Chapter 9.
JOURNEYING UPWARD.
"The old order changeth, giving place to the new, And God fulfils himself in many ways." --TENNYSON.
My conversation with Elodia had the effect of crystallizing mynebulous plans about visiting the Caskians into a sudden resolve. Icould not remain longer in her presence without pain to myself; and,to tell the truth, I dreaded lest her astounding lack of themoral sense--which should be the foundation stone of woman'scharacter--would eventually dull my own. Men are notoriously weakwhere women are concerned--the women they worship.
As soon as I had communicated with the Caskians and learned that theywere still anticipating my coming, with--they were so kind as to sayit--the greatest pleasure, I prepared to set forth.
In the meantime, an event occurred which further illustrated thesocial conditions in Paleveria. Claris, the wife of Massilla, diedvery suddenly, and I was astonished at the tremendous sensation thecircumstance occasioned throughout the city. It seemed to me that theonly respect it was possible to pay to the memory of such a woman mustbe that which is expressed in absolute silence,--even charity couldnot be expected to do more than keep silent. But I was mistaken,Claris had been a woman of distinction, in many ways; she wasbeautiful, rich, and talented, and she had wielded an influence inpublic and social affairs. Immediately, the various periodicals inThursia, and in neighboring cities, flaunted lengthy eulogisticobituaries headed with more or less well executed portraits of thedeceased. It seemed as if the authors of these effusions must have runthrough dictionaries of complimentary terms, which they culledlavishly and inserted among the acts and facts of her life with a kindof journalistic sleight-of-hand. And private comment took its cue fromthese authorities. It was said that she was a woman of noble traits,and pretty anecdotes were told of her, illustrating her generousimpulses, her wit, her positiveness. She had had great personalmagnetism, many had loved her, many had also feared her, for hertongue could cut like a sword. It was stated that her children hadworshiped her, and that her death had prostrated her husband withgrief. Of the chief blackness of her character none spoke.
Severnius invited me to attend the funeral obsequies which took placein the Auroras' Temple, where the embalmed body lay in state; withincense burning and innumerable candles casting their pallid lightupon the bier. I observed as we drove through the streets that theclosed doors of all the business houses exhibited the emblems ofrespect and sorrow.
The Auroras were assembled in great numbers, having come from distantparts of the country to do honor to the dead. They were in fullregalia, with mourning badges, and carried inverted torches. Thereligious ceremonies and mystic rites of the Order were elaborate andimpressive. The dirge which followed, and during which the members ofthe Order formed in procession and began a slow march, was sounutterably and profoundly sad that I could not keep back the tears. Alittle sobbing voice directly in front of me wailed out "Mamma!Mamma!" A woman stooped down and whispered, "Do you want to go up andkiss Mamma 'good-by' before they take her away?" But the child shrankback, afraid of the pomp and ghostly magnificence surrounding the deadform.
Elodia was of course the chief figure in the procession, and she boreherself with a grave and solemn dignity in keeping with theceremonies. The sight of her beautiful face, with its subdued butlofty expression, was more than I could bear. I leaned forward anddropped my face in my hands, and let the sorrow-laden requiem rack mysoul with its sweet torture as it would.
That was my last day in Thursia.
I had at first thought of taking my aeroplane along with me,reflecting that I might better begin my homeward flight from somemountain top in Caskia; but Severnius would not hear of that.
"No indeed!" said he, "you must return to us again. I wish to getready a budget for you to carry back to your astronomers, which Ithink will be of value to them, as I shall make a complete map of theheavens as they appear to us. Then we shall be eager to hear aboutyour visit. And besides, we want to see you again on the ground offriendship, the strongest reason of all!"
"You are too kind!" I responded with much feeling. I knew that he wasas sincere as he was polite. This was at the last moment, and Elodiawas present to bid me "good-by." She seconded her brother'sinvitation,--"O, yes, of course you must come back!" and turned thewhole power of her beautiful face upon me, and for the first time gaveme her hand. I had coveted it a hundred times as it lay lissome andwhite in her lap. I clasped it, palm to palm. It was as smooth assatin, and not moist,--I dislike a moist hand. I felt that up to thatmoment I had always undervalued the sense of touch,--it was thefinest of all the senses! No music, no work of art, no wondrous scene,had ever so thrilled me and set my nerves a-quiver, as did thedelicate, firm pressure of those magic fingers. The remembrance of itmade my blood tingle as I went on my long journey from Thursia toLunismar.
