Curious Republic of Gondour | Page 2

he owned no property. Therefore, learning being more prevalent
and more easily acquired than riches, educated men became a
wholesome check upon wealthy men, since they could outvote them.
Learning goes usually with uprightness, broad views, and humanity; so
the learned voters, possessing the balance of power, became the
vigilant and efficient protectors of the great lower rank of society.
And now a curious thing developed itself--a sort of emulation, whose
object was voting power! Whereas formerly a man was honored only
according to the amount of money he possessed, his grandeur was
measured now by the number of votes he wielded. A man with only
one vote was conspicuously respectful to his neighbor who possessed
three. And if he was a man above the common-place, he was as
conspicuously energetic in his determination to acquire three for
himself. This spirit of emulation invaded all ranks. Votes based upon
capital were commonly called "mortal" votes, because they could be
lost; those based upon learning were called "immortal," because they
were permanent, and because of their customarily imperishable
character they were naturally more valued than the other sort. I say
"customarily" for the reason that these votes were not absolutely
imperishable, since insanity could suspend them.
Under this system, gambling and speculation almost ceased in the
republic. A man honoured as the possessor of great voting power could

not afford to risk the loss of it upon a doubtful chance.
It was curious to observe the manners and customs which the
enlargement plan produced. Walking the street with a friend one day he
delivered a careless bow to a passer-by, and then remarked that that
person possessed only one vote and would probably never earn another;
he was more respectful to the next acquaintance he met; he explained
that this salute was a four-vote bow. I tried to "average" the importance
of the people he accosted after that, by the-nature of his bows, but my
success was only partial, because of the somewhat greater homage paid
to the immortals than to the mortals. My friend explained. He said there
was no law to regulate this thing, except that most powerful of all laws,
custom. Custom had created these varying bows, and in time they had
become easy and natural. At this moment he delivered himself of a very
profound salute, and then said, "Now there's a man who began life as a
shoemaker's apprentice, and without education; now he swings
twenty-two mortal votes and two immortal ones; he expects to pass a
high-school examination this year and climb a couple of votes higher
among the immortals; mighty valuable citizen."
By and by my friend met a venerable personage, and not only made
him a most elaborate bow, but also took off his hat. I took off mine, too,
with a mysterious awe. I was beginning to be infected.
"What grandee is that?"
"That is our most illustrious astronomer. He hasn't any money, but is
fearfully learned. Nine immortals is his political weight! He would
swing a hundred and fifty votes if our system were perfect."
"Is there any altitude of mere moneyed grandeur that you take off your
hat to?"
"No. Nine immortal votes is the only power we uncover for that is, in
civil life. Very great officials receive that mark of homage, of course."
It was common to hear people admiringly mention men who had begun
life on the lower levels and in time achieved great voting-power. It was

also common to hear youths planning a future of ever so many votes
for themselves. I heard shrewd mammas speak of certain young men as
good "catches" because they possessed such-and-such a number of
votes. I knew of more than one case where an heiress was married to a
youngster who had but one vote; the argument being that he was gifted
with such excellent parts that in time he would acquire a good voting
strength, and perhaps in the long run be able to outvote his wife, if he
had luck.
Competitive examinations were the rule and in all official grades. I
remarked that the questions asked the candidates were wild, intricate,
and often required a sort of knowledge not needed in the office sought.
"Can a fool or an ignoramus answer them?" asked the person I was
talking with.
"Certainly not."
"Well, you will not find any fools or ignoramuses among our officials."
I felt rather cornered, but made shift to say:
"But these questions cover a good deal more ground than is necessary."
"No matter; if candidates can answer these it is tolerably fair evidence
that they can answer nearly any other question you choose to ask
them."
There were some things in Gondour which one could not shut his eyes
to. One was, that ignorance and incompetence had