Everybody in a physically fit condition is necessarily a capitalist. That arch-capitalist among the animals, the squirrel, jumps on the shoulders of the amiable Communists strolling in Regent’s Park and then goes to “rattle in his hoard of acorns.” There will be no discouragement of the acquisition of private property in the centuries to come, but care will be taken that the happiness accruing to the owner is not set off by misery inflicted on others. Misery due to mere envy or jealousy will not be considered, but, as a matter of fact, there is much less of that than there is commonly supposed. The spectators of the Lord Mayor’s Show do not envy the Lord Mayor his pomp and magnificence, but they are there to delight their eyes with an unusual display. The crowds collecting at the church door to see the blushing bride do not come to turn green with envy, but to feast their eyes on something exquisite and heartening to behold. And the work of the future, the labour of thousands on a great enterprise, will be accomplished in the spirit of adventure and comradeship, like an Arctic expedition, let us say, and the distribution of rewards will be conducted in the same spirit as the prize-giving at a sports meeting. The spirit of adventure is a most valuable incentive to work, an incentive that is much neglected at present. It is part of the workman’s grievance against capital that the capitalist has the adventurous part of the undertaking. The need for adventure in everyday life is proved by the enormous prevalence of betting on horses, which is about the most stupid way of adventuring money that one can conceive. The prodigies performed under some piece-work agreements show that it is not the quantity of work that is felt as a burden, but the consciousness of being driven by a will other than one’s own. Many schemes of profit-sharing also introduce an element of chance which is most welcome to the worker, though logically it should be under a proviso of loss-sharing in the same proportion. A profit-and-loss-sharing understanding between employers and workers would make every worker a capitalist. Indeed, as soon as the workers (or the State, it matters not which) are sufficiently organized to guard workers from undeserved destitution, it may be quite feasible to organize public undertakings without wages of any kind. Each worker would contribute “capital” in the form of a certain amount of work. In case of a total loss on the undertaking, he would receive no reward or wages whatever, any more than the capitalist who engages in a profitless scheme. If the undertaking succeeded, he would have a permanent interest in the revenue from it, in proportion to the work contributed. Since it is easier to assess the value of manual piece-work than mental work, it might well happen that, though no wages were paid, salaries would be paid to organizers, architects, overseers, and the like, who would thus be the only “proletarians” in the concern!