not so much to be alone as to be with those who appeal to us
particularly and to whom we particularly appeal; we want to form
households and societies with them, to give our individualities play
in intercourse with them, and in the appointments and furnishings
of that intercourse. We want gardens and enclosures and exclusive
freedoms for our like and our choice, just as spacious as we can get
them--and it is only the multitudinous uncongenial, anxious also for
similar developments in some opposite direction, that checks this
expansive movement of personal selection and necessitates a
compromise on privacy.

Glancing back from our Utopian mountain side down which this
discourse marches, to the confusions of old earth, we may remark
that the need and desire for privacies there is exceptionally great
at the present time, that it was less in the past, that in the
future it may be less again, and that under the Utopian conditions
to which we shall come when presently we strike yonder road, it may
be reduced to quite manageable dimensions. But this is to be
effected not by the suppression of individualities to some common
pattern, [Footnote: More's Utopia. "Whoso will may go in, for there
is nothing within the houses that is private or anie man's owne."]
but by the broadening of public charity and the general amelioration
of mind and manners. It is not by assimilation, that is to say, but
by understanding that the modern Utopia achieves itself. The ideal
community of man's past was one with a common belief, with common
customs and common ceremonies, common manners and common formulae;
men of the same society dressed in the same fashion, each according
to his defined and understood grade, behaved in the same fashion,
loved, worshipped, and died in the same fashion. They did or felt
little that did not find a sympathetic publicity. The natural