It was a long journey in miles, though not in time, we traveled likethe wind.
Both Clytia and Calypso were at the station to meet me, with their twochildren, Freya and Eurydice. I learned that nearly all Caskians arenamed after the planetoids or other heavenly bodies,--a veryappropriate thing, since they live so near the stars!
My heart went out to the children the moment my eyes fell upon theirfaces.
They were as beautiful as Raphael's cherubs, you could not look uponthem without thrills of delight. They were two perfect buds of thehighest development humanity has ever attained to,--so far as we know.I felt that it was a wonderful thing to know that in these lovelyforms there lurked no germs of evil, over their sweet heads therehung no Adam's curse! They were seated in a pretty pony carriage, witha white canopy top lined with blue silk. Freya held the lines. Itappeared that Eurydice had driven down and he was to drive back. Thefather and mother were on foot. They explained that it was difficultto drive anything but the little carriage up the steep path to theirhome on the hillside, half a mile distant.
"Who would wish for any other means of locomotion than nature hasgiven him, in a country where the buoyant air makes walking a luxury!"I cried, stretching my legs and filling my lungs, with an unwontedsense of freedom and power.
I had become accustomed to the atmosphere of Paleveria, but here I hadthe same sensations I had experienced when I first landed there.
"If you would rather, you may take my place, sir?" said the not muchmore than knee-high Freya, ready to relinquish the lines. I feltdisposed to laugh, but not so the wise parents.
"The little ponies could not draw our friend up the hill, he is tooheavy," explained Clytia.
"Thank you, my little man, all the same!" I added.
It was midsummer in Paleveria, but here I observed everything had thenewness and delightful freshness of spring. A busy, bustling, joyous,tuneful spring. The grass was green and succulent; the sap was in thetrees and their bark was sleek and glossy, their leaves just unrolled.Of the wild fruit trees, every branch and twig was loaded with eagerbuds crowding upon each other as the heads of children crowd at acottage window when one goes by. Every thicket was full of bird lifeand music. I heard the roar of a waterfall in the distance, andCalypso told me that a mighty river, the Eudosa, gathered from ahundred mountain streams, was compressed into a deep gorge or canyonand fell in a succession of cataracts just below the city, and finallyspread out into a lovely lake, which was a wonder in its way, beingmany fathoms deep and as transparent as the atmosphere.
We paused to listen,--the children also.
"How loud it is to-day, Mamma," exclaimed Freya. His mother assentedand turned to me with a smile. "The falls of Eudosa constitute a largepart of our life up here," she said; "we note all its moods, which aremany. Sometimes it is drowsy, and purrs and murmurs; again it ismerry, and sings; or it is sublime, and rises to a thunderous roar.Always it is sound. Do you know, my ears ached with the silence when Iwas down in Paleveria!"
I have said Clytia's eyes were black; it was not an opaque blackness,you could look through them down into her soul. I likened them in mymi
nd to the waters of the Eudosa which Calypso had just described.
Every moment something new attracted our attention and the briefjourney was full of incident; the children were especially alive tothe small happenings about us, and I never before took such aninterest in what I should have called insignificant things. Sometimesthe conversation between my two friends and myself rose above theunderstanding of the little ones, but they were never ignored,--norwere they obtrusive; they seemed to know just where to fit theirlittle questions and remarks into the talk. It was quite wonderful. Iunderstood, of course, that the children had been brought down to meetme in order that I might make their acquaintance immediately andestablish my relations with them, since I was to be for some time amember of the household. They had their small interests apart fromtheir elders--carefully guarded by their elders--as children shouldhave; but whenever they were permitted to be with us, they were of us.They were never allowed to feel that loneliness in a crowd which isthe most desolate loneliness in the world. Clytia especially had theart of enveloping them in her sympathy, though her intellectualfaculties were employed elsewhere. And how they loved her! I have seennothing like it upon the Earth.
