The artificial light in Mizora puzzled me longest to understand. When I
first noticed it, it appeared to me to have no apparent source. At the
touch of a delicate hand, it blazed forth like a star in the center of
the ceiling. It diffused a soft and pleasing brilliancy that lent a
charm to everything it revealed. It was a dreamy daylight, and was
produced by electricity.
In large halls, like a theatre or opera house, the light fell in a soft
and penetrating radiance from the center of the dome. Its source was not
visible to either audience or actresses, and, in consequence, occasioned
no discomfort to the eyes. The light that illuminated the stage was
similarly arranged. The footlights were not visible. They were in the
rear of the stage. The light came upward like the rays of the setting
sun, revealing the setting of the stage with vivid distinctness. I can
best describe the effect of this singular arrangement by calling
attention to the appearance of the sun when declining behind a small
elevation. How sharply every object is outlined before it? How soft and
delicate is the light in which everything is bathed? Every cloud that
floats has all of its fleecy loveliness limned with a radiant clearness.
I was very desirous to know how this singular effect was produced, and
at my request was taken to the stage. An opening in the back part of it
was covered with pink colored glass. Powerful electric lights from below
the stage were reflected through this glass upon it. The glass was
highly refractive and so perfectly translucent, I at first thought there
was none there, and when I stood upon its edge, and looked down into a
fiery gulf below, I instinctively thought of the "Lost People," who are
said to wander amid torturing yet unconsumable flames. But, happily, the
ones I gazed upon were harmless ones.
The street lights of Mizora were at a considerable elevation from the
ground. They were in, or over, the center of the street, and of such
diffuse brilliancy as to render the city almost as light as day. They
were in the form of immense globes of soft, white fire, and during the
six months that answered to the Mizora night, were kept constantly
burning. It was during this period that the Aurora Borealis shone with
such marvelous brilliancy.
Generally, its display was heralded by an arc of delicate green-tinted
light, that spanned the heavens. The green tint deepened into emerald,
assuming a delicate rose hue as it faded upward into rays that diverged
from the top until the whole resembled a gigantic crown. Every ray
became a panorama of gorgeous colors, resembling tiny sparks, moving
hither and thither with inconceivable swiftness. Sometimes a veil of
mist of delicate green hue depended from the base of the crown, and
swayed gently back and forth. As soon as the swaying motion commenced,
the most gorgeous colors were revealed. Myriads of sparks, no larger
than snow-flakes, swarmed across the delicate green curtain in every
conceivable color and shade, but always of that vapory, vivid softness
that is indescribable. The dancing colors resembled gems encased in a
film of mist.
One display that I witnessed I shall attempt to describe. The arc of
delicate green appeared first, and shot upward diverging rays of all the
warm, rich hues of red. They formed a vast crown, outlined with a
delicate halo of fire. A veil of misty green fluttered down from its
base, and, instantly, tiny crowns, composed of every brilliant color,
with a tracery of fire defining every separate one, began to chase one
another back and forth with bewildering rapidity. As the veil swayed to
and fro, it seemed to shake the crowns into skeins of fire, each thread
strung with countless minute globes of every conceivable color and hue.
Those fiery threads, aerial as thistle down, wove themselves in and out
in a tangled mass of gorgeous beauty. Suddenly the beads of color fell
in a shower of gems, topaz and emerald, ruby and sapphire, amethyst and
pearly crystals of dew. I looked upward, where the rays of variegated
colors were sweeping the zenith, and high above the first crown was a
second more vivid still. Myriads of rainbows, the colors broad and
intense, fluttered from its base, the whole outlined by a halo of fire.
It rolled together in a huge scroll, and, in an instant, fell apart a
shower of flakes, minute as snow, but of all the gorgeous, dazzling hues
of earth and sky combined. They disappeared in the mystery of space to
instantly form into a fluttering, waving banner of delicate green mist
and--vanish; only to repeat itself.
The display of the Aurora Borealis was always an exhibition of
astonishing rapidity of motion of intense colors. The most glorious
sunset--where the vapory billows of the sky have caught the bloom of the
dying Autumn--cannot rival it. All the precious gems of earth appear to
have dissolved into mist, to join in a wild and aerial dance. The people
of Mizora attributed it entirely to electricity.
Although the sun never rose or set in Mizora, yet for six months in a
year, that country had the heart of a voluptuous summer. It beat with a
strong, warm pulse of life through all nature. The orchards budded and
bloomed, and mellowed into perfect fruition their luscious globes. The
fields laughed in the warm, rich light, and smiled on the harvest. I
could feel my own blood bound as with a new lease of life at the first
breath of spring.
The winters of Mizora had clouds and rain and sleet and snow, and
sometimes, especially near the circular sea, the fury of an Arctic snow
storm; but so well prepared were they that it became an amusement.
