Visit https://ebookultra.

com to download the full version and

browse more ebooks or textbooks

Principles of Map Design 1st Edition Judith A.

Tyner

_____ Press the link below to begin your download _____

https://ebookultra.com/download/principles-of-map-
design-1st-edition-judith-a-tyner/

Access ebookultra.com now to download high-quality

ebooks or textbooks
Here are some recommended products for you. Click the link to
download, or explore more at ebookultra.com

GIS Cartography A Guide to Effective Map Design 2nd

Edition Gretchen N. Peterson

https://ebookultra.com/download/gis-cartography-a-guide-to-effective-
map-design-2nd-edition-gretchen-n-peterson/

The Principles of Beautiful Web Design 1st Edition Jason

Beaird

https://ebookultra.com/download/the-principles-of-beautiful-web-
design-1st-edition-jason-beaird/

Illustrated surgery a road map 1st Edition Nilay Mandal

https://ebookultra.com/download/illustrated-surgery-a-road-map-1st-
edition-nilay-mandal/

Care of the imminently dying 1st Edition Judith A. Paice

https://ebookultra.com/download/care-of-the-imminently-dying-1st-
edition-judith-a-paice/
The Principles of Beautiful Web Design 4th Edition J.
Beaird

https://ebookultra.com/download/the-principles-of-beautiful-web-
design-4th-edition-j-beaird/

The Principles of Beautiful Web Design 2nd Edition Jason

Beaird

https://ebookultra.com/download/the-principles-of-beautiful-web-
design-2nd-edition-jason-beaird/

The Principles and Processes of Interactive Design 2nd

Edition Jamie Steane

https://ebookultra.com/download/the-principles-and-processes-of-
interactive-design-2nd-edition-jamie-steane/

A Brief History of India 2nd Edition Judith E. Walsh

https://ebookultra.com/download/a-brief-history-of-india-2nd-edition-
judith-e-walsh/

Map Use Reading Analysis Interpretation 8th Edition A. Jon

Kimerling

https://ebookultra.com/download/map-use-reading-analysis-
interpretation-8th-edition-a-jon-kimerling/
Principles of Map Design 1st Edition Judith A. Tyner
Digital Instant Download
Author(s): Judith A. Tyner
ISBN(s): 9781606235447, 1606235443
Edition: 1
File Details: PDF, 16.37 MB
Year: 2010
Language: english
Principles of Map Design
 Principles of
Map Design

Judith A. Tyner

THE GUILFORD PRESS

New York London
© 2010 The Guilford Press
A Division of Guilford Publications, Inc.
72 Spring Street, New York, NY 10012
www.guilford.com

All rights reserved

No part of this book may be reproduced, translated, stored in a

retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means,
electronic, mechanical, photocopying, microfilming, recording, or
otherwise, without written permission from the Publisher.

Printed in the United States of America

This book is printed on acid-free paper.

Last digit is print number: 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Tyner, Judith A.
Principles of map design / Judith A. Tyner.
    p. cm.
   Includes bibliographical references and index.
ISBN 978-1-60623-544-7 (hardcover)
1. Cartography. 2. Thematic maps. I. Title.
GA105.3.T97 2010
526—dc22

2009049691

Maps and Graphics by Gerald E. Tyner, PhD

GIS Consultant James A. Woods, MA
 To my mentors
Richard Dahlberg
Gerard Foster
Norman J. W. Thrower
Preface

A map says to you, “Read me carefully, follow me closely, doubt

me not.” It says, “I am the earth in the palm of your hand.
Without me, you are alone and lost.”
—B eryl Markham, West with the
Night, 1942

An earlier version of this book was published in 1992. In the years between its writ-
ing and the present version, changes in mapmaking have been enormous. We have
moved in the last 20 years from pen-and-ink drafting to computerized mapping.
Mapmaking is in the midst of a revolution that had its beginnings over 50 years ago.
This revolution is based on changes in technology, in kinds of data, and in social
influences. Data that would not have been available in 1950, such as satellite imagery,
are now routinely available to anyone with Internet access. The Internet itself is a
product of only the last 20 years. Mapmakers have become more aware of the impact
of their products on society and have an increased concern with ethics and privacy.
Technological advances including satellites and computers have had a major impact
on the field. The impact of research on how maps work, how readers perceive maps
and symbols, and visualization has changed our thinking about maps. Rapid changes
in software and hardware continue unabated. A sophisticated cartography lab hardly
more than 15 years ago would have had perhaps 10 desktop computers with “line”
printers, digitizers, and perhaps a plotter; this seems primitive today. GIS exploded
onto the scene in the 1990s (although its antecedents go back to the 1930s). It seems,
in fact, that the only constant in the field is change.
However, if one looks beyond the technology, there are principles that remain
sound regardless of production methods. These principles are the basis of “good”
maps whether produced with pen and ink or the most recent GIS package, whether
printed or viewed online.

