GABRIEL CRASWELLER.
I will now begin my tale. It is above thirty years since I commenced
my agitation in Britannula. We were a small people, and had not
then been blessed by separation; but we were, I think, peculiarly
intelligent. We were the very cream, as it were, that had been
skimmed from the milk-pail of the people of a wider colony,
themselves gifted with more than ordinary intelligence. We were the
_élite_ of the selected population of New Zealand. I think I may say
that no race so well informed ever before set itself down to form a
new nation. I am now nearly sixty years old,--very nearly fit for the
college which, alas! will never be open for me,--and I was nearly
thirty when I began to be in earnest as to the Fixed Period. At
that time my dearest friend and most trusted coadjutor was Gabriel
Crasweller. He was ten years my senior then, and is now therefore
fit for deposition in the college were the college there to receive
him. He was one of those who brought with them merino sheep into the
colony. At great labour and expense he exported from New Zealand a
small flock of choice animals, with which he was successful from the
first. He took possession of the lands of Little Christchurch, five
or six miles from Gladstonopolis, and showed great judgment in the
selection. A prettier spot, as it turned out, for the fattening of
both beef and mutton and for the growth of wool, it would have been
impossible to have found. Everything that human nature wants was
there at Little Christchurch. The streams which watered the land were
bright and rapid, and always running. The grasses were peculiarly
rich, and the old English fruit-trees, which we had brought with
us from New Zealand, throve there with an exuberant fertility, of
which the mother country, I am told, knows nothing. He had imported
pheasants' eggs, and salmon-spawn, and young deer, and black-cock
and grouse, and those beautiful little Alderney cows no bigger than
good-sized dogs, which, when milked, give nothing but cream. All
these things throve with him uncommonly, so that it may be declared
of him that his lines had fallen in pleasant places. But he had
no son; and therefore in discussing with him, as I did daily, the
question of the Fixed Period, I promised him that it should be my lot
to deposit him in the sacred college when the day of his withdrawal
should have come. He had been married before we left New Zealand, and
was childless when he made for himself and his wife his homestead at
Little Christchurch. But there, after a few years, a daughter was
born to him, and I ought to have remembered, when I promised to him
that last act of friendship, that it might become the duty of that
child's husband to do for him with filial reverence the loving work
which I had undertaken to perform.
Many and most interesting were the conversations held between
Crasweller and myself on the great subject which filled our hearts.
He undoubtedly was sympathetic, and took delight in expatiating on
all those benefits that would come to the world from the race of
mankind which knew nothing of the debility of old age. He saw the
beauty of the theory as well as did I myself, and would speak often
of the weakness of that pretended tenderness which would fear to
commence a new operation in regard to the feelings of the men and
women of the old world. "Can any man love another better than I do
you?" I would say to him with energy; "and yet would I scruple for a
moment to deposit you in the college when the day had come? I should
lead you in with that perfect reverence which it is impossible
that the young should feel for the old when they become feeble and
incapable." I doubt now whether he relished these allusions to his
own seclusion. He would run away from his own individual case, and
generalise widely about some future time. And when the time for
voting came, he certainly did vote for seventy-five. But I took no
offence at his vote. Gabriel Crasweller was almost my dearest friend,
and as his girl grew up it was a matter of regret to me that my only
son was not quite old enough to be her husband.
Eva Crasweller was, I think, the most perfect piece I ever beheld of
youthful feminine beauty. I have not yet seen those English beauties
of which so much is said in their own romances, but whom the
young men from New York and San Francisco who make their way to
Gladstonopolis do not seem to admire very much. Eva was perfect in
symmetry, in features, in complexion, and in simplicity of manners.
All languages are the same to her; but that accomplishment has become
so common in Britannula that but little is thought of it. I do not
know whether she ravished our ears most with the old-fashioned piano
and the nearly obsolete violin, or with the modern mousometor, or the
more perfect melpomeneon. It was wonderful to hear the way with which
she expressed herself at the meeting held about the rising buildings
of the college when she was only sixteen. But I think she touched me
most with just a roly-poly pudding which she made with her own fair
hands for our dinner one Sunday at Little Christchurch. And once when
I saw her by chance take a kiss from her lover behind the door, I
felt that it was a pity indeed that a man should ever become old.