Perhaps I adapt myself with unusual readiness to new environments, andassimilate more easily with new persons than most people do. I had, asyou know, left Paleveria with deep reluctance, under compulsion of mywill--moved by my better judgment; and throughout my journey I haddeliberately steeped myself in sweet and bitter memories of my lifethere, to the exclusion of much that might have been interesting andinstructive to me on the way,--a foolish and childish thing to havedone. And now, suddenly, Paleveria dropped from me like a garment.Some moral power in these new friends, and perhaps in this city ofLunismar,--a power I could feel but could not define,--raised me to adifferent, unmistakably a higher, plane. I felt the change as onefeels the change from underground to the upper air.
We first walked a little way through the city, which quite filled thevalley and crept up onto the hillsides, here and there.
Each building stood alone, with a little space of ground around it,upon which grass and flowers and shrubbery grew, and often trees. Eachsuch space bore evidence that it was as tenderly and scrupulouslytended as a Japanese garden.
It was the cleanest city I ever saw; there was not an unsightly place,not a single darksome alley or lurking place for vice, no huddlingtogether of miserable tenements. I remarked upon this and Calypsoexplained:
"Our towns used to be compact, but since electricity has annihilateddistance we have spread ourselves out. We have plenty of ground forour population, enough to give a generous slice all round. Lunismarreally extends through three valleys."
Crystal streams trickled down from the mountains and were utilized forpractical and aesthetic purposes. Small parks, exquisitely pretty, werevery numerous, and in them the sparkling water was made to playcurious pranks. Each of these spots was an ideal resting place, and Isaw many elderly people enjoying them,--people whom I took to be fromsixty to seventy years of age, but who, I was astonished to learn,were all upwards of a hundred. Perfect health and longevity are amongthe rewards of right living practiced from generation to generation.The forms of these old people were erect and their faces werebeautiful in intelligence and sweetness of expression.
I remarked, apropos of the general beauty and elegance of thebuildings we passed:
"This must be the fine quarter of Lunismar."
"No, not especially," returned Calypso, "it is about the same allover."
"Is it possible! then you must all be rich?" said I.
"We have no very poor," he replied, "though of course some have largerpossessions than others. We have tried, several times in the historyof our race, to equalize the wealth of the country, but the experimenthas always failed, human nature varies so much."
"What, even here?" I asked.
"What do you mean?" said he.
"Why, I understand that you Caskians have attained to a most perfectstate of development and culture, and--" I hesitated and he smiled.
"And you think the process eliminates individual traits?" he inquired.
Clytia laughingly added:
"I hope, sir, you did not expect to find us all exactly alike, thatwould be too tame!"
"You compliment me most highly," said Calypso, seriously, "but we mustnot permit you to suppose that we regard our 'development' as anywherenear perfect, In fact, the farther we advance, the greater, and thegrander, appears the excellence to which we have not yet attained.Though it would be false modesty--and a disrespect to ourancestors--not to admit that we are conscious of having made someprogress, as a race. We know what our beginnings were, and what we noware."
After a moment he went on:
"I suppose the principle of differentiation, as we observe it in plantand animal life, is the same in all life, not only physical, butintellectual, moral, spiritual. Cultivation, though it softens salienttraits and peculiarities, may develop infinite variety in every kindand species."
I understood this better later on, after I had met a greater number ofpeople, and after my perceptions had become more delicate andacute,--or when a kind of initiatory experience had taught me how tosee and to value excellence.
A few years ago a border of nasturtiums exhibited no more than asingle color tone, the pumpkin yellow; and a bed of pansies resembleda patch of purple heather. Observe now the chromatic variety andbeauty produced by intelligent horticulture! A group of commonplacepeople--moderately disciplined by culture--might be compared to thepansies and nasturtiums of our early recollection, and a group ofthese highly refined Caskians to the delicious flowers abloom inmodern gardens.
We crave variety in people, as we crave condiments in food. For me,this craving was never so satisfied--and at the same time sothoroughly stimulated--as in Caskian society, which had a spiciness offlavor impossible to describe.
