DUKE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY FRIENDS OF DUKE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY GIFT OF Glenn R, Negley Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2010 with funding from Duke University Libraries http://www.archive.org/details/subcoelumskybuilOOruss 315p #. $ ♦ KtwfjfflU LIBRARY NOTES. New Edition. Crown 8vo, $2.00. CHARACTERISTICS. Essays on Coleridge, Mrs. Siddons, Dr. Johnson, Macaulay, Lamb, Burns, Woolman, John Randolph, and John Brown, etc. i2mo, #2.00. A CLUB OF ONE. Passages from the Note-Book of a Man who might have been Sociable. i6mo, gilt top, $1.25. IN A CLUB CORNER. The Monologue of a Man who might have been Sociable. i6mo, gilt top, $1.25. SUB-CCELUM: A Sky-Built Human World. i6mo, gilt top, $..25. HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & COMPANY, Boston and New York. Sub-Ccelum A SKY-BUILT HUMAN WORLD BY A. P. RUSSELL AUTHOR OF " A CLUB OF ONB," " LIBRARY NOTES," " CHARACTERISTICS ' " IN A CLUB CORNER," ETC. Servant. Where dwellest thou ? Coriolanits. Under the canopy. Coriolantis, Act IV. Sc. V. BOSTON AND NEW YORK HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AXD COMPANY (STfce Rfocrsidc press, Cambridge 1893 Copyright, 1893, By ADDISON P. RUSSELL. All rights reserved. The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass., U.S.A. Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Co. \7k /O CONTENTS PAGE Favorably Situated g Abundance of Leisure to Marked Individuality / / Exceptional Monsters // Conceit of Superior Excellence 12 Couples 0/ Six 12 Schools generally Small /_? Instruction in Radical Morals 14 Chairs of Common Sense 15 The Average Wisdom 16 Instructed in Telling the Truth 77 A Sober Experience 18 Low, Unmeaning Language 18 Conversation Cultivated 19 Specialties of Every Sort 20 Ingenuousness a Social Excellence 20 Behavior 21 A Habit of Charitable Judgment 23 A Favorite Illustration 24 Their Superior Men and Women 25 Perpetual Surprises 26 Their Social Meetings 26 4 Contents Their Floral Exhibitions 28 Floating Radiances ^o Each Daj^s Dinner 30 Cooking a Proud Art 33 Morals and Stomach 34 Bread-Making ^5 The Papaw ^5 Their Good Physicians 36 The Quack Doctor in Contrast 38 The Clergy of Sub-Ccelum 40 The Golden Rule 41 Clergymen of a Certain Character Extinct . . 43 Tlie Lawyer's Office 4-] A Turn was Made, but Slowly 48 Effects of the Change 50 Arbitration 52 Advice Offices 5^ Laws Few in Sub-Ccelum 54 Special Reformers not in Favor 56 Effect of the Pervading Individuality 58 Their Police System 59 Fatality of Heredity . 60 Estates Limited 62 Property in Friends 64 Idleness Disreputable 65 Indolence 6j Trifling for Selfish Ends 68 Ambrosia for the Soul 70 Making and Earning Money » . . jo Contents 5 Manhood and Personal Freedom 7/ Native Manhood 72 Ideal Manhood 7^ The Plebeian and the Aristocrat 74 The Vices j6 Common Sense and Practical Wisdom . ... 79 Small Farms Preferred 80 Fish-Ponds 81 Bee-Culture 82 Propagation of Poultry 84 The Bird of Excellence 84 The Sub-Caium Oyster . 85 Grapes and Wine 87 Wine-Making 88 Endless Orchards po Highways Ideal 92 How Cities and Villages were Laid Out . ... 92 Drainage 94 Light and Heat 95 Public Edifices 96 Hotels 98 Bells 99 Music 101 Poets and Poetry 104 Musical Voices 106 Tight Dressing //o A Felicity to be Well-Born / / 2 A Composite Population uj Weddings in Sub-Ctrl um jij 6 Contents Reasons for Remaining Single 119 The First Gentleman to Speak up The Second 121 The Third 123 The First Lady 126 The Second 128 The Third 131 Drunkenness 134 Divorce 136 Refuges for Certain Occasional Victims .... 1 37 Retreats for Convalescents 140 Hospices for Visiting Strangers 143 Inventors and Scholars 146 Old People and Children 148 B it rial-Places 149 Little Distinction in Marking Graves . . . . 75/ Funerals 15} Chapels in Burial-Places /^5 Motives / 5S Funeral Orations and Obituary Notices . . . 759 Vocation and A 'vocation 161 Awed by Understanding 162 Students in Particular Lines 163 Substance of a Lecture 163 Microscope and Camera ij$ Electricity ij8 The People did not Snore ijp Whistling 180 Dentistry not a Profitable Profession .... 182 Contents 7 Fries Utterly Banished 18) Fondness for Squirrels 184 Respect for the Monkey 186 Instinct of Satan 190 Qualities and Faculties of the Dog 191 Horses bred for Moral Qualities 194 Beauty on Horseback 195 Love for Birds 196 insects and Reptiles 201 Infusoria 202 Character and Menial Resources 203 The Individual the Immortal 204 Personal Independence 206 Men wiser than Sheep 208 Individuality Made Them Interesting 210 The Law of Diversity 21 j The Healthful Habit of Occupation 21 7 The Vice of Indolence 218 Probably and Perhaps 221 A Treasure 224 The Social Conscience 224 Amusements 22"] The Rule of E^ra 231 Drawing, Painting, and Sculpture 232 Not Ambitious of Great Libraries 237 Thoughts and Conduct 239 The Press 240 Results of Evolution 244 Pride of Profession 247 8 Contents The High Estimate put upon Woman .... 248 A High Order of Wisdom 249 How Government was Supported 251 The Machinery of Politics 254 Essential Excellence of the People 258 Their Religion 262 Sects and Creeds 265 Worship 267 SUB-CCELUM F the people of Sub -Ccelum favorably were not happy it was their own fault. Their situation was the most favorable under the sun. Earth and sky smiled upon them. The climate was genial and salubrious. Extremes in temperature were not frequent, and atmospheric violences so rare as to be historical. Seasons of rain and seasons of drouth, to devastate and desic- cate, were not known. Forests of beauty and grandeur supplied every variety and quality of timber, for ornament and utility. Mountains of sublimity and valleys of fertil- ity abounded. Large streams ran by large towns. Lakes bordered villages and villas. Ocean provided cities with safe and com- modious havens. Gold and silver in the saver and . . . gold. mountains lay in strata convenient to be operated. Where the land was poorest and least productive, the most valuable of the io Sub-Ccelum precious metals, in nuggets, was deposited ; and in the streams of such parts the most p<-ar!s and perfect of pearls, and occasionally dia- dia monds. . , . i t t i i monds, were discovered. Happy people ! What they had not, imagination must la- bor to supply. Misery, to any great extent, abode not with them. So it would appear. abundancb The ease with which life was sustained left them abundance of leisure. Bent was indulged and tastes were gratified. Ad- vantages were turned to account. Not so much to get wealth as to acquire the art of living. To make the most of themselves and to enjoy the greatest amount of ra- tional pleasure was the common ambition. I Selfishness, the one great enemy of man- ' kind, was under perpetual ban. To gain the mastery over themselves, by studying and practicing moderation, self-control, and humanity, was the prime object of all per- simpikity sonal and organized effort. Simplicity and a >id modesty • 1 i r atapremi- modesty were at a premium, and selt-re- spect and fellowship were exalted to a high place among the virtues. The great pur- pose of society was to produce genuine, individual, friendly men and women, and to surround them with all auxiliaries and facil- ities for growth and happiness. a »i. An Object of Pity 1 1 Marked individuality was conspicuous marked ... . t Individuai.- amid all the seeming contusion it created, ity. The great good of it was to cultivate mutual consideration. Toleration became a necessity. Inseparable from it was a strong pervading sense of justice. The right of each to be an individual man in- volved the right of every other to be the same. It encouraged diversity of view while it forbade dogmatical disputation. The possibility of mistake compelled gener- osity of judgment. Feeling was repressed and reason stimulated. The occasional The man - - . . who was al- man who was always right, was an object ways right. of universal pity. His deficiencies were a study and his conceits a warning. If ill- natured also, Wisdom walked by him, as by a bad animal, and Charity guarded him against irritation and abuse, — curing him finally, if curable, — eleemosynary provision being made for the worst cases. The snarling, venomous creature, who except™* hated everything, and the motive-monger, ste RS ° ' who was always finding the worst reasons for everybody's actions, were the excep- tional monsters — confounding the philo- sophers and the moralists. They skulked and they crawled, in defiance of all rules 12 Sub-Cocliim and appliances, and fattened upon their own poisonous secretions. Every popu- lous neighborhood had one or more, to tolerate and avoid — incorrigible objects to even the most hopeful of reformers. Conceit of The wonder was that such characters so excel- often had the conceit of superior excel- lence, which made them particularly inter- esting. They believed themselves better than their neighbors, while their extraor- dinary pretensions only made them more emphatically unregenerate. Seeing only outwardly, other people's sins exasperated them. Society, to them, was but an exag- gerated reflection of their own condition. Their own moral machinery being in dis- tressful disorder, all the world must be taken to pieces, mercilessly made over, or go to ruin. couples of It was the conclusion of intelligence Six that eyes, to see, must be in couples of six — the pigs having two. That to see in- deed — within and without and all around — eyes moral and eyes intellectual were as necessary as eyes physical. Education and conduct in Sub-Ccelum were upon that determination. It was never lost sight of. Vanity Circumspect 13 It tended to make people reflective, con- siderate, and charitable. Self - estimates saf-esti. were thoughtfully made, and constantly thoughtfully , T , . _ made. revised. Vanity was circumspect. It was discovered that the truth, absolute and unmitigated, is hard to arrive at : that the last fact is ever .necessary to correct judg- ment : that color depends upon light : that good is largely in the brush, and that evil is never so black as malignity paints it. Their schools were generally small, with schools 1 11 ht GENERA!. L not much system about them. No great small. pains were taken to force the children, especially while they were little. Memory was respected, and not over-exerted or bur- dened. Processes were to develop, as far as practicable, consistent with healthful growth, the best qualities and faculties of individual pupils. Differences, moral and intellectual, were recognized and regarded. It was not thought possible to make all alike, as eggs in a basket. Classes, for clones n> that reason, were limited, and specially in- ' structed. Teachers were chosen rather for character and manners than for scholar- ship. Thorough gentlemen and ladies were preferred. Influence for good was looked to as a prime factor. The ready imitative- '4 Sub-Ccelum ness of the young was made the most of. Good exam. Good examples were set before them — the />/t?s set b£' Me them, best specimens of men and women procur- able. Inaccurate language was exceptional in the schoolroom. The common blun- ders were placarded on the walls. Small children were taught by women ; at eight or nine years the sexes were separated, — the girls to be instructed by ladies and the boys by gentlemen ; to give opportunity, little by little, of imparting and impress- ing in a thousand ways a thousand things essential to genuine manhood and woman- hood. To make good, intelligent, self- respecting men and women, fitted for self- government, was kept in view as the great object of education. Instruc- tion in Radical Morals. In every part of the Commonwealth schools for all ages and both sexes were established, where the people were in- structed in radical morals, as essential to true religion, and inseparable from it. Per- sonal responsibility was inculcated. Mar- riage was gravely considered. The rela- tions of the sexes were discussed in every way but the trifling. The nature and ethics of debt were pondered and thought- fully illustrated. Integrity was enforced The Thing Necessary 15 impressively. Honesty to the core, in all that it implies, was persistently urged as the thing of all things necessary to true manhood and womanhood. Prudential considerations were the last to be named in connection with it. Chairs of Common Sense were set up chmks op in the universities. Wise professors filled sense. them. The distinction between scholar- ship and usefulness was continually de- fined. Education was directed to its uses — even to the unlearning of what could not be applied — adapting it to the character and wants of each individual — anticipa- ting, as far as practicable, occupation and position in life. Boys were taught an ap- prehension of the diffusion and universality of intelligence ; that no man had it all, but every man a little ; that the average was always worthy of respectful consultation ; that the education of the schools was but as Thteduca. the scaffolding and tools to the builder — schools!" bearing in mind all the time that the build- ing that was to endure was not made with hands ; that the hodman and the farm hand must teach him many things he must know ; that the classics — valuable enough for culture — and the maxims of philoso- 1 6 Sub-Cain m phy must give way, again and again, and without humiliation, to the commonest experience of the meanest man, whom he would despise, till he had fairly put his mind and fact to his in the conflict of affairs ; in fine, that he must surrender his self-conceit, be put upon his feet with the crowd, and totally unlearn and forget very much that he had learned, before he could begin to be truly sensible and wise. Theavemge By such means the average wisdom came wisdom. to be respected. It was the admitted gauge of civilization. It appeared too slow to the seer and too fast to the philosopher ; but the prescience of the one and timidity of the other were not often consulted. It gave a sympathizing ear to the fervid thoughts of enthusiasts and reformers, cooling and utilizing them by diffusion. It took from the wearied eye and nerve- shaken hand of the inventor his invention, and put it to work in the fields and seas. Thecommon It was the common sense and the common common law of life. It governed the Government and every man. It put a hope into the heart, and helped it to pray as well as to work. It fostered ideas of progression, which grew into system, and methodized thought and exertion. It made tests for ! A Means to the End ly formulas and platforms, and widened their scope and purpose to a generous breadth and humanity. In its providence, it cared it cared/or for all, the little and the great, the strong and the feeble. Its modes appeared level- ing processes, but the valleys of shadow were lifted up. The sun, if it did not glit- ter upon a promontory, warmed the plain to produce a generous harvest. If genius seemed a little crippled in its wing, it was by teaching it a steadier flight. If the hills were less beautiful by cultivation, the vintage was compensation. In short, schol- arship, less didactically and showily stated, was esteemed and urged, in that depart- ment of culture, as but a means to the end — peaceful and enlightened society, gov- erned by humane and beneficent laws : an Ideal Republic. In the schools and universities great instructed . , . .... -IN Tblling pains were taken to instruct in telling the the truth. truth. The viciousness of habitual extrav- agance in language was explained and il- lustrated. The close alliance between exajr- geration and lying was made apparent, and all were made to feel their responsibil- ity in speech. Volubility was discouraged. Drilling in narration was constant and uni- 18 Sub-Cochim versal. Facts were stated and incidents related to be repeated. The practice was amusing till the consequences showed them- selves to be grave. The same story, pass- ing through several minds and repeated by as many tongues, was hardly recog- a sober ex- nized, and the result became a sober expe- perience. . ._,... nence. It infixed itself in the memory. The dangers of careless speech, as they were comprehended, became startling. Habits of attention, therefore, and studied fidelity in repetition, were set down conspicuously among the social virtues. Truth-telling was impossible without them. Low, un- The use of low, unmeaning language was language, considered an offense against intelligence and good-breeding, and was in every proper way discouraged and prohibited. Its rude- ness and inelegance were not the only objections to it : it corrupted the carefully guarded tongue of the people. The lan- guage, in thousands of years, had grown to be so extensive that its dictionary was in many ponderous volumes. The effort for ages had been to reduce it — to elimi- nate all that was obsolete and impure — Daring coi daring colloquialisms even being excluded. loquialisms ... - - excluded. Enlightened men and women were known Conversation ig and rated by the purity and integrity of their speech ; standards of expression were standards high, and not to be despised ; rank was not "siof/high, risked by careless observance. Not that there was any lack in freedom of utter- ance. Forbidding the exceptionable en- couraged the best. Intellect was not shorn of her wings. Imagination soared and gayety disported at will. Ideas, lighter than air, clothed themselves in affluent language. Humor gladdened and glowed in an easy flow of words, and wit flashed out in verbal splendor. Conversation, indeed, was cultivated conversa- and practiced ambitiously, but cautiously. vItsd. Rude language and bad grammar were socially punished in emphatic ways, and people of good standing, making any pre- tensions to good - breeding and culture, were careful to be guiltless of them. Those who violated in either, whatever their schol- arship, were set down as vulgar and illit- erate. The general readiness and felicity were remarkable. Euphuism was rare. Euph Affectations and excesses of free expres- sion were instinctively avoided. Inborn taste and tact governed their intercourse. Gossip was high art. Trivialities were itism rare. 20 Sub-Ccclum Specialties of every sort. adorned and illustrated in a manner to cre- ate and maintain interest in them. Light philosophy turned the smallest events to account, and made each one seem impor- tant and respectable. Habits of adapta- tion led them into every sort of specialty. Hardly anything but had its experts and professors. Hints from nature were real- ized in mechanism and art. Novelties, improvements, inventions, were number- less. Every flying and creeping thing had its enthusiasts and exponents. Ephemera, infusoria, animalculas, were classified and individualized, without limit. Microbes, bacilli, were pets of the imagination. Chil- dren, even, seemed familiar with the mon- sters of the microscope, and talked of them as glibly as of their playthings and the chemical elements. Eagerness to know seemed not to ex- Ingenuous- nbss a So- cial excel- ceed the willingness to impart LENCE. sonal In per- affairs, secrecy was exceptional. Where acuteness was universal, discovery was nearly inevitable. Concealment being next to impossible, few thought of attempt- ing it. Ingenuousness, perforce, became one of the social excellences. Autobio- graphical writing was in fashion. Publi- respected. A Distinguishing Charm 21 cation of such self-revelation being in vio- lation of the public taste, manuscripts accumulated in private cabinets, to be con- sulted only in social emergencies. Re- Reporters porters were everywhere respected and deferred to. It was considered squeamish to withhold information from them — the reporters themselves being trusted to judge of its fitness or unfitness for publication. They made visits from house to house, and it was expected that everything of general interest would be communicated to them. Cases sometimes occurred when public in- dignation was aroused by efforts to mis- inform, divert, or baffle the indispensable news-gatherer. The desire to behave well was as general beh as the desire to talk well. Politeness was a distinguishing charm. Manners were simple and easy. Stateliness was avoided. Offensive familiarity was scarcely known. Intrusion was frankly apologized for. Side- door visiting was not tolerated. Compli- ment was cultivated. To say pleasant things to one another was the universal The custom. All were gratified by praise ; they only wanted it to be sincere. Ful- some flattery was received in a way to for- itmver- sal custom. 22 Sub-Ccelum bid a repetition of it. It was considered a cheapening and degradation of one's self to invite it, and a duty of refinement to re- buke it. Ladies set their faces against it. sarcasm Sarcasm was not often indulged, and only "iLiged.' 1 '"' then between close friends. When ill-na- ture prompted it, it was a crime against the peace of society. Obliquity of every sort was distrusted. They had a bad opin- ion of the lion on account of his step. Di- rectness was preferred, even to the extent of incivility. It was a great offense to be called cunning or shrewd. Artifice was the sign of a wry mind and perverted heart. To say slyly what would occasion unhappi- ness was an outrage to justify punishment. Good-nature and humanity were shocked by it. To make others happy was the rule and practice ; the contrary was the rarest exception. Especially it was the habit to give the greatest encouragement to worthy effort. Good deeds were heartily com- mended. By that means young and old were stimulated to do their best. You never met a boy or a girl who had not Approbation received encouraging words. Approbation /ace. ' was in every face. Hope was kept alive by it. Hearts were made human. They flowed together in good-fellowship. The Difficulty of Moderation 23 A habit of charitable judgment had a A H A BiTOF refining effect upon the people. Experi- b " e a judg- ence made them cautious in condemning. They were taught to know the limits of bad and good — that nobody was quite per- fect enough to merit deification, nor so utterly corrupt as to be a castaway. That a man must be looked at all around, within, by a fair light, and with a good eye, to be seen truly and judged justly. They were taught the difficulty of moderation : that if calm and deliberate enough to be just, they were almost sure to be indifferent : that ignorance, interests, prejudices, blinded their eyes, darkened their minds, and in- clined them to violence. If a story came to them derogatory of a friend or neighbor, they first asked themselves, Is it true ? Is it a natural thing for the man to do ? Is he capable of such an act? Deliberation Effects of 1 1 ■. . . . . , deliberation. made them slow in determining and cau- tious in accepting ; certain that the truth would present the matter differently. Hesitation made them charitable. It in- culcated making the most of the good and the least of the bad, and to hope accord- ingly. They were refined by generosity of judgment, as they were made modest by introspection. Epithets of derogation and 24 Sub-Ccelum condemnation were rarely used. Motives were not closely questioned. Sincerity did not need to be proved. Virtue was not absolute. Intelligence, at best, was A favorite extremely limited. At sea, they said, a illustration. , . c i a1 person s eye being six feet above the sur- face of the water, his horizon is only two miles and four fifths distant ; yet his tongue will as freely wag of the world as if it were all spinning under his eye. We freely discuss the ignorance of those we believe to be less intelligent than ourselves, never thinking that we are the cause of like amusement to those who are more intelligent than we are. Fewer laugh with us than at us. The grades are so many that contrast is more natural than compari- son. Unfortunately, too, it is only in the descent that we can see, and that but a lit- tle way. We know it is up, up, that we would go ; but the rounds of the ladder are but vaguely visible. But a small part we The prodi- perceive of the prodigious sweep from the gious sweep. . ... lowest ignorance to possible intelligence. Upon their feet with their fellows, and con- scious of the countless limitations to wis- dom and virtue, the people of Sub-Ccelum grew more refined and truly polite as they became more modest and charitable. Character not in the Market 25 Their superior men and women were their su- ■ a perior Men held in high estimation, and the influence and w - MEN. they exerted was everywhere apparent. Society in many cases seemed only a re- flection of them. Their high standards of conduct toned and tempered minds and hearts in remotest relations with them. The atmospheres they made and carried with them were pervasive. It was beauti- ful to see the respect and deference that was paid to them : silently and uncon- sciously paid, as the mimosa renders hom- age to a passing creature. Flatteries were Flatteries 010 notlieaped not heaped upon them ; the excellences upon num. they incarnated forbade grossness or indeli- cacy. The wisdom they dispensed and the good they did were not for compensation. Character was not in the market. Mere- triciousness did not attempt to entice, nor artifice to purchase. Ingenuousness was ingenuous. a. perpetual rebuke to devices, disguises, buke. obliquities. Compliment was best paid to superiority by adopting whatever was pos- sible of preeminence. Mere ability was not so highly esteemed as integrity — en- tireness. Men who were morally sound — incapable of duplicity and baseness, and women who were genuine and pure — of all excellence, were objects of unconscious ness a re- 26 Sub-Carl urn reverence. In their lives were taught vir- tue, honesty, honor, humanity, charity — all that constitutes true manhood and wo- manhood. When a superior man or woman entered any assembly, there was always more or less of sensation visible in visages and slight movement. Such personages Perpetual were perpetual surprises. They were bet- ter than they appeared, wiser than they assumed, did more than they promised, and were encouraging phenomena in virtue and humanity — examples of all that is precious in character. their So- Their social meetings were all that could cial Meet- . , . . . , , ings. be desired to promote harmony and good- neighborship. They met together cor- dially, without awkwardness or ostentation. Manners were such as good sense and good feeling had suggested and determined. Ex- cited and rapid conversation, as stated, was not in good taste. To talk much or eagerly was not a common ambition. Speech was upon the assumed basis of general intelli- gence, and was supplementary or comple- mentary. To assume ignorance, to enlarge sins against pedantically, were sins against good-man- g 7iers'!" a ners ; decency was offended by them. Pat- ronizing ways were not thought of, because Fashion not Omnipotent 2j not tolerated, — equality, for the nonce, being the prime condition. The happy few, with exceptional animal spirits and tact, who were able to fuse elements together, were acknowledged social forces : as moral Acknmvi- , . ,, . , . edged social and intellectual amalgams, they were duly /*>-<:«. appreciated ; wherever they appeared, in- sulation was impracticable. Whatever of dexterity they employed was not easily discernible ; show of management or ma- nipulation would have been fatal. Fashion was not omnipotent, though exacting. It was hardly a device of ugliness to entrap beauty. Loveliness, in a great degree, was independent of it. Youth and beauty, in simple dresses, were conspicuous. Only the middle-aged and old dressed richly and expensively. Diamonds and gold were too common to be often used for personal adornment. Intelligence in the eye, roses in the cheek, charity on the tongue, were better than all artificialities. Figure was Better than displayed, but not the charms of it indeli- cat/ties. cately. The consciously well-dressed were least so. Immodesty, or anything that sug- gested it, was not seen. Rudeness, even, blushed at the thought of it. Beautiful women were beautiful as they appeared pure. Deceitful enticement in the slightest 28 Sub-Ccelum incarnate made them ugly. Incarnate virtue was womanhood, ideal womanhood. Men honored it above everything earthly. It was reverenced in their mothers, their sisters, their wives, their daughters ; and their treatment of all women was touched by the distinction. In their social parties both sexes of all ages commingled — a few children being consid- ered necessary to a complete company, as undergrowth is indispensable to a healthy Respect and forest. Respect and amenity characterized behavior and word. The young were def- erential to the old, and the old considerate of the young. Venerable ladies received the attentions of young men, and venerable gentlemen extended every politeness to young women. Age and youth were side by side in the dance and at the banquet. Courtliness and the small sweet courtesies were taught and practiced. Manhood was improved and womanhood exalted. Hu- man nature appeared best in the bright- est light. Pessimism, even, if it existed, thought it worth while to continue the race under hopeful conditions. their Flo- Not the least attractive feature of their RAL EXHIBI- .... tujns. civilization was their floral exhibitions. The universal taste and a generous rivalry Surpassing the Flowers 29 made them frequent. Everybody attended them, and the enthusiasm shown was beau- tiful to see. Men and women had become famous by cultivating and propagating par- ticular species. Gardens of roses and gar- Gardens 0/ r t t • roses and dens of pinks were everywhere. Varieties gardens of r J pinks. seemed infinite. The bloom of the dande- lion and daisy was grown to be thrice as great as in the wild state. The hollyhocks were prodigious. The geraniums blazed in a marvelousness of color. Chrysanthe- mums of bewildering variety and beauty were the pride of the multitude. Pansies appeared living creatures. In these shows the best achievements in floriculture were brought together. The taste displayed, and the abounding beauty, made them delightful and memorable occasions. But more attractive than the flowers were the throngs of humanity that moved amongst them. Beauty was made more beautiful Beauty and and nobility more noble by being brought brought to- together so auspiciously. All that was good in man and woman seemed to shine out in happy faces. Roses in cheeks bloomed with a warmth the roses in the gardens did not have. Expression was ani- mated by the enlivening scene. Beauty was surprised into attitudes that poet or jo Sub-Ccelum Two float, painter had never witnessed. The two mces? ' floating radiances that appear and disap- pear amidst the roses ! Noiseless as spring sunshine and as inspiring. Blonde and brunette, distinct, together, and blending. Raven hair and golden, rippling at random and flowing together. Blue eyes and black, alternating ; confusing your fancies, like the changing hues of a sunset. Complex- ions nut-brown and alabaster, warm and roseate with innocency and ripeness. And The good the good woman of threescore who ex- wotnan of ..... ... itt threescore, changes civilities with them ! Her com- plexion is as clear and her face almost as sunny as theirs. That glistening silver lock must but a moment since have turned gray while she unconsciously twisted it. Her voice and smile and eyes do not an- swer to so much of life and vicissitude. The three sympathize and mingle, without adjustment or dissonance. Happy children and grave men add to the diversity of the occasion. What could be more elevating, picturesque, or wholesome, than human in- tercourse under favorable auspices ? each Day's Each day's dinner was much of an event dinner. ^ every family. It came early in the after- noon, as the hours of labor and business The Family Dinner 31 were not many. It was the rule to forget the cares of the day, and to put away anx- iety, as far as possible, in preparation for it. Plenty of time was taken, to fully en- joy it. Not that the population were espe- cially devoted to eating ; they looked more to the civilities and socialities than to the The tiviii indulgence of the appetite. Cleanliness cMities. was particularly observed, in person and in table-habits. Promptness was expected of every one, and a careful consideration for the comfort and pleasure of others was maintained. Each one took his place, without eagerness or disorder. The service was deliberate, and in courses — chemi- cally right foods being served together. Tables were padded to limit the noise of dishes. Personal peculiarities of taste were Peculiar*. . . . . . ties of taste ignored or not referred to. Noise in eat- ignored. ing was scrupulously avoided. Pigs for that, they said, not men. Children were so instructed, but not at the table. Ra- pidity was not indulged, for the same rea- 1 son. A famished manner was offensive. Excess in quantity also. Repletion was as objectionable as voracity. The dishes served, their costliness and preparation, were not elaborately discussed. Dining was else and more than feeding. It in- $2 Sub-Ca'htm eluded all that was civilized and generous. Best impulses were quickened and liveliest ideas evolved. Irony was not indulged at Good/eeiing the expense of good-nature. Good feeling was requisite to a good dinner — a better sauce, if possible, than hunger. Words were not taken from others' mouths ; in- terruption was rudeness. Subjects intro- -V duced, as far as practicable, were elevat- ing, but not above the range of the average. Free utterance was encouraged, but not, as before observed, too great precipitancy or volubility. Discoursing, or talking in a lecturing way, was a violation of good ta- ble-manners. That every one might have due opportunity of participating, anything like monopoly, if indulged, was jealously children en- restricted. Children were encouraged to a full share in conversation. Occasion, in- deed, was often made to give them promi- nence — self-instruction being an ulterior purpose. Birthdays of distinguished men and women were selected for their special benefit. A little better dinner than usual was provided, an extra dish or an additional course being sufficient. A suitable guest was selected to partake, and to put all upon their good behavior. The children were expected to lead on these anniversaries. Cooking in Sub-Ccelim 33 Ample time was given them for prepara- tion. Dictionaries, cyclopaedias, and bio- graphies were consulted for facts and inci- dents. Each one was depended upon to contribute an anecdote or interesting fact. Contemporaneous history was recalled. Lessons in philosophy and concfuct were Lessons sug. suggested. The good in the several char-^ acters considered was brought out exem- plarily, and the bad referred to in admoni- tion. The great and excellent in life and literature were thus studied and kept in memory. All were made to think, and to grow in enlightenment. The children espe- cially were helped and stimulated in self- education. Cooking was a proud art in Sub-Ccelum, cooking a and was carried to great perfection. Still they experimented, and their best results were from time to time announced in gas- tronomic journals. The invention of a new dish gave distinction, next to the discov- ery of a new planet. Chemistry was so ^ persistently and ingeniously applied that kitchens became laboratories. Bad cook- ing was a