Perhaps, however, in the eyes of some her brightest charm lay in the
wealth which her father possessed. His sheep had greatly increased in
number; the valleys were filled with his cattle; and he could always
sell his salmon for half-a-crown a pound and his pheasants for
seven-and-sixpence a brace. Everything had thriven with Crasweller,
and everything must belong to Eva as soon as he should have been led
into the college. Eva's mother was now dead, and no other child had
been born. Crasweller had also embarked his money largely in the wool
trade, and had become a sleeping-partner in the house of Grundle &
Grabbe. He was an older man by ten years than either of his partners,
but yet Grundle's eldest son Abraham was older than Eva when
Crasweller lent his money to the firm. It was soon known who was to
be the happiest man in the empire. It was young Abraham, by whom Eva
was kissed behind the door that Sunday when we ate the roly-poly
pudding. Then she came into the room, and, with her eyes raised to
heaven, and with a halo of glory almost round her head as she poured
forth her voice, she touched the mousometor, and gave us the Old
Hundredth psalm.
She was a fine girl at all points, and had been quite alive to the
dawn of the Fixed Period system. But at this time, on the memorable
occasion of the eating of that dinner, it first began to strike me
that my friend Crasweller was getting very near his Fixed Period, and
it occurred to me to ask myself questions as to what might be the
daughter's wishes. It was the state of her feelings rather that would
push itself into my mind. Quite lately he had said nothing about
it,--nor had she. On that Sunday morning when he and his girl were
at church,--for Crasweller had stuck to the old habit of saying his
prayers in a special place on a special day,--I had discussed the
matter with young Grundle. Nobody had been into the college as yet.
Three or four had died naturally, but Crasweller was about to be
the first. We were arranging that he should be attended by pleasant
visitors till within the last week or two, and I was making special
allusion to the law which required that he should abandon all control
of his property immediately on his entering the college. "I suppose
he would do that," said Grundle, expressing considerable interest by
the tone of his voice.
"Oh, certainly," said I; "he must do that in accordance with the
law. But he can make his will up to the very moment in which he is
deposited." He had then about twelve months to run. I suppose there
was not a man or woman in the community who was not accurately aware
of the very day of Crasweller's birth. We had already introduced the
habit of tattooing on the backs of the babies the day on which they
were born; and we had succeeded in operating also on many of the
children who had come into the world before the great law. Some there
were who would not submit on behalf of themselves or their children;
and we did look forward to some little confusion in this matter. A
register had of course been commenced, and there were already those
who refused to state their exact ages; but I had been long on the
lookout for this, and had a little book of my own in which were
inscribed the "periods" of all those who had come to Britannula with
us; and since I had first thought of the Fixed Period I had been very
careful to note faithfully the births as they occurred. The reader
will see how important, as time went on, it would become to have an
accurate record, and I already then feared that there might be some
want of fidelity after I myself had been deposited. But my friend
Crasweller was the first on the list, and there was no doubt in the
empire as to the exact day on which he was born. All Britannula knew
that he would be the first, and that he was to be deposited on the
13th of June 1980. In conversation with my friend I had frequently
alluded to the very day,--to the happy day, as I used to call it
before I became acquainted with his actual feelings,--and he never
ventured to deny that on that day he would become sixty-seven.
I have attempted to describe his daughter Eva, and I must say a word
as to the personal qualities of her father. He too was a remarkably
handsome man, and though his hair was beautifully white, had fewer of
the symptoms of age than any old man I had before known. He was tall,
robust, and broad, and there was no beginning even of a stoop about
him. He spoke always clearly and audibly, and he was known for the
firm voice with which he would perform occasionally at some of our
decimal readings. We had fixed our price at a decimal in order that
the sum so raised might be used for the ornamentation of the college.
Our population at Gladstonopolis was so thriving that we found it
as easy to collect ten pennies as one. At these readings Gabriel
Crasweller was the favourite performer, and it had begun to be
whispered by some caitiffs who would willingly disarrange the whole
starry system for their own immediate gratification, that Crasweller
should not be deposited because of the beauty of his voice. And then
the difficulty was somewhat increased by the care and precision with
which he attended to his own business. He was as careful as ever
about his flocks, and at shearing-time would stand all day in the
wool-shed to see to the packing of his wool and the marking of his
bales.