Formality was disarmed by perfect breeding, there was nothing that youcould call "manner." The delicate faculty of intuition producedharmony. I never knew a single instance in which the social atmospherewas disagreeably jarred,--a common enough occurrence where we dependupon the machinery of social order rather than upon the vitalprinciple of good conduct.
I inquired of Calypso, as we walked along, the sources of the people'swealth. He replied that the mountains were full of it. There wereminerals and precious stones, and metals in great abundance; and allthe ores were manufactured in the vicinity of the mines before beingshipped to the lower countries and exchanged for vegetable products.
This prompted me to ask the familiar question:
"And how do you manage the labor problem?" He did not understand meuntil after I had explained about our difficulties in that line. Andthen he informed me that most of the people who worked in mines andfactories had vested interests in them.
"Physical labor, however," he added, "is reduced to the minimum;machinery has taken the place of muscle."
"And thrown an army of workers out of employment and the means ofliving, I suppose?" I rejoined, taking it for granted that the smallshare-holders had been squeezed out, as well as the small operators.
"O, no, indeed," he returned, in surprise. "It has simply given themmore leisure. Everybody now enjoys the luxury of spare time, and maydevote his energies to the service of other than merely physicalneeds." He smiled as he went on, "This labor problem the Creator gaveus was a knotty one, wasn't it? But what a tremendous satisfactionthere is in the thought--and in the fact--that we have solved it."
I was in the dark now, and waited for him to go on.
"To labor incessantly, to strain the muscles, fret the mind, and wearythe soul, and to shorten the life, all for the sake of supplying thewants of the body, and nothing more, is, I think, an inconceivablehardship. And to have invoked the forces of the insensate elements andlaid our burdens upon them, is a glorious triumph."
"Yes, if all men are profited by it," I returned doubtfully.
"They are, of course," said he, "at
least with us. I was shocked tofind it quite different in Paleveria. There, it seemed to me,machinery--which has been such a boon to the laborers here--has beenutilized simply and solely to increase the wealth of the rich. I saw agood many people who looked as though they were on the brink ofstarvation."
"I don't see how you manage it otherwise," I confessed.
"It belongs to the history of past generations," he replied. "Perhapsthe hardest struggle our progenitors had was to conquer the lusts ofthe flesh,--of which the greed of wealth is doubtless the greatest.They began to realize, generations ago, that Mars was rich enough tomaintain all his children in comfort and even luxury,--that none needhunger, or thirst, or go naked or houseless, and that more than thiswas vanity and vain-glory. And just as they, with intense assiduity,sought out and cultivated nature's resources--for the reduction oflabor and the increase of wealth--so they sought out and cultivatedwithin themselves corresponding resources, those fit to meet the newera of material prosperity; namely, generosity and brotherly love."
"Then you really and truly practice what you preach!" said I, withscant politeness, and I hastened to add, "Severnius told me that yourecognize the trinity in human nature. Well, we do, too, upon theEarth, but the Three have hardly an equal chance! We preach thedoctrine considerably more than we practice it."
"I understand that you are a highly intellectual people," remarkedCalypso, courteously.
"Yes, I suppose we are," said I; "our achievements in that line arenothing to be ashamed of. And," I added, remembering some felicitoussensations of my own, "there is no greater delight than the travail ofintellect which brings forth great ideas."
"Pardon me!" he returned, "the travail of soul which brings forth agreat love--a love willing to share equally with others the fruits ofintellectual triumph--is, to my mind, infinitely greater."
We had reached the terrace, or little plateau, on which my friends'house stood; it was like a strip of green velvet for color andsmoothness.
The house was built of rough gray stone which showed silver glintingsin the sun. Here and there, delicate vines clung to the walls. Therewas a carriage porch--into which the children drove--and windowsjutting out into the light, and many verandas and little balconies,that seemed to give the place a friendly and hospitable air. Abovethere was a spacious observatory, in which was mounted a very finetelescope that must have cost a fortune,--though my friends were notenormously rich, as I had learned from Severnius. But these people donot regard the expenditure of even very large sums of money for themeans of the best instruction and the best pleasures as extravagance,if no one suffers in consequence. I cannot go into their economicsystem very extensively here, but I may say that it provides primarilythat all shall share bountifully in the general good; and after that,individuals may gratify their respective tastes--or rather, satisfytheir higher needs; for their tastes are never fanciful, but alwaysreal--as they can afford.
