LETTER XI
MAKE CLEAN YOUR HOUSE
May 4, 1917.
DO you know that the human race is being weighed in the balances? Work and pray that it may not be found wanting.
We who dwell in the clear light of that world which is to you the Other World, can see the handwriting on the wall.
The world has been too dishonest. In an honest world, could this war have been? In the world that is to come, nation will not distrust nation, nor man distrust man. But now distrust is a necessary part of the human equipment. You may trust—but not too far. You may love your neighbor—but not too much. You may do to your brother as you would have him do to you—but not all the time.
America was built on a foundation of ideals; but there is too much of the mud of personal seeking mixed with the good clay of your bricks.
You washed away with your blood one plague-spot, that of slavery; but there is another plague-spot you have got to wash away. Will you do it with the free water of good will, or will you do it again with your blood? I wait to see.
Do not say that the world’s troubles are over, because America has come into the war. The world’s troubles are not over. When the war is over—the greater war—make clean your house, O America!
There is no other civilized country where the premiums upon dishonesty are so high.
Can you buy a pound of butter and be certain that you get sixteen full ounces? Can you buy a pound of meat and be sure that the scales are true?
A new race is being born. Begin with those children, and teach them honesty before you teach them geography—honesty with the parents, honesty with each other, honesty with themselves. “As the twig is bent the tree inclines.”
When I was a little boy I was taught that George Washington could not tell a lie. I had an ideal of George Washington. I wanted to emulate him. And so when I was a man I sought truth. I looked for it on the surface of the ground, and also in deep wells. Once I spent years in the wilderness trying to find truth in myself. I remained in the wilderness until I found it. Had I not found it, I should have left my bones there.
You need a new set of copy-book maxims. If the boy who writes “Honesty is the best policy” at school in the morning, sees in the afternoon his father trying to trade a balky horse for a good roadster, he wonders if his teacher is fooling him. The disillusionment of children is tragic with menace for the coming State. I would rather see reproach in the eyes of an Adept Teacher than in the eyes of a child. If I fail my Teacher I do not hurt him seriously, if I fail my child I hurt him irreparably.
You must face the fact that the life of America is going to be reorganized.
You have wondered why I have not written of late. I have been busy, studying America. I have seen much that I can tell you, and much that I cannot tell you—yet. For I want you to be quiet. You could not be quiet if you knew as much as I know.
It has been said that necessity knows no law. Forget it not, you war-profiteers who would corner the world’s necessities. Remember that a cornered animal is dangerous, and a cornered necessity has hoofs and horns.
There is a disease that has no name among the doctors—the disease of colossal possessions. Its symptoms are a voracious appetite for more possessions, and a phobia lest possessions should be lost. It is worse than neuralgia and indigestion combined to disturb the rest of the victim.
I long to see a hundred million and more people living in peace and plenty in America.
Fanatics prattle about the confiscation of great fortunes. I do not care so much what you do with your fortunes. But I care much what you do with your land and your food, and I care more what you do with your men and women and little children.
Do not get into a panic, I pray you. A panic is worse than a quicksand to get into. Keep calm. The country is in no danger, if it does not lose its head.