"It would be a pity," said to me a Britannulist one day,--a man
younger than myself,--"to lock up old Crasweller, and let the
business go into the hands of young Grundle. Young Grundle will
never know half as much about sheep, in spite of his conceit; and
Crasweller is a deal fitter for his work than for living idle in the
college till you shall put an end to him."
There was much in these words which made me very angry. According to
this man's feelings, the whole system was to be made to suit itself
to the peculiarities of one individual constitution. A man who so
spoke could have known nothing of the general beauty of the Fixed
Period. And he had alluded to the manner of depositing in most
disrespectful terms. I had felt it to be essentially necessary so to
maintain the dignity of the ceremony as to make it appear as unlike
an execution as possible. And this depositing of Crasweller was to be
the first, and should--according to my own intentions--be attended
with a peculiar grace and reverence. "I don't know what you call
locking up," said I, angrily. "Had Mr Crasweller been about to be
dragged to a felon's prison, you could not have used more opprobrious
language; and as to putting an end to him, you must, I think, be
ignorant of the method proposed for adding honour and glory to the
last moments in this world of those dear friends whose happy lot it
will be to be withdrawn from the world's troubles amidst the love
and veneration of their fellow-subjects." As to the actual mode of
transition, there had been many discussions held by the executive in
President Square, and it had at last been decided that certain veins
should be opened while the departing one should, under the influence
of morphine, be gently entranced within a warm bath. I, as president
of the empire, had agreed to use the lancet in the first two or three
cases, thereby intending to increase the honours conferred. Under
these circumstances I did feel the sting bitterly when he spoke of my
putting "an end" to him. "But you have not," I said, "at all realised
the feeling of the ceremony. A few ill-spoken words, such as these
you have just uttered, will do us more harm in the minds of many than
all your voting will have done good." In answer to this he merely
repeated his observation that Crasweller was a very bad specimen to
begin with. "He has got ten years of work in him," said my friend,
"and yet you intend to make away with him without the slightest
compunction."
Make away with him! What an expression to use,--and this from the
mouth of one who had been a determined Fixed-Periodist! It angered
me to think that men should be so little reasonable as to draw
deductions as to an entire system from a single instance. Crasweller
might in truth be strong and hearty at the Fixed Period. But that
period had been chosen with reference to the community at large; and
what though he might have to depart a year or two before he was worn
out, still he would do so with everything around him to make him
happy, and would depart before he had ever known the agony of a
headache. Looking at the entire question with the eyes of reason,
I could not but tell myself that a better example of a triumphant
beginning to our system could not have been found. But yet there
was in it something unfortunate. Had our first hero been compelled
to abandon his business by old age--had he become doting over its
details--parsimonious, or extravagant, or even short-sighted in his
speculations--public feeling, than which nothing is more ignorant,
would have risen in favour of the Fixed Period. "How true is the
president's reasoning," the people would have said. "Look at
Crasweller; he would have ruined Little Christchurch had he stayed
there much longer." But everything he did seemed to prosper; and
it occurred to me at last that he forced himself into abnormal
sprightliness, with a view of bringing disgrace upon the law of
the Fixed Period. If there were any such feeling, I regard it as
certainly mean.
On the day after the dinner at which Eva's pudding was eaten, Abraham
Grundle came to me at the Executive Hall, and said that he had a few
things to discuss with me of importance. Abraham was a good-looking
young man, with black hair and bright eyes, and a remarkably handsome
moustache; and he was one well inclined to business, in whose hands
the firm of Grundle, Grabbe, & Crasweller was likely to thrive; but
I myself had never liked him much. I had thought him to be a little
wanting in that reverence which he owed to his elders, and to be,
moreover, somewhat over-fond of money. It had leaked out that though
he was no doubt attached to Eva Crasweller, he had thought quite as
much of Little Christchurch; and though he could kiss Eva behind
the door, after the ways of young men, still he was more intent
on the fleeces than on her lips. "I want to say a word to you, Mr
President," he began, "upon a subject that disturbs my conscience
very much."
"Your conscience?" said I.
