observation, unsympathetic always and often hostile. To live without
some sort of segregation from the general mass is impossible in
exact proportion to one's individual distinction.

Of course things will be very different in Utopia. Utopia will
be saturated with consideration. To us, clad as we are in
mountain-soiled tweeds and with no money but British bank-notes
negotiable only at a practically infinite distance, this must needs
be a reassuring induction. And Utopian manners will not only be
tolerant, but almost universally tolerable. Endless things will be
understood perfectly and universally that on earth are understood
only by a scattered few; baseness of bearing, grossness of manner,
will be the distinctive mark of no section of the community
whatever. The coarser reasons for privacy, therefore, will not exist
here. And that savage sort of shyness, too, that makes so many
half-educated people on earth recluse and defensive, that too the
Utopians will have escaped by their more liberal breeding. In the
cultivated State we are assuming it will be ever so much easier for
people to eat in public, rest and amuse themselves in public, and
even work in public. Our present need for privacy in many things
marks, indeed, a phase of transition from an ease in public in the
past due to homogeneity, to an ease in public in the future due to
intelligence and good breeding, and in Utopia that transition will
be complete. We must bear that in mind throughout the consideration
of this question.

Yet, after this allowance has been made, there still remains a
considerable claim for privacy in Utopia. The room, or apartments,
or home, or mansion, whatever it may be a man or woman maintains,
must be private, and under his or her complete dominion; it seems