I do not mean that this is a written law, a formal edict, to be evadedby such cunning devices as we know in our land, or at best looselyconstrued; nor is it a mere sentiment preached from pulpits andglorified in literature,--a beautiful but impracticable conception! Itis purely a moral law, and being such it is a vital principle in eachindividual consciousness.
The telescope was Calypso's dearest possession, but I never doubtedhis willingness to give it up, if there should come a time when thekeeping of it would be the slightest infringement of this law. I mayadd that in all the time I spent in Caskia, I never saw a man, woman,or child, but whose delight in any possession would have been marredby the knowledge that his, or her, gratification meant another'sbitter deprivation. The question between Thou and I was always settledin favor of Thou. And no barriers of race, nationality, birth, orposition, affected this universal principle.
I made a discovery in relation to the Caskians which would havesurprised and disappointed me under most circumstances; they had noimagination, and they were not given to emotional excitation. Theirminds touched nothing but what was real. But mark this: Their real wasour highest ideal. The moral world was to them a real world; thespiritual world was to them a real world. They had no need of imagery.And they were never carried away by floods of feeling, for they werealways up to their highest level,--I mean in the matter of kindnessand sympathy and love. Moreover, their intellectual perceptions wereso clear, and the mysteries of nature were unrolled before theirunderstanding in such orderly sequence, that although their increaseof knowledge was a continuous source of delight, it never came inshocks of surprise or excited childish wonderment. I cannot hope togive you more than a faint conception of the dignity and majesty of apeople whose triple nature was so highly and so harmoniouslydeveloped. One principle governed the three: Truth. They were true toevery law under which they had been created and by which they weresustained. They were taught from infancy--but of this further on. Iwish to reintroduce Ariadne to you and let her explain some of thewonders of their teaching, she being herself a teacher.
The observatory was a much used apartment, by both the family and byguests. It was a library also, and it contained musical instruments. Abalcony encircled it on the outside, and here we often sat ofevenings, especially if the sky was clear and the stars and moon wereshining. The heavens as seen at night were as familiar to Clytia andCalypso, and even to the children, as a friend's face.
It was pleasant to sit out upon the balcony even on moonless nightsand when the stars were hidden, and look down upon the city allbrilliantly alight, and listen to the unceasing music of the Falls ofEudosa. I, too, soon learned his many "moods."
Back of the house there rose a long succession of hills, endingfinally in snow-capped mountains, the highest of which was called theSpear, so sharply did it thrust its head up through the clouds intothe heavens.
The lower hills had been converted into vineyards. A couple of menwere fixing the trellises, and Calypso excused himself to his wife andme and went over to them. A neatly dressed maid came out of the houseand greeted the children, who had much important news to relateconcerning their drive; and a last year's bird-nest to show her, whichthey took pains to explain was quite useless to the birds, who wereall making nice new nests. The sight of the maid,--evidently anintelligent and well-bred girl,--whose face beamed affectionately uponthe little ones, prompted a question from me:
"How do you manage about your servants, I mean house servants," Iasked; "do you have people here who are willing to do menial work?"
Clytia looked up at me with an odd expression. Her answer, coming fromany one less sincere, would have sounded like cant.
"We do not regard any work as mean."
"But some kinds of work are distasteful, to say the least," Iinsisted.
"Not if you love those for whom you labor," she returned. "A motherdoes not consider any sort of service to her child degrading."
"O, I know that," said I; "that is simply natural affection."
"But natural affection, you know, is only the germ of love. It isnarrow,--only a little broader than selfishness."
"Well, tell me how it applies in this question of service?" I asked."I am not able to comprehend it in the abstract."
"We do not require people to do anything for us which we would not dofor ourselves, or for them," she said. "And then, we all work. Webelieve in work; it means strength to the body and relief to the mind.No one permits himself to be served by another for the unworthyreason, openly or tacitly confessed, that he is either too proud, ortoo indolent, to serve himself."
