child,” said Amory, “should have an equal start. If his father can endow him with a good physique and his mother with some common sense in his early education, that should be his heritage. If the father can’t give him a good physique, if the mother has spent in chasing men the years in which she should have been preparing herself to educate her children, so much the worse for the child. He shouldn’t be artificially bolstered up with money, sent to these horrible tutoring schools, dragged through college … Every boy ought to have an equal start.”
“All right,” said the big man, his goggles indicating neither approval nor objection.
“Next I’d have a fair trial of government ownership of all industries.”
“That’s been proven a failure.”
“No—it merely failed. If we had government ownership we’d have the best analytical business minds in the government working for something besides themselves. We’d have Mackeys instead of Burlesons; we’d have Morgans in the Treasury Department; we’d have Hills running interstate commerce. We’d have the best lawyers in the Senate.”
“They wouldn’t give their best efforts for nothing. McAdoo——”
“No,” said Amory, shaking his head. “Money isn’t the only stimulous that brings out the best that’s in a man, even in America.”
“You said a while ago that it was.”
“It is, right now. But if it were made illegal to have more than a certain amount the best men would all flock for the one other reward which attracts humanity—honor.”
The big man made a sound that was very like boo .
“That’s the silliest thing you’ve said yet.”
“No, it isn’t silly. It’s quite plausible. If you’d gone to college you’d have been struck by the fact that the men there would work twice as hard for any one of a hundred petty honors as those other men did who were earning their way through.”
“Kids—child’s play!” scoffed his antagonist.
“Not by a darned sight—unless we’re all children. Did you ever see a grown man when he’s trying for a secret society—or a rising family whose name is up at some club? They’ll jump when they hear the sound of the word. The idea that to make a man work you’ve got to hold gold in front of his eyes is a growth, not an axiom. We’ve done that for so long that we’ve forgotten there’s any other way. We’ve made a world where that’s necessary. Let me tell you”—Amory became emphatic—“if there were ten men insured against either wealth or starvation, and offered a green ribbon for five hours’ work a day and a blue ribbon for ten hours’ work a day, nine out of ten of them would be trying for the blue ribbon. That competitive instinct only wants a badge. If the size of their house is the badge they’ll sweat their heads off for that. If it’s only a blue ribbon, I damn near believe they’ll work just as hard. They have in other ages.”
“I don’t agree with you.”
“I know it,” said Amory nodding sadly. “It doesn’t matter any more though. I think these people are going to come and take what they want pretty soon.”
A fierce hiss came from the little man.
“Machine-guns!”
“Ah, but you’ve taught them their use.”
The big man shook his head.
“In this country there are enough property owners not to permit that sort of thing.”
Amory wished he knew the statistics of property owners and non-property owners; he decided to change the subject.
But the big man was aroused.
“When you talk of ‘taking things away,’ you’re on dangerous ground.”
“How can they get it without taking it? For years people have been stalled off with promises. Socialism may not be progress, but the threat of the red flag is certainly the inspiring force of all reform. You’ve got to be sensational to get attention.”
“Russia is your example of a beneficent violence, I suppose?”
“Quite possibly,” admitted Amory. “Of course, it’s overflowing just as the French Revolution did, but I’ve no doubt that it’s really a great experiment and well worth while.”
“Don’t you believe in moderation?”
“You won’t listen to the moderates, and it’s almost too late. The truth is that the public has done one of those startling and amazing things that they do about once in a hundred years. They’ve seized an idea.”
“What is it?”
“That however the brains and abilities of men may differ, their stomachs are essentially the same.”
The Little Man Gets His.
“If you took all the money in the world,” said the little man with deep profundity, “and divided it up in equ——”
“Oh, shut up!” said Amory briskly and, paying no attention to the little man’s enraged stare, he went on with his argument.
“The human stomach—” he began; but the big man interrupted rather impatiently.
“I’m letting you talk, you know,” he said, “but please avoid stomachs. I’ve been feeling mine all day. Anyway, I don’t agree with one-half you’ve said. Government ownership is the basis of your whole argument, and it’s invariably a beehive of corruption. Men won’t work for blue ribbons, that’s all rot.”
When he ceased the little man spoke up with a determined nod, as if resolved this time to have his say out.
“There are certain things which are human nature,” he asserted with an owl-like look, “which always have been and always will be, which can’t be changed.”
Amory looked from the small man to the big man helplessly.
“Listen to that! That’s what makes me discouraged with progress. Listen to that! I can name offhand over one hundred natural phenomena that have been changed by the will of man—a hundred instincts in man that have been wiped out or are now held in check by civilization. What this man here just said has been for thousands of years the last refuge of the associated mutton-heads of the world. It negates the efforts of every scientist, statesman, moralist, reformer, doctor, and philosopher that ever gave his life to humanity’s service. It’s a flat impeachment of all that’s worth while in human nature. Every person over twenty-five years old who makes that statement in cold blood ought to be deprived of the franchise.”
The little man leaned back against the seat, his face purple with rage. Amory continued, addressing his remarks to the big man.
“These quarter-educated, stale-minded men such as your friend here, who think they think; every question that comes up, you’ll find his type in the usual ghastly muddle. One minute it’s ‘the brutality and inhumanity of these Prussians’—the next it’s ‘we ought to exterminate the whole German people.’ They always believe that ‘things are in a bad way now,’ but they ‘haven’t any faith in these idealists.’ One minute they call Wilson ‘just a dreamer, not practical’—a year later they rail at him for making his dreams realities. They haven’t clear logical ideas on one single subject except a sturdy, stolid opposition to all change. They don’t think uneducated people should be highly paid, but they won’t see that if they don’t pay the uneducated people their children are going to be uneducated too, and we’re going round and round in a circle. That—is the great middle class!”
The big man with a broad grin on his face leaned over and smiled at the little man.
“You’re catching it pretty heavy, Garvin; how do you feel?”
The little man made an attempt to smile and act as if the whole matter were so ridiculous as to be