to say that there are no exceptions. The wounds of vice, although much reduced, are not entirely scarred over. Nature itself, unequal in its distributions, does not accord all its privileges to everyone. It disgraces hunchbacks physically but compensates for its negligence by giving them a strong dose of intelligence, and vice versa. Then again, the Creator has conserved rights over humans that He has not revealed to us. The retarded minds and abortive beings that I distinguish in this regenerated world do not exist without a reason. Their contrast stimulates other people; their moral inferiority is proof that their time of expiation is less advanced and that they will pass through many more incarnations before their sins are completely effaced.

  “In contrast to our era, the majority holds sway. In anticipation of exceptions society has elaborated laws full of wisdom, and, among others, stipulates an examining committee formed of members of two families, with matching numbers of men and women, assisted by a government inspector. This committee is responsible for establishing, in view of marriage, the physical aptitudes of the future spouses. No more secret affections, consequences of irregular conduct, which are only revealed when the most important of life’s actions has been accomplished! The young man and the young woman are subjected by the competent commission to a minute inspection, and when they are declared fit for the duties of marriage, the engagement begins.

  “In marrying their children, the parents are working to ensure the work of generation. Any other consideration would seem monstrous to them. No importance is attached to love if it is devoid of utility, even less to fortune; everyone’s work is sufficient for them; they only make use of that of others, without preference, in order to assist one another to live; there is no unemployment. Protective law appoints suppliers for everyone, organized by a supervising council. It thus regulates the provenance of resources and makes the accumulation of disproportionate fortunes impossible.

  “The aspirant spouse who is deemed inappropriate for marriage by the examining committee is condemned to celibacy. He is permitted, however, by way of compensation, to espouse a woman afflicted by the same ostracism, on condition that they adopt a young orphan. Both devoid of utility, they are, at least, good for bring up poor individuals deprived of their parents and educating them in the duties of life.

  “A man, once married, is the master of his household; he has the upper hand in all things, but he has enough common sense to leave domestic sovereignty to his wife and to content himself with the role of provider for the family. Nearly 4500 years before the epoch of which I speak, a man of superior merit—Xenophon, a disciple of Socrates—drew up an admirable plan for household life in his treatise on Economics. And, surprisingly for that time, if one considers that the ancients placed their wives at the rank of servants or household utensils, the husband he places center stage elevates his own to his own level. He treats her as an equal and informs her of the first principles of order, the bases of domestic economy:

  “‘Nothing, my wife—the most beautiful in the world—is more useful than order. A choir is a union of individuals; were each one to sing the part that pleased him, what a disagreeable confusion there would be for the audience! But when all are carrying out the prescribed measures and singing in harmony, what charm there is for the ears and eyes alike!

  “‘It is the same with an army; if all its components behave independently—donkeys, hoplites, light troops, baggage-carts, cavalry, chariots—everything will be in disorder; hence, universal confusion and all service become impossible, with dishonor assured and victory certain for the enemy. In any maneuver carried out, everything gets mixed up; runners are impeded by marchers, those in ranks by runners, horsemen by chariot, chariots by mules, hoplites by baggage-carts. How can a battle be fought in the midst of such chaos? Those who are constrained to flee the enemy that is coming at them inevitably collide with armed me in their flight.

  “‘By contrast, what is more beautiful than a well-organized army? What enemy will not tremble, on seeing hoplites, cavaliers, peltasts, archers and pikemen all distributed in distinct bodies following their officers? I believe that I form an accurate idea of the confusion when I imagine a laborer heaping barley, cheese and legumes together in the same store-room, and then being obliged, if he wants pastry, bread or a plate of vegetables, to make a triage in order to find what he needs

  “‘Spare yourself such confusion, my wife; will you please administer our house in such a way that, if I ask for something, you can to find what is necessary, and offer it to me easily? Let us try to put everything in a suitable place. That triage once made, my wife, regard yourself as the preserver of the law in our household. Like the commandant of a garrison inspecting his troops, or the Athenian Council its horses and cavaliers, proceed, when you deem it necessary, to inspect our furniture, to see whether the items are sound. A queen in your house, use all your power to honor and praise whosoever merits it, to reprimand and chastise those who provoke your severity.’9

  “To describe the duties of the wife in the household, I do not believe I can do better than borrow that sublime passage from Xenophon. He was the first to make woman the companion of man, at a tim
e when she was merely a machine indispensable to reproduction. That profound thinker was certainly ahead of his time. Who knows whether the Supreme Being might send beings superior to their contemporaries among us in order to activate, thanks to their genius, the march of Progress?