vii
viii   Preface

It is important to remember also that creating maps goes beyond the look of the
page. Maps have an impact on society; they are used in decision making at many
levels, from a simple “How do I get there?” to “Where should the money be allo-
cated?” The mapmaker must take into account the purpose of the map, the intended
audience, and where and how the map might be used. The mapmaker must never lose
sight of the power that maps have.
This book is divided into five parts. Part I is titled Map Design. This may seem
contrary to common sense. After all, one must gather data, then select a scale, a pro-
jection, and symbols; shouldn’t all this come before design? Map design is actually
a twofold process. This book focuses on “design” in the broad sense of planning the
map, not merely on layout and how to make the map “pretty.” Design is a decision-
making process and, for maps, includes choosing data, choosing projection, choosing
scale, establishing a hierarchy, choosing symbols, choosing colors, and choosing type
in order to make an effective map for a given purpose. Thus, design is the heart of
mapmaking. Part II focuses on the geographic and cartographic framework. This
includes compilation, generalization, projections, and scale. Part III involves sym-
bolization and how to represent various kinds of data. Symbols are often called the
“language of maps” and while this isn’t strictly true, choice of symbol is critical in the
effectiveness of a map. Part IV concentrates on what might be considered nontradi-
tional mapping and more advanced visualization techniques. Here, design principles
for web mapping, animated maps, cartograms, interactive maps, and maps for the
visually impaired are discussed. Part V, Critique of Maps, is a series of map “make-
overs,” evaluating and improving maps.
A list of suggested readings is included at the end of each chapter for the reader
who would like more information on the material in that chapter, and a complete
bibliography that includes the readings plus other sources used in creating the book
is provided at the end of the book.
Three appendices are included: a table of common projections, a list of resources,
and a glossary of terms. URLs are listed under “Resources” in Appendix B. Those
included are primarily government sites such as the U.S. Geological Survey (USGS),
the Census Bureau, and cartographic organizations. Few individual websites are
included, since they are subject to rapid change and often disappear.
This book does not focus on any specific software, but on principles of making
maps. It is not a “how-to” book. Numerous manuals are available for use with dif-
ferent software packages; some of these are listed in the bibliography. The industry-
standard software at the time of this book’s writing could well be out of date by the
time of publication. The principles are those that are generally accepted.
It is the task and objective of a textbook author to translate and summarize cur-
rent thinking and practices in the discipline. Any textbook is somewhat idiosyncratic
and reflects the thinking of the author or authors. It reflects what the author believes
is important in the discipline. This book is no exception. I have drawn on many
sources, including conversations and input from other mapmakers, and I have tried to
present the most accepted principles at the time of writing, but this book is essentially
my view of cartography, and any errors that may have insinuated themselves into the
text are mine.
 Preface   ix

Acknowledgments

No book of this nature is a solo production, and I would like to thank those who
helped me along the way. First I would like to thank my three mentors, without
whom my career and ultimately this book would not have been possible: Richard
Dahlberg, who introduced me to cartography, took the time to answer many “off-
the-wall” questions from an eager undergraduate, and encouraged my research inter-
ests; Gerard Foster, from whom I learned about teaching cartography; and, finally,
Norman J. W. Thrower, my mentor and friend for more years than either of us want
to count.
Next are my colleagues at CSU Long Beach—Christopher Lee, Suzanne Wechsler,
and Christine Rodrigue, who dug up maps and references and acted as sounding
boards; Greg Armento, the Geography and Map Librarian, who let me stash a shelf of
cartography journals at home while the library was being remodeled; Mike McDan-
iel, who read an early draft of the manuscript and made helpful comments—and
Nancy Yoho, former student and vice president of Thomas Brothers/Rand McNally,
who has been helpful for many years and arranged for tours of the company for my
classes, where I always learned as much or more than the students.
The book could not have been completed without Gerald E. Tyner, who took
my ideas and sketches and turned them into readable maps and diagrams, and James
“Woody” Woods, who fielded arcane GIS problems.
Of course, I thank my family for their assistance and patience in listening to me
as I talked out chapters: my son James A. Tyner, of the Geography Department at
Kent State University, who was always ready to discuss writing and geography; my
son David A. Tyner, a graphic designer, with whom I discussed (and argued) design
issues; and my husband, Gerald, who in addition to creating the maps and reading
drafts, has supported my research and writing for these many years. Rocky, Punkin,
Max, and Bandit—without your “help” the book would have been finished sooner.
Kristal Hawkins and William Meyer of The Guilford Press deserve special
thanks for having faith in this book and patiently seeing it through the long process
to publication.
Finally, I thank the 1,500 undergraduate and graduate cartography students I have
taught through the years. I learned from your mistakes—you taught the teacher.
Contents

Part I. Map Design

Chapter 1 Introduction 3
Chapter 2 Planning and Composition 18
Chapter 3 Text Material and Typography 43
Chapter 4 Color in Cartographic Design 57

Part II. The Geographic and Cartographic Framework

Chapter 5 Scale, Compilation, and Generalization 73
Chapter 6 The Earth’s Graticule and Projections 91

Part III. Symbolization

Chapter 7 Basics of Symbolization 131
Chapter 8 Symbolizing Geographic Data 146
Chapter 9 Multivariate Mapping 178

xi
xii   Contents

Part IV. Nontraditional Mapping

Chapter 10 Cartograms and Diagrams 189
Chapter 11 Continuity and Change in the Computer Era 200

Part V. Critique of Maps

Chapter 12 Putting It All Together 213

Appendices
Appendix A. Commonly Used Projections 225
Appendix B. Resources 229
Appendix C. Glossary 233