"Yes, Mr President. I believe you're aware that I am engaged to marry
Miss Crasweller?"
It may be as well to explain here that my own eldest son, as fine a
boy as ever delighted a mother's eye, was only two years younger than
Eva, and that my wife, Mrs Neverbend, had of late got it into her
head that he was quite old enough to marry the girl. It was in vain
that I told her that all that had been settled while Jack was still
at the didascalion. He had been Colonel of the Curriculum, as they
now call the head boy; but Eva had not then cared for Colonels of
Curriculums, but had thought more of young Grundle's moustache. My
wife declared that all that was altered,--that Jack was, in fact,
a much more manly fellow than Abraham with his shiny bit of beard;
and that if one could get at a maiden's heart, we should find that
Eva thought so. In answer to this I bade her hold her tongue, and
remember that in Britannula a promise was always held to be as good
as a bond. "I suppose a young woman may change her mind in Britannula
as well as elsewhere," said my wife. I turned all this over in my
mind, because the slopes of Little Christchurch are very alluring,
and they would all belong to Eva so soon. And then it would be well,
as I was about to perform for Crasweller so important a portion of
his final ceremony, our close intimacy should be drawn still nearer
by a family connection. I did think of it; but then it occurred to
me that the girl's engagement to young Grundle was an established
fact, and it did not behove me to sanction the breach of a contract.
"Oh yes," said I to the young man, "I am aware that there is an
understanding to that effect between you and Eva's father."
"And between me and Eva, I can assure you."
Having observed the kiss behind the door on the previous day, I could
not deny the truth of this assertion.
"It is quite understood," continued Abraham, "and I had always
thought that it was to take place at once, so that Eva might get used
to her new life before her papa was deposited."
To this I merely bowed my head, as though to signify that it was a
matter with which I was not personally concerned. "I had taken it for
granted that my old friend would like to see his daughter settled,
and Little Christchurch put into his daughter's hands before he
should bid adieu to his own sublunary affairs," I remarked, when I
found that he paused.
"We all thought so up at the warehouse," said he,--"I and father,
and Grabbe, and Postlecott, our chief clerk. Postlecott is the next
but three on the books, and is getting very melancholy. But he is
especially anxious just at present to see how Crasweller bears it."
"What has all that to do with Eva's marriage?"
"I suppose I might marry her. But he hasn't made any will."
"What does that matter? There is nobody to interfere with Eva."
"But he might go off, Mr Neverbend," whispered Grundle; "and where
should I be then? If he was to get across to Auckland, or to Sydney,
and to leave some one to manage the property for him, what could
you do? That's what I want to know. The law says that he shall be
deposited on a certain day."
"He will become as nobody in the eye of the law," said I, with all
the authority of a President.
"But if he and his daughter have understood each other; and if some
deed be forthcoming by which Little Christchurch shall have been left
to trustees; and if he goes on living at Sydney, let us say, on the
fat of the land,--drawing all the income, and leaving the trustees as
legal owners,--where should I be then?"
"In that case," said I, having taken two or three minutes for
consideration,--"in that case, I presume the property would be
confiscated by law, and would go to his natural heir. Now if his
natural heir be then your wife, it will be just the same as though
the property were yours." Young Grundle shook his head. "I don't know
what more you would want. At any rate, there is no more for you to
get." I confess that at that moment the idea of my boy's chance of
succeeding with the heiress did present itself to my mind. According
to what my wife had said, Jack would have jumped at the girl with
just what she stood up in; and had sworn to his mother, when he had
been told that morning about the kiss behind the door, that he would
knock that brute's head off his shoulders before many days were gone
by. Looking at the matter merely on behalf of Jack, it appeared to
me that Little Christchurch would, in that case, be quite safe, let
Crasweller be deposited,--or run away to Sydney.
"You do not know for certain about the confiscation of the property,"
said Abraham.
"I've told you as much, Mr Grundle, as it is fit that you should
know," I replied, with severity. "For the absolute condition of the
law you must look in the statute-book, and not come to the President
of the empire."