  “Our descendants, such as I see them at this moment, have put Xenophon’s doctrine into practice. They have organized the household according to his instructions. They have raised women to the same level as men without, as today, placing them on a pedestal, without making them conventional divinities that we intoxicate with our banalities and homages. Is it not depreciating them to adore them in a servile manner? Is it not to offend their dignity to affect to live at their feet? It is not to make them feel their weakness cruelly to accept voluntary servitude under their yoke?

  “Whereas the ancients made them domestic objects and the moderns make them an item of luxury, our descendants will make women companions. The prejudice that excludes them from the thinking mass is in contradiction with the sentiment of respect that everyone experiences for his mother. Nature is the only voice to which humans should listen.

  “Women do not possess, however, an intelligence equal to that of men; theirs is more refined, more active and more impressionable, but also lighter, more variable and more superficial; it lacks depth. That of men, in conformity with their physical constitution, which destines them for hard work, is profound, reflective and stubborn—so it is true that there is a direct relationship between the physical and the mental. To women, the cares of the household, which only require mechanical attention; to men, the burden of public affairs, which demanded multiple combinations and logical reasoning. If the Supreme Being has made one sex strong and the other weak, it is because, in His infinite wisdom, he wanted to indicate the absolute superiority of men over women. Two forces endowed with equal power would be exposed to daily collisions.

  “To conclude from this that instinct replaces the soul in women would be to add a paradoxical deduction. Two beings created to live together, to perpetuate one upon the other the admirable work of creation, necessarily entails their having the same elements. The dissimilarity only exists in their sex. Their souls conceive the same thoughts, are subject to the same passions, recognize the same Creator; if it were otherwise, they would not be able to join together in the unity of marriage, with a view to forming a complete whole.

  “Differently dosed, according to their roles in this world, but regulated by the supreme, infinite, universal soul from which it is derived, their souls are formed of the same simple substance, unique and indivisible.

  “Two beings, thus fortified by laborious life, having taken the trouble to study one another reciprocally, cannot fail to be suited to one another. They have employed the phase of their engagement to weigh their qualities and their flaws, and it is only after mature reflection that they have legalized their choice before humans, the Supreme Being sufficing to sanction their choice by means of conscience, that sensitive entity he had placed in every heart as the delegate of his authority, as an intermediary for communication with his creature. With accord assured there is no longer any fear that either of the two spouses will break their oath; their happiness is in the hearth. The adultery foreseen by the Code only presents itself in a proportion of three per cent; the cause then lies is the weakness of a momentary lapse or the premeditated agreement of two perverse natures.

  “The law, however, competent as it is in general affairs, in internal and external politics, commercial, industrial and financial questions, does not extend its jurisdiction to the family. It is up to the family to repair what has been done; it alone is responsible, it alone being experienced in such matters. It has seen the spouses develop in its bosom; it had sound knowledge of their characters; it is able to judge them. The law limits itself to ratifying its decision. The guilty party is thus bought before the tribunal from which nothing is hidden.

  “There, a great difficulty presents itself: the children. Separation grants them to the more worthy, divorce causes them to enter into a strange family; it is not, therefore, a practical solution. Absolute divorce, in the society that I am describing, is only admitted in cases where the marriage is sterile, and even then, before pronouncing it as a last resort, the family waits until the woman’s condition has passed beyond the possibility of an initial pregnancy.

  “If there are children, the law, not attributing to both spouses the fault of one alone, authorizes the plaintiff to remarry. If it is the mother who is at fault, she remains in the home of her remarried spouse, the mother of his children, but having lost her conjugal rights. It is the same for the father; justice has no preference. If the guilty party removes himself or herself from the difficulty, he or she is excluded from the social circle and sent to populate a distant colony; there are no more children, the individual being a pariah.”

  “But that situation,” the Marquise put in,” acceptable for a man, is not so for a woman.”