Looking into the chaos of snow flakes, driven hither and thither by
fierce winds, the pedestrians in the street presented no painful
contrast to the luxury of your own room, with its balmy breath and
cheerful flowers. You saw none but what were thoroughly clad, and you
knew that they were hurrying to homes that were bright and attractive,
if not as elegant as yours; where loving welcomes were sure to greet
them and happiness would sit with them at the feast; for the heart that
is pure has always a kingly guest for its company.
A wonderful discovery that the people of Mizora had made was the power
to annihilate space as an impediment to conversation. They claimed that
the atmosphere had regular currents of electricity that were accurately
known to them. They talked to them by means of simply constructed
instruments, and the voice would be as audible and as easily recognized
at three thousand miles distant as at only three feet. Stations were
built similar to our telegraph offices, but on high elevations. I
understood that they could not be used upon the surface. Every private
and public house, however, had communication with the general office,
and could converse with friends at a distance whenever desirable. Public
speakers made constant use of it, but in connection with another
extraordinary apparatus which I regret my inability to perfectly
describe.
I saw it first from the dress circle of a theater. It occupied the whole
rear of the stage, and from where I sat, looked like a solid wall of
polished metal. But it had a wonderful function, for immediately in
front of it, moving, speaking and gesturing, was the figure of a popular
public lecturer, so life-like in appearance that I could scarcely be
convinced that it was only a reflection. Yet such it was, and the
original was addressing an audience in person more than a thousand miles
distant.
It was no common thing for a lecturer to address a dozen or more
audiences at the same time, scattered over an area of thousands of
miles, and every one listening to and observing what appeared to be the
real speaker. In fact, public speakers in Mizora never traveled on pure
professional business. It was not necessary. They prepared a room in
their own dwelling with the needful apparatus, and at the time specified
delivered a lecture in twenty different cities.
I was so interested in this very remarkable invention that I made
vigorous mental exertions to comprehend it sufficiently to explain its
mechanism and philosophical principles intelligently; but I can only say
that it was one of the wonders those people produced with electricity.
The mechanism was simple, but the science of its construction and
workings I could not comprehend. The grasp of my mind was not broad
enough. The instrument that transmitted the voice was entirely separate.
I must not neglect to mention that all kinds of public entertainments,
such as operas, concerts and dramas, could be and were repeated to
audiences at a distance from where the real transaction was taking
place. I attended a number of operas that were only the reflex of others
that were being presented to audiences far distant.
These repetitions were always marvels of accuracy of vividness.
Small reflecting apparatus were to be found in every dwelling and
business house. It is hardly necessary to state that letter-writing was
an unknown accomplishment in Mizora. The person who desired to converse
with another, no matter how far distant, placed herself in communication
with her two instruments and signaled. Her friend appeared upon the
polished metal surface like the figure in a mirror, and spoke to her
audibly, and looked at her with all the naturalness of reality.
I have frequently witnessed such interviews between Wauna and her
mother, when we were visiting distant cities. It was certainly a more
satisfactory way of communicating than by letter. The small apparatus
used by private families and business houses were not like those used in
public halls and theaters. In the former, the reflection was exactly
similar to the image of a mirror; in the latter, the figure was
projected upon the stage. It required more complicated machinery to
produce, and was not practicable for small families or business houses.
I now learned that on my arrival in Mizora I had been taken to one of
the largest apparatus and put in communication with it. I was informed
by Wauna that I had been exhibited to every college and school in the
country by reflex representation. She said that she and her mother had
seen me distinctly and heard my voice. The latter had been so
uncongenial in accent and tone that she had hesitated about becoming my
instructor on that account. It was my evident appreciation of my
deficiencies as compared to them that had enlisted her sympathy.
Now, in my own country, my voice had attracted attention by its
smoothness and modulation, and I was greatly surprised to hear Wauna
speak of its unmusical tone as really annoying. But then in Mizora there
are no voices but what are sweet enough to charm the birds.
In the journeys that Wauna and I took during the college vacation, we
were constantly meeting strangers, but they never appeared the least
surprised at my dark hair and eyes, which were such a contrast to all
the other hair and eyes to be met with in Mizora, that I greatly
wondered at it until I learned of the power of the reflector. I
requested permission to examine one of the large ones used in a theater,
and it was granted me. Wauna accompanied me and signaled to a friend of
hers. As if by magic a form appeared and moved across the stage. It
bowed to me, smiled and motioned with its hand, to all appearances a
material body. I asked Wauna to approach it, which she did, and passed
her hand through it. There was nothing that resisted her touch, yet I
plainly saw the figure, and recognized it as the perfect representation
of a friend of Wauna's, an actress residing in a distant city. When I
ascended the stage, the figure vanished, and I understood that it could
be visible only at a certain distance from the reflector.