Bibliography 245
Index 251
About the Author 259
PART I

MAP DESIGN
Exploring the Variety of Random
Documents with Different Content
lot of trees all standin' around, there's a very curious sight to see
this minute; and if you'll get up and go along o' me, Suffragan, you'll
be pleased—you will, indeed—astonished and pleased you will be."
I obeyed. I arose and followed this zealous servant. He led me to a
part of the Garden which I did not know; it was the place of which I
have spoken. Here, amid a great thick growth of underwood, he
took me into the ruins of an old garden or tool-house, built of wood,
but the planks were decaying and were starting apart.
"Stand there, and look and listen," whispered John Lax, grinning.
The open planks commanded a view of a semicircular lawn, where
the neglected grass had grown thick and rank. Almost under my
eyes there was sitting upon a fallen trunk a woman, fantastically
dressed—against the Rules—and at her feet lay none other than the
Arch Physician himself! Then, indeed, I pricked up my ears and
listened with all my might.
"Are we dreaming, Mildred?" he murmured. "Are we dreaming?"
"No, Harry; we have all been dreaming for a long, long time—never
mind how long. Just now we are not dreaming, we are truly awake.
You are my old playfellow, and I am your old sweetheart," she said,
with a little blush. "Tell me what you are doing—always in your
laboratory. I suppose, always finding some new secrets. Does it
make you any happier, Harry, to be always finding something new?"
"It is the only thing that makes life endurable—to discover the
secrets of Nature. For what other purpose do we live?"
"Then, Harry, for what purpose do the rest of us live, who do not
investigate those secrets? Can women be happy in no other way?
We do not prosecute any kind of research, you know."
"Happy? Are we in the Present or the Past, Mildred?"
He looked about him, as if expecting to see the figures of the
Pictures in the Gallery walking about upon the grass.
"Just now, Harry, we are in the Past. We are back—we two together
—in the glorious and beautiful Past, where everything was delightful.
Outside this place there is the horrible Present. You have made the
Present for us, and therefore you ought to know what it is. Let me
look at you, Harry. Why, the old look is coming back to your eyes.
Take off that black gown, Harry, and throw it away, while you are
with me. So. You are now my old friend again, and we can talk. You
are no longer the President of the Holy College, the terrible and
venerable Arch Physician, the Guardian of the House of Life. You are
plain Harry Linister again. Tell me, then, Harry, are you happy in this
beautiful Present that you have made?"
"No, Mildred; I am never happy."
"Then why not unmake the Present? Why not return to the Past?"
"It is impossible. We might go back to the Past for a little; but it
would become intolerable again, as it did before. Formerly there was
no time for any of the fleeting things of life to lose their rapture. All
things were enjoyed for a moment, and then vanished. Now"—he
sighed wearily—"they last—they last. So that there is nothing left for
us but the finding of new secrets. And for you, Mildred?"
"I have been in a dream," she replied. "Oh, a long, long nightmare,
that has never left me, day or night. I don't know how long it has
lasted. But it has lifted at last, thank God!"
The Arch Physician started and looked astonished.
"It seems a long time," he said, "since I heard those words. I
thought we had forgotten—"
"It was a dream of no change, day after day. Nothing happened. In
the morning we worked; in the afternoon we rested; in the evening
we took food; at night we slept. And the mind was dead. There were
no books to read; there was nothing to talk about; there was
nothing to hope. Always the same work—a piece of work that
nobody cared to do—a mechanical piece of work. Always the same
dress—the same hideous, horrible dress. We were all alike; there
was nothing at all to distinguish us. The Past seemed forgotten."
"Nothing can be ever forgotten," said Dr. Linister; "but it may be put
away for a time."
"Oh, when I think of all that we had forgotten, it seems terrible! Yet
we lived—how could we live?—it was not life. No thought, no care,
about anything. Every one centred in himself, careless of his
neighbor. Why, I did not know so much as the occupants of the
rooms next to my own. Men looked on women, and women on men,
without thought or emotion. Love was dead—Life was Death? Harry,
it was a most dreadful dream. And in the night there used to come a
terrible nightmare of nothingness! It was as if I floated alone in
ether, far from the world or life, and could find nothing—nothing—for
the mind to grasp or think of. And I woke at the point of madness. A
dreadful dream! And yet we lived. Rather than go back to that most
terrible dream, I would—I would—"
She clasped her forehead with her hand and looked about her with
haggard eyes.
"Yes, yes," said Dr. Linister; "I ought to have guessed your sufferings
—by my own. Yet I have had my laboratory."
"Then I was shaken out of the dream by a girl—by Christine. And
now we are resolved—some of us—at all costs and hazards—yes,
even if we are debarred from the Great Discovery—to—live—again—
to live—again!" she repeated, slowly. "Do you know, Harry, what that
means? To go back—to live again! Only think what that means."
He was silent.
"Have you forgotten, Harry," she asked, softly, "what that means?"
