"We should be delighted," said he. "But we are expecting our boy this evening—Harmes."
Harmes was the young man who had been convicted of using violence with Neaera and had been sent to the Penal Colony.
"You will want to spend your first evening with Harmes en famille," said Ariston, "so let us say to-morrow."
Campbell consulted his wife, and accepted.
"When does Harmes arrive?" asked Ariston.
"We are expecting him every moment," answered Campbell.
"To-morrow, then, at Theodore's at seven," said Ariston, and we left.
The absence of all shame as to the imprisonment of Harmes struck me as remarkable, but Ariston soon set me straight.
"You are possessed by the notions that prevailed in your day—notions that resulted in great part from the fact that most of your criminals were poor and dirty. Your system created a residuum—a criminal class—as surely as the thresher by sifting out the wheat leaves behind the residuum we call chaff. And the residuum of your competitive system, which recognized practically only one prize (that is to say, money), necessarily consisted of those who being unable to earn this prize became destitute; of these the most enterprising were criminals, the least enterprising, paupers. This is the state of things to which Collectivism puts an end. Because all work for the state all are entitled to an equal share in the national income; there are no destitute, no paupers, no criminal class. Indeed, it may be said that the criminal, such as you were accustomed to see him in your police courts, does not exist among us at all. Occasionally a man is tempted beyond endurance, as in the case of Harmes, or in the case of Chairo and his confederates. But if Chairo were convicted and sent to a penal colony, he would on his release recover the social position to which he was by his conduct entitled without regard to the fact that he had served a term. No one would think of applying the Word 'criminal' to either Chairo or Harmes. Of course there are men born among us, as among you, with what may be termed truly criminal instinct—moral perverts who take pleasure in causing pain. Such are rarely curable. They seldom return to social life. They are treated like lepers. We try to make their lot as little wretched as we can. But we recognize that the happiness of the entire community must be preferred to that of these exceptions; they are kept in confinement, and above all, they are not allowed to perpetuate the type."