sin, and brought shame upon the sinner. This extraordinary interest in the art was due in great part to the prevailing 34 Siib-Ccelum Sallowness a reproach. Morals and opinion that morals largely were emana- tions of the stomach, and that men were good and healthy as they were well fed. Curious and wonderful instances were collected in proof. Crimes were traced to bad breakfasts, as benefactions were to good dinners. The philosophic cook ac- counted for conduct as he did for complex- ions. Roses in cheeks told their history. Sallowness was a reproach, and was very rare. The shades of melancholy appeared in few faces. It was the general belief that most diseases were caused by bad or ill-cooked food, and that few of them that were remediable would not yield to right diet. The doctor often, before writing his prescription, questioned the economy of the kitchen. The priest, before consola- tion or absolution, did the same. Courts, in the trial of criminals, directed similar inquiry, and extenuation or commutation was often a result of it. Law-makers were indebted to cooks for suggestions. Moral- ists were liberal as they were gastronomi- cally wise. Pork was held accountable for much that was bad in the world, roast pig excepted. The young of swine, something heavier than a full-grown capon, were objects upon which genius expended it- Roast pig The Custard Apple 55 self. The sweet juices thereof reached the sources of sense, and remained in the mind as on the palate, inclining it to gen- erous reflection. Fish, too, the particular Fish. food of the brain, employed and exhausted the possibilities of kitchen science. Never a drop of water entered into one of the finny tribe after the knife had done its office. The natural juices were all pre- served — every particle. Banquets exclu- sively of fish, with ichthyological pictures all round, were not uncommon events. Symposia they were of wit and eloquence. Bread-making was carried to great perfec- Bread- tion. Loaves were congeries of sweet '"' crystals. The light shone through them. They were marvelous. Common articles were made wondrously palatable by the manner in which they were cooked and served. Fruits especially were temptingly presented. The papaw, the North Ameri- rite p a paw. can custard apple, was a favorite of the people. It was sedulously cultivated, and was considered excellent above all other fruit. Ripening upon the tree, and falling upon the leaves, it caught a taste of earth and heaven that was ambrosial. It was the supreme delicacy, and was daintily eaten. Nothing so palatable, they said ; 36 Sub-Ccelum certainly nothing uncooked. An appropri- ately artistic dish received it. The knife to lay off its skin was set in diamonds. The spoon to eat it with was of purest gold, a bit at a of delicate and exquisite workmanship. A time enough. ... . r bit at a time was enough, every atom of which rose to the sensorium. A half an hour was considered too short a period to linger over this achievement of nature — her one inimitable, unsurpassable custard. The beautiful orchards of this Fruit of Paradise were the triumph and pride of pomology. their good The people, being highly intelligent, re- ' quired the best of physicians. A little smattering and a great deal of pretension would not do. Ignorance, that presumed to exercise important functions, was held to be criminal. When exposed, it became an object of public reproach. It might trifle with anything but human life and not be declared odious ; but when poor human bodies were subjected to merest empiri- cism, the public sense and the public con- science revolted. It was understood that (the more knowledge the physician had, the better fitted he was for his profession. No man, in their judgment, could know too The Human Machine 37 much to be a good doctor. There was, they knew, no end to the knowledge appli- cable to the treatment of disease. The physician was not expected to perform miracles, as the world had grown too wise | to expect the miraculous. The human ma- chine was admitted to be frail, and destined to go to pieces. The house of clay was The house of only to be kept in such repair as to be c y ' presentable and comfortably habitable till abandoned. It was not made to resist earthquakes nor time. Only the every- day storms and ills were to be averted or cured. The one great shock or poison, which shatters or rots the structure, the wisest could not forefend nor baffle. Thera- peutics could not be so exact as anatomy. With the aid of anaesthetics, the medical carpenter might cut and saw his poor fel- low with certainty. But the many influ- influenceso/ r . , . climate, ap- ences of climate, appetite, and passion fetiu, and passion. upon human bodies, as varied by predispo- sitions, habits, and ambitions as they were numerous, were admitted to be past find- ing out mathematically, and too often were only to be guessed at, as the turns of the market, or the whims of insanity. Sin- cere, and devoted to his calling — carry- ing conscience into it as well as intelli- 38 Sub-Ccelum gence — the physician was not expected to accommodate himself to pretenses nor a pro/es- whims. A professional call meant sober %uant c *ober business, and his sense of duty commanded candor. If indolence, or indulgence, or vice were the cause of ailment, he frankly announced and characterized it. The cher- ished habits, appetites, or desires must be abandoned before he could begin a cure of their results. Describing their effects upon the body, he did not suggest their blighting consequences upon the character. That, he considerately left to the curer of souls — the clergyman or the priest. the quack Time was, even in Sub-Ccelum, when contrast! the quack doctor — the empiric, the char- latan, the pretender — was in fashion. To appearances he was most considerate and respectful, while with the real he made merchandise. A large proportion, and the most substantial, of his patients, were only growing old, but they submitted to be drugged and drugged, rather than to be told the wholesome truth. The slight weaknesses and aches, as natural as gray hairs and dim eyesight, pride of life and Dignified the pretender's arts dignified into illnesses. ' Thin locks and spectacles were natural Wise Prescriptions 59 enough, and well enough, and becoming ; but flattening muscles and cooling circula- tion were results of over-work or impru- dence, and might be restored to roundness and comfortable temperature. The doc- tor's wise prescription was higher living and heavier woolens, with powders and Heavier drops now and then as alteratives and tonics, and just soon enough, to a visit, he conducted the case to a favorable issue. The air of another clime was recommended if his patient's patience seemed failing, or if, as the real case might be, the ill-judg- ment of a stubborn husband was to be cor- rected. Many of his patients who were given to gayety and irregular hours, who were too frail to bear children, his mere hint of the fact was of profit to the mon- ster in a palace, whose specialty was such cases. Expressionless eyes and dullness contrasted with beauty and thin dresses, and stimulants in every form were sug- gested to supply the needed lustre and sprightliness, and complete the harmony. Small potions at first were sufficient ; and Smaiipo- if gradual increase of quantity resulted unfortunately, the misfortune was disease, to be treated by a still further increase of the cause as a remedy. If the public voice 40 Sub-Ccelum Crime *n was silenced by the presence of crime in many house- , . . . . r . , , holds. so many households ; if brothels sprang up palatially in desirable streets ; if hospitals multiplied to exhaust the public purse ; the fashionable doctor, who was the genius and patron of them all, was secure in his fame and opulence. Long, long since, the peo- ple of Sub-Ccelum had grown too wise and excellent to tolerate such an embodiment of insincerity and artfulness. They pre- ferred conscience and candor in their phy- sicians, and profited by them in body and in spirit. The cler- Time was, also, when the clergy of Sub- ccelum. Ccelum were not all that they might have been. Too many of them had grown worldly and time-serving. The occupant of the carved pulpit, it was said, whose wants were only imaginary, knelt upon cushions of velvet, and thanked gracious Heaven for having made the circumstances of all mankind so extremely happy. Mate- rial demands upon him having been paid by checks on his banker, he was profoundly ignorant such perfection that wrong-doing was nearly impossible. Blinds at doors and windows were not so much to elude obser- vation as to exclude and regulate the light. Language, as before stated, was for expres- sion, not for concealment or dissimulation. Masks of any sort only invited inspection. Faculties were sharpened by them to mi- croscopic accuracy. Utmost apparent can- Motive. dor was often more deceptive, as motive- mongers in . m-refiute. mongers, in the ordinary way, were in ill-repute. People were expected to be truthful. Falsehood was in violation of all their training. Truth was at the basis of their practical religion. Their morals re- acted on their bodies. They lived to great age in consequence. By the mere power of enlightened will it seemed they lived or died at pleasure. Disease was prevented by foresight, inoculation, or vaccination. Parents, when they punished their children, were particular at the same time to punish The fatality themselves ; — recognizing the fatality of of heredity. ...... heredity — the responsibility of paternity — that the child did not beget itself. Only murder was punishable by death. Breach Means of Protection 61 of trust, ranking next in criminality, was punished with great severity. For third offenses, of any serious character, impris- Penaty onment for life was the penalty, that offenses. society might be protected, and children be not begotten by incorrigible criminals. The sins of lust were especially punished, as being radically demoralizing. The face of meretriciousness was not only a warning to the police ; it was sadly shocking to de- cency and the moral sense ; and admon- ished special guardians of the social super- structure to look well to the foundations. Purity, of all things, was most jealously Ariiy , , ,-»-,, . • -i i • jealously guarded. The incorrigibly impure were g i«irded. locked up forever. Men and women, as to that, were treated alike by the police and by the courts. If society was to continue to exist, and grow in essential excellence, chastity must be increasingly recognized as the crowning virtue. Education, expe- rience, hope, all inculcated it. The regu- lations of society were such that many op- portunities for crime did not exist. The The bad bad were found out, and thwarted in their cut. evil purposes. Persons removing from one part of the country to another were re- quired publicly to announce and register the same, with the causes thereof ; and 62 Sub-Caium abode. those removing into a new community were also required to state and record in the same public manner the cause or causes change o/ which prompted their change of abode ; at the same time and in the same way, to give a history of themselves — their occu- pations, purposes, circumstances — every- thing, in fact, in which the people were understood to be interested. As little as possible was left to curiosity or doubt. Men and women were known and read by all. Places in society, in a measure, were self-assigned. It was not possible for any one to be far deceived. Self-regulation was a large part of the business of society. Police officers had little to do : about all was done for them. Personality and con- duct stood out so conspicuously and sig- nificantly as to make official interference only occasionally necessary. Estates Limited. Estates were generally small in Sub-Cce- lum. Great wealth was not considered de- sirable, and was discouraged by the popu- lation in every way that was proper and neighborly. It gave distinction not in harmony with their established system of government. Only the utmost equality was thought to be consistent with pure Responsibility of Prosperity 6) democracy. This central principle was never lost sight of in all their legislation and social regulations. The spirit of agra- rianism did not show itself amongst them : their singular integrity repressed it. Pub- The burden lie opinion rather than the law fixed the ert y . burden upon property worthily, and rich people realized and accepted it. It was but the price and responsibility of pros- perity. Beyond a certain limit they were taught to hold their property in trust for the benefit of the public, and of individuals less prosperous than themselves. They distinguished themselves by their generos- ity. Their benefactions made them popu- lar as well as famous. Hospitals were built by them. They busied themselves quietly in searching out misfortune and relieving it. They made humanity and self-sacri- Humanity fice fashionable, but not ostentatiously so. sacrifice The good they did was by few words, and not by formal announcement. It showed itself rather in results. Wealth did not array itself offensively to simple livers. Socially, it kept within the average. Their banquets were not insulting in their splen- dor. They did not endanger pedestrians with their hurrying equipages. Their ad- vantages were not aggressive. It appeared 64 Sub-Ccelutii a noble thing to enjoy opulence in a right way. Envy was not disturbed nor hatred awakened by its privileges and pleasures. The virtues The virtues were common possessions, and common . . . possesses, disported themselves, in a sense, in palaces as in cottages. Money, in itself, did not give honorable celebrity. Distinctions of God gave greatest prominence and emi- nence. A man might be great, without skill to advance himself, or cash to help his fellow. The riches of heart and intel- lect enjoyed just estimation. property The property of all, however — the prop- in Friends. . . erty that ranked highest — was the inesti- mable property in friends. The man en- joying the greatest number of good ties was the man supremely rich. His riches were above and beyond robbery. His friends were wealth imperishable, while he deserved them. The common ambition to possess this incomparable wealth had a stimulating and exalting influence. It was property within the reach of all, and a dis- paragement not to possess it. The signifi- cance of friendlessness was duly estimated. It meant unworthiness, and a lack of the genuine virtues of humanity. Courage was wanting, and fidelity. To have no friends Significance of FrienJlessness 65 was not to deserve them, and the situation was pitiable. Utter selfishness or degrada- seifishnen tion only accounted for it. If the creature tumaccmut. had done any generous thing, the benefici- ary would have adhered to him. If he had divided his loaf, the satisfied appetite would have kept him in remembrance. If he had shown a poor man out of his extremity, the happy relieved fellow would have given him his heart. If he had been kind to children, he would have enjoyed an ever- increasing harvest of good wishes. If the old and the feeble had been helped by him, his ears would have been filled with their benedictions. If poor woman, with all her troubles, and his own too, had been met more than half way by his sympathy and tenderness, a friendship immortal would have attached to him inseparably. To have no friends was destitution indeed ; but to deserve a multitude of them was to enjoy riches incomputable and imperish- able. Such standards of wealth and worth were the result of experience and every test, and were fixed and irreversible. Labor was so honored that sheer idle- idleness ,. . , , -,-. DlSKEPU- ness was disreputable. Every one was ex- table. pected to have something creditable to do, 66 Sab-Caiiim and to do it. Children were brought up to pursue some avocation, or cultivate some occupation taste. Occupation was considered an in- ']"a'u duty"' dispensable duty in the social man. An absolutely idle citizen was but one remove from a knave. To work with his own hands was not only the duty but the pride of every capable person ; and prejudices which despised labor were positively un- known. Business descended from father to son, and perfection was attained in every branch of it. It was found that a man was a better bootmaker from having descended through a long line of bootmakers. The feet of one in the care of such an artist were insensibly comfortable. His brain was not racked nor his nerves tortured by a distressing localization of his sensibility. Happier, too, was the artist or artisan from perfectly understanding his occupation ; and he was esteemed accordingly. A bet- ter feeling was established in life by expe- rience of its utilities. Jealousies and en- vies and hatreds were restrained by it. Fraternity was made easy, and fellowship possible. Manhood was helped upward by Mere living it, and ennobled. Mere living was not not a worthy . . r objectofiife. considered a worthy object of life. True life was above the means which sustained Earned Leisure Most Relished 6j it. Equanimity had an eye to results be- yond the moment. Only the beasts that perish were contented to be merely fed. The nervous tread of a true man meant Thenervom . iii tread of a more than movement; it betrayed absorb- true man. ment, and looked to an end worth attain- ing. Idleness had every gait, and none long. Whim changed it. Nothing to do was held to be the worst want of nature, and the most exhausting. It tested se- verely mind and morals. Ennui was weari- ness which had nothing to show : the tired hodman counted the courses in the wall. Languor pressed its nose against the pane, and dreamily questioned the vitality it mused on and envied. Earned leisure was most relished. Pure joy was a costly arti- cle. A little time for pleasure was pre- cious ; time for nothing else was burden- some. Time was, even in Sub-Ccelum, when indolence men generally were as indolent as they could afford to be. Unless compelled, they did little which was useful. Only now and then a high nature was created which worked from love, and was content with a tithe of the harvest. Nine parts to man- kind was a generous division, and only a 68 Sub-Ccelum great soul would spare so much. To such it was not sacrifice ; his return was in mul- tiplied blessings. Exemption from useful labor was the ambition or boast of nearly rrijiing/or all. Trifling for selfish ends was therefore the business of most of those who could confine themselves to voluntary effort. They were perverted by a misuse of means. They relied upon the adventitious, till the natural, intrinsic resources denied them service. They went out of themselves for pleasure, and returned to find themselves empty. They built palaces, and existed in them the victims of ceremony and ser- vants. They bought books to adorn libra- ries, which satirized them. They bought musical instruments as ambitious orna- ments, and patronized the opera. They educated their daughters expensively, and saw them accept impertinence and imbe- cility for escorts and husbands. Their sons in- sons were indulged and pampered, till pampered, amusements were exhausted and occupa- tion was purchased to keep them respecta- ble. They rode in carriages so conspicu- ously elegant as to make them sacrifice comfort to propriety. Their horses repre- sented so much capital that the weather and their health were consulted before Artificialities and their Effects 6g using them. Their acquaintances were esteemed for the rank they had and gave. Their houses were heated by furnaces to insure uniform temperature, and day and night they inhaled a baked atmosphere, and wondered at disturbed respiration. Disturbed -,-,. iiiii • respiration. Pipes conducted cold and warm water into chambers and kitchen, and they took poi- son in all that they drank and ate, and were surprised by palsy and an increase of nervous disorders. The wine-cellar, meant to be a depository of luxuries, became a resource against wasting vitality. The laugh of the fields and the streets was re- produced in ghastly caricature behind the parti-colored goblets. A joke upon the high price of bread redeemed a dullard, and the whole table from dullness. The children were cared for by nurses, and their natures modified by restraints and drugs, till feebleness and pitiful cries iden- tified them. The doctor's visits were as in- dispensable as the baker's or hairdresser's, and the household ate as they dosed, by Ate and prescription. The priest dropped in to scription. solace the moments between drugging and dressing. Life was taken up by the end- less round of artificialities and their effects, till the struggles and wants of those they yo Sub-Caium deplored compared with them as blessings. Their civilization at its worst, they slowly discovered that the inspiration of work was the spirit of life : that bread for the Ambrosia body, earned by exertion, was ambrosia ' ' for the soul. Sweet for the sweat it cost, it was sweeter for the promise it gave. It satisfied the appetite, but not the longing insatiable. The little feast was but a fore- taste of fruition. The sickly atmosphere of affluence, tempered to tender throats and low enunciation, was gathered from cellars bordered by sewers, and choked a healthy nature, exhausted and exhaustive by exer- tion. The great lungs of outdoor labor inspired the upper air of heaven, and panted for inspirations from its source. To-mor- row, on the way with the sun, would de- mand a full day's service, which to-day's fidelity must assure. To-morrow and to- morrow, and then the day supernal, long enough for any longing, an unending har- Making and vest and holiday. They realized that mak- mmwf ing money and earning it were different. Earning it was a reality ; making it a fic- tion. Money made money ; labor earned it. Bonds, proverbially, like infants, did best by sleeping ; labor was obliged to be awake, and faithful. A dollar, for a day in Worse than Want 7/ the sun, was precious ; a dollar, got in the dark, which could not be accounted for, was worse than want. Knotted hands told of the one ; nimble fingers or nothing told of the other. These views and activities developed Manhood manhood and personal freedom. Creature- sonalFrbe- comforts, more than were wholesome, were regarded with suspicion. In their simple philosophy, they were the lap of Delilah. They emasculated and smothered. Manli- ness, the thing every man should stand for, grew without them. Strong roots were made by strong winds. Careful culture and supports gave symmetry to the shrub in the conservatory, but the oak of com- merce grew alone, amid storms. To the rude soil and the tempest it owed its texture, and it would bear the tests of the seas. They had seen how the branches of trees by the coast or on the mountain were sometimes forced by the merciless winds to grow one way ; but the willful roots combined defiantly and forced themselves another. Character was so much resist- character. ance and endurance. They esteemed it a poor and disgraceful thing, not to be able to reply, with some degree of certainty, to the 7 2 Sub-Ccelitm simple questions, What will you be ? What will you do ? To cut the cable and launch away from conventional restraints and ne aspira- helps was the aspiration of every worthy w^-thjman. man at some time in his life. His individu- ality felt fettered and shorn. Before he consented to surrender and be subordinate, he aspired to be tried by trusts, perils, and calamities. He had decided the fox lucky that left his tail in the trap. The muskrat, he had observed, would gnaw his third leg off to be free. Native manhood was shy of conventionality and patronage. It was in- clined to be self-asserting, and was rarely arm-in-arm, but for recreation. It gave and took as it willed. It husbanded by determining without counsel. Its reserve conciliated what it would appropriate. It was democratic, essentially. It required and permitted alike. While it chose, it gave choice, without question. Freedom it claimed and allowed, an immunity with- out gyves. A receptacle, it could wait to receive, and would not obstruct nor be obstructed. A week was not idle that brought something, but a day was wasted if employed upon nothings. Its freedom was its strength, which modish subser- viency acknowledged by obeisance. Its Immunity without gyves. Ideal Manhood J} faculties were fitted for work by waiting for work worthy of them. Friction it liked, but not the attrition of mechanic move- ment. The principles it would freely use were as virginal and unhandled as when spoken of God. Ideal manhood stood for ideas, facts, and deeds. Rectitude identi- Rectitude _ . „^, . r i identified it. fied it. The extrinsic was its foreground ; the inherent its perspective, illimitable. Trials quickened and refined it. Wants supplied and pangs consoled it. Calamities became resources, treasures which did not waste, entailed for precious uses, perpetu- ated in goodness, or fame, or glory. In heroic days, plain food, in sufficient quan- tity, was all that was required. The ap- petite was kept whetted by labor, and digestion was as easy and unconscious as respiration. Sandwiches of corn-bread and bacon, with the fallen tree for a table, un- touched and unpolished but by the winds of heaven, and the glittering axe for a platter, brighter than the brightest silver, made a delicious and brilliant dinner for a delicious , , . - . e , andbrilliant the pioneer, after six honest hours ot wood- dinner. man's gymnastics. His simple and earnest life was ever a song or a prayer. The present was all thankfulness and the future all hope. His daily enjoyments, dearly J4 Sub-Ccelum and honestly earned, were doubly blessed Health ami'm health and sweet conscience by the sweet con- . . . science. Master Employer. His title to the acres he opened to the sun was directly from their Creator ; and the bread they brought him was by the sweat of his own face. His future, in the steady serenity of heroic faith, appeared abounding in only such promises as his fidelity and devotion real- ized. His work and wants were so simple as ever to keep him close to the Giver. There was no middleman to divide his blessings or qualify his thanksgiving. His health the Helper, and his will the Assur- ance, his own short arm was long enough to reach the Bountiful and Everlasting. the ple- In the ordinary sense, the plebeian and aristo- the aristocrat did not exist in Sub-Ccelum. Society was so constituted, and men were so governed by exceptional conditions, that such distinctions were not recognized. Extremes met on the same plane. Per- sonal freedom, self-respect, and the pride of manhood, placed men one with another. Every man a man, he naturally felt and acknowledged the manhood of every other. The uses of labor, of money, of intelligence, and of character, were held to be insepa- THE CRAT. Responsibilities of Wealth 75 rable. The responsibilities of wealth made the rich man grave, considerate, and modest. He felt his dependence the same Mutual de- as that of his less opulent neighbor. Fru- gality and liberality formed a just balance. Simple living and industry were resources to offset affluence. The same sum repre- sented services recompensed and services rendered. Obligation and dependence were mutual. It was not for employer or employee to lord it over his copartner. In his freedom from the care of great prop- erty, the attentive citizen of moderate means esteemed himself fortunate as his eyes gradually opened to a knowledge of its perils and burdens. As he perceived the invisible hands reaching out from all round for the accumulated treasure — hands of mendicity and hands of cupidity — he better understood the delicate atti- tude of its possessor. The cares of honest poverty, he discovered, were not to be com- pared with the cares of hoarded riches. The cares j The piles of letters on the rich man's table h rTJi!s d every morning ! The fulsome flatteries, ingenious and offensive ! The threaten- ings, bold and insinuated ! The schemers, soliciting money to balance prescience ! Poor women, in the extremity of pride and j6 Sub-Coshim distress, humiliatingly appealing for assist- ance ! Reports of deficits in eleemosynary To quicken institutions! All to quicken sympathy STJSU* and disturb the purse-strings. Agents Vtrm/s'f' were kept busy searching out the worthy. How could the rich man, with a heart in him, be free from anxiety and responsi- bility ? His vessels were on the treacher- ous sea. His dividends had been lessened by a sweeping fire. His boy was a sorry expense. If he let his wealth accumulate, how was he to find secure and profitable investment ? the vices. The vices, in a great measure, had been eliminated, or had died out. Vast man- ufactories of drinks and superfluities had been abandoned. Tobacco was little used. Houses of sin were generally closed. Gam- bling was almost unknown. Occupations were numerously diminished. Those de- pending upon private vices almost ceased to exist. Horses were bred for moral quali- ties rather than for speed. The prize-ring was a thing of history. People wondered at its brutality as they read about it. That manhood should have been so perverted One of the was one of the shocking things in their things." annals. As the ordinary uses of money di- The Change Revolutionary jj minished, new employment was found for it. In proportion as the vices died out the The virtues virtues had been stimulated. The change had been revolutionary. Life was not the mercenary, sensual thing it had been. Chasing rolling bits of silver and gold had ceased to be its nearly universal employ- ment. Pandering to extravagance and vice was no longer respectable. To elevate humanity, not to degrade it, had become the supreme object of civilization. Men became ashamed of what before they had been proud of. They studied, more and more, the laws of life, and the requisites to health and enjoyment. Expenditures being largely confined to comforts and necessi- ties, not much money was indispensable. Hours of labor were reduced, and leisure Hours of i*. ■, t ,i i tt bar reduced. was abundantly increased. Homes were supplied with every convenience, to make domestic occupations easy and attractive. The kitchen became a museum. Water, for culinary and drinking purposes, was perfectly filtered by simple and inexpen- sive means. Against flies, vermin, and in- sects of every sort, there was complete pro- tection. The common rat and pestilent mouse had been so persistently, intelli- gently, and humanely pursued, that both 78 Sub-Caium species were nearly extinct. Nerves and sympathies being too precious to be wasted, heads of fowls were lopped off by Guillotines, ingeniously contrived guillotines. Simple and convenient apparatus for bathing was in every household. In the construction of commodes, of every variety and pattern, the utmost ingenuity was expended. Pri- vate offices, naturally disagreeable, were relieved of unpleasantness by attractive and luxurious appliances. Offal, faeces, waste of every kind, were consumed by fire, or reduced by chemical means to impalpa- ble and scentless dust. The vices being no longer commodities, to any large extent, the multitudes dealing in them found other occupations. Genius was developed in unexpected abundance, and was felicitously applied, in innumerable ways, to make life abounding in comfort and happiness. Land increased in value as labor became more generally necessary to individual suste- nance. The big diamonds and showy charms, no longer attractions in the gin- shops and brothels, were bartered for good acres and implements of husbandry. Dol- lars, got in the dark, were no longer many : all, with the few exceptions, were earned in the light, and under the sun ; Land in- creased in value. High Qualities Conspicuous 79 and being limited to honest and clean uses, went a great way. Pecuniary indepen- dence was practicable and easy. A few hours each day supplied all that was requi- site. Where wants were few and easily satisfied, is it any wonder the distinguish- ing names of plebeian and aristocrat were obsolete or inapplicable ? Increase of common sense and practical common wisdom was a marked result of the new practical «.r t-., i-i t • 1 Wisdom. lite. Inese high qualities appeared more conspicuously in all that they did. Their knowledge and experience were system- atically applied. The comparatively poor, capable man, for that reason, became rich in resources. The economies and possi- bilities made him a master. How could he be utterly poor with unexhausted means — while anything remained to be done it was possible for him to do ? His few acres produced marvelously. To the depth of three spades, sometimes, the light and gases were let in. Pulverization, fertiliza- tion, rotation, were matters of intelligent study and experiment, and there was certain increase in productiveness. Their certain in, kitchen gardens, more, even, than their c produc"\re. farms, were attentively cultivated. A '" 80 Sub-Ccelum small space seemed enough for a family. The vegetables were exaggerations, and their small fruits excelled in flavor and abundance. Cabbages and cauliflowers were favorites, and grew better by the affection bestowed upon them. Berries ! — to know them you must taste them. Their flavor was an inspiration, and a joy- ful memory. small Farms were small in Sub-Ccelum, for Farms Pre- n ... , ,_ T ,. .,, ferred. reasons stated and interred. Well tilled, they were found preferable to extensive plantations. Ploughing was deep. Drain- age was complete. When necessary, irri- gation was easy. Lakes on the mountains and high uplands, with perpetual streams flowing from them, supplied an abundance of water, and the topography of the coun- try was generally such that the diversion of it from natural channels was not difficult nor expensive. Extraordinary care was taken in the selection of the seeds they planted. And they attentively studied the enemies of all kinds of grain and plants. Entomology Entomology was so understood, that the understood. . . . . . , . . habits of such worms and insects as they warred against were accurately known. How to exterminate them was always an Knowledge Liberally Applied 81 interesting subject of conversation with agriculturists. The knowledge they dis- played was acute and extensive, and was always liberally applied. Applied, mark you ! for knowledge was not held of high estimation that was not practical and ap- plicable. Do as you know, was an admoni- tory precept everywhere heard. Fish - ponds were abundant, and great fish-ponds r . . . . Abundant. pride was felt in everything pertaining to piscatorial culture and art. The finest fish for the table, and the most beautiful for ornament, were always at hand. There seemed to be no limit to the supply. Tch- thyological literature was exhausted to multiply them. Their nature was studied until it was understood. Just how to feed and treat them was known to perfection, and they grew in flavor and proportions accordingly. In the ponds, they were petted and caressed till they delighted in human companionship. They floated into your hand in a manner to invite sympathy and tenderness. Selection was made for selection • i" m i x i easily wade. the table with the least difficulty. In the streams, the varieties delighted in by sportsmen abounded. Every household had a cabinet of fishermen's supplies. 