"No," he said. "I remember everything; but I am trying to
understand. The accursed Present is around and above me, like a
horrible black Fog. How can we lift it? How can we live again?"
"Some of us have found out a way. In the morning we put on the
odious uniform, and do our allotted task among the poor wretches
who are still in that bad dream of never-ending monotony. We sit
among them, silent ourselves, trying to disguise the new light that
has come back to our eyes, in the Public Hall. In the evening we
come here, put on the old dresses, and live the old life."
"It is wonderful," he said. "I knew all along that human nature would
one day assert itself again. I told Grout so. He has always been quite
wrong!"
"Grout! What does Grout know of civilized life? Grout! Why, he was
your own bottle-washer—a common servant. He thought it was
justice to reduce everybody to his own level, and happiness for them
to remain there! Grout! Why, he has only one idea—to make us
mere machines. Oh, Harry!" she said, reproach in her eyes, "you are
Arch Physician, and you cannot alter things!"
"No; I have the majority of the College against me."
"Am I looking well, Harry, after all these years?"
She suddenly changed her voice and manner and laughed, and
turned her face to meet his. Witch! Abominable Witch!
"Well, Mildred, was it yesterday that I loved you? Was the Great
Discovery made only yesterday? Oh, you look lovelier than ever!"
"Lovely means worthy of love, Harry. But you have killed love."
"No, no. Love died. We did not kill love. Why did the men cease to
love the women? Was it that they saw them every day, and so grew
tired of them?"
"Perhaps it was because you took from us the things that might have
kept love alive; music, art, literature, grace, culture, society—
everything."
"We did not take them. They died."
"And then you dressed us all alike, in the most hideous costume ever
invented."
"It was Grout's dress."
"What is the good of being Arch Physician if one cannot have his
own way?"
Harry sighed.
"My place is in the laboratory," he said. "I experiment, and I
discover. The Suffragan administers. It has always been the rule. Yet
you live again, Mildred. Tell me more. I do not understand how you
contrive to live again."
"We have a little company of twenty or thirty, who meet together in
the evening after the dinner is over. No one else ever comes to the
Museum. As soon as it is dark, you know very well, the People all
creep home and go to bed; but my friends come here. It was
Christine who began it. She found or made the dresses for us; she
beguiled us into forgetting the Present and going back to the Past.
Now we have succeeded in caring nothing at all about the Present.
We began by pretending. It is no longer pretence. The Past lives
again, and we hate the Present. Oh, we hate and loathe it!"
"Yes, yes. But how do you revive the Past?"
"We have dances. You used to dance very well formerly, my dear
Harry. That was before you walked every day in a grand Procession,
and took the highest place in the Public Hall. I wonder if you could
dance again? Nature's secrets are not so heavy that they would clog
your feet, are they? We sing and play: the old music has been
found, and we are beginning to play it properly again. We talk; we
act little drawing-room plays; sometimes we draw or paint; and—oh,
Harry!—the men have begun again to make Love—real, ardent Love!
All the dear old passions are reviving. We are always finding other
poor creatures like ourselves, who were once ladies and gentlemen,
and now are aimless and soulless; and we recruit them."
"What will Grout say when he finds it out?"
"He can never make us go back to the Present again. So far, I defy
Grout, Harry."
The Arch Physician sighed.
"The old life!" he said; "the old life! I will confess, Mildred, that I
have never forgotten it—not for a day; and I have never ceased to
regret that it was not continued."
"Grout pulled it to pieces; but we will revive it."
"If it could be revived; but that is impossible."
"Nothing is impossible to you—nothing—to you. Consider, Harry,"
she whispered. "You have the Secret."
He started and changed color.
"Yes, yes," he said; "but what then?"
"Come and see the old life revived. Come this evening; come, dear
Harry." She laid a hand upon his arm. "Come, for auld lang syne.
Can the old emotions revive again, even in the breast of the Arch
Physician?"
His eyes met hers. He trembled—a sure sign that the old spirit was
reviving in him. Then he spoke in a kind of murmur:
"I have been living alone so long—so long—that I thought there was
nothing left but solitude forever. Grout likes it. He will have it that
loneliness belongs to the Higher Life."
"Come to us," she replied, her hand still on his arm, her eyes turned
so as to look into his. Ah, shameless Witch! "We are not lonely; we
talk; we exchange looks and smiles. We have begun again to
practise the old arts; we have begun to read in each other's souls.
Old thoughts that we had long forgotten are pouring back into our
minds; it is strange to find them there again. Come, Harry; forget
the laboratory for a while, and come with us; but come without
Grout. The mere aspect of Grout would cause all our innocent joys
to take flight and vanish. Come! Be no more the Sacred Head of the
Holy College, but my dear old friend and companion, Harry Linister,
who might have been but for the Great Discovery—but that is
foolish. Come, Harry; come this evening."
 CHAPTER VIII.
THE ARCH TRAITOR.