In traveling great distances, or even short ones where great speed was
desired, the Mizoraens used air ships; but only for the transportation
of passengers and the very lightest of freight. Heavy articles could not
be as conveniently carried by them as by railroads. Their railroads were
constructed and conducted on a system so perfect that accidents were
never known. Every engineer had an electric signal attached to the
engine, that could signal a train three miles distant.
The motive power for nearly all engines was compressed air. Electricity,
which was recognized by Mizora scientists as a force of great
intensity, was rarely used as a propelling power on railroads. Its use
was attended by possible danger, but compressed air was not. Electricity
produced the heat that supplied the air ships and railroads with that
very necessary comfort. In case there should be an accident, as a
collision, or thrown from the track, heat could not be a source of
danger when furnished by electricity. But I never heard of a railroad
accident during the whole fifteen years that I spent in Mizora.
Air-ships, however, were not exempt from danger, although the
precautions against it were ingenious and carefully observed. The Mizora
people could tell the approach of a storm, and the exact time it would
arrive. They had signal stations established for the purpose, all over
the country.
But, though they were skilled mechanics, and far in advance of my own
world, and the limits of my comprehension in their scientific
discoveries and appliances, they had not yet discovered the means of
subduing the elements, or driving unharmed through their fury. When
nature became convulsed with passion, they guarded themselves against
it, but did not endeavor to thwart it.
Their air-ships were covered, and furnished with luxurious seats. The
whole upper part of the car was composed of very thin glass. They
traveled with, to me, astonishing rapidity. Towns and cities flew away
beneath us like birds upon the wing. I grew frightened and apprehensive,
but Wauna chatted away with her friends with the most charming
unconcern.
I was looking down, when I perceived, by the increasing size of objects
below, that we were descending. The conductor entered almost
immediately, and announced that we were going down to escape an
approaching storm. A signal had been received and the ship was at once
lowered.
I felt intensely relieved to step again on solid earth, and hoped I
might escape another trial of the upper regions. But after waiting until
the storm was over we again entered the ship. I was ashamed to refuse
when everyone else showed no fear.
In waiting for the storm to pass we were delayed so long that our
journey could have been performed almost as speedily by rail. I wondered
why they had not invented some means by which they could drive through a
tempest in perfect safety. As usual, I addressed my inquiries to Wauna.
She answered:
"So frail a thing as an air-ship must necessarily be, when compared with
the strength of a storm, is like a leaf in the wind. We have not yet
discovered, and we have but little expectation of discovering, any means
by which we can defy the storms that rage in the upper deeps.
"The electricity that we use for heat is also a source of danger during
a storm. Our policy is to evade a peril we cannot control or destroy.
Hence, when we receive a signal that a storm is approaching we get out
of its way. Our railroad carriages, having no danger to fear from them,
ride right through the storm."
The people of Mizora, I perceived, possessed a remarkable acuteness of
vision. They could see the odor emanating from flowers and fruit. They
described it to me as resembling attenuated mist. They also named other
colors in the solar spectrum than those known to me. When I first heard
them speak of them, I thought it a freak of the imagination; but I
afterward noticed artists, and persons who had a special taste for
colors, always detected them with greater readiness. The presence of
these new colors were apparent to all with whom I spoke upon the
subject. When I mentioned my own inability to discern them, Wauna said
that it was owning to my inferior mental development.
"A child," she said, "if you will observe, is first attracted by red,
the most glaring color known. The untutored mind will invariably select
the gaudiest colors for personal adornment. It is the gentle, refined
taste of civilization that chooses the softened hues and colors."
"But you, as a nation, are remarkable for rich warm colors in your
houses and often in your dress," I said.
"But they are never glaring," she replied. "If you will notice, the most
intense colors are always so arranged as to present a halo, instead of
sharply defined brilliancy. If a gorgeous color is worn as a dress, it
will be covered with filmy lace. You have spoken of the splendor of the
Aurora Borealis. It is nature's most gorgeous robe, and intense as the
primal colors are, they are never glaring. They glow in a film of vapor.
We have made them our study. Art, with us, has never attempted to
supercede nature."
The sense of smell was also exceedingly sensitive with the Mizora
people. They detected odors so refined that I was not aware of them. I
have often seen a chemist take a bottle of perfumery and name its
ingredients from the sense of smell only. No one appeared surprised at
the bluntness of my senses. When I spoke of this Wauna tried to explain
it.
"We are a more delicately organized race of beings than you are. Our
intellects, and even sense that we possess, is of a higher and finer
development. We have some senses that you do not possess, and are unable
to comprehend their exquisite delicacy. One of them I shall endeavor to
explain to you by describing it as impression. We possess it in a highly
refined state, both mentally and physically. Our sensitiveness to
changes of temperature, I have noticed, is more marked than yours. It is
acute with all of my people. For this reason, although we are free from
disease, our bodies could not sustain, as readily as yours could, a
sudden and severe shock to their normal temperature, such as a marked
change in the atmosphere would occasion. We are, therefore, extremely
careful to be always appropriately clothed. That is a physical
impression. It is possessed by you also, but more obtusely.
