ural genius and obliterates natural distinctions in
capacity. What is properly called industry is not art or self-justifying
activity, but on the contrary a distinctly compulsory and merely
instrumental labour, which if justified at all must be justified by some
ulterior advantage which it secures. In regard to such instrumental
activities the question is always pertinent whether they do not produce
more than is useful, or prevent the existence of something that is
intrinsically good.

[Sidenote: Irrational industry.]

Occidental society has evidently run in this direction into great
abuses, complicating life prodigiously without ennobling the mind. It
has put into rich men's hands facilities and luxuries which they trifle
with without achieving any dignity or true magnificence in living,
while the poor, if physically more comfortable than formerly, are not
meantime notably wiser or merrier. Ideal distinction has been sacrificed
in the best men, to add material comforts to the worst. Things, as
Emerson said, are in the saddle and ride mankind. The means crowd out
the ends and civilisation reverts, when it least thinks it, to
barbarism.

[Sidenote: Its jovial and ingenious side.]

The acceptable side of industrialism, which is supposed to be inspired
exclusively by utility, is not utility at all but pure achievement. If
we wish to do such an age justice we must judge it as we should a child
and praise its feats without inquiring after its purposes. That is its
own spirit: a spirit dominant at the present time, particularly in
America, where industrialism appears most free from alloy. There is a
curious delight in turning things over, changing their shape,
discovering their possibilities, making of them some new contrivance.
Use, in these experimental minds, as in nature, is only incidental.
There is an irrational creative impulse, a zest in novelty, in
progression, in beating the other man, or, as they say, in breaking the
record. There is also a fascination in seeing the world unbosom itself
of ancient secrets, obey man's coaxing, and take on unheard-of shapes.
The highest building, the largest steamer, the fastest train, the book
reaching the widest circulation have, in America, a clear title to
respect. When the just functions of things are as yet not discriminated,
the superlative in any direction seems naturally admirable. Again, many
possessions, if they do not make a man better, are at least expected to
make