I dismissed John Lax, charging him with the most profound secrecy.
I knew, and had known for a long time, that this man, formerly the
avowed enemy of aristocrats, nourished an extraordinary hatred for
the Arch Physician, and therefore I was certain that he would keep
silence.
I resolved that I would myself keep a watch, and, if possible, be
present at the meeting of this evening. What would happen I knew
not, nor could I tell what to do; there are no laws in our community
to prevent such meetings. If the Arch Physician chooses to attend
such a play-acting, how is he to be prevented? But I would myself
watch. You shall hear how I was rewarded.
Dr. Linister was, as usual, melancholy and preoccupied at Supper. He
said nothing of what he intended. As for me, I looked about the Hall
to see if there were any whom I could detect, from any unnatural
restlessness, as members of this dangerous company; but I could
see none, except the girl Christine, whose vivacity might be allowed
on the score of youth. The face of John Lax, it is true, as he sat at
the lowest place of our table, betokened an ill-suppressed joy and an
eagerness quite interesting to one who understood the meaning of
these emotions. Poor John Lax! Never again shall we find one like
unto him for zeal and strength and courage.
I waited until half-past nine o'clock; then I sallied forth.
It was a dark night and still. There was no moon; the sky was
cloudy; no wind was in the air, and from time to time there were low
rumblings of distant thunder.
I made my way cautiously and noiselessly through the dark Garden
to the entrance of the Picture Gallery, which the faithful John Lax
had left open for me. I ventured, with every precaution, into the
Gallery. It seemed quite empty, but at the end there was a door
opening into the Museum, which poured a narrow stream of light
straight down the middle of the Gallery. I crept along the dark wall,
and presently found myself at the end close to this door. And here I
came upon the group of statuary of which John Lax had told me
where I could crouch and hide in perfect safety, unseen myself, yet
able to see everything that went on within.
I confess that even the revelations of John Lax had not prepared me
for the scene which met my eyes. There were thirty or forty men
and women present; the room was lit up; there were flowers in
vases set about; there was a musical instrument, at which one sat
down and sang. When she had finished, everybody began to laugh
and talk. Then another sat down and began to play, and then they
went out upon the floor two by two, in pairs, and began to twirl
round like teetotums. As for their dresses, I never saw the like; for
the women were dressed in frocks of silk—white, pink, cream-
colored, trimmed with lace; with jewels on their arms and necks,
and long white gloves, and flowers in their hair. In their hands they
carried fans, and their dresses were low, exposing their necks, and
so much of their arms as was not covered up with gloves. And they
looked excited and eager. The expression which I had striven so long
to impart to their faces, that of tranquillity, was gone. The old
unhappy eagerness, with flashing eyes, flushed cheeks, and panting
breath, was come back to them again. Heavens! what could be
done? As for the men, they wore a black-cloth dress—all alike—why,
then, did they dislike the regulation blue flannel?—with a large white
shirt-front and white ties and white gloves. And they, too, were full
of the restless eagerness and excitement. So different were they all
from the men and women whom I had observed day after day in the
Public Hall, that I could remember not one except the girl Christine,
and—and—yes, among them there was none other than the Arch
Physician himself, laughing, talking, dancing among the rest.
I could see perfectly well through the open door, and I was quite
certain that no one could see me; but I crouched lower behind the
marble group when they began to come out two by two, and to talk
together in the dark Gallery.
First came the girl Christine and the sailor, Jack Carera. Him at all
events I remembered. They took each other's hands and began to
kiss each other, and to talk the greatest nonsense imaginable. No
one would ever believe that sane people could possibly talk such
nonsense. Then they went back and another pair came out, and
went on in the same ridiculous fashion. One has been to a Theatre
in the old time and heard a couple of lovers talking nonsense on the
stage; but never on any stage did I ever hear such false,
extravagant, absurd stuff talked as I did when I lay hidden behind
that group in marble.
Presently I listened with interest renewed, because the pair which
came into the Gallery was none other than the pair I had that
morning watched in the Garden—the Arch Physician and the woman
he called Mildred, though now I should hardly have known her,
because she was so dressed up and disguised. She looked, indeed, a
very splendid creature; not in the least like a plain woman. And this,
I take it, was what these would-be great ladies desired—not to be
taken as plain women. Yet they were, in spite of their fine clothes,
plain and simple women just as much as any wench of Whitechapel
in the old time.
"Harry," she said, "I thank you from my very heart for coming. Now
we shall have hope."
"What hope?" he replied, "what hope? What can I do for you while
the majority of the College continue to side with Grout? What hope
can I bring you?"
"Never mind the Majority. Consider, Harry. You have the Great
Secret. Let us all go away together and found a new colony, where
we will have no Grout; and we will live our own lives. Do you love
me, Harry?"
"Love you, Mildred? Oh"—he sighed deeply—"it is a stream that has
been dammed up all these years!"
"What keeps us here?" asked the girl. "It is that in your hands lies
the Great Secret. Our people would be afraid to go without it. If we
have it, Jack will take us to some island that he knows of across the
seas. But we cannot go without the Secret. You shall bring it with
you."
"When could we go?" he asked, whispering.
"We could go at any time—in a day—in a week—when you please.
Oh, Harry, will you indeed rescue us? Will you come with us? Some
of us are resolved to go—Secret or not. I am one of those. Will you
let me go—alone?"
"Is it impossible," he said, "that you should go without the Secret?"
"Yes," she said; "the people would be afraid. But oh, to think of a
new life, where we shall no longer be all the same, but different!
Every one shall have his own possessions again—whatever he can
win; every one his own profession; the women shall dress as they
please; we shall have Art—and Music—and Poetry again. And—oh,
Harry!"—she leaned her head upon his shoulder—"we shall have
Love again. Oh, to think of it! Oh, to think of it! Love once more!
And with Love, think of all the other things that will come back. They
must come back, Harry—the old Faith which formerly made us happy
—" Her voice choked, and she burst into tears.
I crouched behind the statues, listening. What did she cry about?
The old Faith? She could have that if she wanted, I suppose, without
crying over it. No law whatever against it.
Dr. Linister said nothing, but I saw that he was shaking—actually
shaking—and trembling all over. A most remarkable person! Who
would have believed that weakness so lamentable could lie behind
so much science?
"I yield," he said—"I yield, Mildred. The Present is so horrible that it
absolves me even from the most solemn oath. Love has been killed
—we will revive it again. All the sweet and precious things that made
life happy have been killed; Art and Learning and Music, all have
been killed—we will revive them. Yes, I will go with you, my dear;
and—since you cannot go without—I will bring the Secret with me."
"Oh, Harry! Harry!" She flung herself into his arms. "You have made
me more happy than words can tell. Oh, you are mine—you are
mine, and I am yours!"
"As for the Secret," he went on, "it belongs, if it is to be used at all,
to all mankind. Why did the College of Physicians guard it in their
own jealous keeping, save to make themselves into a mysterious
and separate Caste? Must men always appoint sacred guardians of
so-called mysteries which belong to all? My dear, since the Great
Discovery, Man has been sinking lower and lower. He can go very
little lower now. You have been rescued from the appalling fate
which Grout calls the Triumph of Science. Yes—yes—" he repeated,
as if uncertain, "the Secret belongs to all or none. Let all have it and
work out their destiny in freedom, or let none have it, and so let us
go back to the old times, when such great things were done against
the fearful odds of so short and uncertain a span. Which would be
the better?"
"Only come with us, my lover. Oh, can a simple woman make you
happy? Come with us; but let our friends know—else they will not
come with us—that whenever we go, we have the Secret."
"It belongs to all," he repeated. "Come with me, then, Mildred, to
the House of Life. You shall be the first to whom the Secret shall be
revealed. And you, if you please, shall tell it to all our friends. It is
the Secret, and that alone, which keeps up the Authority of the
College. Come. It is dark; but I have a key to the North Postern.
Come with me. In the beginning of this new Life which lies before
us, I will, if you wish, give the Secret to all who share it. Come, my
Love, my Bride."
He led her by the hand quickly down the Picture Gallery and out into
the Garden.
I looked round. The silly folk in the Museum were going on with their
masquerade—laughing, singing, dancing. The girl Christine ran in
and out among them with bright eyes and eager looks. And the eyes
of the sailor, Jack Carera, followed her everywhere. Oh yes. I knew
what those eyes meant—the old selfishness—the subjection of the
Woman. She was to be his Property. And yet she seemed to like it.
Forever and anon she made some excuse to pass him, and touched
his hand as she passed and smiled sweetly. I dare say that she was
a beautiful girl—but Beauty has nothing at all to do with the
Administration of the people. However, there was no time to be lost.
The Arch Physician was going to betray the Great Secret.
Happily he would have to go all the way round to the North Postern.
There was time, if I was quick, to call witnesses, and to seize him in
the very act. And then—the Penalty. Death! Death! Death!
 CHAPTER IX.
IN THE INNER HOUSE.