82 Sub-Ccelum of life. Nets, rods, hooks, flies — everything per- taining to the art — a veritable museum of utilities and curiosities. Everything was done to foster and elevate the art — no- thing to disparage and degrade it. A great Tiutoetry part of the poetry of life was inspired by the music of streams, and the skillful cap- ture of their inhabitants. The man who did not delight in the temperate art of an- gling possessed no quality of the philoso- pher or poet. If he could not contemplate the running stream as an image of human life, and cast his hook into it as he cast his venture into the mysterious current of affairs, with only a hope or a guess of the result, he did not apprehend conditions. The shifting atoms, on their way to the sea, and the elusive fishes, are not more uncertain than the passing moments, and what they promise to us. Bee-cul- ture. The cultivation of flowers was universal : every household had a garden of them. Bees, as a consequence, were generally kept and studied. Children, even, were wise about the wonderful creatures. Bees and bee-culture was a favorite topic of con- versation. There was scarce any limit to the discoveries close observation had made Talk of Bee-Keepers 83 of their habits and achievements. The talk of bee-keepers was as interesting as the talk of astronomers. It abounded in incidents and anecdotes worthy the atten- tion of best-endowed minds. The ways of The ways 0/ , • 1 r i bees and bees were as curious as those of men, and men. were freely used to illustrate human life and conduct. The philosophic uses of both, indeed, were interchangeable, with- out any great disadvantage to either. A knowledge of the wisdom of the little in- sects was not encouraging to the growth of conceit in the higher species. The more people knew of bees, the less self-flattering the estimates of themselves were. The parallels they constantly drew confused their notions of instinct and reason. Dis- tinctions between them, and their limits, were never fixed, but constantly changing. No other creature under their care was so profoundly interesting. The suggestions of the apiary and its product were steady resources for mind and body. No food was considered quite so healthful, in cer- Honey -. , . _,. . healthful. tain conditions, as honey. I he respiratory and pulmonary organs were helped by it, and its free use was regarded by many as a sure preventive of consumption. Well-de- fined cases of that dread disease did not 84 Sub-Caium exist there, and the fact was accounted for in part by the general use of the sweet pro- duct. Oxymel had been an approved remedy time out of mind. propaga- Great attention was paid to the propaga- pouLtry. tion of poultry. The barnyard was a pic- ture. By careful selection and intelligent treatment remarkable results had been at- tained. Enemies had been destroyed or thwarted, and disease rarely showed itself. Eggs multiplied prodigiously. Artificial hatching was not in vogue. Too many of the fowls produced were deformed. Be- sides, in their nice sense, they did not like to disturb the course of instinct. Capons grew to great proportions and sweetness. The duck, in kitchen parlance, was all breast. The turkey increased in juiciness and flavor under improved feeding. But The bird 0/ the royal peacock was the bird of excel- lence and preference. He adorned the farm and completed the banquet. His lofty, ostentatious mien made him an un- failing attraction. Guests at afternoon dinner-parties were entertained by his ma- jestic strut and spread of tail and gorgeous- ness of color. An admiring word was enough to brighten and animate every fea- The Royal Peacock 85 ther, and set him forth in all his glory. The gamut of ridiculous pride was in his dissonant notes. No other article of food commanded so high a price. In the poul- terer's stall he was adorned with ribbons. Adorned T . . . . . , . with ribbons. Just the time required to ripen him per- fectly, was a question gastronomers were ever discussing ; and how most divinely to cook him, was a subject that inspired genius. Poets sang the royal bird, and painters exhausted their pigments to imi- tate his tints. Unique ceremonies were performed over him, as he lay in his fra- grance and juiciness, on the banqueting table, before anatomy divided his bones, and laid bare the depths of his bounteous bosom. The skilled carver, as he cut away the succulent flakes, was expected deftly to show them in such light as would dis- play their translucency and lustre. Times when the peacock was the special gastro- nomic glory, were occasions of faithful and triumphant record. Draughts were made of the table, and the names of honored guests were appropriately set down in rose- ate colors. The Sub-Ccelum oyster was the best of the sub- all the sixty or more known species. The o^'t^k. 86 Sitb-Ca'him beds on all the shores were extensive and abundant — especially at the mouths of the Favorable great rivers. Favorable flats for trans- trampiant- planting were at convenient distances from the great beds. The greatest were in shal- low water, not much above a dozen feet in depth, making the dredging process com- paratively easy. Transplanted to the marshes, fed perpetually by innumerable rills of sweet water from the mountains and highlands, flowing through beds of odoriferous herbage, imparted a matchless flavor to the universally beloved mollusk. The bays had been stocked till the multi- plication was incalculable. Industry and science had done wonders. The delicious bivalve was of unlimited consumption, and cheap. Raw and cooked, he was served in every attractive manner. Only the per- fectly healthy oyster was marketable. The slightest show of disease consigned him to the basket, to be fed to the poultry and the The ivadmg fishes. The wading oyster-catcher was catcher. hunted industriously, and did not multiply. In very many cases the peculiar bird was made to lose his predatory habits by do- mestication. Thus diverted in nature, he formed a handsome addition to the park and poultry yard. Once every year, a day Oyster-Holiday 8j was set apart to the celebration of the oys- ter ; and oyster-holiday was joyfully wel- comed and universally kept. Public tables pMictabies groaned, as we say, with the incomparable gr marine production. It was the festival of the people. They met together as one great family, and transfused a spirit of love and patriotism from one to another. If any estrangement existed between friends or neighbors, it was expected to end with that day. New acquaintances were formed, and a flow of new blood fused society to a higher healthfulness. Prepossessions and jealousies and envies vanished from sound hearts. Grudges were never more than a year old. Sullen malice or malevolence, of longer existence, was treated as disease, or occasioned unenviable distinction. So- cially, an invisible guard was set round it, as around a dangerous malady. The moral indebtedness of the population to the an- nual festival was incomputable. The grape, of different species, and of grapes and many varieties, had been indigenous from the beginning. Soil and climate were adapted to its growth. In the wild state, the fruit was inviting and palatable, but under intelligent cultivation it was unsur- WlNE. 88 Sub-Ccelum vineyards passed. The hills everywhere were adorned with vineyards. Old and young found congenial employment in them. Favora- ble conditions made it possible, without great artificial aid, to have the best varie- ties the year round. Kinds best adapted to the table were cultivated to be almost seedless. Grapes were so abundant that they were very cheap. All enjoyed them without stint. Wine-making was one of the active pursuits of the country, and those engaged in it were proud of it : the cleanly vats and the delicate manner in which the clusters were trodden, gave proof spirited of it. Splashed ankles of fair women added picturesqueness. The red and purple upon lustrous semi-pellucid extremities were tints to be remembered evermore. Artists and bards made the most of them. Attempt was made to employ young elephants to press out the juices ; but the innovation was discouraged. Opportunities of fair and just rivalry were not to be restricted. En- dowments of nature were not to be thus Everybody disparaged. Everybody drank wine, as he drank wine. .. . ... . . . , did water, or milk, for refreshment and nourishment. Nobody thought of ques- tioning the morality of its use. It was upon every table at every meal. As great A Man Drunk was Odious 89 pains were taken to keep it pure, it was found to be healthful. Drunkenness from Drunken- wine-drinking was unknown. It was from wine -drink. distillation that the mischief came. Fortu- known. nately, the strong liquor was little used. Public opinion was against it. Reputation was affected by its free use. Drunkenness was treated as disease. Victims of it were separated from the general public. A man drunk was odious. If shame did not pre- vent a repetition of his offense, he was in danger of being considered incorrigible, and of being treated as such. Examples Examples c i 1 • i 1 1 i educated the ot the kind helped to educate the people to people. right conduct. They did more to instruct than all the didactic poems, essays, and addresses. Their effects were thorough, and went to the sources of the evil. Soci- eties were not formed to exterminate the drunkard, nor to make a pet of him. He was held responsible till officially declared otherwise. Drunkenness was attacked as a moral disease, not to be cured by salves nor embrocations. The miserable habit would die out when better standards and inclinations were established. The sin The sin per- was personal, and not of society. The comfort and innocent pleasures of the many were not to be restricted by the go Sub-Cceluin excesses of the few. The mode of refor- mation was not by absolute self-denial nor TJujoyof prohibition. The joy of the common heart the common . . . , heart not re- was not systematically restrained nor re- pressed by individual instances of volun- tary excess. The good things of Sub- Ccelum were to be enjoyed, and not to be abused. Good wine was inseparable from the life, which comprehended all that was excellent, and a just and generous enjoy- ment of it. To rejoice was better than to groan. Ills were forgotten in good-fellow- ship. Misery was not helped by lamenta- tion. Dolor was no cure. endless Fruit trees were planted at each side of all the public roads. Not so near together as to impoverish or seriously shade the land contiguous. This utilization of the public spaces supplied the choicest fruit in abundance to everybody. All any one had to do was to gather it ; but it was a grave offense to damage in the least the trees. The laws regulating this wise provision were of the strictest character, and were rigorously enforced. Public opinion, how- ever, was a better protection than any en- The peopu actment. The people were proud of their them. ° endless orchards, as they called them, and Belonging to Everybody gi guarded them with scrupulously jealous care. It was the rarest thing that a tree iiimage pie suffered from ill-usage. The Common- wealth planted the trees and maintained them. The old, or sickly, or ill-bearing were from time to time cut down, and young, vigorous, promising ones put in their places. The long lines of thrifty trees were a delight to see. In bloom, they filled the imagination. The bees made them musical. Filled with luscious fruit, they stimulated the palate, and made happy the birds. Such walks and drives, bor- dered by fragrance and richness ! Belong- Fragrance ing to nobody, but to everybody ! In full ««*. fruitage, the bounty was in fruition. The Government, if a sentient, sentimental thing, might have realized the blessing, and led in the thanksgiving. Patriotism, under such conditions, was as natural as filial affection. Incivism was not conceiv- able. Generosity, too, was spontaneous. Generosity . . spontaneous. Easy supply was inseparable trom tree giving. The common heart was not cir- cumspect nor prudential. The humanities quickened it, and made it unconscious in all good offices. Better men and women were but the natural result of the never- ending munificence. Q2 Sub-Ccelum highways Their highways were ideal in excellence. They were made of the good materials sup- plied by their valleys and mountains, and were as level as practicable, and perfectly drained. Grades were mathematical and easy. Impediment of any sort was not permitted. A single draft - horse would draw as great a burden as the most sub- stantial of their wagons would bear. It was a joy to ride or drive on their roads ; and the horses felt the inspiration. Vehi- cles, almost self-moving, were in general use. Everybody had some independent means of mechanical locomotion. Chariots large and chariots diminutive, with sails, with batteries, with wings, glided along without equine assistance. Happy chil- dren ! happy women ! happy men ! Un- der the blue dome was ever anything more joyous ? How Cities Their cities, towns, and villages were lages were laid out in squares, with streets running, as we say, from northeast to southwest, and from southeast to northwest. Laid out in that manner, neither side of any street had any advantage. Sunshine and shade were the same on both sides. Prop- erty, in consequence, was alike desirable Sunshine at a Premium 93 on either side, and, other things being equal, commanded the same price. Sun- shine being at a premium, everybody wanted all he could get of it. Where houses were separated sufficiently, the sun shone on every side alike. Every outside room had the sun a part of each day. Win- dows, as a rule, extended from floor to ceil- ing, and the air inside was sun-swept and sun^wept purified diurnally. In chambers, beds were ai drawn out to receive the sunshine in floods. Musty and damp beds were unknown, as were certain diseases that breed in perpet- ual humidity and shadow. Free sunshine and free air were in permanent fashion, and were not intercepted nor excluded ex- cept when necessary. Perfect ventilation was a desideratum, and was attained as nearly as possible. The sweet air ! Had God Almighty intended they should stint themselves in it, would He have poured it out all round the earth forty miles deep ? Sun-painted complexions were preferred, sunjamud Paleness was deplored. The pride of the com * UxioMS - women especially was their high health and high color, which they attributed largely to unlimited light and pure atmos- phere. Living much out of doors, they unconsciously caught the freedom of the 94 Sub-Coclum One of the pastimes. elements. Their eyes were strengthened and brightened by being accustomed to great range of vision. One of the pastimes was to count the birds, or other small ob- jects, so far away as scarcely to be seen. Every considerable residence was provided with a room lit only from above. The pur- est glass was used, and the moving clouds were as visible as from out-doors. Conva- lescents and invalids rejoiced in the pure light and living frescoes. On cloudy days and moonlight nights the sky-lit rooms were most attractive. A day spent in one of them was like a day spent in another zone. drainage. Drainage was as carefully considered as air and sunshine. In the location and con- struction of every house, provision was made to get rid of every drop of surface water not purposely caught and appropri- ated. Effects of neglecting thorough drain- age appeared in familiar statistics. In old maps they pointed out the routes by which epidemics had traveled, invariably over spaces imperfectly drained. Filled - up marshes, and little streams leading to and from them, had been the abode of wasting and rotting diseases, before the houses Typhus had no Chance 95 that covered them had been pulled down, and the land thoroughly drained, according to scientific system. Cellars and sewers were rigidly inspected. Typhus had no chance to burrow or linger. Rich people Rich people , i • 1 r had no ad- had no advantage over their less fortunate vantage. fellow-citizens. The provision was general, and people of limited means and the opu- lent were alike rigorously governed in every detail pertaining to the public health. Humble abodes were not more frequently visited by disease than palaces, and there was not an unhealthy locality in any town or city. Light and heat were obtained almost light and entirely from water. After long-continued experiment, the elements to produce them had been separated and applied. Every house was illuminated and warmed at a moderate cost. The streets of cities and towns were brilliantly lighted. The process was ingenious, but not complicated nor dan- gerous. Besides being simple and cheap, it was easily manageable. Temperature was self-regulated. All you had to do was to determine the standard, and the ma- chinery did the rest, without considerable variation. Cleanly, too, the system of light- g6 Sub-Caium ing and heating was, without measure. Housekeepers were not troubled with dust, nor smoke, nor vapor. With the perfect The air was system of ventilation, the air was kept pure without difficulty. Nerves and brain were stimulated by it, and the lungs delighted to take it in generously. It was the gen- eral belief that mind and body were both helped by the improved method of heating, and great hopes of increased intellectual and moral development were fostered by it. Exalting tonics and enrapturing odors were diffused through the atmos- phere at pleasure. Talent expended itself in producing essences and tinctures and stimulants of paradisaic delicacy to be so employed. On great occasions the light produced rivaled that of the sun. The whole atmosphere seemed to be aflame. The effect was magical. The smallest thing was made visible, and all things were beautified in appearance. Men appeared more manly and women more lovely. The pretty children seemed just to have de- scended. public edi- Public edifices were not built to endure forever. Substantial enough and suitably adorned, they were meant only for a gener- Temples of fust ice 97 ation. Instead of expending a million in constructing one of their temples of justice, to stand for a century or two, one fourth of that sum was found sufficient to erect a suitable structure, to last for an age. To last /or Thirty years' time was found to be about the limit of a decent degree of cleanliness and purity for a public building. The foul gases and scents and creatures would get in, and no amount of precaution or care would keep them out. It was dis- covered that the only way to destroy them completely was to take down the building. The structure to succeed it was built after the latest models, and was adapted to the generation that was to use it. Better drainage was had, and better provision was made for ventilation and lighting. In every way the new building was an improvement on the old, and was better adapted to the purposes for which it was intended. This habit of general demolition and reconstruc- Demolition r . ■, 1 . , and recoii- tion was for economic as well as sanitary struct™. reasons. Experience had proven that re- pairs alone, on a million structure, to say nothing of the item of interest, exceeded the cost of new buildings. Experiments of architects and plumbers were not made except at great expense, and as often dam- g8 Sub-Coclum age resulted from them as benefit. At best, modification and adaptation made it an old building. While the architecture changed with each new edifice, much care Economy was taken to limit the cost of it. Showy ornamentation was strictly avoided, as not in agreement with the public taste or public policy. Newness and freshness were pre- ferred to decay and dinginess. Distaste for soiled finery was pervading — it ex- tended even to neglected ostentatious buildings. Architecture, therefore, looked to simplicity and cheerfulness, and scrupu- lously avoided whatever might appear som- bre or involved. The public was generous to the limit of reason, — extravagance they did not permit. Expenditures must be prudent and exemplary. The citizen was not to see in the public what would be condemned in himself. The universally adopted code of morals forbade the expen- diture of public money without necessity, or beyond what was reasonable or proper. Reckless dissipation of the people's money was of rarest occurrence. hotels. Hotels, also, for the public entertain- ment, were built to last only for a genera- tion. Experience had taught that, in spite The Old-Hotel Smell gg of all the soap and paint and disinfectants that could be used, they would grow offen- sive to the olfactories. The old -hotel smell was pronounced the most objection- objection* able and noxious of all the variety known wus. to the nose of man. It was the product of cellars, sewers, closets, et caetera, and con- tained a portion of all the subtle poisons known and unknown to chemistry. Only the sunshine and fresh air would dissipate it. Proverbially, the newest hotel was the best. The public, as a rule, systematically passed by hostelries where for many years human beings had eaten and slept and performed every private office. Pollution bred there. Not a bell was heard from any building bells. in Sub - Ccelum. Years and years had elapsed since bells had been used to call the people together for any purpose. Everybody had a clock in his house or a chronometer in his pocket, and bells were not regarded as necessary. Besides, the noise had become generally distasteful, and the common feeling and the common sense had prohibited it. After every attempt had been made to improve them in tone, it was decided that the best results could hardly ioo Siib-Coclum be called musical. The most complete chimes, in the common ear, were little more than discords — consonance or har- mony was not in them. The highest ex- cellence in music having been attained, the sJwckedby public ear was so acute as to be shocked mere noise. . -r-. 1 • by mere noise. Every one having a taste for the divine art was encouraged to cul- tivate it. Scientific training had made the majority pretty good musicians. Mere noise, to the extremity of possibility, was avoided. Exquisite and exalted strains pre- cluded it — even the consciousness of it. Absolute softness and sweetness were de- siderata. The tones of forty instruments were so perfectly blended that you hardly heard them a few rods away. But bells had been abolished for better reasons. The people had increased in thoughtful- ness, refinement, and good-breeding, until they would not permit what might be regarded by any considerable number of Considerate persons as unnecessary disturbance. Sick peopu. people, people in distress, were thought of in all that pertained to their comfort and protection. Jingling, jangling, tintinnabu- lary noises, to rend sensitive nerves and hammer inflamed brains, were tortures to the unfortunate that considerate civiliza- Pervading Tbottghtfiilness 101 tion did not tolerate. People who from any cause needed sleep were remembered and protected. The voice of one, in ex- tremity, was heard and heeded by the multitude. Majorities were considerate of minorities. Might did not make right. Might did The pervading thoughtfulness of others right. was one of the distinguishing charms of the population. It quickened perception of justice, and tenderly regarded weakness. It made aggressiveness offensive. Hard- ness was barbarity. Noises, irritating to many, and not necessary to any, like those produced by loud-sounding bells, were dis- pensed with, as not in agreement with their philosophy of life. Their scheme of civili- zation was to make everybody happy — nobody miserable. Music was so generally cultivated and music. enjoyed that it largely governed the life. It was vocation and avocation — employ- ment and diversion for mind, body, and spirit. Taste and ability for it had come down through the generations. It seemed as natural to them as any appetite, and as necessary as to breathe. They could, most of them, sit down at an instrument and practice for hours together without weari- 102 Siib-Calum ness or nervous disturbance. If ill effects followed application, continuance was discouraged. The pupil was not thought suited to the art to whom it was labor to study and practice it. To force him was considered detrimental to health and hap- Agoodre- piness. The result was, that while every- body enjoyed music, not everybody con- tinually attempted to produce it. The population good - naturedly put up with tyros, at the same time they took pains to protect themselves against them. Isolated halls were provided for students to practice in. Anybody could not blow his horn any- where without authority. Brass - bands, except the few that were distinguished, were permitted to play in the streets and public squares only on certain holidays. At other times they were officially rele- gated to the fields and forests — to play The night only in the daytime. The night was held sacred to silence and sweet concord. Learners in households were only heard at certain hours in the morning, when ears and nerves were most enduring. The gen- eral musical taste and education of the people did not tend to unfit them for other occupations and avocations. It was possi- ble for a performer or vocalist to get a liv- Idlers did not Abound 103 ing by other means, however proficient he might be in his art. Idlers did not abound in consequence of the prevailing passion and acquisition. Musical societies of Musical soei- every character were permanently organ- ized — small for private enjoyment, large for public exhibition. The home entertain- ments, in which music predominated, were superior. Imitations of sounds of every sort were produced by the voice and by instruments. The ^Eolian harp itself was imitated, as well as the notes and cries of birds and animals. The moan of the sea and the murmur of the brook were repro- duced with surprising exactness. The birds in the cages joined in the concert. The cock in the barnyard responded to his own notes. Fun and enthusiasm mingled. But in the music of Heaven — the orato- The music 0/ rio — they were happiest and most tran- scendent. The sublime choruses kindled the imagination and enraptured the soul. Not a thought of noise was suggested or impressed. Discord was not. Harmony prevailed, and governed, to the last degree. You left the great auditorium full to the throat, and the eyes, of the glories that are, and the glories that are to be, ever- more. 104 Sub-Ccelum Poets and Great poets there were in Sub-Ccelum ; Poetry. , _,. . , . but not many. 1 heir names being short, you could utter them all without taking a breath. Poetasters, however, were numer- ous ; and rhymsters without end. Verse- making was one of the common amuse- ments of the people. Much of their corre- spondence was in verse. Facility in the use of language, and their musical sense, made the process easy. Rhythm and rhyme were one to them. But poetry was another thing, and attempts at it were not received with favor. High standards made The Maker it unattainable by mere labor. The Maker made the . . . ... . poet. made the poet. The poetical view of na- ture and man they regarded as the clearest view, agreeing with one of the great sages, that the meaning of song goes deep. The poet was, to them, indeed a seer, a prophet, a soul divinely inspired. From him more even than from the priest, they had evi- dence that Sub-Ccelum was overspanned by a veritable though invisible Super-Cce- lum, city of the Eternal God. Therefore they held no such foolish saying as that a proposition has in it more truth than poe- Poetry to try, for poetry to their apprehension was hension. the nearest approximation to absolute truth that human language could achieve. The Art of Poetry 105 To say that a statement was true as poetry, was to exhaust the power of exact speech. The person in their community who had no sense of beauty, no ear for music, and no susceptibility to poetic influences, was looked upon with pity, much as in other parts of the world humane people regard an amiable and intelligent dumb animal. For the Sub-Ccelumites were the most tolerant The most 1 r i • r iii 11 tolerant and and forbearing or mortals, largely because forbearing they were suffused with the sweet light of ° the imagination. They could even bear to have fellowship with men and women who were destitute of humor, that most celes- tial virtue. To them Poetry and Humor were the nectar and ambrosia of the gods. In their palaces hung the portraits of all the great Makers from Homer and ./Eschy- lus to the nobler bards of their own realm and time. Boys and girls were brought up Brought up to honor the name of Poet, and to fashion name of their lives according to the supreme mo- rality of the immortal poems which inter- pret both human truth and divine revela- tion. The art of poetry itself took on a wonderful and almost incredible develop- ment under the new conditions of life and new motives to action existing in their civilization. Like every other expression io6 Sub-Ccclum of man's consciousness, in that extraordi- nary country, poetry was large and free, and adequate to nature. The sublime and beautiful forms which verse assumed were a general innumerable. There was a general break- hose/rom ing loose from conventional fetters, — an conventional . . . . , , - , , fetters. infinite expansion of the laws of rhythm, melody, metre, stanza, and trope ; — the inspired soul of the creative genius put on robes of singing splendor, and revealed the infinite Love and Beauty and Power through the medium of words. All the people studied and practiced, in some de- gree, the science and art of poetical compo- sition, as they did the elements of music, not for the purpose of setting up as poets or musicians, but in order to be able to ap- preciate and enjoy the superb productions of the mighty masters. Musical One of the most interesting results of their temperate and cultivated life was the great proportion of finely modulated voices. Very many of them were extremely musi- cal. Voices hard, harsh, husky, disagree- able, were exceptional. Tones, as a rule, accorded with habits, dispositions, and ac- quirements. Free, almost entirely, from excesses of any sort, kindly in nature, and Voices. Slow and Deep Breathing ioj thoughtfully intelligent, gentleness and sweetness of expression were only natural to them. Vices and violences had not dis- ordered their speech. Gluttony and drunk- enness had not inflamed the membranes. Breathing was free and unconscious, and Breathing ... . , free and un- was little more rapid when awake than conscious. when sleeping. Slow and deep breathing had long been practiced advantageously- A dozen inspirations to the minute were not very uncommon. Increased strength, flexibility, and richness were added to the voice by the good habit. Pretty long sen- tences were easily and naturally spoken without taking a breath. Lost or artificial teeth did not affect their articulation. The insides of their mouths were not covered over with gold or other substance to abrade or indurate the delicate surfaces, and consciously modify expression. The dress of men and women did not interfere with the natural growth and expansion of their chests. It was the rarest thing that breasts were not broad and arched. Throats, too, were round and full, from Throats , . . iii round and never having been compressed or hurt by /«//. vicious dressing. It was considered an outrage upon nature to do anything that would interrupt in the least the free growth 10S Sitb-Coelum of any part of the body — especially of the rhe li/e-giv- life-giving apparatus of respiration and ing tip par a- , . . . ttts. enunciation ; on the contrary, everything was done to promote its completest natural development. The slightest disturbance of its functions was anxiously observed, and corrected, if possible, as interfering not only with individual comfort, but the gen- eral happiness. Inhaling tubes were freely used, to make slow and deep breathing habitual. Men and women walked miles at a time breathing entirely through them. Instances were not uncommon where the circumference of the chest had been in- creased from one to two inches in a year by frequently using them, and that without Great inspi- increase of bodily weight. Great inspira- r Jxyg"n tions of oxygen moistened the spine and beaded the brow, and prepared them for any intellectual or moral work, better than by other possible means of stimulation. But the melody of their voices was far from being wholly owing to their physical life and training ; their high moral natures and cultivated intellects contributed as much or more to produce it, by reacting on their Convert* sympathetic bodies. Conversation be- tween highly enlightened and humane men and women, upon worthy subjects, was Their Good Readers tog charming indeed. Tones were as varied as the notes of the harp when played upon by the winds. Thought and feeling, in Thought . . . and feeling. gradation and development, were uncon- sciously betrayed in ever-varying modula- tions. Voices flowed, like the full-running brook — now slow, now rapid ; rippling joyously ; then descending, where it was still and deep, to swell again in fuller rich- ness, with the glow of imagination and sen- timent To hear one of their good readers read was a very high order of entertain- ment. Not an affectation or trick of the self-conscious elocutionist was visible in the exercise. He lost himself in the printed Lost himself page, and his voice echoed its thought and *//agw. emotion. The conversation between the Twa Dogs appeared the most natural of dialogues. The interlocutors seemed in- deed men, until the invincible humor com- pelled you to remember they were only dogs. The battles in Homer were as real as any conflicts could be. In passages of Job and Habakkuk you felt in full force the sublimity of supra-imagination. In the scene of the White Rose in the Paradise of scene of 'the Dante you had a vision of highest heaven. w A lofty meaning was revealed that might have astonished the poet himself. no Sitb-Ccclum tight Tight dressing was not fashionable in dressing. S ub-Ccelum. The people were proud of their natural bodies and sound children. It had been a great while since any gen- eral effort had been made to divert or thwart nature. Occasional attempts in that way were always attended and fol- lowed by the same results. Time was when distortion of the body was common. It was thought beautiful to be out of na- ture. The shape was fixed by the artist's patterns, no matter at what cost of pain or violence. The rules of tape and scissors Proportion* were remorseless. Proportions must be artistic. artistic. Form must be fitted to the mould. Life was absorbingly artificial. Balls and calls and parties and operas and shopping left little time for anything else. Children were an incumbrance. Nurses, most trustworthy, might be obtained ; but the mother could not withdraw her mind wholly from her offspring. The success of her friend's magnificent entertainment would be qualified or marred by her uneas- iness and anxiety. The tastes and re- quirements of gayety and maternity were Fashion incongruous. Fashion was exacting, and would not let her votaries divide or sus- pend their worship. Out of fashion, out The Race Threatened m of the world, was one of her maxims. Out of sight, out of mind, was another. Lists of friends were continually being re- vised, and a chance would occur of being left off. Babies, she said, were vulgar ; Babies. they were troublesome and spoiled the shape. Her rule was omnipotent while it lasted. Only the general decline of health and weakness of progeny abated her power. The vigor and happiness of the race were threatened, even its existence. Nervous disorders multiplied. Soundness of mind as well as of body was slowly sapped. Three or four successive genera- tions showed marked declension and de- generacy. Society, only after such con- vincing results, became alarmed at her follies, and set about righting herself. Revolution was pretty nearly complete. It became fashionable to keep good hours, to eat healthful food, to wear loose, com- fortable clothing, and to carefully avoid Nature not any interference with nature. The beauty /endwuh. of the race — of men and of women — in- creased. They were healthier and hap- pier. They enjoyed, more and more, their homes and children. Gayety abounded of the natural kind. The joys of life were the joys of health. The Style and Mrs. ii2 Sub-Ccelum Grundy did no longer govern absolutely. In fact, it became the fashion to be health- compkx- ful and natural and robust. Good com- plexions came of right living. Paleness or sallowness was exceptional. Uncon- sciously elastic bodies and sound minds predominated. The young, left to nature, were as free-bodied as young animals al- ways are. Domestic life was ideal. The atmosphere of well-ordered homes was the best under heaven. a felicity It was deemed the greatest part of their to be Well- m ox born. felicity to be well-born — of parents with sound bodies, sound minds, and correct principles, and to inherit the same. It was asserted that no one ever changed his character from the time he was two years old ; nay, from the time he was two hours old. That he might, with instruction and opportunity, mend his manners, or alter them for the worse, as the flesh or fortune served ; but the character, the internal, original bias, remained always the same, true to itself to the very last, feeling the ruling passion strong in death. They be- lieved, with the same authority, that the The fatal color of their lives was woven into the fatal thread at their births ; that their original Each Man's Destiny 113 sins and redeeming graces were infused into them ; nor was the bond that con- The bond firmed their destiny ever canceled. It was ceied. said, and believed too, that, by whatever name you call it, the unconscious was found controlling each man's destiny without, or in defiance of, his will. Also, that all in- dividuals were the outcome of past in- fluences. Generations lived and thought and acted that each one might be what he was. Were any link in the chain of hered- The chain 0/ ... . 