DOI Seite / Zitierlink:
https://doi.org/10.11588/diglit.1311#0066
OF THE WORLD'S INDUSTRY. 45
to revisit the earth. * * "Progress! progress!" muttered our returned philosopher to
himself, as he whirled along upon the railway. "What a din this age makes about its
progress! it travels fast enough, if that were all. Rapid progress of that kind. For
the rest—let us see whether the world is revolving in any other than its old accustomed
circle.*' After taking a brief survey of the building itself, and expressing, iu various
muttered ejaculations, his admiration of its marvellous size, its lightness, and its won-
derful adaptability for the purpose for which it was erected, the quondam lord of Ferney
proceeded to the department where the machinery was exhibited. Here a professor of
mechanics was so courteous as to explain to him the various processes of our cotton man-
ufacture. He explained the power-loom, the mule, and I know not what other contrivances
beside; and, pleased with his intelligent listener, he launched forth into the glorious
prospects that were opening to human society through the surprising mechanical inven-
tions that had illustrated our age. To labour man was born, he said, but we should take
the sting out of the curse; it then would cease to be toilsome, cease to be degrading
cease to be incompatible with refinement of manners and intellectual culture. Stepping
through an open door into a neighbouring department, the professor found himself iu
the presence of a gigantic locomotive standing upon its railway. " Here/' he exclaimed,
"is one of our iron slaves; we feed him upon coal; he bears us, a thousand at a time,
with the speed of an eagle, from town to town, from county to county. What limit can
you set to human progress when you reflect upon such a-n engine as this?" Voltaire did
reflect. "Very clever are you men," he said; "you cannot exactly fly—you have not
yet invented wings—but you go marvellously fast by steam. No spirit need travel
quicker. But methinks there is something hypocritical and deceptive in this obedient
engine of yours. Goes of itself, you say. Does it? Your iron slave wants many other
slaves, unfortunately not of iron, to attend on it; on this condition only will it serve you.
No despot travels with so obsequious a train, and so subservient, as this quiet-looking
engine. Putting my head out of the window of my railroad carriage, whilst we were
yet at the station, I saw an industrious mortal going from wheel to wheel with a huge
grease-pot, greasing the wheels. He greases wheels from morning to night; eternally
he greases. Another man trims lamps incessantly; I saw him with a long row before
him feeding them with oil; in oil he seems himself to live. Of engineer and fireman I
could not catch a glimpse, but I saw a crowd of men employed continually in putting
boxes and carpet-bags from a truck into a van, and from a van into a truck. Not much
intellectuality there. And when the shrill whistle was heard, and we started, lo ! there
was a living man standing on the bank, acting as signal-post—with arm outstretched
and motionless, a living signal-post. Most useful of men no doubt, if mortal necks are
worth preserving, but his occupation is not such as could possibly be intrusted to one
who might wander into reflection. The railroad train runs, it seems, not only upon those
hundred wheels of iron which we see and count, but on a hundred other wheels forged
out of human flesh and blood."
"You are perfectly right," said a pale melancholy Englishman who was standing beside
them, and had overheard this conversation. " We are altogether in a wrong course; we
are making machines that enslave ourselves, and bind us down to all the toils and all
the social degradations of slavery. We must go back to simplicity. We must learn to
limit our desires, and discard fictitious wants. Then only can the reign of Justice com-
mence. If all men were contented with the gratification of the simple wants of nature,
all men might be equal, and equally enlightened. Our task ought now to be not to
invent more machines, but to select from those already invented the few that are really
worth retaining. For my part, I find only two that are indispensable." " And what
may they be ?" said the professor of mechanics, with a smile of derisiou. " The plough
VOL. II. N
to revisit the earth. * * "Progress! progress!" muttered our returned philosopher to
himself, as he whirled along upon the railway. "What a din this age makes about its
progress! it travels fast enough, if that were all. Rapid progress of that kind. For
the rest—let us see whether the world is revolving in any other than its old accustomed
circle.*' After taking a brief survey of the building itself, and expressing, iu various
muttered ejaculations, his admiration of its marvellous size, its lightness, and its won-
derful adaptability for the purpose for which it was erected, the quondam lord of Ferney
proceeded to the department where the machinery was exhibited. Here a professor of
mechanics was so courteous as to explain to him the various processes of our cotton man-
ufacture. He explained the power-loom, the mule, and I know not what other contrivances
beside; and, pleased with his intelligent listener, he launched forth into the glorious
prospects that were opening to human society through the surprising mechanical inven-
tions that had illustrated our age. To labour man was born, he said, but we should take
the sting out of the curse; it then would cease to be toilsome, cease to be degrading
cease to be incompatible with refinement of manners and intellectual culture. Stepping
through an open door into a neighbouring department, the professor found himself iu
the presence of a gigantic locomotive standing upon its railway. " Here/' he exclaimed,
"is one of our iron slaves; we feed him upon coal; he bears us, a thousand at a time,
with the speed of an eagle, from town to town, from county to county. What limit can
you set to human progress when you reflect upon such a-n engine as this?" Voltaire did
reflect. "Very clever are you men," he said; "you cannot exactly fly—you have not
yet invented wings—but you go marvellously fast by steam. No spirit need travel
quicker. But methinks there is something hypocritical and deceptive in this obedient
engine of yours. Goes of itself, you say. Does it? Your iron slave wants many other
slaves, unfortunately not of iron, to attend on it; on this condition only will it serve you.
No despot travels with so obsequious a train, and so subservient, as this quiet-looking
engine. Putting my head out of the window of my railroad carriage, whilst we were
yet at the station, I saw an industrious mortal going from wheel to wheel with a huge
grease-pot, greasing the wheels. He greases wheels from morning to night; eternally
he greases. Another man trims lamps incessantly; I saw him with a long row before
him feeding them with oil; in oil he seems himself to live. Of engineer and fireman I
could not catch a glimpse, but I saw a crowd of men employed continually in putting
boxes and carpet-bags from a truck into a van, and from a van into a truck. Not much
intellectuality there. And when the shrill whistle was heard, and we started, lo ! there
was a living man standing on the bank, acting as signal-post—with arm outstretched
and motionless, a living signal-post. Most useful of men no doubt, if mortal necks are
worth preserving, but his occupation is not such as could possibly be intrusted to one
who might wander into reflection. The railroad train runs, it seems, not only upon those
hundred wheels of iron which we see and count, but on a hundred other wheels forged
out of human flesh and blood."
"You are perfectly right," said a pale melancholy Englishman who was standing beside
them, and had overheard this conversation. " We are altogether in a wrong course; we
are making machines that enslave ourselves, and bind us down to all the toils and all
the social degradations of slavery. We must go back to simplicity. We must learn to
limit our desires, and discard fictitious wants. Then only can the reign of Justice com-
mence. If all men were contented with the gratification of the simple wants of nature,
all men might be equal, and equally enlightened. Our task ought now to be not to
invent more machines, but to select from those already invented the few that are really
worth retaining. For my part, I find only two that are indispensable." " And what
may they be ?" said the professor of mechanics, with a smile of derisiou. " The plough
VOL. II. N