The House of Life, you have already learned, is a great and

venerable building. We build no such houses now. No one but those
who belong to the Holy College—viz., the Arch Physician, the
Suffragan, the Fellows or Physicians, and the Assistants—are
permitted to enter its doors or to witness the work that is carried on
within these walls. It is, however, very well understood that this
work concerns the prolongation of the Vital Forces first, the
preservation of Health next, and the enlargement of scientific truth
generally. The House is, in fact, the great laboratory in which the
Fellows conduct those researches of which it is not permitted to
speak outside. The prevention of disease, the cure of hereditary and
hitherto incurable diseases, the continual lowering of the hours of
labor, by new discoveries in Chemistry and Physics, are now the
principal objects of these researches. When, in fact, we have
discovered how to provide food chemically out of simple matter, and
thereby abolish the necessity for cultivation, no more labor will be
required, and Humanity will have taken the last and greatest step of
all—freedom from the necessity of toil. After that, there will be no
more need for labor, none for thought, none for anxiety. At stated
intervals food, chemically prepared, will be served out; between
those intervals man will lie at rest—asleep, or in the torpor of
unthinking rest. This will be, as I have said before, the Triumph of
Science.
The House, within, is as magnificent as it is without; that is to say, it
is spacious even beyond our requirements, and lofty even beyond
the wants of a laboratory. All day long the Fellows and the Assistants
work at their tables. Here is everything that Science wants—
furnaces, electric batteries, retorts, instruments of all kinds, and
collections of everything that may be wanted. Here—behind the
Inner House—is a great workshop where our glass vessels are made,
where our instruments are manufactured and repaired. The College
contains two or three hundred of Assistants working in their various
departments. These men, owing to the restlessness of their intellect,
sometimes give trouble, either because they want to learn more
than the Fellows think sufficient for them, or because they invent
something unexpected, or because they become dissatisfied with the
tranquil conditions of their life. Some of them from time to time have
gone mad. Some, who threatened more trouble, have been
painlessly extinguished.
Within the House itself is the Inner House, to enter which is
forbidden, save to the Arch Physician, the Suffragan, and the
Fellows.
This place is a kind of House within a House. Those who enter from
the South Porch see before them, more than half-way up the
immense building, steps, upon which stands a high screen of wood-
work. This screen, which is very ancient, protects the Inner House
from entrance or observation. It runs round the whole enclosure,
and is most profusely adorned with carved-work representing all
kinds of things. For my own part, I have never examined into the
work, and I hardly know what it is that is here figured. What does it
advance science to carve bunches of grapes (which everybody
understands not to be grapes) in wood? All these things in the
House of Life—the carved wood, the carved stone, the carved
marble, the lofty pillars, the painted windows—irritate and offend
me. Yet the Arch Physician, who loved to sit alone in the Inner
House, would contemplate these works of Art with a kind of rapture.
Nay, he would wellnigh weep at thinking that now there are no
longer any who can work in that useless fashion.
As for what is within the Inner House, I must needs speak with
caution. Suffice it, therefore, to say that round the sides of the
screen are ancient carved seats under carved canopies, which are
the seats of the Fellows; and that on a raised stone platform,
approached by several steps, is placed the Coffer which contains the
Secret of the Great Discovery. The Arch Physician alone had the key
of the Coffer; he and his Suffragan alone possessed the Secret; the
Fellows were only called into the Inner House when a Council was
held on some new Discovery or some new adaptation of Science to
the wants of Mankind.
Now, after overhearing the intended treason of the Arch Physician,
and witnessing his degradation and fall, I made haste to act; for I
plainly perceived that if the miraculous Prolongation of the Vital
Force should be allowed to pass out of our own hands, and to
become public property, an end would at once be put to the Order
and Discipline now so firmly established; the Authority of the College
would be trampled under foot; everybody would begin to live as they
pleased; the old social conditions might be revived; and the old
social inequalities would certainly begin again, because the strong
would trample on the weak. This was, perhaps, what Dr. Linister
designed. I remembered, now, how long it was before he could
forget the old distinctions; nay, how impossible it was for him ever to
bring himself to regard me, though his Suffragan—whom he had
formerly made his serving-man—as his equal. Thinking of that time,
and of those distinctions, strengthened my purpose. What I did and
how I prevented the treachery will approve itself to all who have the
best interests of mankind at heart.