1 1 1 1 • rv • • heredity. ity lacking, he would be different in apti- tude, in capacity, in very form and appear- ance. The absence of some faculty, the feebleness of some disposition in some one or other of his ancestors, were sufficient to vary the results in his own person. Ah ! they thoughtfully and sadly exclaimed, if only full-grown men and full-grown women, with sound bodies and sound minds, were permitted to marry ! Conscience, integ- rity, and reason, as far as possible, were educated to that end. The population was of many races com-ACoMPos- pounded. The blood of many peoples had thw. ° p been infused into it. So composite in its character, social problems had been slow of solution. Prejudices of race had been tagonisnts. 114 Sub-Ccclum a great hindrance. The more refined and gentle had been shy of the rude and ag- gressive. Conservatism had resisted the clamors of new blood. Power grew timid from variance of interests and suscepti- sharpan- bility of change. Sharp antagonisms kept society continually at the point of boiling. Good had come of all this clashing and fer- mentation ; but the people wearied of it. Reaction was inevitable. It came ; and with it a disposition to liberality. Fusion seemed not so difficult. Opponents cooled, or went arm-in-arm. Individuals graciously cooperated for the public weal. Notions gave place to opinion, and opinion to reasonable judgment. Where clamor had been bedlam, deliberation reigned. Like a mighty stream of many tributaries, pro- gress was no longer checked and fretted by obstructing jealousies and hatreds. Minor differences, in thought and in action, Racepreju- were tolerated. Race prejudices gradually gave way, and bigotries. Fibres intermin- gled and blood interfused. Distinctions were obliterated by intermarriage. Free- dom of taste was indulged. So many varieties, the faculty of discerning enjoyed great scope. Each race had supplied its characteristics, physical, intellectual, and dices Vigorous Men and Women 115 moral. Temperaments, from the frigid to the fiery, were in contact. Every color of hair and almost every tint of complexion. Every tint Voices coarse, and musical as Apollo's ion. lute. Noses straight, aquiline, and snub. Ears delicately transparent and ears rudely drooping. Lips refined and lips voluptu- ous. Deep chests and shallow, with great lungs and feeble. Muscles of ropes and apologies for muscles. Alexanders tall and Thumbs diminutive. Bearded and beardless. Every variety of man and woman to select from. Marriage was not interfered with, except in cases of close relationship. Complexions, as a result, were often very striking and beautiful, and figures produced of remarkable mould. Vigorous men and women were the rule. The exceptionally puny of both sexes, kept apart, not considering themselves proper subjects for wedlock. The population Thepopuia. , . . . . . T . Hon steadily steadily improved in every respect. Intel- improved. lcct was quickened and the heart softened. Temperament, especially, was refreshed and stimulated. Emotion was indulged ; feeling was exhibited without exciting de- rision. Children were born happy, and were not regretted. Grace was in their attitudes and music in their voices. Na- / 1 6 Sub-Cool it m ture had free sway. Aptitudes developed early. Inherited traits were conspicuous. It was soon perceived what the child desired, and was born to do, and he was educated and encouraged accordingly. It a maxim of was a maxim of one of their sages, and one of their _ _ . , , sages. they acted upon it : (Ji that which a man desires in his youth, of that he shall have in age as much as he will. Elements of power and culture were realized in conse- quence. Love of thought and love for the beautiful appeared spontaneous and upper- most. The man or woman was what na- ture meant him or her to be. Old family portraits showed many shades of complex- ion and great variety of conformation. Ex- tremes met in every collection. Faces so dark as to require light backgrounds to make them distinctly visible were close beside others, delicate, fair, and rosy. contrasts. Rudeness and coarseness contrasted with high-breeding and refinement. Looking at the differing portraits, it was not difficult to account for their liberal and enlightened civilization. Nature, in a fateful, myste- rious way, had propitiously brought about the inevitable. Toleration and upward growth were necessities. They must re- spect each other, and be better. foys of Wedlock iiy Weddings in Sub-Coelum were strictly weddings private and unostentatious. Not that mar- ccelum. riage was more uncertain there than in any- other part of the universe. It was a test of character, the result of which was every- where and always past anticipating. The least promising often turned out the best, was a proverb. The miseries of wedlock, they said, were to be numbered among those evils which cannot be prevented, and must only be endured with patience and palliated with judgment. Its joys were the greatest known to mankind — inestimable and inexhaustible. The dream of hope The dream of hope and and expectation, when realized, was the expectation. one incomparable and never-ending felicity. The worse than blanks with the prizes made the drawing always dangerous, and it was deemed prudent to postpone the cele- bration till a year or two after the wedding. These occasions of rejoicing were frequent, and were participated in heartily by friends and relations. Fate and fortune had been bounteous, and thanksgiving was sponta- neous. Fact was commemorated, not hope celebrated ; happiness was realized, — better than all anticipation. Man and wife Man and were congratulated, not bride and bride- gratuiated. groom. Whatever of fret and irritation n8 Sub-C<im Ideal was real. had been experienced, the calm had come, and the open sea, with a bright sky over all. Ideal was real. Misconception had given way, and each appeared better to the other, though different. They understood each other, and were incorporated. A child perhaps had blessed the union, and the household was a home, in all that the word implied. Presents were simple and appropriate — useful and to be used — and were not in any sense satirizing or vainly showy. A different moral atmosphere pervaded one of these commemorations than that of a bridal celebration. At the wedding, mystery and uncertainty made the thoughtful grave ; only the giddy were un- qualifiedly joyous. Shadows and clouds did not appear to their hopeful eyes. Plain sailing only was thought of, without variable or conflicting winds. Compounding incom- patibles had not entered into their intel- lectual chemistry. Fusing dissimilar na- tures they had not thought of as one of the Theimpir- difficult thin gs under the sun. Love, the ing amal- , gam. inspiring amalgam in their theory of life, would as often fail as succeed in the con- flict of diversities. Interest and necessity and pride did not enter into their calcula- tions of connubial existence. They did not The Omnipotence of Silence i \ g calculate at all ; they only dreamed. Con- cession, compromise, surrender, they did not see as necessities. The omnipotence of silence, in extremity, was not compre- hended. Wise Sub-Ccelumites, to celebrate marriage a year or two after the wedding ceremony ! At one time six unmarried persons, rhasons for Re- maining Single. three of each sex — guests at one of their mainwg unpretending watering-places — were in a sail-boat together, becalmed. For enter- tainment, it was determined that each one should tell the rest, in a word, why he or she had remained single. Acquaintances but for a week, and not likely ever to meet again after a fortnight, they spoke with unqualified frankness. Of uncertain age, they were not without experience. The first to speak was a gentleman, say rhefirstto of forty-five or fifty years. The governing spea " reason, he said, why he had not married, was self-distrust. Early experience had taught him the inconvenience, if not the distresses, of poverty. He remembered the sacrifices of his mother, and had re- solved that his wife, if fated to have one, should not be subjected to like expedients and hardships. At twenty he was enam- 120 Sub-Ccelum She fasci- nated him. A nxicnis days and sleepless nights. ored of a fair girl — the fairest, by far, he ever had seen. She filled his eye, his mind's eye, his imagination. She was very lovely. He was shy of her presence, but he could not keep entirely away from her ; she fascinated him completely. He had the will of a full-grown man, with a few years of initiatory experience in a respectable occupation ; but all, indeed, of real life, was yet before him. He did not know the stuff of manhood that was in him : he had not been measured and tried by affairs. His intellectual and moral grappling-irons might be unequal to the grasp that was necessary even to ordinary success. He dared not meet the incomparable girl alone — he was sure to tell her he loved her if he did. There was not a word or a caress that all the world might not have heard or seen. He subjected himself to severest self-questioning. If he asked her and she said yes, what was he to do with her ? Over and over he turned the prob- lem in his mind, through anxious days and sleepless nights. Not without many a struggle he distrustingly determined that he had no right to ask her — the all-worthy incarnation of super-excellence — to take the chances of life with him. Heaven sent Violence of Disposition 121 her a more courageous lover, and she died an idolized wife and mother. He might say he had prospered in the world ; but he had never met with another who was the same in his eyes and affections. And was it possible he could love one inferior to her? The next gentleman to speak was riienext younger by a few years. He had a devil of a temper, he said, and all of his life he had been afraid of its consequences. Quick as a flash, he had once thrown a hatchet at a boy for a slight indignity. Placid as he appeared, the violence of his nature could not be comprehended. With plenty of red in his complexion ordinarily, in a rage he turned white as a sheet. In one of his fits he dared not look at himself in the glass. At such times a vicious grandfather looked out of his eyes. The dangerous old man was a terror as long as he lived. Two or three times he had been locked up as insane. He himself was in constant dread of the same treatment. He in constant .... . . , , , dread. did his utmost to govern himself ; but once in a while, in spite of all that he could do, the Satanic in him would break loose. His acquaintances were chosen for their forbearance and placidity. He had an eye ture 122 Sub-Carl urn to the same traits in his employees, and paid a premium for them. Once, a con- flict with one of his workmen nearly cost His evil no- him his life. He had also exposed his evil disposition in a court of justice, while giving his testimony. Through the good influence of his mother he became a mem- ber of a church society ; but his dread of becoming a disturbing element made him withdraw from it. His best reliance as a safeguard was his ability to control a strong appetite for drink. The possibili- ties of his evil nature were terrifying enough without artificial stimulation. Think of it ! A man with such tendencies to marry ! God help the poor woman who risked a union with him ! The novel irri- tations of the relation would have been sure to develop the bad in him preter- naturally. The tiger and serpent might oneexperi- never be wholly quiescent or torpid. One experience of the tender passion, he said, was enough. His sweetheart had know- ledge of his success in the world, and seemed disposed to encourage his suit. She was not suspicious, and would not be- lieve what was told to her. Her own body and soul in perfect health — without an evil inclination that could be perceived — ence enough. The Passion of Passions 123 how could she believe it — the least part of it? Confidence inspired affection — devotion. The joys of wedlock were dreamed of in a way, for the time being, to transform his nature. The Satanic was forgotten in the glories awakened by the passion of passions. When an old lover Anoidiover r appeared. made his appearance ! New eyes were given him. Dazed at first, he soon saw falsely. Jealousy took possession of him. A scene ensued. He was understood, and dreaded, of course, and there was a separa- tion. The misery that sweet woman es- caped ! The third gentleman said he felt some The third , gentleman's reluctance about telling his story, as it story. might appear to bear a little hard upon the other sex. But the case was exceptional, and he would be excused. He had met the lady at two dinner-parties, but never at home. He had been struck by her gracefulness and ease of manner, and by her brilliancy in conversation. She had charmed him as he had never been charmed before. He determined to visit her, as they say, with a view to matrimony. The reception was cordial, and he was delighted Reception . , cordial. with the prospect. The beautiful girl was more attractive than ever. Her graceful 124 Sub-Caium person was exquisitely adorned. Her eyes Tact and in- -were brighter than diamonds. Tact and teffigencc in conduct and intelligence marked her conduct and speech. ° speech. Her music was finished and chaste : one of her songs touched him par- ticularly : emotion was in every note of it : it reminded him of much that had been delightful in his varied life. The drawing- rooms were adorned in an elegant manner. Mirrors, the costliest, were on the walls. Carpets of velvet softened and warmed the floors. The rugs were pictures. In the midst of his enjoyment it began to storm, and it continued to storm, violently, with- out intermission. It was a wild night. Far away from his lodgings, he was obliged to accept further hospitalities. The chamber he occupied was in such contrast with the salon he had just left that he was dum- founded. He rubbed his eyes and collected Lost in the his scattered wits ; but he felt lost in the changed sit- . . . . ... _ nation and changed situation and conditions. Every- thing in the room had a neglected look. The draperies were faded and mean. In- hospitableness was in every detail. The bed was most uninviting. The linen was not clean nor fresh. The contents of the pillows were not eider-down by far ; and they were lumpy, and had an unwholesome conditions. The Truth Revealed to Him 125 smell. The storm, and the revelation of neglect, and the miserable disappointment, made a very uneasy night for him. The An uneasy breakfast-room had the same neglected '"' look and the same noisome smell. The carpet had one great offensive spot upon it that had never been forgotten. The muffins and omelet were overdone, and the coffee was muddy. The drawing-rooms, after the night's and morning's experience, appeared affectedly fine indeed, and confused all his memories and previous impressions. He took his leave a wiser but not a happier man. He was sorry to have had the truth revealed to him in such an unexpected way. The thoughtlessness of the impos- ture had surprised him beyond measure. To call such a household a home seemed a monstrous misuse of the word. Could it be possible for one bred in such an atmos- phere to comprehend what a home should be ? All idea of cleanliness and comfort had been lost in affectations, disguises, and self-delusion. He frequently met the young woman afterwards, but never other- wise than as an acquaintance : the disillu- Thedisiiiu. siott. sion had divested her of all attractiveness. The world took possession of him — its cares and responsibilities. Burdens of 126 Sub-Ccclum others came upon him, one after another, and he believed he was contributing to the common stock of happiness. It was not likely that he would entertain thoughts of matrimony again. The first The first lady to speak was strikingly speak. attractive, from her beauty of health and perfection of maturity. She might have stood for Juno in sculpture. She said she would be frank as the rest, and tell her story without let or disguises. The gov- erning cause of her single-blessedness, she said, was discovered by the professor in the examination of her head, when he pro- nounced her exceptionally small in philo- progenitiveness. Where a bump ought to be, was found a perceptible cavity. When this organ was small, science taught, there would be shown lukewarm attachment for children ; they would not be esteemed a blessing ; weariness and impatience would be felt in their company ; their prattle would not be tolerated. Her experience shecmdd was in confirmation of science : she could children, not abide children, except in very rare cases. As studies merely, as a rule, they had been interesting to her. Young ani- mals of other species were about as engag- ing. As she could not help this perversion, Two Husbands 12J she had yielded to it reluctantly. It was not pleasant to be out of nature in such an extraordinary way. It made marriage — the haven of happiness to most women — impracticable to her. She had dreamed, she had - . r i • dreamed of time and again, of maternity — of being maternity. surrounded by her own children ; and the joy of relief upon awaking was spasmodic. Other loves than those of motherhood had been vouchsafed to her. She had two husbands, so to speak, — literature and art. Never a day was long to her with a good book for company. Belles - lettres, in all that it included, was ever fresh and abound- ing in interest. Life in literature was the life she most relished. She could enter into it or quit it at will. The creatures and personages of books did not need to be petted and flattered : unceremonious usage did not offend them. Pictures she enjoyed, and sometimes painted, in a poor way. Her sense of vision was helped by the pastime. She saw more, the more she drew and colored. The possibilities of Thefossibu- ities of tints. tints were a perpetual surprise to her. Sometimes she essayed portraiture, but only in attempts to portray manhood in rare specimens. All of her powers were in best employment at such times. Lines 128 Sitb-Caium of thought in a thoughtful face it was her chief pleasure and ambition to trace. Com- plexions of women and children were too delicate for her brush, as were all expres- sions of effeminacy and softness. The bold, the strong, the manly, excited her to Marriedto utmost effort. So married to print and print and . , canvas. canvas, what more could she desire ? She had had lovers — not a few. One poor fellow adored her, and threatened self- destruction if she did not marry him. Another was diverted in his homage by the fascinations of the card-table. Ap- proaches of others were discouraged as waste of the emotions. Nature had ap- pointed her to a single life. Her destiny had been predetermined from the founda- tion. The daughters of Erebus and Night were executing the decrees of Nature with inexorable decision. Their ministers, the Furies, had not been necessary ; there was no resistance. The second The second lady said that a few facts, simply stated, would satisfactorily account for her voluntary maidenhood. She was the eldest of five children. When she was only ten years old her mother became a hopeless invalid, and the cares of a full- grown woman were suddenly imposed upon lady. Self -Sacrifice I2g her. She gave up all — head, heart, hands — to her mother and brothers and sisters. The youngest was a mere baby, and you must know the constant attention he exacted. Her father was kind, perhaps, in his way ; but he was a confirmed hypo- Her father chondnac, forever groaning and complain- driac. ing of everything. God and nature were at enmity with him, he said. Smileless and discouraging, his presence was a per- petual blight. He never said a generous, inspiring thing to any one of them that she remembered. Unconsciously selfish, his whole thought was of himself and his imagined distresses. The looking-glass was his great resource in his absorbingly self-pitying moods. He would pull at his beard and penetrate the lines in his face, and sighingly wonder what other tortures were in reserve for him. Any misfortune or crisis in the family, instead of stimu- lating his humanity and sympathy, only increased his malady. When his wife suf- fered most, he was most jealous of atten- tions to her. He bemoaned himself and Bemoaned groaned, when a little bit of self-sacrifice groaned!™ and tenderness would have brought sun- shine into the joyless household, and light- ened all its burdens. The baby died when / jo Sub-Coelutn he was scarcely three years old. The blue-eyed cherub ! His death was a great blow. Her cares were lessened by it ; but there was an aching void. A record of the The solemn solemn entombment was in everything entombment. , . . r^ • 1 1 r 1 • about her. Special remembrance of him always occasioned a pang. Strange to say, the death of the little fellow seemed to give relief to his mother, and she grew perceptibly better, though still bed-ridden, to remain so till she died. He is better off, she would quietly say, with a touching smile of self-consolation. The girl-children were lovely, and grew in helpfulness. There was nothing they would not do. The boy was always manly, and rapidly developed the most genuine traits. He seemed preternaturally strong and wise. His hopefulness and sturdy self-confidence gave joy to them all. He acquired and thought, and every day grew in intellectual stature. You shall see what will be done Pride and for you, he sometimes proudly and heroic- ally said. The world soon recognized his abilities and manhood. His advancement was steady and sure, and he soon ranked an exceptionally prosperous man. The desire of his great heart was realized, and the family at home enjoyed more and more heroism. A Generous Annuity 131 his fostering care. The girls married gen- tlemen, well-to-do and generous. Their father was indulged and their mother cherished and petted. Ah! the smile of SmUeo/re- rejoicing that illuminated her invalid face, after all her trials and miseries. A word or two more would complete all that was necessary to relate of her story. Her noble brother and grateful sisters had settled a generous annuity upon her ; and her life was as free as that of any woman could be. She was getting the most out of it that was possible to her, and she be- lieved she had no complaint to make of fortune or condition. The third and last spoke with a little The third . . _, ,. and last. more spirit. 1 he preceding statement made her own less difficult. While her experiences had been alike bitter, they had been more tragical. She also had been a victim of circumstances ; the miseries of unfortunate marriage had been indelibly impressed upon her. They had been brought home to her in a way to make her hesitate about accepting an attractive offer, in all respects promising. The marriage a marriage of her father and mother had been one of "don. blind passion or affection. Friends had urged a postponement, to give a little time 132 Sttb-Ccehim for consideration ; but both were infat- uated, and would not live apart, even for a short season. Her father was handsome and gay ; devoted to the world and its pleasures ; governed without limit by his Appetite for impulses. His appetite for drink in- creased. creased ; and indulgence soon became dis- sipation. Evil associations made him rude and reckless. He changed from what they called a gentleman to a brute. He abused his wife in outrageous ways. The narra- tor called attention to the mark on her mouth, the same exactly as the scar left on the lip of her mother by the heel of her husband, months before she was born. Daughter and mother with the same in- effaceable memorial of brutality ! Her father, she said, had tried to be kind to her sometimes while she was a child ; but long before she became a woman every- thing like affection had disappeared from his conduct. He even hated her, as he did her mother. A complete transforma- tion had taken place. He had grown to Three/aces, be a monster. He seemed to have three like Cefb€' rus. faces, like Cerberus, every one of them cruel ; and each one had the remorseless evil eye. To get behind him, and to es- cape the fatal look, was impossible. He Moral Atmospheres 1 33 saw all, and suspected more. Physician, clergyman, friends, male and female, were objects of his suspicion and jealousy. You talk about moral atmospheres ! Think of living in one of profanity and drunken- Profanity. ness ! Recollections of what she and her mother endured, terrified her. An in- cubus was upon their lives, asleep and awake. Certain demoniac noises and oaths came to them in ways to threaten reason. Pandemonium could not produce worse. From bad to distressing the wretched days continued; till one night the monster was brought home dead, with a bullet in his brain by his own hand. His poor, relieved, heart-broken wife survived him a few weeks. Her life went out in agony. The event of her own marriage, often talked over with her mother, and postponed at her request, would be con- summated in the early autumn. Her lover was acquainted with every circumstance of her life, even to the birth-mark on her lip, rite birth- and had many times befriended her and her mother at the risk of his existence. He was a noble fellow, and she dared hope for happiness the remnant of her days. Something like a breeze, by this time, was seen to ruffle the surface of the sea, i}4 Sub-Ccelum a mile away, or less. One said it was a school of mackerel on the way to Arcturus. Howbeit, they made sail ; and Zephyrus came gently to fill it, and bear them away to their several hostelries. drunken- Even the Sub-Coelumites found drunken- ness the most stubborn of all the social evils. Though rare, they found it impos- sible to abolish it utterly. Destroying the effects of alcohol was like annihilating the archenemy. They believed implicitly with the poet, that the loved and hated thing was introduced by Satan into the tree of knowledge before the primal pair partook of it, and was attended with the same ef- fects that had followed it ever since. Con- firmed drunkenness they regarded as one of the most virulent of moral and physical diseases, and they took every pains to pro- tect society against it. Some idea may be had of their success by remembering the early excesses of one of the countries that had supplied them with much of their pop- a matter o/ \x\3X\0n. They had history for it that on the signboards of noted gin-shops in that country it was announced that a customer might get drunk for a penny, and dead drunk for two-pence, and have straw for Early Excesses 135 nothing. Faith was kept by providing cellars strewn with straw, on which the customer who had got his two-pennyworth was deposited till he was ready to recom- mence. Higher, socially, excesses were as extreme, but different. They had the state- statement _ , . . of a noble ment of a noble writer that he was present writer. at an entertainment where a celebrated lady of pleasure was one of the party, and her shoe was pulled off by a young man, who filled it with champagne and drank it off to her health. In this delicious draught he was immediately pledged by the rest, and then, to carry the compliment still further, he ordered the shoe itself to be dressed and served up for supper. The cook set himself to work upon it ; he pulled the upper part of it, which was of damask, into fine shreds, and tossed it up in a ragout ; minced the sole, cut the wooden heel into very thin slices, fried them in butter, and placed them round the dish for garnish. The company testified their affection for the lady by eating very heartily of the impromptu. The authorities Authorities J r tr prompt to of Sub-Coelum were prompt to grant a act. divorcement of man and wife when either became a victim of drunkenness. Hospi- tals were established for confining and 1 3 6 Sub-Ccelum Licenses to marry cau- tiously granted. treating it, not without hopeful conse- quences. Licenses to marry were not granted without inquiry as to the habits of applicants and their progenitors. Ten- dency to intoxication, even, was alarming, and might entail itself. Prevention was the only sure remedy. Indeed, no short list of questions must be answered satis- factorily, under oath, before a license could be obtained. Drunkenness was not the only evil that society did its utmost to cure, to limit, and to prevent. Diseases that rot the moral and' physical structure were searchingly hunted out and pursued while a visible remnant of them remained to taint the generations. Habitual lying, hypocrisy, and dishonesty were recognized moral diseases. A deliberate breach of trust was such a monstrous crime in their moral code that the name and blood of the perpetrator were not perpetuated. Society held itself not guiltless if it permitted the odium of serious crime to descend upon the irresponsible and innocent, to say nothing of possible continuance. Divorce. While there were other legal causes of divorce than drunkenness, the authorities were slow in acting upon them. Separa- Must Live Together i^j tions were oftener authorized than divorces. The theory and rule of their civilization were, that husband and wife must live to- gether, and not be long separated. Es- Estrange. ... . . ment pro- trangement was provided against in every vided possible way. Trifling differences between married people were not patiently consid- ered. A custom of the olden time became a rule of action in their courts. When a quarrelsome couple applied for a divorce, the magistrate did not listen to them. Be- fore deciding upon the case, he locked them up for three days, in the same room, with one bed, one table, one plate, and one tumbler. Their food was passed in to them by attendants who neither saw nor spoke to them. When they came out, at the end of three days, neither of them wanted to be divorced. Victims of occasional intoxication were refuges kindly provided for by the establishment tain occa- , t . . SIONAL VlC- of Refuges, for their care and protection, mis. Fortunately, they were not many, and the wonder was they were so few, considering the exigencies and extremities of even exceptional human life, and that the vast majority there, as elsewhere, were gov- erned by their passions and emotions, and 138 Sub-Ccclum not by their judgment. Reason, there, as everywhere, was the property of the chosen few. Living to-day upon the experience of yesterday, and so providing for the mor- row, if it come, was easier of philosophic The/acuity statement than practice. The faculty of ins in the continuing in the right way, without being once in a while turned aside by folly or temptation, was not given to common mortality: it was a rare endowment — the gift of God. Their stream of life, also, had its numberless eddies, to obstruct and hin- der. Caught by them, and whirled about, it was difficult to get themselves back into the current the same creatures as before, to enjoy again, in the same healthful way, the inspiration of progress. Maelstroms, indeed, they sometimes proved to be, wrecking hopelessly, if not utterly swallow- ing up, the moral man, in their uncondi- tional irresistibleness. Human wisdom, as they possessed it, was largely the result of Suffering suffering and blundering. It was not given and blunder- . , . , , . ing. to them to know the next step but by tak- ing it. Discouragements and calamities made them timid about taking it at all. Business complicated and embarrassed, they could not always see their way to sol- vency. Expenses exceeding income, ruin The Bottle 139 impended. Fraud victimized and paralyzed them. Conspiracy gave them new eyes. Immoralities were in danger of being ex- posed. Losses, one after another, seemed ruinous altogether. A spendthrift boy a spend. brought unexpected entailments. A fool- ish girl wounded the family pride and com- promised her honor. Domestic infelicity was possibly creating new irritations. A rasping voice and intrusive nose might never be out of his ear and affairs. Super- added, a dismal atmosphere, to overwhelm with gloom. What more natural, even in Sub-Ccelum, than a short cut to temporary relief through the bottle ? A little of the artificial sunshine being found good, a flood of it was better, and intoxication ensued. Days of it, probably, before dis- continuance was thought of. The poor victim — perhaps for the first time in his life — cares not to go home : he goes of preference to the Refuge, where he is admitted upon application; few questions Fewques- , , ..... . 