"Then why have servants at all?" I asked.
"My husband explained to you," she returned, "that our people are notall equally rich; and they are not all adapted to what you would call,perhaps, the higher grades of service. You see the little maid yonderwith the children; she has the gifts of a teacher,--our teachers arevery carefully chosen, and as carefully instructed. She has beenplaced with me for our mutual benefit,--I could not intrust my littleones to the care of a mere paid nurse who thought only of her wages.No
r could she work simply for wages. The money consideration is thesmallest item in the arrangement. My husband superintends some steelworks in which he has some shares. The man he is talking with now--whois attending to the grape vines--has also a large interest in thesteel works, but he has no taste or faculty for engaging in that kindof business. He might spend his whole life in idleness if he chose, orin mental pursuits, for he is a very scholarly man, but he loves thekind of work he is doing now, and our vineyard is his especial pride.Moreover," a beautiful smile touched her face as she looked up at thetwo men on the hillside, "Fides loves my Calypso, they are soulfriends!"
When I became more familiar with the household, I found that the samerelations existed all round; mutual pleasure, mutual sympathy, mutualhelpfulness. First there seemed to be on the part of each employe adistinct preference and liking for the kind of work he or she hadundertaken to do; second, a fitness and careful preparation for thework; and last, the love of doing for those who gave appreciation,love, and another sort of service or assistance in return. I heard oneof them say one day:
"I ask nothing better than to be permitted to cook the meals for thesedear people!"
This was a woman who wrote monthly articles on chemistry and botanyfor one of the leading scientific journals. She was a middle-agedwoman and unmarried, who did not wish to live alone, who abhorred"boarding," and who had found just such a comfortable nest in Clytia'shome as suited all her needs and desires. Of course she did not slavein the kitchen all day long, and her position did not debar her fromthe best and most intelligent society, nor cut her off from thepleasure and privileges that sweeten life. She brought her scientificknowledge to the preparation of the food she set before us, and tookas much pride in the results of her skill as an inventor takes in hisappliances. And such wholesome, delicious, well-cooked dishes I havenever eaten elsewhere. Clytia believed in intelligently prepared food,as she believed in intelligent instruction for her children; she wouldhave thought it a crime to set an ignorant person over her kitchen.And this woman of whom I am speaking knew that she held a place ofhonor and trust, and she filled it not only with dignity butlovingness. She had some younger women to assist her, whom she wasinstructing in the science and the art of cooking, and who wouldby-and-by take responsible positions themselves. These women, orgirls, assisted also in the housekeeping, which was the most perfectsystem in point of cleanliness, order and beauty that it is possibleto conceive of in a home; because skill, honesty and conscientiousnessenter into every detail of the life of these people. The body is heldin honor, and its needs are respected. Life is sacred, and physicalsins,--neglect or infringement of the laws of health,--are classed inthe same category with moral transgressions. In fact, the sameprinciples and the same mathematical rules apply in the Three Naturesof Man,--refined of course to correspond with the ascending scale fromthe lowest to the highest, from the physical to the spiritual. But soclosely are the Three allied that there are no dividing lines,--thereis no point where the Mind may say, "Here my responsibility ends," orwhere the Body may affirm, "I have only myself to please." Day by daythese truths became clear to me. There was nothing particularly new inanything that I heard,--indeed it was all singularly familiar, insound. But the wonder was, that the things we idealize, and theorizeabout, they accept literally, and absorb into their lives. They havemade living facts of our profoundest philosophy and our sublimestpoetry. Are we then too philosophical, too poetical,--and notpractical? A good many centuries have rolled up their records anddropped them into eternity since we were given the simple, wonderfullesson, "Whatsoever a man sows that shall he also reap,"--and we havenot learned it yet! St. Paul's voice rings through the Earth from ageto age, "Work out your own salvation," and we do not comprehend. Thesepeople have never had a Christ--in flesh and blood--but they have putinto effect every precept of our Great Teacher. They have received themessage, from whence I know not,--or rather by what means I knownot,--"A new commandment I give unto you, that ye love one another."