"Our sensitiveness to mental pleasure and pain you would pronounce
morbid on account of its intensity. The happiness we enjoy in the
society of those who are congenial, or near and dear to us through
family ties, is inconceivable to you. The touch of my mother's hand
carries a thrill of rapture with it.
"We feel, intuitively, the happiness or disappointment of those we are
with. Our own hopes impress us with their fulfillment or frustration,
before we know what will actually occur. This feeling is entirely
mental, but it is evidence of a highly refined mentality. We could not
be happy unless surrounded, as we are, by cultivated and elegant
pleasures. They are real necessities to us.
"Our appreciation of music, I notice, has a more exquisite delicacy than
yours. You desire music, but it is the simpler operas that delight you
most. Those fine and delicate harmonies that we so intensely enjoy, you
appear incapable of appreciating."
I have previously spoken of their elegance in dress, and their fondness
for luxury and magnificence. On occasions of great ceremony their
dresses were furnished with very long trains. The only prominent
difference that I saw in their state dresses, and the rare and costly
ones I had seen in my own and other countries, was in the waist. As the
women of Mizora admired a large waist, their dresses were generally
loose and flowing. Ingenuity, however, had fashioned them into graceful
and becoming outlines. On occasions of great state and publicity,
comfortably fitting girdles confined the dress at the waist.
I attended the Inaugural of a Professor of Natural History in the
National College. The one who had succeeded to this honor was widely
celebrated for her erudition. It was known that the ceremony would be a
grand affair, and thousands attended it.
I there witnessed another of these marvelous achievements in science
that were constantly surprising me in Mizora. The inauguration took
place in a large hall, the largest I had ever seen. It would accommodate
two hundred thousand people, and was filled to repletion. I was seated
far back in the audience, and being a little short-sighted anyway, I
expected to be disappointed both in seeing and hearing the ceremonies.
What was my astonishment then, when they began, to discover that I could
see distinctly every object upon the stage, and hear with perfect
accuracy every word that was uttered.
Upon expressing myself to Wauna as being greatly pleased that my
eyesight and hearing had improved so wonderfully and unexpectedly, she
laughed merrily, and asked me if I had noticed a curious looking band of
polished steel that curved outward from the proscenium, and encircled
its entire front? I had noticed it, but supposed it to be connected with
some different arrangement they might have made concerning the
footlights. Wauna informed me that I owed my improved hearing to that.
"But my eyesight," I asked, "how do you account for its unusual
penetrativeness?"
"Have you ever noticed some seasons of the year display a noticeably
marked transparency of the atmosphere that revealed objects at great
distances with unusual clearness? Well, we possess a knowledge of air
that enables us to qualify it with that peculiar magnifying condition.
On occasions like this we make use of it. This hall was built after the
discovery, and was specially prepared for its use. It is seldom employed
in smaller halls."
Just then a little flutter of interest upon the stage attracted my
attention, and I saw the candidate for the professorship entering,
accompanied by the Faculty of the National College.
She wore a sea-green velvet robe with a voluminous train. The bottom of
the dress was adorned with a wreath or band of water lilies, embroidered
in seed pearls. A white lace overdress of filmiest texture fell over the
velvet, almost touching the wreath of lilies, and looked as though it
was made of sea foam. A girdle of large pink pearls confined the robe at
the waist. Natural flowers were on her bosom and in her hair.
The stage was superbly decorated with flowers and shells. A large chair,
constructed of beautiful shells and cushioned with green velvet, rested
upon a dais of coral. It was the chair of honor. Behind it was a curtain
of sea-moss. I afterward learned that the moss was attached to a film of
glass too delicate to detect without handling.
In the midst of these charming surroundings stood the applicant for
honor. Her deep blue eyes glowed with the joy of triumph. On the
delicate cheek and lip burned the carmine hue of perfect health. The
golden hair even seemed to have caught a brighter lustre in its coiled
masses. The uplifted hand and arm no marble goddess could have matched,
for this had the color and charm of life. As she stood revealed by the
strong light that fell around her, every feature ennobled with the glory
of intellect, she appeared to me a creature of unearthly loveliness, as
something divine.
I spoke to Wauna of the rare beauty and elegance of her dress.
"She looks like a fabled Naiad just risen from the deep," was my
criticism on her.
"Her dress," answered Wauna, "is intended to be emblematical of Nature.
The sea-green robe, the water lilies of pearls, the foamy lace are all
from Nature's Cradle of Life."
"How poetical!" I exclaimed.
But then Mizora is full of that charming skill that blends into perfect
harmony the beautiful and useful in life.