1*1 1 11 tions asked. are asked ; discipline is so slight as hardly to be felt ; he is thoughtfully let alone ; permitted at will to wander through the beautiful grounds, without molestation ; supplied with everything necessary to his comfort, in the way of food, baths, and 140 Sub-Ccelum clean beds ; but not a drop of anything intoxicating is given to him during his The healing stay. The healing solitude and absolute solitude. . e ii- freedom, in a few days, complete his resto- ration. No record is made of the matter, and he is discharged without scrutiny or pledge. So little indeed is made of the circumstance that Gossip herself is her- metically dumb concerning it. retreats Retreats for convalescents were estab- for Conva- lescents. Hshed, here and there, throughout the Com- monwealth. People came to them from every part, — especially those who had not comfortable homes. These Retreats were situated in attractive places, where the air was the best, and where inviting ac- cessories could be easily provided. Trees were planted of the most beautiful varie- ties. Flowers in abundance were culti- Fountains vated. Fountains played, in volume and ioLme'and spray, displaying rainbow colors to the greatest advantage. Rills ran through the grounds in a natural manner. Ingenious little contrivances for entertainment were operated by them. Mechanical skill ex- erted itself to invent diminutive engines for all sorts of purposes. Musical instru- ments were made to play by the force of A Convolution of Rainbows 1 4 ' the element. The prettiest little ponds were provided for the fishes, and for then^ft. birds to bathe in. Of the former, those of w, every brilliant color were to be seen ; and of the latter, those of every quality and tint of plumage. In moulting time the birds were especially interesting. When the sun shone, the atmosphere, at times, was a convolution of rainbows. Intelli- gent monkeys climbed about in the trees, J£** and suspended themselves by their tails. Grave and gay, wise and foolish, they never ceased to be objects of study. Record was made of their cunning and imitative- ness, and they were respected in propor- tion as they were known. Lessons were tauo-ht by the application of their powers. Not 5 every man was exalted in comparison with them. Their ailments -much the same as those of their human brethren — were treated not empirically, but scientifi- cally- too much affection for them being felt to permit mere practice upon them ; besides, they might avenge themselves, - curious instances of the kind being of record in all the institutions. Milk of the jjujfc cow and the goat and the mare was Bup-^-j-* plied as needed. The cooking was exactly adapted to the stomachs and nerves and 142 Sitb-Ccelum palates of the feeble. The most delicate dishes were served to nourish and stimu- late. Sleep - producing qualities were spe- cially aimed at, — the belief being preva- lent that frequent and complete suspension of the functions of the hemispheres of the cerebrum was necessary to sound physical, Drugs es- intellectual, and moral health. Drugs were chewed. ° eschewed, as especially for the hospital. Generous wine, in sufficient quantities, was supplied, but nothing stronger. Tea, also, and coffee, were forbidden, except under peculiar circumstances, the excessive use of either being held accountable for many idiopathic and morbid conditions. Mani- fold amusements were provided, — such as were suited to the tastes and strength of Only keaithy convalescents. Only visitors were ad- vixitors ad- muted. mitted who were healthy ; and those must be considerate and of stimulating effluence. The brooding mood and complaining habit were shut out as pestilential influences. Full veins and abounding vigor were welcomed as inspirations. Sickness and death were not subjects of conversation. Restoration to health being the object of these wise and merciful Retreats, anything to hinder or thwart that was scrupulously forbidden. Inmates must get well, and not Free Intercommunication 14} expend any part of their powers, moral or emotional, in brooding over distresses and perils past and escaped. Reluctance to adopt cheerful moods, and to cooperate with wise and compassionate treatment, were grounds of prompt dismissal from the institution. Hospices for visiting strangers were in hospices FOR VlSlT- all the considerable towns. They held a ^g stran- 1 GERS. place half way between the hotel or hos- telry and the private home. They were conducted respectably but not extrava- gantly. The strictest cleanliness was ob- served, and plain food was generously fur- nished. There, as everywhere, pains were taken in the preparation of articles to be eaten ; nothing was spoiled in the cooking. Abundance of pure water was supplied for bathing purposes. Accessible reception rooms were provided. The prices charged were only a trifle above the cost of material and service. The social character and habits of the people required such institu- Suchinstitu- tions. Enjoying abundance of leisure, a quired. good part of their time was taken up in visiting, and every facility was necessary to free intercommunication. From town to town they went, singly and in parties, 144 Sub-Ccelum and these Hospices were comfortable enough homes for them while they re- mained. Their friends were relieved of the burden of entertaining them, and never Absolute wearied of seeing them. The absolute freedom all enjoyed was favorable to hap- piness. Housekeepers were relieved of anxiety and a great part of the social pres- sure. It was astonishing the amount of pleasure received from this free inter- course with visiting friends and strangers. Nobody was embarrassed by obligation. All material enjoyments were paid for. Politenesses were voluntary, and without complications. Society had almost nothing of the debt -paying element in it. Pre- tenses of overwhelming gratitude and favor were without excuse, and were not exhib- ited. A thousand and one of the little insincerities and hypocrisies were avoided. Disguises Disguises, so many, were not thought to be necessary to appear kind and hospitable. It was possible to look into each other's faces without embarrassing remembrance of deceits and dissimulation. Self-respect was less difficult when free of the burden of petty sins against veracity. Greater transparency existed in the social relation. Less of conduct was a mockery of con- not neces- Life Not a Game 145 science and religion. Young people, es- pecially, were benefited by the freedom and liberal facilities. With the aid of the public Hospices they saw each other often, and in a catholic manner. Life was not so much a game with them. The sexes The sexes. were upon a common plane. They were more apt to comprehend each other, and be better fitted for the holy bonds. Free- dom from much expense and ceremony gave more time and better opportunity for consideration ; and precipitation in mar- riage was not the rule by any means. In the enlarged facilities for intelligent court- ing, society found important protection. There was less likelihood of crazy infatua- tion. If the suitor was not the right kind of gentleman, his sweetheart was pretty sure to know it. His conduct was more open to inspection, and would expose it- self, if not based upon trustworthiness. In the general interchange, outside of busi- ness relations, the Hospice was found indispensable. Greater opportunity was given to the offices of patriotism, charity, and benevolence. Society was more like a ukeagreat great family. By its liberal and healthful intercourse, its civic and social virtues were perpetually nourished. 146 Sub-Coelum inventors Inventors and scholars, in a pecuniary and schol- sensej were no t apt to be more prosperous there than elsewhere, and so were relieved of many ordinary burdens. Society, hav- ing been benefited by their labors, was willing to compensate them as it could. In cases where they had grown old and poor special provision was made for them. Especially they were preferred for any public service they could perform. Con- sidering the great intellectual activity, the wonder was there were not more that re- quired assistance. The proverbial unthrift characterizing the purely intellectual classes they had their share of, but no more. You heard the same incidents of innocency of the arts of trade that literature has been recording ever since living and language began to improve. How, while they were evolving great cheated 0/ thoughts, they were cheated of their Mies. pennies. The same old instances of for- getfulness of self and material interests that ignorance is forever quoting to fortify its self-conceit. A man had actually died while reading a proof-sheet of great astro- nomical researches, when not a crumb to eat was found in his lodgings ! Defective, half-made creature, of course, not to pro- Incompatibles 14J vide properly for his stomach ! Jones, who had a great estate, did not care for con- stellations and comets. Smith had accu- mulated, and hardly knew how to read ! What of all the host of stars? Cabbages ivhato/aii did not grow better for all the knowledge surT? " J of them. Incompatibles, they said, were thrift and scholarship and scientific inves- tigation. Intelligence understood the mat- ter better, and provided in many ways for neglects and omissions. When manu- facturers made great fortunes by utilizing great inventions, whatever the terms or circumstances of purchase, they did not forget the inventors. If they did not re- member them fittingly and substantially, Government prompted them by significant means. They were required to furnish money or employment — assistance to the inventor being as far as possible in just proportion to the pecuniary value of the invention. Publishers, in case of unex- pected large sales of publications, were ex- pected and required to further share their profits with authors, if necessitous. The Theprevaii. .,. £ • .• . tug sense o/ prevailing sense of justice amongst appre- /?«//«. ciating people did not permit a neglect of classes preeminently worthy. Conscience was wide awake in such cases. 148 Sub-Ccelum Old People and Chil- Religion more than skin-deep. Very few old people or children were objects of public charity. The humanity of the people and their religion were against it, except in cases of direst extrem- ity. Affection was more than water, and provided for its own. No greater disgrace could fall upon a man than by the neglect of the old or the young of his own blood. Whatever the exigencies, relief generally came from the natural source. Families were not so large but that room might be made for one person more, in extremity. The aged were guarded and comforted by their children or children's children — by their relatives, immediate or remote. Degrees of relationship were not counted when suffering presented. Blood was not denied in any condition of indigence or affliction. It flowed and interfused un- consciously on occasions of calamity. Re- ligion — more than mere words, and more than skin-deep — delighted in self-sacrifice. The helpless were helped as a religious privilege, and the burden was not shunned nor calculated. The Founder of their religion was the poorest of the poor, and the religion He founded was for the poor especially. Hungry and thirsty, He went about doing good, though rejected and Nature and Art 149 despised. He was love and self-sacrifice incarnated. Pitiful, shameless followers, who deserted their own blood, in poverty or wretchedness. The most beautiful spots in Sub-Ccelum buwal- were the burial-places. The celestial vis- itant, hovering over, must have been charmed by their attractiveness. Nature and Art did their utmost to beautify them. Grounds were chosen for their diversity and irregularity. What Art did was only to assist Nature : not a thing was done to show her tricks and fantasies. Hills and valleys in abundance, little was left to the landscape-gardener but to adorn them naturally. The native forest was little dis- turbed. Additional trees and shrubs were planted to give greater variety. Exuber- ant vines crept and climbed about in fan- tastic ways. Perennial plants and flowers Perennial , . . i t rr plants and were everywhere in view, and different at flowers. every turn. Exotics were cultivated where not too much labor and expense were in- volved, and where they did not give a look of too great artificialness. Particular pains were taken in the cultivation of plants and shrubs the leaves of which emitted pleasant perfumes ; rosemary, lavender, sweet-brier, l 5<> Sub-Ccelum The line of beauty con- spicuous. and the like ; which, upon the slightest touch or disturbance, filled the air with delicious odors. Roses, roses, were everywhere ; and pinks, too, in great abundance. Sin- uous roads and walks ran in and about bewilderingly. The line of beauty was conspicuous. The birds delighted to dwell in these enchanting places : they were fed and cherished in every hospitable and affectionate way. Squirrels of many varie- ties were perfectly domesticated, and added greatly to the general animation. They came down out of the trees to be noticed and petted. The children they delighted to run over, searchingly and caressingly. Names were given to the prettiest, and when they died they were mounted or de- cently buried. These lovely burial-places were freely visited by everybody without Noembar. distinction. No embarrassing rules or by-laws were placarded on the gate-posts or elsewhere. No scrutinizing look was given by officer or lodge-keeper at the en- trance. It was only expected that the sacred place be not made a haunt, and that good behavior would characterize the con- duct of the visitor, such as enlightenment and good feeling would suggest as befit- ting. The public was encouraged to go to rassing rules. Death Leveled All 151 the beautiful cemeteries for their civiliz- ing, refining, and moral influence. If an adult or half-grown person misbehaved in one of the resting-places of their dead, he was uncivilized, and hardly responsible. Breaches of good conduct were so rare as Breaches 0/ to be historical. Their religion taught im- g rare C .° n mortality, and that death was but emanci- pation. Believing that they began to be here what they were to be hence — that they made their future in this world and took it with them to the next, they felt the responsibility of living ; and anything that tended to increase that feeling was religiously encouraged. There was little distinction exhibited in little dis- marking the graves. The stone-cutter was marking not required to be an artist. Costly tombs and monuments were not in fashion. The graveyard was considered a poor place to draw the lines upon penury. Wealth was too considerate to display itself in places of the dead. Fortunes were not expended in commemorative columns and shafts. Ambitious display stopped short of the tomb. The poorest man was not reminded thereof his indigence — grandeur did not mock him at the grave. Death leveled all. Graves. 152 Sub-Coelum Sensibility might show itself, but not cash. Adornments were such as affection sus:- gested to thoughtfulness and refinement. Any one might embellish a grave. Plants, flowers, a modest stone, intelligent care, were not costly. Simplicity and tender- ness gave greatest distinction. Birds were sometimes lured, by ingenious and affec- tionate means, to nest on the graves. Broods of the same pair successively took Emblems of wing — emblems of immortality. Flowers immortal- 1 i i uy. grew better by the tears dropped upon them, and the fragrance they exhaled was super-terrestrial. Little evidences of af- fection and remembrance were everywhere to be seen. Lettered phrases were touch- ing to read. Memorial verses from time to time were found in the grass. In every imaginable way the deep humanity and profound religious sentiment expressed themselves in these sacred places. At the Nothing same time, nothing gloomy or dreadful dreadful, was suggested. Remembrances of the dead were quite as apt to be joyful as dis- tressing. Pleasant things of them were rehearsed, and they lived again, and were reenjoyed. Children felt themselves nearer their lost parents by cheerfully re- viewing their kindnesses and self-sacrifice. The Common Lot 153 Parents forgot themselves in agreeable reminiscences of their children. The best was remembered as most apt to be perpet- uated ; the regretted was buried with the dust. The common distinctions were for- Common di* . , . . ..,.—,. Unctions gotten in these cities of the dead. Costly forgotten. improvements in roads and chapels were directed by the general management. Opulence was arm-in-arm with indigence in the enjoyment of the pervading beauty, and nothing existed to suggest any dis- parity. In the park or in the public gar- dens grandeur might display itself, but not among the graves, where all humanity was common dust. Not that pride aped hu- mility : it was humiliated indeed by the thoughtful consciousness of the common lot. Neither were ostentatious funerals in funerals. vogue in Sub-Ccelum. They did not com- port with the prevailing ideas of propriety. It had been a great many years since any- thing of the kind had occurred there. Sim- plicity, rather than display, characterized the burial of the dead. Any appearance of vanity or vain show, in connection with death, had come to be regarded as more or less barbaric. Costly equipage and con- i$4 Sub-Ccelum spicuously fine dress had long since been tabooed. In one of the countries from which a great part of their population was Ostentation descended, ostentatious and expensive Votthe en$e funerals had been the rule. They had record of one, where the procession was a mile long, and walked sixteen miles to the place of burial. Every variety of refresh- ment was served, and over five hundred gallons of whiskey were consumed. Sim- ple religious services at the house of the deceased were customary, attended by the family and their friends, and such acquaint- ances as were invited. The remains then passed into the hands of the director, and were quietly conveyed to the cemetery, accompanied by a few near friends. The face of the poor dead human body was not exposed to the multitude at any time. Cu- riosity was not gratified in so indelicate and rude a way. Mourning, in the sense of outside manifestation, was rarely exhib- Tkeir cheer, ited. Their cheerful views of life, here ful views of . life. and hereafter, led them to accept the in- evitable resignedly and hopefully. They could not account for this existence with- out a belief in a better to succeed it. Fi- delity and purity and humanity in this, would be followed by felicity in that. It Display Avoided 155 was a faith they all had, without qualifica- tion. Expense they avoided as far as prac- ticable. They regarded the occasion of death as not a fit one for the display of this TkisworicTs ,,, . _ , . , . possessions. world s possessions. Good in their way, they were not to be compared with the priceless abundance promised to the worthy. Besides, their delicate sense did not permit them to exceed the average in expensiveness at the last hour. Penury was not to be reminded of its limitations by prodigality. It was a common thing for neighbors to bear each other to the burial- place, and to dig each others' graves. In every considerable burial-place there chapels in , ,. , , BuRIAL- was a convenient and commodious chapel, places. adapted to religious and other exercises connected with the dead. There the sealed caskets containing the remains of persons well known were frequently placed, and for a time opportunity was given to the public for free expression upon the lives and ser- vices of the deceased. The general intelli- gence and readiness of speech, with the prevailing habit of reflection, made these occasions particularly interesting and im- pressive. The utmost propriety and so- lemnity were observed. Sometimes elabo- 156 Sub-Ccelum rate orations were delivered ; but generally remarks were spontaneous and unpremedi- tated and brief. Incidents of the life that was ended, illustrating its character, were related in a natural, conversational way. Foibhs for- Foibles were forgotten in the generous gotten. ° ° consideration of aims. So much that was good was found to be said, that disparage- ment had no voice. It was not remem- bered when an uncharitable thing had been uttered on any one of these occasions. The people were too wise to expect perfec- tion in any human life, and too considerate, if not too good, to cherish memories of common errors and occasional lapses from strictest rectitude. Analyses of character, while often acute, were always kindly and forgiving. It was surprising how the strong light of observation brought out the virtues. A man, thought by the casual beholder to be hard and ungenerous, ap- peared, in the judgment and knowledge of his friends, a just and self-sacrificing citi- zen. So far from being selfish, there was nothing he would not have done for others, Ungracious- without advertising it. Ungraciousness of tiess of man- . ner. manner was his misfortune. A poor man, the victim of his appetites, appeared a no- ble fellow in instances where he had risked Essential Unselfishness 15J his life for the helpless. His depravity had exhausted itself upon himself. Tributes to his humanity and essential unselfishness were in hearts without tongues to express them. An eminently proud man to super- ficial apprehension, in the flood of truth poured upon him, seemed only the self- oniythesei/. respecting gentleman. His pride indeed ^ehtumln. was lost in his profound integrity. An unfortunate woman, a martyr to her beauty, who had incurred the odium of her sex by certain irregularities, lay one day in this house of the dead, as might be thought- lessly supposed, for condemnation. Far from it. The silence of the tomb was broken by feminine sobs, and the best of her sex repeated, He that is without sin among you, let him first cast a stone at her. The whole house rose responsively, and passed out, one by one, touched by the spirit of the Master. Men and women, conspicuous by their acts of patriotism and humanity, received their just tribute. But nothing fulsome escaped the lips of any Nothing /ui. Tj ... . rr some escaped one. It was considered a great offense to the tips of say of the dead what could not be truth- fully said of any living human being. Acts were recognized and appreciated ; but mo- tives were not discussed. i 5 8 Siib-Coclum motives. In that land of intelligence, observation, and introspection, it was profoundly real- ized that an attempt by law-makers to define motives, and by judges to punish them, would be puzzling occupation. To the self-observant Sub-Ccelumite nothing interesting was more interesting and surprising than ing. his own, as they appeared to himself, and as they were interpreted by others. Often they seemed wholly beyond his comprehen- sion or control. They were prompted he did not always know how nor why, and would lead him he could not tell where. Their meanness often humiliated him, and he used the utmost caution and careful- ness to conceal them. His complacency was only preserved by a consciousness of the world's ignorance of them. Better motives than the real ones were often attributed to him, which both satirized and dignified his conduct. His greatest achievements often sprang from motives so insignificant that he would have been ashamed to acknowledge them. His ap- parent and exemplary virtues would have lost much of their effect if the secret vices which alarmed them into exercise were ex- posed. Worse motives were also found for his conduct than ever entered his heart, Both satir- ized and dignified his conduct. The Protecting Statute i$g the possession of which would have made him a different man. If conspicuous good to others resulted from an act meant pri- marily to benefit himself, his sagacious Hi* saga- cious benevo- benevolence was praised and his character knee i n i tt • praised. accepted a model. If wrong was inci- dentally or intentionally done his neighbor through his neighbor's simplicity or igno- rance, his conscience was soothed by the protecting statute. He had been annoyed by an ostentatious recognition and acknow- ledgment of acts, with a parade of assumed systematic intentions, when the real ones so spontaneously sprang from his humanity that design or calculation was impossible. Their intrinsic goodness was so disparaged and obscured by misinterpretation and flaunting that their promising fruit was stinted in the growth. The sweeter virtues, crushed into life, are embarrassed by being displayed. The silent tear which attends their birth drops away in shame at being discovered. There were professional funeral orators, funeral and writers of obituary notices, whose ser- and obitu- vices were frequently solicited. Facts and -hces. incidents supplied them were responsibly employed, simply or elaborately as re- i6o Sub-Coelum A cts ar- rayed and events por- trayed. A good woman. quested. Where the character justified it, acute and thorough analysis was made. When connected in any conspicuous way with the public, acts were arrayed and events portrayed to impress its value and usefulness. A good man appeared better by the recital of enterprises of which he was an important part. Where his suc- cesses fell short of his aims, cooperation was found wanting. His wise and benevo- lent projects had to wait for favorable con- ditions and sympathizing coadjutors. The truth of men and women was told without exaggeration or adulation. Whatever of religion was in the life was shown in the portrayal of its enthusiastic humanity and self-sacrifice. What better could be said of it than that it employed and exhausted itself in the service of others ? A good woman, who had bred a large family, and led a long life of devotion and self-sacri- fice, worn out by care, and weary of her burdens, came at length to what was sup- posed to be her deathbed. A clergyman thought it to be his duty to call upon her. He asked her if she had made her peace with her Maker ; to which she replied that she was not aware that there had been any trouble. Cases like this were used to Tongue Charity 161 illustrate the possible in right directions. Words were slightly estimated in compari- words in . . /-< ,• • comparison son with acts. Canting pretension was with acts. silently buried ; for what was to be said of emptiness and tongue charity merely ? Lives were better than professions. In funeral orations and obituary notices were kindly presented realities ; ideals were in- ferred or suggested. Embodiments of practical virtue and religion stood forth. Standards of conduct were animated by personal illustration, more impressive than didactic instruction. As before said, every one had his voca- vocation . . i'ii 1 AND Avoca- tion and avocation, into which he carried tion. his enthusiasms. By the former he made his money ; in the latter he gratified his tastes. Special occupations were numer- ous, and hobbies also. Favorite objects of pursuit gave full employment to particular faculties. It was expected, in the prevail- ing mental activity, and dishonor of idle- ness, that every intelligent person would have some appropriate diversion, befitting his abilities and imagination. Men and women were made more interesting by these worthy pastimes, and were rarely humdrum or commonplace. Their minds, 1 62 Sub-Ccelum so to speak, had their little holy of holies, with windows toward heaven, into which they entered in best moods, and recreated Dull they their powers. Dull they could not be, " stirred so often into definite, ennobling action. It might be only an insect the en- thusiast gave his hours of leisure to ; but it was an object of creation, and stimulated him. Observation was discovery, and led him into ever-widening fields, and away from the beaten track. Absorbed by his hobby, he was respectful and hospitable to that of his neighbor. He did not apply the epithet hobbyhorsical to any special enthusiasm. He was not found among the dogmatists or satirists. He realized the limits to knowledge, and honored every effort to transcend them. He had been mistaken, and would be again and again. He had laughed, but oftenest through ig- a wed by norance. If wise enough to understand, ing. he had been awed. Realizing that men are most apt to believe what they least comprehend, he did not require the last fact to give credence. He could disbelieve upon ultimate testimony. Inconsistency or apostasy did not affright him. Modest in his beliefs and disbeliefs, bigotry was impossible to him. Jupiter and Juno's Wedding 16} These patient and enthusiastic students students , . . IN Particu- m particular lines had many opportunities lar Lines. to contribute of their knowledge to the public. They were encouraged to give fre- quent lectures and demonstrations, which were always numerously attended, and at- tentively and sympathizingly received. In- deed, these learned talks and exhibitions Learned , talks andex- constituted their highest amusements, kauimu. They were illustrated in every attractive and ingenious way, and were comprehen- sible even to the children. The public were proud of these special investigators, who worked for love, and for the general good, and were more than glad to sit reverently at their feet and learn of them. The com- monest subjects and objects in the hands of these enlightened enthusiasts became more interesting than any fiction. Crawling and flying things, despised by the common, ap- peared indeed wonderful in the flash of light ingeniously poured upon them. They say that when Jupiter and Juno's wedding was solemnized of old, the gods were all in- The gods in- vited to the feast, and many noble men be- sides. Amongst the rest came Chrysalus, an Oriental prince, bravely attended, rich in golden attires, in gay robes, with a ma- jestical presence, but otherwise a very in- / 64 Sub-Coeliim ferior creature. The gods, seeing him in such pomp and state, rose up to give him place ; but Jupiter perceiving what he was, Turned into a light, fantastic, idle fellow, turned him and his proud followers into butterflies ; and so they continue still, mythology de- clares, roving about in pied coats, and are called chrysalides by the wiser sort of men. These winged worms, in the hands of a master who had intelligently and zealously studied them, were made more interesting than any Eastern prince in all his splendor of attire and pomp of retinue. Of the more than seven hundred species in one small province, he presented you the most beautiful varieties, in all their gorgeous- ness and bewilderment of color. En- larged by the camera, they appeared of enormous proportions — more gigantic wings of than the fabled roc. The wings of certain C cZs at " ' species, covered on both sides with imbri- cated scales or feathers, to the unassisted eye presenting the appearance of dust or powder, under the microscope they dis- played an arrangement as uniform and characteristic of species as that of the scales of fishes and the feathers of birds. He told you that in a piece of mosaic work there might be nine hundred separate Metamorphoses 165 pieces in an inch square, while the same extent of surface in a butterfly's wing con- tained from one hundred thousand to nine hundred thousand of these wing-scales or feathers. You saw the despised caterpil- The despised lar in all his metamorphoses, from the ca process of hatching — eagerly eating, eat- ing, growing prodigiously, changing its skin several times, evacuating his intes- tines, suspending himself by a little rope of silk to the under surface of a leaf, ap- pearing, after other mysterious changes, the perfect butterfly, sipping honey from the flowers, like his cousin the humming- bird ; reproducing himself and dying, like every other thing of mortality. At the theatre and the circus the people were not amused and profited as they were at these astonishing platform exhibitions. They laughed, and were wonderstruck. Even the pestilent, friendless rat was the substance theme of discourse at one of these popular ture. assemblages. The humane investigator had made a particular study of the animal, and surprised his audience with the num- ber and character of his facts and obser- vations — original and from authentic sources. The nature and qualities of the 1 66 Siib-Coelum creature were presented in a manner to excite astonishment and sympathy. At the risk of being considered tedious, some of his facts and anecdotes are repeated. incident re. He related an incident communicated by a lated by a . clergyman, clergyman, to prove that the detested ro- dent shows a consideration and care for its elders on the march which was worthy of human philanthropy. Walking out in some meadows one evening, he observed a great number of rats migrating from one place to another. He stood perfectly still, and the whole assemblage passed close to him. His astonishment, however, was great when he saw amongst the number an old blind rat, which held a piece of stick at one end in its mouth, while another had hold of the other end of it and thus conducted its blind companion. A kindred circumstance was witnessed by a surgeon's mate. Ly- ing awake one evening in his berth, he saw a rat enter, look cautiously round, and re- tire. He soon returned, leading a second rat, who seemed to be blind, by the ear. A third rat joined them shortly afterwards, and assisted the original conductor in pick- ing up some fragments of biscuit and placing them before their infirm parent, as the blind old patriarch was supposed to be. A kindred circum- stance. A Necessity of his Existence i6y Incredible as the story might appear of their removing hens' eggs by one fellow lying on his back and grasping tightly his ovoid burden with his fore paws, whilst his comrades drag him away by the tail, he had no reason to disbelieve it, knowing as he did that they would carry eggs from the ingenious bottom to the top of a house, lifting them from stair to stair, the first rat pushing them up on its hind and the second lifting them with its fore legs. They would ex- tract the contents from a flask of oil, dip- ping in their long tails, and repeating the manoeuvre until they had consumed every drop. He had found lumps of sugar in deep drawers, at a distance of thirty feet from the place where the petty larceny was committed ; and a friend of his saw a rat mount a table on which a drum of figs was placed and straightway tip it over, scatter- ing its contents on the floor beneath, where a score of his expectant brethren sat watch- ing for the windfall. The propensity of the a propensity . . . . . explained. rat to gnaw, he said, should not be attri- buted altogether to a reckless determina- tion to overcome impediments. The never- ceasing action of his teeth was not a pastime, but a necessity of his existence. It was explained : the rat had formidable 1 68 Siib-Coclum weapons in the shape of four small, long, and very sharp teeth, two of which were in the upper and two in the lower jaw. These in the shape were formed in the shape of a wedge, and of a wedge. . . . . had always a fine, sharp, cutting edge. On examining them carefully, it was found that the inner part was of soft, ivory-like composition, which might be easily worn away, whereas the outside was composed of a glass-like enamel, which was exces- sively hard. The upper teeth worked ex- actly into the under, so that the centres of the opposed teeth met exactly in the act of gnawing ; the soft part was thus being perpetually