“But isn’t it true, sir?”
Mr. Macintyre pondered. “You know,” he said, “I think you are a very clever fellow, and you know a lot; much more than I do, I’ve no doubt. But what I don’t understand is, why don’t you put it into a book?”
“Into a book?” echoed Thyrsis, perplexed.
“Yes,” explained the other—“then it won’t hurt anybody but yourself. Why should you try to get it into my magazine, and scare away my half-million subscribers?”
Section 12. They went in to dinner, which was served upon silver-plate, by the light of softly-shaded candles; and while the velvet-footed waiters caused their food to appear and disappear by magic, Thyrsis fulfilled his mission and “threw Socialism” at the company.
The company had its guns loaded, and they went at it hot and heavy. The editors wanted to know about “the home” under Socialism; to which Thyrsis made retort by picturing “the home” under capitalism. They wanted to know about liberty and individuality under Socialism; and so Thyrsis discussed the liberty and individuality of the hundred thousand wage-slaves of the Steel Trust. They sought to tangle him in discussions as to the desirability of competition, and the impossibility of escaping it; but Thyrsis would bring them back again and again to the central fact of exploitation, which was the one fact that counted. They insisted upon knowing how this, that, and the other thing would be done in the Cooperative Commonwealth; to which Thyrsis answered, “Do you ask for a map of heaven before you join the Church?”
It was “Billy” Macintyre who brought up a somewhat delicate question; how would such an institution as “Macintyre’s Monthly” be run under Socialism? Thyrsis replied by quoting Kautsky’s formula: “Communism in material production, Anarchism in intellectual”. He showed how the state might print and bind and distribute, while men in “free associations” might edit and publish. But one could not get very far in this exposition, because of the excitement of the elder Macintyre. For the old gentleman was like a small boy who is being robbed of his marbles; if there had been a mob outside his publishing-house, he could not have been more agitated. He took occasion to state, with the utmost solemnity, that he disapproved of such discussions; and “Billy”, who sat between him and Thyrsis, had to interfere now and then and soothe the “pater” down.
Mr. Macintyre’s views on the subject of capitalism were simple and easy to understand. There could be nothing really wrong with a system which had brought so many great and good men into control of the country’s affairs. Mr. Macintyre knew this, because he had played golf with them all and gone yachting with them all. And this was a perfectly genuine conviction; if there had been the slightest touch of sham in it, the old gentleman would have been more cautious in the examples he chose. He would name man after man who was among the most notorious of the country’s “malefactors of great wealth”—men whose financial crimes had been proven beyond any possibility of doubting. He would name them in a voice overflowing with affection and admiration, as benefactors of humanity upon a cosmic scale; and of course that would end the argument in a gale of laughter. When the elder Macintyre entered the discussion, all the rest of the company moved forthwith to Thyrsis’ side, and there were six Socialists confronting one business-man. And this was a very puzzling and alarming thing to the old gentleman—his son and his magazine were getting away from him, and he did not know what to make of the phenomenon!
Section 13. Thyrsis judged that the tidings must have got about that there was a new “lion” in town; for a couple of days after this he was called up by Comings, most popular of novelists, who asked him to have luncheon at the “Thistle” club. And when Thyrsis went, Comings explained that Mrs. Parmley Fatten had read his book, and was anxious to meet him, and requested that he be brought round to tea. The other was tactless enough to let it transpire that he knew nothing about Mrs. Patton; but Comings was too tactful to show his surprise. Mrs. Patton, he explained, was socially prominent—was looked upon as the leader of a set that went in for intellectual things. She was interested in social reform and woman’s suffrage, and was worth helping along; and besides that, she was a charming woman—Thyrsis would surely find the adventure worth while. Then suddenly, while he was listening, it flashed over Thyrsis that he had heard of Mrs. Patton before; the lady was in mourning for her brother, and Corydon had recently handed him a “society” item, which told of some unique and striking “mourning-hosiery” which she was introducing from Paris.
Thyrsis in former days might have been shy of this phenomenon; but at present he was a collecting economist on the look-out for specimens, and so he said he would go. He met Comings again at five o’clock, and they strolled out Fifth Avenue together to Mrs. Patton’s brown-stone palace. Thyrsis observed that his friend had been considerate enough to omit his afternoon change of costume, and for this he was grateful.