The Diothas, or, A Far Look Ahead/Chapter 28
While on the way home, I had utilized the time by making to Utis my customary report of the day's proceedings. He said little till we had reached my apartment.
"From what you say," he began, "it is plain that you are deeply in love with Reva Diotha."
I nodded assent, awaiting in some anxiety what my host had further to say; as it was manifest that he was in difficulty as to how to proceed.
"If you succeed in winning Reva," he resumed, "I shall have good reason to congratulate you. I have looked forward to the possibility of this since the moment you met by the merest accident. It was plain to me, that you were, in some way, strongly attracted by her; and she, again, was at least interested in her cousin from so far. Events, however, have moved much more rapidly than I expected; and now I find a duty thrust upon me that I hoped to escape."
"How so?" I inquired.
"In the ordinary course of things, you could not have had so many opportunities of seeing Reva that it would have been either necessary or wise to speak before the arrival of your mother. In that event my responsibility would cease; as she is not only your mother, but is also a much nearer relative to Reva than myself. But now this sudden intimacy with Hulmar, who seems, in some way, extraordinarily taken with you,—for he is not a man given to sudden friendships,—renders it but honorable for you to reveal to him your feelings toward his daughter.
"Having once secured his approval. you can then make the best of your way with Reva. Her father's regard for you, your frequent presence, the interest she seems to take in those times and subjects on which you are so well qualified to speak, are all greatly in your favor, especially the last. As the wise old proverb says,—
Not far from her heart.'"
"Have you doubts as to Hulmar's approval?" I inquired, seeing him pause, as if doubtful how to proceed.
"With his present knowledge of you. I have no doubt that he would listen favorably to your suit, and, indeed, promote it as far as a father may. There is one circumstance that usually would tell very much in your favor, —Hulmar's apprehension that his daughter may finally resolve on becoming a zerata."
"A zerata?" said I, to whom the term was entirely new.
"I believe I have not yet explained this custom to you. As you already know, our women are by no means cut off from the intellectual life by marriage. All our arrangements are directed toward avoiding such a state of matters as far as can be done.
"Yet there is no denying the fact, that the pre-occupations incident to their engagement, before marriage, and those that come after, are found to interfere considerably with that concentration of thought and effort from which alone brilliant success can spring. Many vioras, accordingly, resolutely kept clear from all such entanglements as may interfere with their prosecution of some favorite line of study.
"If they reach the age of twenty, bound by no engagement, a viora has the privilege of claiming admission to a certain department of the Muetra. This is a sort of scientific cloister, where, cut off from the distractions of the outer world, they may devote themselves to the line of investigation resolved upon.
"Their quarters are comfortable, even luxurious. They have access to extensive libraries, and the use of laboratories replete with every aid to research. They are assembled twice a day for a kind of gymnastic drill, and have full liberty to roam at will over all the grounds of the Muetra, the extent of which you remarked when looking that way from the roof-garden in Nuiore."
"Are they, then, not allowed to leave the precincts of the Muetra?" inquired I. "Extensive though they are, they must seem, at last, very like a prison."
"Probably so." said Utis; "but it is not our policy to make a residence there altogether too desirable. We do not wish our daughters to be debarred from the privilege of devoting their lives to science if, perchance, they have a real vocation that way. We consider, however, that they will both find and confer more happiness in filling their natural positions as wives and mothers than by consuming their lives in the endeavor to add a mite to the already unmanageable accumulations of human knowledge. It has, besides, been shown, that more has been contributed to that stock of knowledge by married women than by all the zerata. It must be remembered, however, that the former outnumbered the latter a thousand-fold."
"Do they remain there for life?" inquired I, further, thinking of the deplorable waste involved in the immuring of such grace and beauty as Reva's amid musty books and noisome laboratories. Yet such is the innate selfishness of the male heart in such matters, that I am not sure that I did not derive a sort of gloomy satisfaction from the thought of her becoming inaccessible to others should I fail to win her.
"By no means," replied Utis. "Twice every year they are required to spend a week at home, resuming the ordinary habit and duties of the cioran. On reaching their thirtieth year, they return home for a full year. At the end of that time, should they still remain heart-free, they are regarded as having a real vocation, and attain the privilege of going and coming from their cloister at will."
"Does Hulmar fear any such intention on the part of Reva?"
"Not so much from any thing she has said, as from her persistent rejection of all attentions on the part of even the most eligible suitors. Perhaps, however, it may simply mean that the right one has not yet appeared. It is with that probability I re-assure my friend when he expresses his apprehensions to me."
Somewhat re-assured by what I had just heard, I resolved on boldly facing the difficulty, whatever it might be.
"You think my views—my peculiar views, as you call them—would, if known to Hulmar, outweigh all his present good will toward me. What need is there for him to know any thing about them?"
Utis regarded me with a smile, half mournful, half. amused. Then, shaking his head,—
"My poor boy, you are under the influence of that passion to which we excuse much; but for me there is no such excuse. I would do for you all I would for my own son; but, even could I so far forget what is due to my oldest friend as to keep from his knowledge what so greatly concerns him to know, there are others who would not be so reticent."
"Then, others know beside you?"
"Yes: two others. Your grand-uncle Ruart, the old gentleman we met the day of your arrival. It was with him your mother first communicated in regard to your coming here. Ulmene is the other. It is her right to know the antecedents of a new inmate of her household."
"In what light do you think Hulmar will regard the matter?" inquired I, with a sinking heart, after a long pause.