worn away, while the hard part kept a sharp, chisel-like edge ; at the same time the teeth grew from the bottom, so that as they wore away a fresh supply was ready. In consequence of this peculiar arrangement, if one of the teeth be re- Effecto/re- moved, either by accident or on purpose, the opposed tooth would continue to grow, and, as there would be nothing to grind it away, it would project from the mouth and turn upon itself ; or, if it were an un- der tooth, it would even run into the skull above. There was a preparation in one of the museums which perfectly illustrated the fact. It was an incisor tooth of a rat, Simulation 169 which, from the cause mentioned, had increased its growth to such a degree, that it had formed a complete circle and a segment of another ; the diameter was about large enough to admit a good-sized thumb. He once saw a newly killed rat to whom this misfortune had occurred. The tooth, which was an upper one, had Curious growth in this case also formed a complete circle, and the point, in winding round, had passed through the lip of the animal. Thus the ceaseless working of the rat's incisors against some hard substance was necessary to keep them down, and if he did not gnaw for his subsistence he would be compelled to gnaw to prevent his jaw being gradu- ally locked by their rapid development. He quoted from a traveler, whose dogs set upon a rat, and making them relinquish it, he took it up by the tail, the dogs leap- ing after it the whole time. He carried it into his dining-room to examine it by the light of the lamp, during the whole of which period it remained as if it were dead, Feigwd — limbs hanging, and not a muscle moving. After five minutes he threw it among the dogs, who were still in a great state of excitement, and, to the astonishment of all present, it suddenly jumped upon its legs, I jo Sub-Caium and ran away so fast that it baffled all its pursuers. The sagacity of the animal in craftiness eluding danger was not less than his crafti- withdauger. ness in dealing with it when it came. A gentleman who fed his own pointers ob- served, through a hole in the door, a num- ber of rats eating from the trough with his dogs, who did not attempt to molest them. Resolving to shoot the intruders, he next day put the food, but kept out the dogs. Not a rat came to taste. He saw them peering from their holes, but they were too well versed in human nature to venture forth without the protection of their canine guard. After half an hour the pointers were let in, when the rats forthwith joined their hosts, and dined with them as usual. Even with his great natural enemy and su- perior, the ferret, he would sometimes get the advantage by his steady bravery and Enemies in the superiority of his tactics. A rat and a %Ztk£. ferret were turned loose in a room without furniture, in which there was but one win- dow. Immediately upon being liberated the rat ran round the room as if searching for an exit. Not finding any means of escape, he uttered a piercing shriek, and with the most prompt decision took up his station directly under the light, thus gain- Advantage of the Sim iji ing over his adversary — to use the lan- guage of the duelists — the advantage of the sun. This advantage he managed to keep all through the conflict ; when the gentleman, to prove whether the choice of this position depended upon accident, dis- Not tiure- .... iii» • "'M o/acci- lodged the rat and took his own station dent. under the window ; but the moment the ferret attempted to make his ap- proach, the rat, evidently aware of the advantage he had lost, endeavored to creep between the gentleman's legs, thus losing his natural fear of man under the danger which awaited him from his more deadly foe. A number of rats had got into a basket of grapes, and devoured a consider- able part of the contents. The man who discovered them replaced the basket, in hopes that they would again visit it and be caught ; but the wary animals never wariness. again came to the basket in which they had been detected. They were so numer- ous and so bold that they used to come and pick up the crumbs from between the men's feet as they sat at meals. Wishing for a shot at some of them, one of the men dropped a few grains of corn on the ground, and took up his position, gun in hand. Soon one rat bounded across the ij2 Sitb-Coelwn space as if in great alarm ; but no rat touched a grain of the corn, which was ex- posed for several days and nights, being at last crushed and lost by the passing of feet and vehicles. Rats were numerous in the Exhibitions pig-sties, and ate with the pigs, one of which was turned out of her sty, and a trap-door was contrived to close the trough by pulling a cord. The trough was baited with good maize, of which they were very fond ; but neither by day nor by night would a rat venture there as long as the pig was excluded. . Returning the pig to the sty, the rats also returned. A similar case was related in which the rats were so many and so bold that they forced them- selves into the troughs, would not be driven away, and consumed no small amount of the food which ought to have gone to the pigs. The owner of the pigs then laid a gun so as to rake the trough, turned out the pigs, and had the trough Not one filled as usual. Not a rat would make its made its ap- . , . pearance. appearance ; and at last the pigs were put back, when the rats came trooping in as numerous and as bold as ever. In a gen- tleman's garden was a conservatory along the roof of which was trained a vine on which the fruit would not ripen ; so he had The Gardener's Discovery ij} the vine inclosed in a glass frame, in the hope that, the heat being confined, the grapes would ripen better than when ex- posed to the night air. The plan was suc- cessful, and he had a plentiful crop of large-sized bunches. These, however, be- The big ,. • i i bunches dis- gan to disappear very quickly as soon as appeared. ripe, but not bunch by bunch, as would be done by thieves, but only the ripest grapes of each bunch were taken. The gardener, when lying on his back for rest after cut- ting a lot of branches, heard a scuffling sort of sound, and looking round saw five or six large rats come into the frame ; they then jumped up at the lowest hanging branches and managed to knock down two or three grapes, which they proceeded to eat like a squirrel, sitting up on their hind legs and holding the fruit in their front paws. Soon after a large female, followed a iarge/e- , - 'iiii tua le with by four young ones, came in, and the old /our young one ran up the vine and bit off one of the ripest bunches, which fell down to the ex- pecting young ones below, who fastened on it and began to eat. The gardener could not keep his laugh, but shouted out, which sent them all away, as if a dog were after them. A lady living in the country had her attention drawn one day to some H4 Sitb-Coclum rats in an outer room, surrounding a pail which had been prepared for the pigs. Observing them carefully, she soon discov- ered that a young rat had fallen into the pail, and that his friends, to the number of five or six, were in consultation as to the Means o/ best means of rescuing him. The lady called others of her family to witness their manoeuvres, while they continued busily at work, regardless of the presence of the spectators. By twining their feet together — the hind feet of the foremost rat being entwined with the fore feet of the next, and so on — they formed a chain extending over the side of the pail. The foremost rat, supposed to be the mother, then reached down, grasped the young one in her paws, and both were drawn out on the floor. Unfortunately, their deliberations had occupied so much time that the young rat was drowned be- fore he was extricated, and apparently the intelligence of his friends did not extend Resusdta. so far as to attempt resuscitation. Three Hon not at- ... tempted. persons were looking over a garden at sun- set, when a rat appeared near a stone wall ; then another and another, until five had assembled, the fifth and last dragging a dead rat. A council then seemed to be A Novel Burial 175 held. Then four of them took the foot of their dead companion and drew the body- to a place where the earth was soft. The The fifth fifth dug a grave with his head and feet, the depth being sufficient to allow the earth to cover the body. The four after- ward assisted in covering it up, leaving the tail of the deceased out of the ground. With a touch of humor, the humane natu- ralist so far departed from his loved theme as to wind up his interesting hour-and-a- half's talk by referring to the suggestive instance of a mouse and a scorpion being put under a glass together. The mouse was immediately stung by the scorpion, and to all appearances mortally. It remained for some time in a kind of lethargy ; but on a sudden it collected its strength, and, as in a fit of frenzy, fell upon the scorpion, killed it, and eat its body entirely up, leav- ing nothing but the claws. The moment it had swallowed the scorpion the swelling disappeared ; no signs of pain remained, and the poor animal was set at liberty, in great health and spirits. Similia similibus curantur. The microscope and the camera were of microscope great service to specialists of every descrip- era. ij6 Sub-Ccelum tion. The revelations of the former ex- ceeded all expectation or calculation. It had been improved until an expert was no longer necessary to adjust it. Intelligent children children, even, made free use of it. With made dis- . . . coveries. their sharp eyes they were constantly mak- ing discoveries and noting them. In many houses a room was set apart to microscopy. Specimens without end accumulated in them. Habits of observation were formed, and elevated thinking was encouraged. It was not possible for a man to be groveling and mean whose mind had been trained to atomic observation of nature. No matter what his occupation might be, his diver- sion made him totally forget it. He was with God in his wonders — lifted out of himself for the time being to a sphere supremely above craft and handicraft. At his bench in the shop the artisan's fore- head might be gloomily contracted, and his face appear expressionless ; but speak to him of his loved diversion, and his brow countenance lifted, and his countenance was illuminated. noted. Cases were frequently made known where character had been completely changed by the adoption of an elevating hobby. Du- ality was a recognized principle. Tastes for the sensual and devilish were put aside, The Indian Summer 177 and finally wholly displaced, by pure and exalting enthusiasms. The camera was hardly less wonderful than the microscope in its discoveries and revelations. Difficul- Difficulties , . . r 111 • surmounted. ties which tor so many years had been in- surmountable by the operator and experi- menter had been overcome by superior methods. Photographs in colors were common achievements. One color was not more difficult to the camera than an- other. Effects, indeed, were heightened, as in the Claude Lorraine mirror. Slight color in the cheek became roseate in the picture. Draperies were improved in like proportion. Fabrics appeared finer and richer. Colors were reproduced with su- per-accuracy. Flowers did not lose much by transfer to sensitized paper. The au- tumnal forest, in all its colors, contracted to a little space, bloomed and glowed like Gimvediike a great verbena-bed, with the Indian Sum- betuUcd. mer haze enveloping it and the still land- scape. Ah ! that wonderful Sub-Coelum season, as one of their great poets de- scribed it ! The stillness of the landscape in that beautiful time was as if the planet were sleeping, like a top, before it began to rock with the storms of autumn. All na- tures seemed to find themselves more truly / j8 Sub-Ccelum in its light ; love grew more tender, reli- gion more spiritual, memory saw farther back into the past, grief revisited its mossy marbles, the poet harvested the ripe thoughts which he would tie in sheaves of verses by his winter fireside. electri- Electricity was in general use for all CITY. * °. sorts of purposes, especially for transporta- tion and communication. It was applied to every kind of vehicle, and to every kind of machinery. Bicycles, tricycles, and four and six-wheeled carriages, of every de- scription, were moved by it. They ran about noiselessly, as if propelled by the wind. Even the air was traversed by ingeniously contrived vehicles, or balloons. Like the condor, they did not ascend easily or rapidly, but when once up, they sailed away like floating clouds or flying birds, in horizontal curves and straight Above the lines. Above the spires and steeples there spires and . ... . . ■ steeples. was impressive silence ; only the song of the lark, and an occasional voice or noise from below, disturbed the profound still- ness. People in one talked to those in another. Signals were given by notes of the flute. Telegraphic and telephonic communication was universal. People sat A Great Step ijg in their parlors and listened to oratorios. Lines stretched from farmhouse to farm- house, and households communicated with ease. Country life was relieved of its lone- country u/e J , 11) relieved. liness. Neighbors enjoyed each other s music and conversation. In sickness they were advised of every turn. They were guarded against danger. They extended invitations, and gave notice of visits. Offers of help were extended. Horses and implements and vehicles not in use were advertised. Little accommodations and civilities were universal, and closely bound large neighborhoods together. In Sub-Ccelum the people did not snore, the people They had trained themselves to avoid the snore. disagreeable act. This will not appear strange when it is remembered that in at least one great nation the children do not cry. Harsh, high-sounding respiration was never heard. Their breathing apparatus had been improved by long avoidance of it. Their nostrils had grown like the deer's by habitually inhaling through them. They had learned to keep their mouths shut, except while speaking or eating. Taking the air straight into the lungs was considered unhealthy and unwise. Their 180 Sub-Coelum ears, too, had increased in sensitiveness by the good habit. The external organ was exclusively relied upon, as nobody opened Rehgatedto his mouth to hear more distinctly. That clownish way was relegated to farce. The women, naturally, had first learned to sleep without making a noise ; and, in time, the habit became intolerable in the coarser sex. The former had read of a grand seignior hundreds of years before, and had profited perhaps by the lesson. He kept qualified persons, whose duty it was to travel through the whole empire, to see and choose the fairest and rarest women, hav- ing leave to enter all places, nay, their very bed-chambers, to view them in what pos- tures they pleased, but chiefly to know whether they snored or stirred much in their sleep, or whether they slept quietly ; and, having made choice, they carried them to the prince, and their parents were much honored and esteemed. whistling. Nor was whistling heard in Sub-Coelum. It was a lost art, not worthy of the name. It had departed with other barbarisms, but reluctantly. The tendency seemed to have been born in the people, and was nearly ineradicable. Its stubbornness had been A Production of Satan 181 one of the discouraging things in their progress. At first, society laughed at the effort to discourage and prevent it. It was the universal safety valve. As a last Theumver- e . . , . . sal safety resort of impatience and irritation it was valve, regarded as indispensable. Convincing argument was answered by it. It relieved the thinking faculty of vexation. By it audacity announced its defiance, and mean- spirited husbands insulted their patient wives. Nowhere the noise was not heard. It was the gauge of happiness, the stan- dard of ebullient emotion. Nothing showed thoughtlessness like the unpremed- itated whistle. The tones of it were the gamut of impulse, and might be marked, as degrees of temperature. Vanity varied them, as it adjusted the drinking-man's hat, hanging it, at last, on his organ of self-esteem. Oft-repeated legends, mixed with religion, had a good influence. It be- gan to be said that the whistler's mouth was not to be purified till after forty days ; that the offensive sound was produced by Satan's touching the human body ; and that the act was disrespectful to God. Disrespect- Even a whistling noise of any sort scared away the Holy Ghost. A woman tried to coax a dog by whistling, when a pious 1 82 Sub-Caiiim servant interrupted her, Please, ma'am, don't whistle ; every time a woman whis- tles the heart of the Blessed Virgin bleeds. In some districts it was said that if one it made the whistled in the evening it made the angels angels weep. . weep. It was a widespread belief — more than a superstition — that it was at all times unlucky for women to make the im- pious sound, as, while the nails for the Cross were being forged, a woman stood by and whistled. But the thing, perhaps, that had the greatest influence in ridding the nation of the nuisance was a famous instance of heredity everywhere known. The child and grandchild of a persistent whistler were born with mouths puckered, as if in the act ; and, as long as they lived, they could only take spoon food, and that by a tube adapted to the purpose. The cases were so peculiar that surgery did not risk attacking them, and they remained a perpetual warning against irreligion and bad manners. dentistry It was remarkable how generally the not a Prof- 111 1 1 /-r-i 1 itable pro- people had good teeth. I hey were lus- trous, like ivory, and beautiful to view. It was a rare thing they were lost, except by accident or by wearing away. Dentis- FBSSION. A General Blessing 183 try was not a profitable profession. Many causes might be found for this general blessing. The intelligence the people car- ried into their living was perhaps the chief. Their food, as you have seen, was health- ful, and thoroughly cooked. They realized the importance of good digestion, as being importance the basis of all physical, intellectual, and gestion. moral soundness. Foods of every kind had been scientifically and practically studied, and their effects accurately determined. Dinners of tragedians, it was said, were adapted to their parts ; they ate pork when they had to play tyrants, beef for murder- ers, boiled mutton for lovers. One of their great poets, seeing another sedulously oc- cupied with an underdone beefsteak, in- quired, Are you not afraid of committing murder after such a meal ? Much wis- dom, they said, was in olives, and that soup and fish explained half of the emotions of life. Fries had been utterly banished from Fries utterly the Commonwealth. Thorough mastica- tion was considered a necessity to health, and rapid eating an offense against de- cency. The pigs, even, had been trained to something like moderation in feeding. The people sat long at table, with abun- dance of good talk, and kindness, for sauce. 1 84 Sub-Ccehim Eructation unpardona- ble. They were ashamed of indigestion, know- ing very well that it meant excessive in- dulgence. Admitting it was advertising their intemperance. Eructation was dis- gusting and unpardonable. For the teeth, especially, sound digestion was considered better than any dentifrice. Deleterious drugs had not been used for very many years. There had not been a case of sali- vation in all that time. Devices to sweeten the breath of maidens were not known, for the good reason that they were not needed. The air they exhaled in respiration was as sweet as zephyr in a garden of roses. The breath of kine was not to be compared with it. It was more like a cherub's in perfection of fragrance. Cleanliness was the thing of all things they relied upon. It extended not more to the care of their teeth than to everything pertaining to their living. It was a large part of their reli- gion. Purity was not more shown in their complexions and conduct than in their shining teeth and lustrous great eyes. fondnbss The reader, following the writer thus far, rels. has inferred the general fondness for squir- rels. They were the universal pets of the people. Their liveliness commended them, A Suggestive Lesson 185 and their remarkable cleanliness. To see them airing, sunning, and inspecting their beds, bit by bit, was a suggestive lesson in housekeeping. Insects or vermin found no quarter with them. The climate was favor- ciimaufa. able to the interesting little animal. The " native species were many and attractive. Others were acclimated and domesticated without much difficulty. Even the great Malabar squirrel, thirty-three inches long, and as large as a cat, was transplanted suc- cessfully. The tendency of the common species to trouble the nests of birds dimin- ished with the care they received. The predatory in their natures was largely elim- inated by humanizing influences. Like many other animals, they betrayed a liking for children. While they did not permit themselves to be handled to any great ex- tent — their self-respect prohibiting that — they were very free to run over the per- sons of those that they liked ; peering into pockets and perching themselves on shoul- ders in familiar ways. Occasionally, in Familiar favorable seasons, the squirrels of the for- est would multiply so abundantly that days were appointed to hunt them. Only at such times were they generally killed and eaten. In summer they seemed particu- 1 86 Sub-Ccelum larly to delight in the fruit-trees at the sides of the roads. They ran from tree to a racing tree as if in a racing contest with the pass- ing wheels. The alertness of their move- ments and cheerfulness of their bearing were so inspiring that no wonder the little fellow was a favorite. With his prominent eyes and broad head he seemed to see and comprehend everything about him. The cleft upper lip gave an amused and affec- tionate expression to his animated face. The soft fur was always clean, and free of any disturbed look ; and his long, beautiful tail, expanded laterally, and carried ele- gantly over his back, was a picture of light- ness and grace nobody tired of seeing. There was nothing of the snarling or threatening in his appearance or conduct. He was the embodiment of cleanliness, cheerfulness, gracefulness, and good hu- mor, and was a perpetual inspiration to his biped sympathizers. One of the amuse- ments at the ponds was to set him on a bit of wood and see him floated about by the breezes. With his tail for a sail, he appeared the ideal navigator. respect Great respect was paid to the monkey monJey™ 8 by the humane inhabitants of Sub-Ccelum. The Simian Species 187 No small proportion of their population had descended from countries where he was an object of worship, and was raised to the rank of a god. Gorgeous temples Gorgeous temples. were erected, With pious care a monkey to enshrine. History describes one of great magnifi- cence ; it was fronted by a portico for re- ceiving victims sacrificed to it, which was supported by no less than seven hundred columns. Hospitals were erected for their benefit, where thousands were kept in fancied ease and indulgence. One of the cities, upon its surrender to an invading army, contained a population of forty thou- sand, and as many monkeys. Specialists in Sub-Ccelum were interested in observ- ing the simian species, and noting their peculiarities. The belief was by no means limited that the human race was descended from the monkey. One species, at least, of ape, was entirely destitute of tail. Stu- Destitute of dents of the animal monkey had collected a great number of interesting facts, show- ing his resemblance in conduct and traits to the animal man. One female went out to service, made the beds, swept the house, and so far assisted in the cooking as to turn the spit. One on board a man-of-war 1 88 Sub-Ccclum assisted the cook and turned the capstan, and furled sails as well as any of the sail- Assistedin ors. Monkeys had assisted in tea picking: tea picking. J 7 in countries were tea was produced. One pious fellow, like many of the religious castes of his country, entertained an an- tipathy to an indiscriminate use of animal food, and would eat neither of the flesh of the cow or hog ; sometimes he tasted beef, but never eat of it. The young of one species were tended with greatest care, the females having been seen to carry their children to the banks of a stream, wash them, notwithstanding their cries, and wipe and dry them in the most careful manner. A certain specimen would open a chest or drawer by turning the key in the lock, would untie knots, undo the rings of a chain, and search pockets with a delicacy of touch which would not be felt until the thief had been discovered. On board ship an attempt being made to secure an orang- outang by a chain tied to a strong staple, Unfastened he instantly unfastened it, and ran off with his chain. . . . the chain dragging behind ; but, finding himself embarrassed by its length, he coiled it once or twice, and threw it over his shoulder. In making his bed he used the greatest pains to remove everything Human-Like Expression i8g out of his way that might render the sur- face on which he intended to lie uneven ; and having satisfied himself with this part Must first of his arrangement, spread out the sail, and lying down upon it on his back, drew it over his body. Sometimes the captain preoccupied his bed, and teased him by refusing to give it up. On these occasions he would endeavor to pull the sail from under the captain, or to force him from it> and would not rest till he had resigned it ; if it was large enough for both, he would quietly lie down by the captain's side. He preferred coffee and tea, but would readily take wine, and exemplified his attachment to spirits by stealing the captain's brandy bottle. He would entice the boys of the ship into play by striking them with his hand as they passed, and bounding from them, but allowing them to overtake him and engage in a mock scuffle, in which he used his hands, feet, and mouth. He never condescended to romp with another mon- Romped .«.,.«.« c only with the key on board as he did with the boys of boys. the ship. Persons who aided in killing a red orang-outang, stated that the human- like expression of his countenance, and piteous manner of placing his hands over his wounds, distressed their feelings, and i go Siib-Coclum A curious instance. made them question the nature of the act they were committing. A checked shirt was frequently thrown over a specimen, which he wore with great complacency. One day a gentleman wearing linen of a similar pattern appeared in the room, and was immediately singled out, nor was the animal satisfied until he was allowed to ex- amine the shirt, pulling it out from the breast, and holding it in comparison with that which covered himself, expressively looking up in the gentleman's face, as if doubtful of his right to a garb which agreed so nearly with his own. One said of monkeys as a dish that they were excel- lent eating, and that a soupe aux singes would be found as good as any other, as soon as you had conquered the aversion to the bouilli of their heads, which looked very like those of little children. Very remarkable, they said, and curious beyond measure, were the seeming consciousness instinct of of evil and apparent instinct of Satan that Satan. rr these very human animals, under certain circumstances, exhibited. Turtles and ser- pents were sometimes put into the cells of poor captives. They did not much care for the turtles, but the snakes were the very devil. Proverbial Fidelity igi The dog, next to man, was esteemed for Qualities . . . . AND FACUL- his companionable qualities, and for his in- ties of the tegrity. His estimable nature was recog- nized and appreciated, and was developed in every way that was practicable. Kind- ness and encouragement did for him what it did for humanity. Treated like a dog was not a saying in that country. Bad dogs were not more numerous than bad men, and were as mercifully treated. Only incorrigibleness cost them their lives. Hopeless depravity in man or dog was guarded or punished as humanity willed or permitted. Cruelty was for savages. High qualities of the animal were as well comprehended as those of man. His fidel- ity had ever been proverbial. Other ani- mals acknowledged kindness, but were in- capable of voluntary sacrifices. Only man Only man 11 i • i i i • i • • a "d dog self- and dog spontaneously risked their lives in sacrificing. the service of others. A portion of the population were of a race of affectionate and polite savages, who claimed their de- scent directly from a dog. They were described by the traveler as having low, musical voices, with a smile full of sweet- ness and light. So descended, the animal was their close friend and associate. He was taught to do many useful, graceful, and ig2 Sub-Ccelum generous things ; but especially he was used as a guard and protector. In one of the churches on Mount Athos was a fresco representing Saint Christopher with a dog's head. Many instances were related of his fidelity to the point of death. He a true phi- was pronounced a true philosopher by the greatest of philosophers, because he distin- guished the face of a friend and of an enemy only by the criterion of knowing and not knowing. Whenever he saw a stranger he betrayed mistrust ; when an acquaintance, he welcomed him, although the one had never done him any harm, nor the other any good. He determined what was friendly and what was unfriendly by Knowledge the test of knowledge and ignorance. It Tancf" was a saying that when you go to visit a friend at his house, you can perceive his friendliness the moment you enter the door, for first the servant who opens the door looks pleased, then the dog wags his tail and comes up to you, and the first per- son you meet hands you a chair, before a word has been said. Intelligence and cor- diality were much the same in man and Dog wheat, animal. Dog Wheat was not a perfect dog ; he had his aversions, as men have. He snatched cats, and they fell dead. But or a walk. Incidents 193 he was magnanimous towards his own ; he took the part of small dogs, and of dogs that were muzzled. Two friends, man and dog, went out for a walk together. The Out/c latter had contracted a deep cold, and suffered, on the road, two or three violent paroxysms of coughing. Returning to the village, master, or superior, had occasion to go into a shop where sweetmeats and can- dies of all kinds were kept for sale. While passing a word with the proprietor, some- thing was heard to fall upon the floor a few paces away. Turning round he discov- ered that Diogenes had reached up and ntogews's . wisdom. knocked down a package of medicated candy — marrubium vulgare — and was ea- gerly eating it. He knew what was good for his cough. A faithful but sinful dog, misnamed Pluto, had been betrayed by his immaculate master into the hands of an executioner. When the unhappy creature comprehended his hopeless situation, and just before the fatal axe crushed his per- verted brain, he gave his false friend a Pi"tos/aisc friend. searching, miserable look, as much as to say, What has Pluto done to you, that you should betray him to death in this perfidi- ous manner ? The astonished, appealing expression of discovery and rebuke haunted i 9 4 Sub-Coelum the conscience-smitten owner in hours of disturbed sleep and wakefulness. It infixed itself in his memory, it distressed his soul. The incident was made public, and ever afterwards the killing of the canine species was determined by Council. Horses bred FOR Moral Qualities. Rivalry general. Horses, as said before, were bred for moral qualities, rather than for speed and strength. Good temper and trustworthiness were prime considerations. They were treated with great kindness, and were trained to many valuable and ornamental uses. Breaking, or violent usage of the young animal, was not known. His spirit was not crushed, but cultivated, along with other good qualities. He was found to be good as he was well treated. He grew in beauty, also, under affectionate care. Horsemanship was a favorite amusement of the people. The beautiful shaded roads invited and encouraged it. Rivalry was general in all fitting feats and exer- cises. Ladies and gentlemen were ambi- tious of distinction in them. Men did not allow themselves, Mazeppa-like, to be bound to wild horses, and let loose on the plains and roads ; nor women to represent Godiva, with flowing hair and close-fitting suits. Poetry in Motion ig$ Grace gave distinction rather than daring or boldness. Beauty on horseback was supereminent, and received homage. Po- etry in motion was a fair woman and her proud palfrey so perfectly matched that, centaur-like, they appeared and moved centaur- y's, one, unconsciously, semi-human and semi-equine, — tasting in fullness, in the master's language, purest life as it came from the bosom of the deities. Amphithea- tres were not uncommon, where displays were made in horsemanship. Horses were trained to perform graceful evolutions, cir- cumpositions, and convolutions, and to en- joy them. The circus was a favorite place of entertainment for the people. What will and the human body could not do, was a never-ending problem of interest. They were proud of their bodies and their minds, and liked to see them tested cooperatively, especially in equestrian exercises. The superior intelligence of their horses was illustrated in the reply of the distinguished Reply of a rider, when asked if there were not times when, from physical or other causes, he felt doubtful about being able to perform his difficult feats. Yes, he said, there were such times ; but his horse always knew of them ! Aware of his increased responsi- igb Sitb-Ccehim bility, the noble animal was more than ever thoughtful and circumspect — accommo- dating himself carefully to his rider, being At the right always exactly at the right place at the flghuiml right time. Famous horses, grown old, were not neglected as in other countries. The fastest mile horse of his day, in one of them, was consigned to a coach, and at length was found in a ditch, stoned to death. Another, as celebrated, was draw- ing a cab, after having won seventeen races. The religion of the people, as well as their humanity, forebade such brutality. Hap- pily, they were not insensible to pity or shame. love for The birds, of course, were favorites of this enlightened, tasteful, and kindly pop- ulation. They recognized in them many of the same qualities and traits they pos- sessed themselves, and delighted to study them. Of the more than eight thousand known species they enjoyed a generous proportion. They were not so far away from the equator but that they had many of the most beautiful tropical varieties. The superabundance of the flowers invited them, especially the humming-bird. Over one hundred of the more than four hundred Wisdom of Birds jgy species of that interesting family, from the smallest to the greatest, were found within their borders. Even the little flame-bearer Theiutu — sometimes found inside the crater of an bearer. extinguished volcano — was occasionally discovered. Its scaled gorget was of such a flaming crimson that, as a naturalist re- marked, it seemed to have caught the last spark from the