The House of Life after nightfall is very dark; the windows are high,
for the most part narrow, and, though there are a great many of
them, most are painted, so that even on a clear and bright day there
is not more light than enough to carry on experiments, and, if I had
my way, I would clear out all the painted glass. It is, of course,
provided with the electric light; but this is seldom used except in the
short and dark days of winter, when work is carried on after
nightfall. In the evening the place is absolutely empty. John Lax, the
Porter, occupies the South Porch and keeps the keys. But there is
another and smaller door in the north transept. It leads to a Court of
Cloisters, the ancient use of which has long been forgotten, the key
of which is kept by the Arch Physician himself.
It was with this key—at this entrance—that he came into the House.
He opened the door and closed it behind him. His footstep was not
the only one; a lighter step was heard on the stones as well. In the
silence of the place and time the closing of the door rumbled in the
roof overhead like distant thunder, and the falling of the footsteps
echoed along the walls of the great building.
The two companions did not speak.
A great many years ago, in the old times, there was a Murder done
here—a foul murder by a band of soldiers, who fell upon a Bishop or
Saint or Angel—I know not whom. The memory of the Murder has
survived the name of the victim and the very religion which he
professed—it was, perhaps, that which was still maintained among
the aristocracy when I was a boy. Not only is the memory of the
murder preserved, but John Lax—who, soon after the Great
Discovery, when we took over the building from the priests of the old
religion, was appointed its Porter and heard the old stories—would
tell all those who chose to listen how the Murderers came in at that
small door and how the murder was committed on such a spot, the
stones of which are to this day red with the blood of the murdered
man. On the spot, however, stands now a great electrical battery.
The Arch Physician, now about to betray his trust, led his
companion, the woman Mildred Carera, by the hand past this place
to the steps which lead to the Inner House. They ascended those
steps. Standing there, still outside the Inner House, Dr. Linister bade
the woman turn round and look upon the Great House of Life.
The clouds had dispersed, and the moonlight was now shining
through the windows of the South, lighting up the colored glass,
painting bright pictures and patterns upon the floor, and pouring
white light through those windows, which are not painted, upon the
clustered pillars and old monuments of the place. Those who were
now gathered in the Inner House listened, holding their breath in
silence.
"Mildred," said Dr. Linister, "long, long years ago we stood together
upon this spot. It was after a Service of Praise and Prayer to the God
whom then the world worshipped. We came from town with a party
to see this Cathedral. When service was over, I scoffed at it in the
light manner of the time, which questioned everything and scoffed
at everything."
"I remember, Harry; and all through the service my mind was filled
with—you."
"I scoff no more, Mildred. We have seen to what a depth men can
sink when the Hope of the Future is taken from them. The memory
of that service comes back to me, and seems to consecrate the
place and the time. Mildred," he said, after a pause—oh, the House
was very silent—"this is a solemn and a sacred moment for us both.
Here, side by side, on the spot once sacred to the service of the God
whom we have long forgotten, let us renew the vows which were
interrupted so long ago. Mildred, with all my heart, with all my
strength, I love thee."
"Harry," she murmured, "I am thine—even to Death itself."
"Even to Death itself," he replied. "Yes, if it comes to that. If the
Great Discovery itself must be abandoned; if we find that only at
that price can we regain the things we have lost."
"It was Grout who destroyed Religion—not the Great Discovery," said
the girl.
We kept silence in the House, but we heard every word. And this
was true, and my heart glowed to think how true it was.
"Nay, not Grout, nor a thousand Grouts. Without the certainty of
parting, Religion droops and dies. There must be something not
understood, something unknown, beyond our power of discovery, or
the dependence which is the ground of religion dies away in man's
heart. He who is immortal and commands the secrets of Nature, so
that he shall neither die, nor grow old, nor become feeble, nor fall
into any disease, feels no necessity for any religion. This House,
Mildred, is the expression of religion at the time of man's greatest
dependence. To the God in whom, short-lived, ignorant, full of
disease, he trusted he built this splendid place, and put into it all the
beauty that he could command of sculpture and of form. But it
speaks no longer to the People for whom it was built. When the
Great Discovery was made, it would surely have been better to have
found out whither it was going to lead us before we consented to
receive it."
"Surely—" said Mildred, but the other interrupted her.
"We did not understand; we were blind—we were blind."
"Yet—we live."
"And you have just now told me how. Remember the things that
men said when the Discovery was made. We were to advance
continually; we were to scale heights hitherto unapproached; we
were to achieve things hitherto unknown in Art as well as in Science.
Was it for the Common Meal, the Common Dress, the Common Toil,
the vacant face, the lips that never smile, the eyes that never
brighten, the tongue that never speaks, the heart that beats only for
itself, that we gave up the things we had?"
"We did not expect such an end, Harry."
"No; we had not the wit to expect it. Come, Mildred, I will give you
the Secret, and you may give it, if you please, to all the world. Oh, I
feel as if the centuries had fallen away! I am full of hope again. I am
full of the old life once more; and, Mildred—oh, my sweet!—I am full
of Love!"
He stooped and kissed her on the lips. Then he led her into the
Inner House.
Now, just before Dr. Linister turned the key of the postern, the door
of the South Porch was softly closed, and a company of twenty men
walked lightly and noiselessly, in slippers, up the nave of the House.
Arrived at the Inner House, they ascended the steps and entered
that dark Chapel, every man making straight for his own seat and
taking it without a word or a breath. This was the College of
Physicians hastily called by me, and gathered together to witness
the Great Treachery of the Chief. They sat there silent and
breathless listening to their talk.

The Secret was kept in a cipher, intelligible only to the two who then
guarded it, in a fire-proof chest upon the stone table which was once
the altar of the old Faith.
Dr. Linister stood before the chest, his key in his hand.
"It would be better," he said, "if the new departure could be made
without the Secret. It would be far, far better if we could start again
under the old conditions; but if they are afraid to go without the
Secret, why—" He unlocked the chest. Then he paused again.
"How many years have I been the guardian of this Secret? Mildred,
when I think of the magnificent vistas which opened up before our
eyes when this Great Discovery was made; when I think of the
culture without bound or limit; the Art in which the hand was always
to grow more and more dexterous; the Science which was to
advance with gigantic strides—my child, I feel inclined to sink into
the earth with shame, only to compare that dream with the awful,
the terrible, the disgraceful reality! Let us all go away. Let us leave
this place, and let us make a new beginning, with sadder minds, yet
with this experience of the Present to guide us and to keep us from
committing worse follies. See, dear—here is the Secret. The cipher in
which it is written has a key which is in this paper. I place all in your
hands. If accident should destroy me, you have the Secret still for
yourself and friends. Use it well—use it better than we have used it.
Kiss me, Mildred. Oh, my dear!"
Then, as they lay in each other's arms, I turned on the electric light
and discovered them. The chest stood open; the papers, cipher, key
and all, were in the girl's hands; the Arch Physician was caught in
the very act of his supreme Treachery!
And lo! the Fellows of the Holy College were in the Inner House;
every man in his place, every man looking on, and every man
standing upright with eyes and gestures of scorn.
"Traitor!" they cried, one and all.
John Lax appeared at the door, halberd in hand.
 CHAPTER X.
THE COUNCIL IN THE HOUSE.