"The most favorable supposition is, that he will regard you as a monomaniac, or, at least, as a person whose memory of the past has undergone a peculiar change. Now, there is nothing we dread so much as mental disease. Death we can face with equanimity; the untimely taking away of those dearest to us we try to bear with resignation; but insanity admits of no consolation. Cases occur now with comparative rarity; yet they do occur, and cast a cloud over the matrimonial prospects of all the kindred of the sufferer. You know how it is with yourself, and can judge what is right for you to do."
"I suppose, then, I must seek an explanation with Hulmar as soon as possible," said I, in a dreary tone. I had been living all day in a sort of fool's paradise, and now was brought face to face with the stubborn fact that I could give no such account of my way of viewing things as would be likely to convince any father of my perfect sanity.
In some further conversation, the manner and occasion of my explanation with Hulmar were discussed. At my request, Utis promised to draw up a full account of my case, as known to him.
"I will plead with my friend not to decide too hastily," said Utis, regarding me with pitying eyes; "but I earnestly advise you to rather come to a verbal explanation, and reserve my letter to deliver after, as yon see fit."
After some further conversation, he went away, leaving me in no enviable frame of mind. When, after some vain attempts, I did succeed in falling asleep, my slumber was but another form of mental distress. The ever-recurring theme of my dreams was Reva and her father, to whom some dreadful secret from my past life had been revealed. He was regarding me with looks of undisguised indignation; she, with a shrinking compassion almost harder to bear.
Awaking from one of these distressing dreams, I resolved to banish, by reading, the harassing thoughts that would obtrude themselves. A slight pressure on the knob within reach of my arm, and the room was flooded with light; an easily made adjustment of my hammock, and I had a most luxurious reading-chair.
Taking up Eured Thiusen's great work on the nineteenth century, I chanced to open at the appendix, in which were given notes on points that had appeared to the author of special interest or difficulty. Though monuments of shrewdness, learning, and research, these notes abounded with the, at times, ludicrous errors into which even the most careful writer is apt to fall when obliged to eke out imperfect knowledge by conjecture.
In the by no means amiable mood in which I befound myself at the time, I derived, perhaps, too malicious a pleasure from the mistakes of a painstaking author. If I give a few here, it is only in order to show how difficult it is to avoid error when treating of a period twice as remote as is that of Abraham from us.
Thus, in combating a prevailing error in regard to the significance of the term "Stalwart," so frequently recurring in the fragmentary history of that period, he showed that it was an utter misconception, having its source in the unscrupulous language of a venal and licentious press. The Stalwarts were not, as one legend asserted, a band of robbers who, under their notorious leader Gatto-Rusco, waylaid and murdered a public officer because he refused to surrender to them the treasure committed to his keeping.
This legend derived some support, it is true, from the etymology of the word "stalwart" as given in a standard authority of the period. Nor was the fact of the assassination of a great officer to be relegated to the long list of sun-myths, as had been done by the celebrated Mutha-Gus, in his learned monograph on the subject. That such a sad event did occur, there seems but too much reason to believe; but there appears to be no evidence connecting the Stalwarts with this deed beyond a few hasty words uttered by a thorough-going member of the party, in a moment of great excitement.
The best derivation of the appellation, and one borne out by the facts, is from "stall," a place, and "ward," tendency, thus showing that it signifies an office-seeker, and nothing else. These stall-wards (for so the word ought properly to be spelled, and not steal-wards, as some have ignorantly proposed) were, in fact, a patriotic and self-sacrificing body of men devoted to the boodle (which, it seems, was their synonyme for the common weal), and ready at all times to sacrifice themselves on the altar of their country, by heroically accepting any office, however remotely connected with the boodle.
Yet even such patriotism did not always meet with due recognition; and, patient though they were, there was a limit to even their forbearance. Their great leader, on one occasion, disgusted with the utter lack of "practical statesmanship" exhibited by the head of the nation (a very wicked and depraved man, according to the authority I follow), threw up his office, in the name of boodle. Nor could he be induced to resume it,—no, though a whole State on bended knees entreated him so to do. By many of his devoted admirers, this was regarded as the greatest effort of his life,—a life that had been devoted to great efforts in the cause of the boodle.
"All this," concluded Thiusen, "may be relied upon as a correct view of the matter; for I found it written in the columns of that journal whose editor's name (as I learned from a fragment of a rival journal, the evidence of which is, therefore, beyond suspicion) was a synonyme for high-toned veracity and disinterested patriotism,— that journal which might proudly have assumed as motto,—
"Solem quis dicere falsum audeat?"
After this I was not surprised, on turning over the pages, to come on other derivations that seemed, to say the least, fanciful. Ile referred also, in all probability, to some age subsequent to this. This may be inferred when it is stated, that from "congressman," he derives the word "greshma," a wordy talker, a confidence-man. From the honorable title "alderman" he derives "droman," a word employed at one time to designate a low, disreputable ruffian. From "lawyer" he derived "lahyah," a wrap-rascal, a sort of cloak much affected by certain classes. From the name of a certain well-known organization he derived the word "tamna," signifying a den of—well, let us say aldermen.
This was too much. It was trying enough to the temper to read the injurious reference to a profession to which I feel proud to belong,—that quintessence of learning, and mirror of politeness; that stay of oppressed virtue, and terror to evil-doers; that body, the limblest of whose members would scorn to accept the bribe of the wealthy oppressor to aid in crushing the weak; but this insult to the citadel of American pat— By the time I had reached thus far in my soliloquy, the book slipped from my grasp, and I slept, this time without a dream.