volcano before it was extin- guished. It seemed to prefigure the re- finement and glory so often resulting from complete self-sacrifice and devotion to the worn-out and helpless. The wisdom of the little birds interested them. Mention was made of a nest of one beautiful species, which, being heavier on one side than on the other, was weighted with a small stone to preserve the equilibrium. They did not permit the wanton destruction of the hum- ming-bird, or other varieties of birds of bright plumage, for mere decorative pur- poses, as less enlightened peoples had in- dulged, to the almost entire extinction of many genera. Their experience had taught them that all birds were useful, and they referred to their perfect and abun- dant fruits and grains of every kind as evi- dence of it. The great bird of paradise, Great bird so rarely found in any other part of the " ig8 Siib-Coelum world, was not uncommon in Sub-Ccelum. The splendid ornaments of this species were entirely confined to the male sex, the female being a very plain and ordinary bird ; though the young males of the first year so exactly resembled the females that they could only be distinguished by dissec- tion. Whence these philosophical people Anar&t- deduced an argument for limiting coeduca- 'dZ'ed. " tion ! The fact that the ordinary bird of paradise, from the very nature of his plum- age, could not fly except against the wind, illustrated to them the habit and necessity of approximate virtue in a world of violence and temptation. Supreme pride, and an unconquerable love of freedom, were seen in the quetzal, a native of the tropics, re- sembling a parrot. It was so constituted that if but one of its feathers was plucked it instantly died. If an attempt was made to cage the strange feathered visitant, it de- liberately attempted suicide by pulling out its own feathers, preferring death to captiv- ity. A species of variegated woodpecker, called the carpenter, interested them, for Fidelity and the fidelity and devotion it exhibited. If devotion. . . , , . . . . one were killed, it was rare that its mate did not come and place itself beside the dead body, as if imploring a similar fate. Incarnate Selfishness igg The wren was their type and model of content and confidence. Instances were known where young ones that had been disturbed and threatened were found in the nests of robins, by whom they were fed and protected. They did not like the cuckoo, for the incarnate selfishness it dis- played. It would deposit its eggs in the The cuckoo. nests of other insectivorous birds, not more than one in a nest, leaving the care of the young entirely to the foster parents thus selected. A distinguished poet and close observer of nature was asked why it hap- pened that so many young singing birds were lost for a single young cuckoo. In the first place, he said, the first brood is gener- ally lost ; for even if it should happen that the eggs of the singing bird are hatched at the same time with that of the cuckoo, which is very probable, the parents are so much delighted with the larger bird, and show it such fondness, that they think of and feed that alone, whilst their own young are neglected, and vanish from the nest. Besides, the young cuckoo is always greedy Always and demands as much nourishment as the little insect-eating birds can procure. It is a very long time before it attains its full size and plumage, and before it is capable 200 Sub-Ccelum of leaving the nest, and soaring to the top of a tree. And even a long time after it has flown it requires to be fed contin- ually, so that the whole summer passes away, while the affectionate foster-parents constantly attend upon their great child, Do not think and do not think of a second brood. It is of a second . . . . . brood. on this account that a single young cuckoo causes the loss of so many other young birds. But they did enjoy the blackbird, for his loquacity and gregariousness. They had studied his language, and understood him when he talked. Their interpretations were very amusing. Nothing delighted them more than to see him bathing in moulting time, and he alike enjoyed the admiration he excited. There were places along the shallow streams where great flocks assembled for that purpose. Half an hour before sunset was a favorite time for the entertainment. Successively and simultaneously they rose out of the water, chattering as they ascended, and shaking out their glittering plumage, they filled the Myriads o/ air with myriads of rainbows — reminding rainbows. . . , . , observers of the ascent of the great groups of gay butterflies, described by travelers in the tropics, — orange, yellow, white, blue, green, — which, on being disturbed, rise Naturalists' Enthusiasm 201 from the moist beach of the pools into the air by hundreds and hundreds, forming clouds of variegated colors. Insects and reptiles of all sorts were insects and ■ tvt 1 • Reptiles. objects of interest and study. Nothing pleased the children more than to fasten a little snake in the grass with a forked stick an inch or two behind its head, and on their knees with a good glass to look inspect- ingly into his interesting face. And the little beauty, they always said, looked into their faces with as much interest as they did into his. Some sensation was created in an electric railway carriage, where there were many passengers, by the escape of a boxful of mountain adders ; but the boy soon gathered up his pets without damage or difficulty. The wife of a distinguished naturalist found one morning in one of her slippers a cold, little slimy snake, one of six sent the day before to her scientific husband, and carefully set aside by him for safety under the bed. She screamed, There is a snake in my slipper! The ThesavanCs savant leaped from his couch, crying, A tum. snake ! Good heavens ! Where are the other five ? Strange, the people naturally exclaimed with the philosopher, that nature 202 Siib-Ccelum Infusoria. White mould in ink. was never so powerful as in insect life. They were ever ready with striking exam- ples. The white ant could destroy fleets and cities, and the locusts erase a province. And then how beneficent they were ! Man would find it difficult to rival their exploits : the bee that gave honey ; the worm that gave silk ; the cochineal that supplied the brilliant dyes. But infusoria ! One saw in a little drop of water on a piece of glass a whole world of insects, of which the largest looked like grasshoppers, the smallest as pins' heads. Some of them were really like grasshoppers, others had the most monstrous shapes, all were tum- bling about each other, and the big ones swallowed their smaller neighbors. He saw infusoria in his own blood ; it swarmed with eels and cod and all sorts. It was no optical illusion ; he saw the forms of the insects and the movements of the different joints ; and besides, when he touched the globule with the point of a pin dipped in acid, they at once fled to the other side and died a moment after. The white mould in ink appeared a great forest, with plants, trees, and bushes ; the infi- nite opened before him, and he turned dizzy. In Universal Sympathy 203 All this to give some idea of the character character and mental resources of the people. They tal r e - , .... ... SOURCES. were simple in tastes and philosophic in tendency, and their humanity was broad enough to cover every living substance. This love of life, and perception of conscious existence, brought them in contact and sympathy with every pulsating organism, whether of man, animal, insect, bird, or reptile. The smallest living object was as wonderful to them as the greatest, and commanded their admiration and rever- ence. Their greatest happiness was in in- tellectual and moral activity. The possi- bilities of mental achievement and moral elevation determined their aims and duties. This tendency to universal investigation had not only established the feeling of uni- versal brotherhood, but had opened the way to its possible accomplishment. No- thing seemed small that looked to that end. The utmost that any one could do was only a little — the aggregate was the crown of mortality. Man was less to t/u crown of mortality. them than men, but manhood was above the mass, and not to be compounded. That was scrupulously in view and practice throughout all their education and civiliza- tion. It had the good effect to fix responsi- 204 Sub-Coehim bility. Society was not held responsible for conduct, however much it might influence The individ- \\.. The individual was the immortal, and 'mortal""' not the multitude. Multitudes might dis- solve, as solid bodies, into particles, but in- dividuals, as atoms, were not lost in the dissolution. The utmost estimate was put upon a just and enlightened man, and he was not disparaged nor degraded but by himself. There were limits to fusion with the multitude. Surrender was incompatible with sound growth. Discipline was much, but did not constitute character. Wheels and cogs were not the motive power. Char- acter grew by individual endeavor, and was exalted by worthy aims. Powers were de- veloped and determined by being constantly tested. A thing acquired by the man him- self was more than acquisition, it was dis- covery. The habit of individual effort and Not to be investigation made it impossible to knead kneaded into . _,..'... . masses. men into masses. Their intrinsic and in- destructible personality occasioned only effervescence and explosion whenever the attempt was made, — which was not often, as a memory of consequences was not quick to die out. The people were very generous in compromise, but not to the extinction of personal rights and obli- The Business of Society 205 gations. Their tolerance was unqualified, but as the principle of give and take quali- fied it. They gave as they demanded. Im- patient of intrusion, they did not intrude. The business of society was to help the Help to the ...... . , . ■ ,,„ individual. individual, not to absorb him. Where every man was a man, that was impossible. There was not anything of which the Sub- Ccelumite was so sensitively jealous as of the undisturbed possession of the ground each one stood upon. His title was of God, and his ownership was not to be questioned. He met his obligations and acknowledged citizenship, but not to the last extremity. There was always a point where compliance would be extinction or slavery. Abreast and arm-in-arm he was willing to move generally, not always. As he respected himself he respected others. He would not tread upon nor be trodden. He granted the large liberty he exacted. By his personal, individual efforts he had become contradistinguished, as every other Contradi*. man had who deserved the name. He had not aimed to be like any other, but to be himself. His study of the ant had made him reverent of him, as of the species. The gifts of individual and asso- ciated character appeared in the insect 206 Siib-Ccelum Intelligence inculcated humanity. commonwealth as in Sub-Coelum. They matched as they were known, and were not underestimated as they were perceived in either. Intelligence, in whatever crea- ture, inculcated humanity, as sentient ex- istence inspired reverence. All was of God, for His own wise purposes, and ines- timable but by Him. From ant to man was a sweep the Sub-Coelumite did not pre- tend to compass. He bowed low, and trusted. Personal Indepen- dence. Conditions always changing. Personal independence — born of intel- ligence, plain living, and individual devel- opment — was a marked characteristic of the population. Habits of reflection, self- denial, and just self-estimation, made them poor material for the demagogue and crafty churchman. They could not be trained, at will, to perpetual thoughtless subordination and submission into sects and parties. Not that they resisted coopera- tion, but that conditions were always changing, and that the point of observa- tion of any one was never long exactly the same. Deference to others did not signify involuntary surrender of themselves. Pa- triotism made them generous in political action, but not heedless, nor personally irre- Charitable to Others 207 sponsible. Being essentially religious, in all that the word implies, they were char- itable to others alike so, and were unfit- unfitted/or ted for sectarian antagonism. Feeling and animism. judgment, operating together, prevented any rash committal that might be embar- rassing or unjust to themselves or others. They did not love power for the sake of it. They respected minorities as much as ma- jorities, because of the possibility of their being in the right, and of the probability of their preponderance upon a slight turn of affairs. They were conservative of neces- comerva- 1 r 1 ■ n 1 ti 1 tize of neces- sity, because 01 their reflection and liberal- sit y . ity of judgment. Only conscience brought them to a stand of defiance or aggressive- ness. What was wrong was not to be compromised with ; but the common weal was always of interest in every heart, and divisions were generally upon modes and processes. It had been many, many years since they had been drawn into a war, a war/or , 1 . . i r . personal and that was intestine, and for personal liberty. liberty. A crisis had arisen when a dis- tinction was made between the rights of individuals and classes, not in harmony with fundamental policy or sound morals. Every man was guaranteed freedom : each to enjoy the same rights and be entitled to 208 Sub-Coelum the same protection as any other. The conflict had not been possible but for in- flamed passions and ambitious leaders. Love of power and love of place, aggra- vated by material interests, arrayed section against section, and blood of brothers flowed, almost without limit. Mere busi- ness questions could not have so bitterly divided them, even at that time ; but later, from any cause, such antagonism was im- Bioody war. practicable. Bloody warfare was an extrem- {'hZghtof. ity not to be thought of. Leadership that would commit them to it was impossible. To the point of desperation partisan zeal was not to be excited. Leaders, indeed, were only for a season, and then only be- cause they were indispensable. Organi- zation for a purpose did not pledge continu- ance for any other. Each movement was independent, and not connected with any scheme of personal ambition or emolument. Men wiser Men were wiser than sheep, who follow their leader whithersoever he may please to lead them. With what devotedness the woolly hosts adhere to their wether ; and rush after him, to speak with the rugged philosopher, through good report and through bad report, were it into safe shelter and green thymy nooks or into A Significant Illustration 209 asphaltic lakes and the jaws of devouring lions. It is worth repeating, that, if you hold a stick before the leader, so that he by necessity leaps in passing you, and then withdraw your stick, the flock will neverthe- less all leap as he did, and the thousandth sheep shall be found impetuously vaulting impetuously over air, as the first did over an otherwise over air. impassable barrier. The people delighted in this illustration of leadership and blind following. In their amphitheatres they re- peated it, again and again, for amusement and instruction. Sensitive to satire, and proud of their personality, the lesson im- pressed itself upon them in a manner to make them distrustful of unnecessary disci- pline. When they accepted a leader, it was unavoidable, and not without qualification. Following last year was not a reason why they should do the same this. In conse- quence, dissolution was as inevitable as organization, and a result of it. The ambi- tious demagogue and subtle priest did not find them plastic in their dextrous hands. Not plastic r ...... in dextrous As said, they were thoughtful, individual, hands. self-respecting, responsible human beings — not poor, silly, timid sheep, to be led and herded and butchered by kings and priests and heroes without questioning. 2IO Siib-Coeliim Individual- ity Made Them In- teresting. Every man a neiv crea- tion. Life like a game of chess. This individuality made them interest- ing. Even the average man was not com- monplace from conformity, nor the most inferior servile by submission. While of the mass, they were separable, if not self- separated. They avoided, as said, that gen- eral language and general manner which tended to hide all that was peculiar — in other words, whatever was uppermost in their own minds, after their own indi- vidual manner. Every man, in their phi- losophy, as expressed by the philosopher, was a new creation, could do something best, had some intellectual modes and forms, or a character the general result of all, such as no other in the universe had, which needs made him engaging, and a curious study to every inquisitive mind. They did not look at life as a game of checkers, as reformers are apt to do, where every man has the same fixed powers and the same even line of moves. They re- garded life, to use the illustration of an- other, not as a game of checkers, but as a game of chess, where every piece has in- dividual characteristics, where every pawn has a chance to be a queen, where the powers and possibility of each piece change with every move or change of square, in- The Typical Citizen 211 fluenced by past, present, and future, so that every piece may develop into any other by recognition of the law of inequal- The lam of ity that presides over individuality, 2XL& lHcquaiy ' each move opens new, divine, and won- drous possibilities. That view of life taught each man, if possible, to put a just estimate upon himself, to live appropriately, and to realize, if practicable, his own ideal. He was made to believe, as was truly said, that his real influence was measured by his treatment of himself; that he must first find the man in himself, if he would inspire manliness ; that like begets like the Like begets world over. The typical citizen, conse- quently, stood eminently a man amongst his fellows. Genuineness identified him. He did not want any recognition he did not deserve. If influence or fame came to him it was his desert. It was not asked which side he was on. Though possessing the humility of true learning, his mental enlargement was discerned and appre- ciated. Better than fame, it had been truly said, was the silent recognition of superior knowledge. It was something to something i • ■ o T. /■* 1 tt- tobeasttpe- be a superior man in bub-Ccelum. His nor man. rank was that of a citizen of the universe, whose mind, as described, was made to 212 Siib-Coclum be spectator of all, inquisitor of all, and whose philosophy compared with others as astronomy with other sciences ; taking post at the centre, and, as from a specular mount, sending sovereign glances to the circumference of things. Serene, above the clouds of passion and contending inter- ests, he preserved, to use the happy lan- Equipoheof guage of another, that equipoise of man- ner which told of an equanimity of life. His stature had been determined by possi- bility. He had made the most of himself within his power. He had been open and receptive, and had invited understanding from all things and all men. Nothing was too small for his consideration, nor too great for his admiration. There was no challenge of superiority, no apparent con- sciousness of supremacy. Any one might approach him, but no one could appropriate him. Conspiracies did not disturb him, as from their nature they must fall apart. He did not perceive slights, nor care to Envy comprehend their spirit. Envy was oblique "miration, admiration. Because great, he did not contend with smaller men in small things. The platform was not to his taste, however worthy of it. Exhibition of himself was a cheapening of his character. The essen- Not for Display 213 tial was occult, and did not care to be made self-conscious. It was for inspiration, and not for display. The causes of things are silent, however tremendous may be their results. He did not exact, being sure of a full measure of whatever was his due. De- serving was fate. Impatience was weak- Deserving ness, and evidence of self-distrust. The courage of his heart was for worthy enter- prises, and could not be wasted upon trivialities. He did not hurt his powers by an ignoble use of them. Wings for possible flight into the empyrean were not to be impaired by rude uses. His best faculties were for best work, and were not dissipated upon nothings. He did not care to usurp or invade ground already too well occupied. Room, of all things, was what he most wanted, for growth and development. While absolute personal freedom westhbLawof Diversity. secured to all men, no attempt was ever made to produce social equality ; that had been left exclusively to self-regulation. The beautiful and interesting law of diversity in all things had been established from the foundation. Out in the forest, under the spreading tree, looking up at the luxuriant 214 Sub-Cain in foliage, you may not think of the difference between the leaves ; but pull down a limb, and spend an hour comparing them ; you find, much as they resemble, that no two Plumage of are precisely alike. Examine the plumage of the owl that you cruelly brought clown with your rifle ; every feather of his beau- tiful dress differs from every other ; and, what is more remarkable, every fibre of every feather is another feather, still more delicate, differing from every other, all of which together yield to the pressure of your hand like floss silk. No wonder he fell upon the mischievous mole or mouse as noiselessly as the shadow of a cloud. Go down to the seashore ; the tide is out ; there is an apparent waste of white sand, a dull extent of uniformity ; but stretch yourself on the beach, which the innumer- able differing waves have beaten to incom- parable smoothness, and examine leisurely, with a good glass, a few hundred of the in- Grainsof finite grains which you thought to be the same, and you discover that they differ, that each is differently shaped, each holds the light differently, and, what is more wonderful than all, each appears to be a shell, or part of a shell, which was once the abode of a creature, and a different crea- sand. Could They Exchange Souls? 215 ture from every other inhabiting, or that ever inhabited, any other shell of the ocean. Look into the crowded street ; the men are all men ; they all walk upright ; they might wear each other's clothes with- out serious inconvenience ; but could they exchange souls ? What professor, ex- claimed the philosopher, has ever yet been able to classify the wondrous variety of The won- human character ? How very limited as ety of human , ,,- , , character. yet the nomenclature ! We know there are in our moral dictionary the religious, the irreligious, the virtuous, the vicious, the prudent, the profligate, the liberal, the avaricious, and so on to a few names, but the comprehended varieties under these terms — their mixtures, which, like colors, have no names — their strange complexi- ties and intertwining of virtues and vices, graces and deformities, diversified and mingled, and making individualities — yet of all the myriads of mankind that ever The myriads , . . ... of mankind were, not one the same, and scarcely alike : unlike. how little way has science gone to their discovery, and to mark their delineation ! A few sounds, designated by a few letters, speak all thought, all literature, that ever was or will be. The variety is infinite, and ever creating a new infinite ; and there 216 Sub-Ccclitm is some such mystery in the endless variety E>,diess va, of human character. Such endless variety riety con- , . . , spinous. was conspicuously seen in the population of Sub-Ccelum. It was impossible, with their intellectual activity and prevailing disposition to make the most of them- selves, that it could be otherwise. Free- dom of choice in vocation, avocation, and association only made the natural dissimi- larity more apparent. Freedom, freedom, without infringement of the privileges, rights, or liberty of others, was the pride of every Sub-Ccelumite. Fetters, gyves, shackles, were his aversion : he would not wear them. Badges, even, he hated, as compromising his freedom. His sense of liberty was shown in an incident in one of the foreign revolutions, when so many persons of different views assumed the tri- color for protection. One well-known per- son refused to wear it. A workingman meeting him in the street addressed him : Reason/or Citizen ! why do you not wear the badge of 'the badge, freedom? To which the distinguished per- son replied that it was to show to the world that he was free ! In exact proportion to their happy and complete freedom was their unqualified tolerance and liberality. Intolerance was so utterly absent from the One Compendious Unity 21 7 spirit and habit of their lives that they did not even comprehend it. Why another should be deprived of what they enjoyed themselves was one of the profound mys- teries. A distinguished professor in a for- eign university showed a visitor a very pleasing print, entitled, Toleration. A Toleration. Roman Catholic priest, a Lutheran divine, a Calvinist minister, a Quaker, a Jew, and a philosopher, were represented sitting round the same table, over which a winged figure hovered in the attitude of protection. For this harmless print the artist was im- prisoned, and, having attempted to escape, was sentenced to drag the boats on the banks of the river, vyith robbers and mur- derers ; and there soon died from exhaus- tion and exposure. The Christianity of the Sub-Ccelumite had survived all the barbarisms of other forms, and was broad enough to include all differences in one compendious unity — his philosophy and religion cherishing and protecting it, as the figure in the picture. Behind all their civilization, and apparent the in every detail of it, was the healthful habit habitof r x 1 1 r i OcCUPA- 01 occupation. It made men seli-depen- -non. dent, self-sacrificing, intelligent, and happy. 2i 8 Sub-Coelum Idleness was disreputable. Homes for the Indolent were not established to ele- vate it, but to warn against it, and to bring additional shame upon slothfulness and in- application. The servitude of involuntary The vice o/ labor was a quick corrective of the vice of indolence. Poverty was rare, and not a disgrace, except when no effort was made to escape from it. Wants were few and inexpensive. The necessaries of life were cheap and abundant. The vices were not in the market, being largely eliminated. Great sums formerly paid for them were directed to better uses. Appetites were sound, and did not require costly stimulation. Like the passions, they were largely sub- servient to reason, but in exceptional cases. Enjoyments were found satisfying in pro- portion as they were pure. Evil propensi- ties and depraved affections were believed to be perversions wholly out of nature. Observation of the habits of animals was a lesson in a perpetual lesson in moderation. The moderation. , . , , , beasts that perish were decent compared with gross men. The habit of uprightness kept them in line from the centre of the earth to the top of heaven. Hours of labor being few, occupation in the main was vol- untary. Well-applied skill and industry Every Man a Laborer 219 easily supplied all that was necessary. All labor was alike honorable. Poverty was not dishonorable in itself, but only where it arose from idleness, intemperance, ex- travagance, and folly, a maxim of theirs de- scended from the ancients. There were no Everyone , ,. , 1 • r did some- drones, as every one did something for a thing /or a living. Whether with brain or hands, every man was a laborer. Sympathy and frater- nity were inevitable ; contempt, one of another, impossible. Whether in the gar- den, the workshop, the senate, or the field, each one was accepted a man, and was ex- pected to walk worthily. The grub in the fresh furrow, and the blackbird that de- voured it, were resources for his intellect, as the food his labor brought him was sus- tenance for his body. As he trod the clods, the earth moved to meet him. Whatever his occupation, when he stepped out under the blue dome, and looked up at the galaxies, he beheld, with the enraptured poet, the Street-lamps of the City of God. His mind his kingdom was, and not the His mind . . , his kingdom shop or farm, ever and ever. He was less was. for the morrow than for the everlasting. Leisure, to those who knew rightly how to employ it, they held with the philosopher to be the most beautiful of possessions ; 220 Sub-Coelum yet without this knowledge it became bur- densome and a fate. One must, they said, espouse some pursuit, taking it kindly at heart and with enthusiasm. Fruit he must bear or perish of lassitude and ennui. Lei- sure to be perfectly enjoyed must be earned Leisure that — then it is divine. It opens the windows is divine. r . . . .... ot promise, and receives what it invites, to fullness. Rightly employed, as in Sub- Ccelum, it fills society — to borrow just words — with gentlemen, of inherent self- respect and inherent courtesy ; it fills it, also, with ladies, of purest mould and di- vinest exemplariness. It made the people self-sacrificing, with opportunity. It was a maxim with them, that man is never wrong while he lives for others ; that the philosopher who contemplates from the rock is a less noble image than the sailor who struggles with the storm. Recogni- tion or compensation of humane service was not in the least a consideration. The Lesson of the lesson of the Wise Man, in language and spirit, was ever before them : There was a little city, and few men within it ; and there came a great king against it, and be- sieged it, and built great bulwarks against it : Now there was found in it a poor wise man, and he by his wisdom delivered the luise man. Importance of Habit 221 city ; yet no man remembered that same poor man. The frequent use of the words probably probably and perhaps, and their equivalents, was haps. er characteristic of the people. It showed that consideration and deliberation were habitual in their speech. Care was taken to impress upon the young the importance of these words. They were printed upon cards and hung upon the walls of school- rooms. Sentences illustrating their value and correct employment were written on the blackboards. In these ways the diffi- culty or impossibility of absolute know- ledge was stamped upon the growing mind, and the necessity of circumspection in speech impressively enforced. They were taught the importance of habit — in that as in everything. Frequent reiteration fixed in the memory the valuable precept, valuable Choose the course which is best, and habit will make it easy. Truth holding the first place in their system of education, ap- proaches to it were opened and guarded in every practicable manner. Frequent repe- tition was required to make the pupils ac- curate, and to impress them with a sense of accountability. Dogmatic statement, from 222 Sub-Ccelum its very nature, was suspected. It closed every avenue but the one traveled over by him that made it. It also had an element of violence in it that was inimical to just Disputation, thinking. Disputation was its life. There is an account of an orator who was wonder- fully choleric by nature and indulgence ; to one who supped in his company, a man of gentle and sweet conversation, and who, that he might not move him, approved and consented to all that he said ; he, impa- tient that his ill-humor should thus spend itself without aliment : For the love of the gods ! contradict me in something, said he, that we may be two ! When thinkers met together to think, or dilate, they did not, so to speak, answer one another ; they permitted to thought the utmost freedom, consistent with just intellectual hospital- ity, and did not antagonize it ; they might differ from it, but not by direct reference. Thought stimulated but did not provoke. Disputation was out of the question in in- dependent thinking. While each one was free to express himself, a like liberty was Dogmatic not denied to any other. Dogmatic dis- discussion. . . , t . , , , , cussion was not consistent with their con- ception of intellectual growth. Where each one knew a little, and no one pre- Avoided Detraction 223 sumed to know all, the way to a fair under- standing was not difficult. Feuds were discouraged in every possible way. Hard names were not given to men and things, certain of their reaction, as of their injus- tice. The habit was to say the most fa- Thdiabitto ill- r 1 • 1 say favora- vorable things of others, and to avoid ue things. detraction. If a harmful thing was idly or viciously said of a neighbor, some one present was sure to make a note of it. If not apologized for and withdrawn, account- ability for it was fixed. Dangerous gossip in this way was largely prevented. Truth and falsehood were discriminated. Visit- ing faults and sins upon those innocent of them was not a fashion of general adop- tion. Their religion was against it as well as their habit and philosophy. They looked to their own conduct, rather than to their neighbors' : for it they were ac- Accountable , , r • for their countable, and not for theirs. Ever pres-^«^«^^- ent with them, and not to be forgotten, was their profound sense of personal re- sponsibility — the foundation and super- structure of their ethics and religion. All of which promoted good neighbor- ship and inspired security. The man, they said, who delights in giving you full credit for every excellence you possess, rather 224 Sub-Caium than in belittling you by an exaggeration a treasure, of your foibles, is a treasure ; and the pro- tection you feel in the neighborhood of such a man, law could not give you. He shuts your gate, he protects your child, he guards your reputation ; he does the fair and generous thing. If men were weighed and not counted, such an one would over- balance many of poorer material. A wise man, having a farm to sell, bid the crier proclaim also that it had a good neighbor. the social It was another of their maxims, that mis- CONSCIENCE. - ,. , . understandings and neglect occasion more mischief in the world than even malice and wickedness, and they looked to them es- pecially. Only the very few indeed, by what has been called the alchemy of pri- vate malice, concocted a subtle poison from the ordinary contacts of life. For the fun of the thing, not for the mischief of it, the world there, as everywhere, prattled on. Sometimes it was cruel ; but it was the cruelty of the thoughtless boy. It did not much concern itself, for the time being, about justice or injustice. To the sources it did not much care to go if it could. It preferred to see with its eyes rather than with its head, — by its senses rather than Idle Personalities 225 by its reason. It saw outwardly, and talked for recreation — irresponsibly, too often, and without reflection. When it criticised or ridiculed, it did not always consider that the best continually blunder and stumble, Thebeu and only learned to keep their feet by fall- stumble. ing. Morally as well as physically. If an invisible knocking machine tapped each one on the head the instant and every time he meant evil or thought wrong, what a getting up there would be ! What a scene the street would present ! To the church or the market the same. The world laughs; — with us, and then at us. Careless words sometimes left