The Myopians’ Muddle

Victor Grayson, 1909

In the land of Coma¹ dwelt the Myopians²—a strange people. Able and industrious were they, and the earth did yield abundance to their labours.

The sun sent forth his genial rays to arm and gladden the earth, and grateful showers did gratify its thirst. Thews and sinewa³ of iron had the Myopians, and no task was too onerous for their enterprise. Yet were they not happy, for their vision was clouded. A few there were—yclpet⁴ Panopians—whose sights were whole. And by reason of this they directed the labour of the others.

When the harvest was reaped, they of clear vision did appropriate the major portion. For the Myopians held their seeing brethren in humble fear and reverence. There was one among them, strangely garbed, deprived of physical vision; yet could he see with his soul. Him they called the Fakir. But, being a defective offshoot of the Panopians, he lived after their fashion and slept in their halls. When discontentment moved the Myopians to sighings and complainings, when they did whine of hard labour and small fare, he did endeavour to assuage their grief with hopeful prophecies. He told them of a happy land far, far away, where everyone would see; and those who saw least in Coma would see most in Utopia. He urged that the sight of the soul was better than the sight of the eyes, and taught them by precept, if not by example that frugal fare was best for the soul’s vision.

The people heard his message with gladness, and the Panopians did pamper him in that he soothed the people. But it so happened in the inscrutable ways of Providence, and because of the considerable appetites of its favoured ones, that there came a great drought.

And the Myopians began to murmur moodily. They said there was plenty to eat, as they had produced abundance. But the Panopians and the Fakir said that was an illusion due to myopia. They were short of bread because they were short of sight, and they could not see how that could be remedied until they reached Utopia. However, the matter had been receiving their consideration, and they had decided to construct, or at least to direct the construction of, a railway that would lead them to the happy land. And the poor people worked hard with little food, heartened by the hope of better things. At last the railway was completed. The Panopians charged them a goodly price for the journey; and one of them in a blue uniform drove the train, while another in a red uniform collected the cash as conductor. With hearts full of joy and hope the Myopians embarked. They could not see where they were going, but they could feel the motion of the train, and that did them good. For many, many days they rode in the train. The air became foul and noisome. The food was stale and inadequate. But they were buoyed up with faith in the knowledge and skill of the blue Panopian who drove and the red Panopian who conducted.

At last the train pulled up, and the Myopians sent up a cheer, thinking they had arrived at their destination. But the red conductor merely shouted, “All change here!” Then they dismounted, but owing to defective vision could not recognize that they were in Coma again. They had built their railroad in a circle. Then the conductor led them round into the same train, but from another platform. Yet they recked⁵ not. The blue man went to the back of the train, and the red man to the front. And off they started again for the land of Utopia. They again rode for many dreary days. And they were cold and hungry, for they had paid their money to the Panopians for the journey. In due course, however, they stopped again. And this time the blue man shouted, “All change!” They were then led round the platform and entered the other side of the train. The blue man drove this time and the red man conducted the train. But some of the Myopians grew impatient and suspicious and some grew very angry. One said he did not think that either the driver or the conductor knew where Utopia was. And another said he thought they knew where it was, but for some reason or other did not want to go there.

In the end they sent a deputation of the Myopians to the driver to make inquiries. The driver, as was his wont, received them kindly and heard their complaints. They must not, he said, be led away by ill-disposed men of their class. They must learn to be patient. Utopia was a long way off, and the roads were very steep, and the train must of necessity move very slowly. Meanwhile, however, he was very, very sorry for them, and would be most pleased to pull up at Palliativo, where there was some fairly clean water to drink and a bit of grass to eat. He would give them some of his own stores gladly, but he needed all he had to feed the nerve necessary to his responsible position. So they returned encouraged to their unwholesome carriages.

So it fell out, however, that one of the younger Myopians suddenly recovered his full vision; and he bored a hole through the side of the carriage and watched the track. To his surprise and disgust he soon discovered that the train was travelling in a circle. Twice they passed through the land of Coma before he opened his mouth to inform his brethren. But, behold! When he told them, they called him “liar” and “malcontent” and “dreamer.” And it came to the ears of the driver and guard that the young Myopian had recovered his sight and was spreading malicious rumours. So the Fakir was sent again to soothe the pilgrims, who were beginning to believe that there was something in what the young man said. The Fakir was replete with righteous indignation. He assured them that progress was being made, though very slowly. They had set out for Utopia. What was it and where was it? Utopia, he said, with touching solemnity, is not a place: it is a state of mind. If only they would see that truth, they would not care if they never reached Utopia at all. Life consisted in striving. Man never is, but always to be, blessed.

And the young man, being refined and courteous, was overheard to murmur, “Rodents!” And the Fakir, having taken a little collection for his stomach’s sake, blessed them and departed.

The young man, however, persisted in his statement that the train was travelling in a circle. And he converted some. These went to the driver again, and he promised them that he would inquire into the matter. Day followed day, and they still went round and round. The young man grew impatient and angry. He even went the length of applying the brake and refusing to release his hold. And the Myopians had a meeting and dissociated themselves from his action. The proper way to solve the difficulty was to use moral suasion on the driver and conductor. They admitted they were going in a circle, but they contended it was better to travel in a circle than not to travel at all.

The young man was seized by the driver and dropped off the train amidst the applause of the Myopians. They were last seen in a compromising position approaching the brake.