"Brothers of the Holy College!" I cried, "you have beheld the crime—
you are witnesses of the Fact—you have actually seen the Arch
Physician himself revealing the Great Secret, which none of
yourselves, even of the College, hath been permitted to learn—the
Secret confined by the Wisdom of the College to himself and to his
Suffragan."
"We are witnesses," they cried, with one consent. To my great
satisfaction, even those who were of Dr. Linister's party, and who
voted with him against the Administration and Policy of the College,
spoke, on this occasion, for the plain and undeniable truth.
"What," I asked, "is the Penalty when one of the least among us,
even an Assistant only, betrays to the People any of the secrets—
even the least secret—of the work carried on in this House?"
"It is Death," they replied, with one voice.
"It is Death," I repeated, pointing to the Arch Physician.
At such a moment, when nothing short of annihilation appeared in
view, one would have expected from the guilty pair an appearance
of the greatest consternation and dismay. On the contrary, the Arch
Physician, with an insensibility—or a bravado—which one would not
have expected of him, stood before us all, his arms folded, his eyes
steady, his lips even smiling. Beside him stood the girl, dressed in
the ridiculous mummery of the nineteenth century, bowed down, her
face in her hands.
"It is I," she murmured—"it is I, Harry, who have brought you to
this. Oh, forgive me! Let us die together. Since I have awakened out
of the stupid torpor of the Present—since we remembered the Past—
and Love—let us die together; for I could not live without you." She
knelt at his feet, and laid her head upon his arm. "My love," she
said, "my Lord and Love! let me die with you."
At this extraordinary spectacle I laughed aloud. Love? I thought the
old wives' tales of Love and Lordship were long, long since dead and
forgotten. Yet here was a man for the sake of a woman—actually
because she wanted to go away and begin again the old pernicious
life—breaking his most sacred vows; and here was a woman—for
the sake of this man—actually and truly for his sake—asking for
death—death with him! Since, when they were both dead, there
could be no more any feeling one for the other, why ask for death?
What good could that do for either?
"Your wish," I said to this foolish woman, "shall be gratified, in case
the Judges of your case decide that your crime can be expiated by
no less a penalty. Fellows of the College, let this guilty pair be
confined for the night, and to-morrow we will try them solemnly in
the College Court according to ancient custom."
I know not how many years had elapsed since that Court was held.
The offences of the old time were for the most part against property
—since there had been no property, there had been no crimes of this
kind. Another class of old offences consisted of violence rising out of
quarrels; since almost all these quarrels originated in disputes about
property—every man in the old time who had property was either a
thief or the son of a thief, so that disputes were naturally incessant—
there could be no longer any such quarrels or any such violence. A
third class of crimes were caused by love, jealousy, and the like;
these two had happily, as we believed, disappeared forever.
The last class of crimes to vanish were those of mutiny. When the
People grew gradually to understand that the welfare of all was the
only rule of the governing body, and that selfishness, individualism,
property, privilege, would no longer be permitted, they left off
murmuring, and mutiny ceased. You have seen how orderly, how
docile, how tranquil, is the life of the People as it has been ordered
by the Sacred College. Alas! I thought that this order, this sheep-like
freedom from Thought, was going to be henceforth universal and
undisturbed.
Our prisoners made no opposition. John Lax, the Porter, bearing his
halberd of office, marched beside them. We closed in behind them,
and in this order we led them to the strong room over the South
Porch, which is provided with bars and a lock. It is the sleeping-
chamber of John Lax, but for this night he was to remain on the
watch below.
Then, as Suffragan, I called a Council of Emergency in the Inner
House, taking the Presidency in the absence of the Arch Physician.
I told my brethren briefly what had happened; how my attention had
been called to the fact that a company of the People, headed by the
young girl called Christine, had begun to assemble every night in the
Museum, there to put on clothes which belonged to the old time,
and to masquerade in the manners, language, and amusements (so
called) of that time; that this assemblage, which might have been
innocent and even laudable if it led, as it should have done, to a
detestation of the old times, had proved mischievous, because,
strangely enough, it had exactly the opposite effect; that, in fact,
everybody in the company had fallen into an ardent yearning after
the Past, and that all the bad features of that bad time—the Social
inequality, the Poverty, the Injustice—were carefully ignored.
Upon this, one of Dr. Linister's Party arose, and begged permission
to interrupt the Suffragan. He wished to point out that memory was
indestructible; that even if we succeeded in reducing Mankind, as
the Suffragan wished, to be a mere breathing and feeding machine
—the Ultimate Triumph of Science—any one of these machines
might be at any time electrified into a full and exact memory of the
Past; that, to the average man, the Emotion of the Past would
always be incomparably preferable to the Tranquillity of the Present.
What had just been done would be done again.
I went on, after this interruption, to narrate how I set myself to
watch, and presently saw the Arch Physician himself enter the
Museum; how he exchanged his gown for the costume in which the
men disfigured themselves, play-acted, pretended, and
masqueraded with them; danced with them, no external respect
whatever being paid to his rank; and afterwards had certain love
passages—actually love passages between the Arch Physician and a
Woman of the People!—which I overheard, and repeated as far as I
could remember them. The rest my brethren of the College knew
already; how I hastily summoned them, and led them into the Inner
House just before the arrival of the Criminals.
Thereupon, without any attempt of Dr. Linister's friends to the
contrary, it was Resolved that the Trial of the Arch Physician and his
accomplices should be held in the morning.
I next invited their attention to the behavior of the girl Christine. She
it was, I told them, who had instigated the whole of the business. A
culpable curiosity it was, no doubt, that first led her to consider and
study the ways of the ancient world; what should be the ways of the
Past to an honest and loyal person, satisfied with the Wisdom which
ruled the Present? She read the old books, looked at the old
pictures, and lived all day long in the old Museum. There were many
things which she could not understand; she wanted to understand
these things; and she conceived a violent, unreasoning admiration
for the old time, which appeared to this foolish girl to be a continual
round of pleasure and excitement. Therefore she gathered together
a company of those who had belonged to the richer class in the days
when property was permitted. She artfully awakened them out of
their contentment, sowed the seeds of dissatisfaction among them,
caused them to remember the Past with a vehement longing to
reproduce the worst part of it—namely, the manners and customs of
the richer class—the people for whom the bulk of mankind toiled, so
that the privileged few might have nothing to do but to feast, dance,
sing, and make love. I asked the College, therefore, what should be
done with such a girl, warning them that one Penalty, and one only,
would meet the case and render for the future such outbreaks
impossible.
Welcome to our website – the ideal destination for book lovers and
knowledge seekers. With a mission to inspire endlessly, we offer a
vast collection of books, ranging from classic literary works to
specialized publications, self-development books, and children's
literature. Each book is a new journey of discovery, expanding
knowledge and enriching the soul of the reade

Our website is not just a platform for buying books, but a bridge
connecting readers to the timeless values of culture and wisdom. With
an elegant, user-friendly interface and an intelligent search system,
we are committed to providing a quick and convenient shopping
experience. Additionally, our special promotions and home delivery
services ensure that you save time and fully enjoy the joy of reading.

Let us accompany you on the journey of exploring knowledge and

personal growth!

ebookultra.com