Abraham Grundle then departed. I had assumed an angry air, as though
I were offended with him, for troubling me on a matter by referring
simply to an individual. But he had in truth given rise to very
serious and solemn thoughts. Could it be that Crasweller, my own
confidential friend--the man to whom I had trusted the very secrets
of my soul on this important matter,--could it be that he should be
unwilling to be deposited when the day had come? Could it be that
he should be anxious to fly from his country and her laws, just as
the time had arrived when those laws might operate upon him for the
benefit of that country? I could not think that he was so vain, so
greedy, so selfish, and so unpatriotic. But this was not all. Should
he attempt to fly, could we prevent his flying? And if he did fly,
what step should we take next? The Government of New South Wales was
hostile to us on the very matter of the Fixed Period, and certainly
would not surrender him in obedience to any law of extradition. And
he might leave his property to trustees who would manage it on his
behalf; although, as far as Britannula was concerned, he would be
beyond the reach of law, and regarded even as being without the pale
of life. And if he, the first of the Fixed-Periodists, were to run
away, the fashion of so running would become common. We should thus
be rid of our old men, and our object would be so far attained. But
looking forward, I could see at a glance that if one or two wealthy
members of our community were thus to escape, it would be almost
impossible to carry out the law with reference to those who should
have no such means. But that which vexed me most was that Gabriel
Crasweller should desire to escape,--that he should be anxious to
throw over the whole system to preserve the poor remnant of his life.
If he would do so, who could be expected to abstain? If he should
prove false when the moment came, who would prove true? And he, the
first, the very first on our list! Young Grundle had now left me,
and as I sat thinking of it I was for a moment tempted to abandon
the Fixed Period altogether. But as I remained there in silent
meditation, better thoughts came to me. Had I dared to regard myself
as the foremost spirit of my age, and should I thus be turned back
by the human weakness of one poor creature who had not sufficiently
collected the strength of his heart to be able to look death in the
face and to laugh him down. It was a difficulty--a difficulty the
more. It might be the crushing difficulty which would put an end to
the system as far as my existence was concerned. But I bethought
me how many early reformers had perished in their efforts, and how
seldom it had been given to the first man to scale the walls of
prejudice, and force himself into the citadel of reason. But they had
not yielded when things had gone against them; and though they had
not brought their visions down to the palpable touch of humanity,
still they had persevered, and their efforts had not been altogether
lost to the world.
"So it shall be with me," said I. "Though I may never live to deposit
a human being within that sanctuary, and though I may be doomed by
the foolish prejudice of men to drag out a miserable existence amidst
the sorrows and weakness of old age; though it may never be given to
me to feel the ineffable comforts of a triumphant deposition,--still
my name will be handed down to coming ages, and I shall be spoken of
as the first who endeavoured to save grey hairs from being brought
with sorrow to the grave."
I am now writing on board H.M. gunboat John Bright,--for the
tyrannical slaves of a modern monarch have taken me in the flesh
and are carrying me off to England, so that, as they say, all
that nonsense of a Fixed Period may die away in Britannula. They
think,--poor ignorant fighting men,--that such a theory can be made
to perish because one individual shall have been mastered. But no!
The idea will still live, and in ages to come men will prosper and be
strong, and thrive, unpolluted by the greed and cowardice of second
childhood, because John Neverbend was at one time President of
Britannula.
It occurred to me then, as I sat meditating over the tidings conveyed
to me by Abraham Grundle, that it would be well that I should see
Crasweller, and talk to him freely on the subject. It had sometimes
been that by my strength I had reinvigorated his halting courage.
This suggestion that he might run away as the day of his deposition
drew nigh,--or rather, that others might run away,--had been the
subject of some conversation between him and me. "How will it be," he
had said, "if they mizzle?" He had intended to allude to the possible
premature departure of those who were about to be deposited.
"Men will never be so weak," I said.
"I suppose you'd take all their property?"
"Every stick of it."
"But property is a thing which can be conveyed away."
"We should keep a sharp look-out upon themselves. There might be a
writ, you know, _ne exeant regno_. If we are driven to a pinch, that
will be the last thing to do. But I should be sorry to be driven to
express my fear of human weakness by any general measure of that
kind. It would be tantamount to an accusation of cowardice against
the whole empire."
Crasweller had only shaken his head. But I had understood him to
shake it on the part of the human race generally, and not on his own
behalf.