  “Either is free,” Monsieur Landet replied, “to choose between the alternative judgments—to live independently within another’s household, under the protection of the law, contenting herself with the link that still binds one to one’s family: the children; or, if pride refuses that foreign hospitality, that one renounces one’s children and accepts exile. It is up to the individual. Better to deprive children of a parent than conserve a bad one. The law has no leverage on the heart.”

  “And what if a woman, once remarried, weakens in her turn?” riposted the Marquise.

  “There would no longer be any reason for the conclusion,” the savant went on. “The woman would then, as of right, revert to her first husband, by the very fact of her fault.”

  “And what if there are children of the second marriage?”

  “The mother does not leave her children. She remains, once the divorce is pronounced, in the home of her second husband, with the first, with the entitlement of a mother, just as he is installed there with the entitlement of a father.”

  “But a family might gather parasites indefinitely, by virtue of repeated adulteries by its members!”

  “In our society, perhaps, but not in that one. You’re forgetting, Madame, that the laws are one in effect because they are the consequences of a society better than ours. Laws are corollaries of the epochs that they regulate. This legislation, Utopian today, is the work of 20 centuries of progress. It astonishes you as much as ours would astonish the feudal lords of the Middle Ages if they returned to the world as they had quit it.”

  “I understand perfectly that our laws would be monstrous in the society that you are describing,” the Marquise replied. “According to your theory, laws conform to the tastes, tendencies and needs of the epoch, following humans through the different periods of their incarnations, adapting to their transformations—but in any society, there inevitably exist material difficulties raised by exceptions, difficulties that the law needs to anticipate in its broadest extension. In cases of adultery, you say, a guilty woman, having lost her conjugal rights, remains in the home of a stranger, the father of her children. If the other, remarried spouse similarly fails in his duties, the two guilty parties return to one another; I admit that too. But what becomes of children born of the adultery?”

  “I was getting to that when you interrupted me,” the savant replied, dryly. “It would certainly not be just for poor little children, innocent of their parents’ sin, to be condemned to suffer its effects, without support, sustenance or family. The law, benevolent but reluctant to mingle legitimate children with bastards, tales them into its care in special houses, and assigns them to the households of those refused by examining committees, who adopt them. They only know the mother and father that adoption gives them; too young to regret their natural parents, they learn to love those that the law attributes to them. Gratitude substitutes in their hearts for the voice of blood. Take note of the wisdom of this measure, which sets aside the bad example of their birth.

  “Natural children are
a more frequent exception. Two young people love one another, their souls are sympathetic, they do not have the patience to wait for the expiration of the engagement—or perhaps, not being affianced, they succumb to the violence of their sentiments. A child is born of that clandestine union. Should that be made a crime? No. Does human consent have the power to condemn the impulse of nature? No. Human consent is necessary to establish a fixed regulation on the disorder of passions, but there is no sin so long as the heart commits no perjury.

  “They are both free, those young people; no oaths impose other duties upon them; the responsibility for their being led astray is incumbent on them alone. Let them repair their weakness in consecrating their premature action by marriage! If one of the two refuses, the law then exerts its rights; it demands. The deflowered woman cannot be the only author of her sin; the Creator, believe me, will not damn them for that. After all, they have not deceived anyone. Free, they have followed the impulsion of a mutual sympathy, having no other judge than their conscience, no other sanction than their word. Society is therefore incompetent to reproach their lack of strength. They have not done any wrong. It is prejudice that imprints the forehead of the fallen young woman with shame. If we did not have our petty weaknesses, we would be as perfect as the Creator, and that is inadmissible.

  “Everything depends on circumstances. If the two young people succumb without having an intention to marry, or if a lover abuses his mistress with false promises, the law is inflexible in that regard. In the former case, it proceeds with a marriage or sends the lovers to the colonies, as they choose; in the second, it researches the paternity. And, indeed, why should the law allow the responsibility for a child to remain entirely with the woman, a weak and passive individual? Why, on the one hand, make her a victim, and on the other, favor the egoism of a debauchee by according him impunity? The fault is his as well as hers, and his more than hers, since he was the one who provoked and accomplished the bad deed. Whence comes the noxious breath of debauchery that infects our present society with gangrene? From the fact that the law, being too partial, does not research paternity. If men had the fear of being burdened with a child, they would reflect, and the evil, cauterized at its root, would gradually diminish.