their sting, and rankled long after they were uttered. Repeated, the wound was less curable. Thy friend has a friend, and thy friend's friend has a friend ; be discreet ; was a saying they did not always carry in their minds. The inward wounds that are given by the inconsiderate insults of wit, they did inconsider- . . ate insults of not always wisely remember are as danger- wit. ous as those given by oppression to infe- riors ; as long in healing, and perhaps never forgiven. Particular pains were taken to impress these truths upon the less reflective. They were taught the danger of idle personalities, and that the mischiefs 226 Siib-Ccelum they created were sure to be permanent if not soon corrected. A habit of often re- viewing their social relations was urged, Expiana. and pretty generally adopted. Explanation was promptly made whenever it was thought just and merited. If the slightest cloud was discovered on an acquaintance's face upon meeting him, time was not lost in removing it. If avoidance was percepti- ble in the conduct of any one, the reason of it was sought, and good relations were restored. The social conscience was quickened and enlightened by these good offices. While it was not possible, with the utmost circumspection, to altogether prevent misunderstandings, it was found easy to correct them by going a little more than half way towards it. The conscious- ness of possible offense was enough to prompt explanation and apology. While words and circumstances were remembered, and not aggravated or perverted by brood- ing, candor and truthfulness were sure to Maike make all plain and satisfactory. Malice thwarted. ... . was thwarted by anticipation and preven- tion, and memory was not even disturbed by the remembrance of misconception or difference. A better understanding was established, and the friendship temporarily Kindness to Children 22j lost was made permanent. Neglects were atoned for by greater consideration and kindness. Affection was fed by tenderness, and starved hearts restored by bounteous sympathy. Ill-treatment of children was one of the gravest of social offenses. It was considered a mean and cowardly in- a grave so. / ~ c . t • • i • i C '^ offense. lquity. One ot the distinguishing marks of a thorough gentleman was his consider- ate kindness to children. Their favorite novelist had said — a favorite on account of his searching, sympathetic, profound humanity — that in the little world in which children have their existence, there is nothing so finely perceived and so finely felt as injustice. It may be only small in- justice that the child can be exposed to ; but the child is small, and its world is small, and its rocking-horse stands as many hands high, according to scale, as a big- boned coursing hunter. MENTS. Amusements were simple — as far as amuse- possible educational and hygienic — and adapted to the multitude. The tone of their theatres was generally elevated — in no sense degrading. Comedy and tragedy of the highest order were preferred. Stage dress was limited to decency. Representa- 228 Sub-Ccelum tions that would occasion a blush the pub- lic taste prohibited. Applause was judi- cious, and never clamorous. Doors were closed before the performance commenced. Thetheatre. Disturbance from going in and out was not permitted. People went to see the play, and not to display themselves. Showy dress was considered vulgar — refined peo- ple avoided it. At the opera, greater free- dom was indulged ; the audience being a larger part of the entertainment. Eyes were feasted at the same time that minds and tastes were gratified. As before said, the people most delighted in oratorio, and their dress and behavior were much the same as at the theatre. Too elaborate adornment made them self-conscious, and limited their enjoyment of the higher, bet- ray circus, ter music. The circus was more generally popular than any other entertainment. Its character brought together great audiences — appealing especially to the senses. The masses of humanity, comfortably seated and happy, were a great spectacle. Twenty thousand was not an unusual audience. Physical education was inspired by the amphitheatre, and added interest was given to the gymnasium. Pedestrianism was a favorite amusement and exercise of the Pedestrianism 22g people. It taught grace, and gave vigor and health to the constitution. It stirred the mind, whetted the appetite, and drove away melancholy. So common was the healthful diversion that no able-bodied per- son thought of spending a day without a long walk. Their beautiful roads were Their beau- . . , . T r . tif ul roads. most inviting to pedestrians. In favorable weather, walkers were never out of view. Women as well as men enjoyed the pas- time. The grace and beauty of their movements were a perpetual charm. Springs of sweet water were at convenient distances on the highways, affording de- lightful resting-places. Manly men and womanly women exchanged courtesies. Bright eyes and rosy cheeks and musical voices animated these natural and acci- dental meetings. Cupid was close about, and Hymen not far off, and nobody could Hymen not guess what a morning would bring forth. Dancing, of course, was a chosen amuse- ment ; but it was scrupulously limited and guarded. Public balls, where anybody might be admitted for the money, were not tolerated — even by the most inferior of the population. The universal self-respect tabooed all such degradation. Pyrotechnic displays were common, especially on anni- 2j?o Sub-Ccclitm versaries and other popular occasions. Great crowds assembled to witness them. Perfect order prevailed in these street as- semblages. Not a word was spoken that was unfit to be heard, nor a glance or movement ventured that could offend. Kiteflying. Kite flying was universal ; it seemed to be the one outdoor amusement that every- body loved. Old and young participated in it. Their kites were mechanical and scientific wonders. They were ingeniously constructed, and rose as naturally and gracefully as birds. Some of the designs were very beautiful and suggestive. For hours and hours together all ages amused themselves with all manner of aerial contri- vances. Spelling-contests had long been kept up, and the people never wearied of attending them. A high premium was put upon perfect spelling. It was felt to be a shame not to be able to spell any word in common use amongst intelligent people. Rewards were paid to perfect spellers, and distinction was conferred upon them. Reading. Reading, also, was a public exercise, and was of great service in general education. As so great a part of their pleasure and in- struction came through reading, the great- est effort was made to improve themselves The True Standard 231 in it. In the book of Nehemiah they found the true standard of reading aloud — how Ezra, the learned and pious priest, and the Levites, read to the people the law of Moses : they read in the book, in the law of God, distinctly, and gave the sense, and caused the people to understand the reading. The rule of Ezra and the The rule oj priests was the rule adopted throughout the Commonwealth, which, by its very nature, discouraged anything like elocu- tion. It produced a multitude of good oral readers, who penetrated the words of the printed page, perceived their sense, and participated their feeling, and were able, unconsciously, to interpret, reveal, and en- kindle them in the reading. Chemical ex- periments were constantly made for the edification and amusement of the people. They were taught the chemical elements, Tkechemi- ...... rr . 01 cal elements and all their known offices in nature. Such practical instruction helped them in out- door observation, which, at last, was their best resource and entertainment. Some pains have already been taken to show the reader how the population were interested in everything that existed — from creature to man, from atom to sun, from sun to universe. Their habits of observation 2J2 Sub-Ccelttm With God in His •works. made their minds acute, and their close sympathy with nature exalted their souls. To repeat, they were with God in His works. Each season produced its won- ders. To see a noble forest, they said, wreathed in icy gems, was one of the transcendent glories of creation. You looked through long arcades of iridescent light, and the vision had an awful majesty, compared with which the most brilliant cathedral windows paled their ineffectual fires. It was the crystal palace of Jehovah. drawing, In the province of Kadoe is the great and sculp- temple of Boro-bodo, described by travel- TURE. # . . ers in the tropics. It is built upon a small hill, and consists of a central dome and seven ranges of terraced walls cover- ing the slope of the hill and forming open galleries each below the other, and com- municating by steps and gateways. The central dome is fifty feet in diameter; around it is a triple circle of seventy-two towers, and the whole building is six hun- dred and twenty feet square, and about one hundred feet high. In the terrace walls are niches containing cross-legged figures, larger than life, to the number of about four hundred, and both sides of all the Sculptured Hill-Temple 233 terrace walls are covered with bas-re- liefs crowded with figures, and carved in hard stone ; and which must, altogether, occupy an extent of nearly three miles ! The amount of human labor and skill ex- pended on the Great Pyramid sinks into insignificance when compared with that re- quired to complete this sculptured hill- temple in the interior of a tropical island. A philosopher told a story of one of the phiioso- lords of session in his country, a strange, rough, gruff judge, who was in the habit of taking sketches of people in court with a pen and ink. One day he asked the usher, Who 's that man yonder ? That 's the plain- tiff, my lord, was the answer. Oh, he 's the plaintiff, is he ? he 's a queer-look- ing fellow ; the Court will decide against him and see how he '11 look ! History goes not back to the time when art in many of its diversified forms was not practiced. In Sub-Ccelum the taste for it was univer- The artistic , . . . . , taste univer- sal, and great progress was made in its cul- sai. tivation. The artist's eye and habit had been quickened and strengthened by the generous system of instruction. The prin- ciples and practice of drawing were carried into all their schools and intelligently taught. Perhaps one pupil in fifty discov- 234 Sub-Coelum Searching observatio?i of faces. Private character sacred. ered ability, and was encouraged ; if one in ten thousand showed genius, there was hope ; but the multitude was benefited. Taste was cultivated if nothing more. Adepts in drawing were not uncommon. The little books in side-pockets contained many admirable sketches. They revealed the searching observation of faces that the judge in the story exhibited. Thumb-nails were shaped to use in sketching. A very small card in the artist's hand would re- ceive and retain necessary outlines. In public places there were conveniences for posting anonymous and other original drawings. Very acute many of them were, and taught as the most logical dis- courses could not. A little picture would illumine a public question. Caricature was of course indulged, but not danger- ously nor licentiously. Private character, unless connected with the public in a way to occasion mischief, was sacred to it. Women also, whatever the folly to be ex- posed, were never subjects of ridicule or open attack. There were limits that the public had severely prescribed, and they were rarely transcended. The artist who misused his pencil or brush became odious. He was not tolerated. If incorrigible he Human Nature Exalted 235 was locked up. The public taste ran to the virtues, and delighted to see them rep- resented. Infinitely were they exhibited, in pencil and in color. Human nature was constantly being exalted by these rep- resentations. Sculpture, especially, era- tfwo/ ployed itself in embodying the highest J5J3"""* qualities and achievements of manhood and womanhood. Martyrs to reason, to humanity, and to personal freedom, were the favorite subjects of superior genius. Heads and figures of Socrates, of Jesus Christ, and of John Brown, were to be seen in public places. The brow of the first appeared the home of intellect ; the face of the second shone with a supernatural light ; the front of the third was rugged, like the brow of Hercules. These representations, idealizations, realizations, were instructive instructive and elevating according to the mood or ex- ting. tremity of the beholder. An intellect in shadow, ill-recognized and unrequited for the time being, gained courage in contem- plating a head of the brave philosopher ; a poor fellow, feeling himself oppressed, re- covered hope as he paused before an ideal representation of his hero ; a woman, in anguish, uncovered before a figure of the immaculate Saviour, and cast an upward 2}6 Sub-Carl urn Blessed be art. look of adoration that no eye witnessed without sympathy. Blessed be art, they said in their hearts, that lifts us up when we are cast down ; that puts a hope into discouraged souls ; that exalts wretched- ness to a place in the bosom of Deity. There was not any person or place that did not feel the pervading influence. Homes were adorned by it, and flooded with a healthy moral atmosphere. Not one but had ideals of virtue that were per- petually teaching. Shame covered the face of wrong in their pure presence. sculptural Sculptural manipulation of clay was one of the common amusements. The expert would take in his hand a portion of kneaded earth, and exhibit the passions and emotions one after another, as they were asked for. Grief would drop a tear over the thumb-nail, and Santorini's laughing- muscle show itself in the face. Horrible were some of the faces made, and lovely were others as genius could make them. Draughtsmen, in goodly number, were alike capable in their department. On the blackboard, or other suitable drawing surface, they gave to observers whatever expression or outline they requested. An- imals were drawn with human-like faces, manipula- tion. Capable draughts- men. Quality Preferred 237 and men with the faces of animals. Wings were transferred from birds to reptiles. There was no limit put upon these diver- sions except by time. Audiences broke up with abated respiration. Books they had in abundance — tooNoTAMBi- great abundance, they constantly felt, great l*. With all their weeding, the number was not lessened. They were not ambitious of 'great libraries, quality being preferred to quantity. Their aim was to preserve only the best. They realized that minds, like some seed-plants, delight in sporting ; there is great variety in thinking, but the few great ideas remain the same. They are The few constantly reappearing in all ages and in all literatures, modified by new circumstances and new uses ; though in new dresses, they are still the old originals Like the virtues, they have great and endless services to perform in this world. Now they appear in philosophy, now in fiction ; the moralist uses them, and the buffoon ; dissociate them, analyze them, strip them of their innumerable dresses, and they are recog- nized and identified — the same from the The same foundation and forever. If a discrimina- foundation. ting general reader for forty years had noted 2 3 8 Sub-Caium Thinkers more numer- ous tlian thoughts. Simplicity the last at- tainment. their continual reappearance in the tons of books he had perused upon all subjects, he would be astonished at their varied and multiplied uses. Thinkers he would per- haps find more numerous than thoughts ; yet of the former how few. The original thought of one age diffuses itself through the next, and expires in commonplace — to be born again when occasion necessi- tates and God wills. At each birth it is a new creation — to the brain it springs from and to the creatures it is to enlighten and serve. If the writer or speaker could know how often it has done even hack-ser- vice in the ages before him, he would repen- tantly blot it out, or choke in its utterance. In the unpleasant discovery, that indispen- sable and inspiring quality, self-conceit, would suffer a wound beyond healing. In literature, as a rule, the oldest books were preferred ; in science the newest. The classic, they said, was always modern. Sim- plicity they considered, with the critic, the last attainment of progressive literature : as men are very long afraid of being natural, from the dread of being taken for ordinary. They accepted the definition of literature to be the written thoughts and feelings of in- telligent men and women arranged in a way Perspicuity Essential 2jg to give pleasure to the reader. Pleasure could not be had where there was affectation, and where meaning had to be groped for. Perspicuity was an essentiality. The mis- erable habit of some biographers of search- ing out the weaknesses of authors with their audacious dark-lanterns, was not in favor in Sub-Ccelum. Men had a right, they said, to be themselves, if they were authors : and they were not to be called hypocrites if their thoughts and conduct did not al- noughts T , r .1 • ii« • and conduct. ways agree. It was from this sublime in- evitable simulation of literature, they said and repeated, that the world gets its lay working ideal perpetually renewed. As yet, a human creature can only sometimes be quite good in the still act of writing. By a happy error those who do not write mix up the man and the author, where the difference is not forced on them, and think- ing there are beings so much better than the common, they try fitfully to live after the style of books. If the illusion should be destroyed, and it ever came to be univer- sally known that literature is intentional Literature . . . . - . , . , . intentional only, that the writers of these high }\\dg- only. ments, exact reflections, beautiful flights of sentiment, are in act simply as other men, how is the great bulk to be stung into try- 240 Sub-Caiitm Metaphysics, ing after progress ? Metaphysics, having long ceased to be considered a science, books on the general subject were scarce ; they had mouldered away, or been con- signed to the paper-makers. The same Political judgment of political economy had reduced u "" y ' the books upon that subject to a few. The political economist, they said, looked upon men too much as machines, and his system, they thought, contained too many conflict- ing calculations and theories to be useful. Masterpieces of authors were scrupulously treasured ; indeed it was their rule, with voluminous writers, to preserve only their greatest achievements. Those books that the ages had passed upon were accepted as indubitably worthy. They believed with No luck in one of the greatest that there was no luck laation. in literary reputation. They who make up the final verdict upon every book are not the partial and noisy readers of the hour when it appears ; but a court as of angels, a public not to be bribed, not to be en- treated, and not to be overawed, decides upon every man's title to fame. Only those books come down which deserve to last. the press. The tone of the press was such as might The Antidote 241 be expected from the character and intelli- gence of the people. It was moderate, but wholly and habitually free. As well said, a press is mischievous only where it is par- tially and irregularly so. Just as a draught gives you a cold, while even a storm in the open air is innocuous. If the press were free for a fortnight only in every year there would be an annual revolution. Its its duty. duty, as denned by a distinguished mem- ber, was to make war upon Privilege — to see that a ruling class was not formed in the State, to reduce the functions of offi- cials, to eliminate from the popular appre- hension the illusions of political supersti- tions. It adopted as a maxim, The less government the better ; the fewer laws and the less confided power. The antidote to the abuse of formal government, they said, was the influence of private character, the growth of the individual. Journalism, adopting the language of a critic, was puchedona pitched on a low key, and set about on the ordinary tone of a familiar letter or conver- sation ; as that from which there was little hazard of falling, even in moments of neg- ligence, and from which any rise that could be effected must always be easy and conspicuous. A man fully possessed of 242 Suh-Ccelum his subject, and confident of his cause, may almost always write with vigor and effect, if he can get over the temptation of writing finely, and really confine himself to the strong and clear exposition of the Accuracy matter he has to bring forward. Accuracy and definite- , - , . ness. and definiteness were 01 the first impor- tance in their journalism. Violence was suspected — even strong language — ex- cept in rarest cases. Italics were not used, as every word was expected to itali- cize itself. Intelligence was discriminated and severely sifted. News was not any- thing that might be invented, embellished, or perverted. It was the rule to publish only what was literally true. News gath- erers were instructed to be direct and con- cise. A column about a trifle was not ac- ceptable. Ability in condensation was preferred before facility or felicity. While personal items were sought and desired, great care was taken to print only such as were respectful and creditable. Journal- Mottoand ism generally had adopted as a motto and rule of con- . . duct. rule of conduct a sentence from a famous writer : Private vices, however detestable, have not dignity sufficient to attract the censure of the press, unless they are united with the power of doing some signal mis- Chronicle of Perdition 243 chief to the community. Objectionable matter, from its nature, found a place in The Chronicle of Perdition, a journal that, in spite of public opinion, found a suffi- ciency of readers to support it. Alas ! there were people, even in Sub-Ccelum, with prurient tastes and appetites, who de- Prurient ,.,,. ..... . .. tastes and lighted in recitals of evil and gross crimi- appetites. nality. A journal of general circulation was called Information for the People. It was crowded with condensed facts upon all sorts of subjects, and formed a literature of its own. It was intelligently indexed, and had grown into many large volumes. It was a mine of information, that was con- stantly consulted by all classes. But the most popular of all their journals bore the significant title of Confidential Letters to the Public. Each number of it contained a hundred or more free communications, from as many persons and places, upon a great variety of subjects. It was some- times called The National Barometer. It The Nation- indicated the matters upon which the pop- ur. ulation were generally thinking, and es- pecially those about which they were most uneasy. Questions were discussed, but not in an elaborate manner. Space was too valuable to permit the inundating 244 Sab-Ccchim aries con- sulted it. It gauged apprehen- sion and anxiety. method to any. Grievances of all sorts were acutely and forcibly presented. Functionaries, especially, consulted the suggestive journal for cues, and assembly- men referred to it as authority. No wor- thy subject, of social or political interest, escaped investigation in Confidental Let- ters. Communications were anonymous, but the names of authors were registered, and produced, if in extremity they were called for. It was not possible for any in- telligent citizen to avoid being interested in its contents. It determined for him the average judgment upon current topics ; it put his finger upon the public pulse ; it gauged apprehension and anxiety with ap- proximate accuracy. Nothing unhealth- fully stimulating, as a rule, was found in their newspapers. Sensation was not in favor; truth and decency were elevated above everything. They were not ambi- tious of the picturesque or startling in their annals ; on the contrary, they pre- ferred the commonplace and tiresome, as more significant of contentment and pros- perity. Results of Evolution. In the evolutionary processes of this pe- culiar civilization some unexpected changes Changed Places 245 had resulted. The dogs did not bark noisily, as had been their wont ; the moon, even, did not disturb them. They contem- plated Luna, but without demonstration. The cats, likewise, were considerate of the peace of neighborhoods. Men, many o£ jf"J s %°'" e them, changed places with women, and became essentially domestic. Household duties, in a great degree, had passed into their hands. They discovered a fondness for them, as to the other sex they became distasteful. In well-to-do households every department but the nursery was surren- dered to them. They were strong, and could lift, and climb, and stoop, without difficulty or detriment. The kitchen, es- The kitchen , their do- pecially, was their domain. Cooking, as »™ before observed, was a very high art in Sub-Ccelum. Learning had been devoted to its development. Chemistry, particu- larly, had been ransacked, and its mysteries applied extensively. Kitchens were lab- oratories and museums. Contrivances for everything had been invented and appro- priated. Cook books had grown to the cookbooks L • a 1 cyclopedias. proportions of cyclopaedias. As the word servant was obsolete, and never used throughout the Commonwealth, the pro- fession of cook was as respectable as any 246 Sitb-Ccehim other ; indeed, a master in the kitchen ranked with scholars and scientists. To his genius they attributed much that was best in their life and achievements. In their profound study of body and mind — of their dependence and interdependence — how astonishingly morals depended Necessity of upon stomach — the necessity of good good cook- # jo i»s- cooking was appreciated, and the art ele- vated. Soups were in such variety that every want of appetite and emotion was provided for. A dinner for the gymnast and a dinner for the poet were as different as any two things of a kind could be. The resources and gamut of the emotions had been studied as profoundly as the possibil- ities and power of the muscles. Training for anything remarkable was largely through the wisdom and manipulations of Eating de- the kitchen. Eating was determined by occupation, occupation. The orator prepared himself for highest flights by days of discriminate living. The clergyman, to impress his hearers, was conscientious about his break- fasts. It was not thought possible for a judge to be considerately just without judi- cious and temperate diet. The actor, es- pecially, was indebted to the cook for his reputation. The green-room and the Enjoyment Inevitable 247 kitchen were inseparable to him. Dinners in well-ordered households were inspira- tions, the cook having eaten appropriately to achieve them. The dishes were so wisely various, so divinely cooked, and so perfectly served, that enjoyment from them was inevitable. Conversation was in keep- converm- . 1 1 1 -i , 1 t' on i* 1 keep- ing, and men and women regarded them- ing. selves as worthy of the perpetuation they hoped for. The cook commanded better wages than the senator. Anybody, after a fashion, might perform the functions of the latter ; the skill of the former was excep- tional and essential. The perfect cook was a desideratum in that high civiliza- tion. At banquets, the chef appeared at the end of the entertainment and received his just homage. Pledges were drank, and wine poured out in honor. Guests rose, and bowed low, as their genius and bene- factor passed out. Grades there were, of course, in the profession — in ability and dignity ; but there was pride in it through- Pride of -, , r • t i profession. out, and every member of it studied to attain the utmost excellence. Households were happier with male cooks ; the wo- men preferred them, and treated them as gentlemen. Servant or scullion was not thought of in the pleasant relation. 248 Sub-Ccelum The High Estimate 1>UT UPON Woman. Emancipa- ted from menial du- ties. Made the best physi- cians. The high estimate put upon woman was evidence of incomparable advancement. Feminineness, whether in virginity or ma- ternity, was exalted. No man forgot to pay reverence to the sex of his mother, his wife, or his sweetheart. Adoration of the Virgin Mother was its apotheosis. Oh ! exclaimed the humanist, if the loving, closed heart of a good woman should open before a man, how much controlled tender- ness, how many veiled sacrifices and dumb virtues would he see reposing therein. As far as possible woman was emancipated from menial duties. The offices of mo- therhood, especially, were not infringed by avoidable domestic drudgery. She was left free to devote herself to the care and development of her children, and to the enjoyment of such society as would supply the want occasioned by continually de- scending and imparting. All suitable oc- cupations were thrown open to women, and some of them they monopolized. It was found that they made the best physi- cians — especially for children and women. Their delicacy and courage made them superior surgeons. Their fingers manipu- lated in a manner impossible to men's. In cases of confinement they were pre- Remarkable Intuitions 24Q ferred, without exception. Women in that crisis reasoned, as reported, and were lis- tened to deferentially. They said frankly, if pressed in so delicate a matter, that all a delicate their strength, in the act of violent exer- "" tion, consisted in the liberty of the exer- tion, and that this liberty was as nothing if a man was in the room. From this cause, at every moment, hesitation re- sulted, and contradictory movements. They exerted and they restrained them- selves. You will say, says the wise re- porter, that they are in the wrong, that they should be at ease, should, in such a crisis, forget their superstitions of shame and fear, the little annoyances which so humiliate them. But, however this may be, such they are ; as such they must be treated. And he who, to save them, will put them in such peril, is certainly unwise. Male physicians, therefore, in such cases, were seldom or never called. In deter- mining the causes of disease, the medical knowledge of women was supplemented by their remarkable intuitions — a very high a high order of wisdom. As such they were rec- dom. u ognized and employed in many important offices. As moral police they kept guard over society. The invisible was duly or- 250 Siib-Coelum rated — nothing escaped their unerring ken. Mysterious and inexplicable, they were nevertheless authority. Judges con- sulted them in difficult cases. Testimony, contradictory and involved, was analyzed and made perspicuous. Motives were re- vealed marvelously. The oblique was whenin/ai- direct to them. These intuitions were lible. particularly infallible when the conduct of females was in question ; for women knew women in Sub-Ccelum. Their knowledge and instincts, so applied, appeared omnis- cient. Indications unseen and unknown to men were apparent and unmistakable to women. Signs of concealment were as conspicuous as those of unquestioned frankness. Good women were known and read by all ; happily there were few in Sub-Ccelum that were not good. Their superior nature was acknowledged and ap- preciated by all men. It enlightened so- ciety and elevated it. Better standards of conduct were set up. Encouragement was Pure and given to well-directed effort. Pure and womanhood, enlightened womanhood was the ripe fruit and governing influence of civilization. It pitched thought and enthusiasm. It adorned whatever it touched. It stimu- lated charity. It led in religion. The Its Typical Aureola 251 beauty of all things was heightened by it. It was the medium in which all men lived, moved, hoped, and worshiped. The flow- ers grew better in its atmosphere ; the birds sang sweeter ; fruits were more de- liriously flavored ; supernatural rainbows, such as they had, were its typical aureola. Her brow A wreath reflecting of eternal beams. Government was largely supported by How gov- , , ERNMENT taxes upon incomes and upon heads, and was sup- r PORTED. by a generous system of licenses and an- nuities. Rich people, being able, were also willing to bear the greater part of the public burdens. It was a privilege they esteemed and were proud of. Estates did not grow enormously. Great possessions were not thought good for the possessors or for the public. They were apt to create distinctions not in agreement with the gen- eral system of society and government. The utmost practicable equality was the universal aim. Money was especially ap- whatmoney preciated for the leisure it gave to do what cuutj&n- r . dated for. was preferable to making it. As repeat- edly said before, the ambition of every one was to make the most of himself — to gather resources and treasures that would 2$2 Sub-Ccehim Money no- thing in it- self. At heart guilty of in- civ ism. not fade — that would make him a man in whatever condition or state he might be placed. Believing that this life was only preparatory to a better, every effort was made to develop themselves worthily, and everything not necessary to that was an incumbrance. It was the rarest thing that any one thought money anything in it- self. The small tax placed upon every head produced a large aggregate, and it was cheerfully paid. It stimulated patriotism. Every one had a money interest in his Government, and was a supporter of it. When he walked out on one of the beauti- ful roads, it was his as much as anybody's. When he plucked fruit from the endless orchards, it was from his own trees, that his own money had assisted to plant. The vast and perfect system of schools, by which his children were educated, was not a charity in his eyes, as he and every other inhabitant had helped to establish and sup- port it. The citizen who would withhold his pittance was at heart guilty of incivism. Privileges, in the form of licenses, were liberally and cheerfully paid for. Special rights included special immunities that were inviolable. They were worth more than they cost, and were estimated accord- System of Annuities 25} ingly. They included also honor and re- sponsibility. If an individual exceeded his purchased privilege, he was guilty of a breach of trust, and was severely punished. Betrayal was one of the high moral and penal offenses. The system of annuities, as before said, was considerately provident and generous to the people, and was a great convenience. For a sum of money given to the Government, the giver received quarterly a liberal per centum during his a liberal , . r . . c 1 per centum lifetime — the amount, of course, being during hu determined by the longevity tables. To scholars and to old people it was a great accommodation. Their savings were turned over to the Commonwealth, and they were supported from them without risk or anxiety. Scholarship was free to pursue its investigations, and old age reposed in the security of independence. In such cases death was not made interesting by possible inheritance. Indeed, it was not thought good that property should descend. Every man, according to their theory, was Everyman an accretion, an incarnation; was just'"™- what he was naturally, and what he had gathered and assimilated. His personality represented his earnings as well as his at- tainments. No genuine man wanted what an incarua- 2