THE CRATER LAND.
A man of dignified and venerable mien stepped from the crowd, and
followed by a train of youths and maidens, each bearing a vase or a tray
of fruit and flowers, came towards the car. While yet some ten or twelve
paces distant he stopped, and saluted Gazen and myself by lifting his
hands gracefully in the air, and bowing his head. After we had
acknowledged his greeting with due respect, he addressed us, speaking
fluently, and in a reverent, not to say a humble tone; but his words,
being entirely strange to our ears, we could only shake our heads with a
baffled smile, and reply in English that we did not understand. On this
a look of doubt and wonder passed over his face, and pointing, first to
the car, then to the sky, he seemed to enquire whether we had not
dropped from the clouds. We nodded our assent, and the astronomer,
indicating the Earth, which was now shining in the east as a beautiful
green star, endeavoured to let him know by signs that we had come from
there.
The countenance of our host seemed to brighten again, and, saluting us
with a profound obeisance, he said a few words to the attendants, who
advanced to the car, and sinking upon their knees proffered us their
charming tribute.
"Good!" exclaimed Gazen, testifying his delight and manifesting his
gratitude by an elaborate pantomime.
I am afraid his performance must have appeared slightly ludicrous to the
Venusians, for one or two of the younger girls had some difficulty in
keeping their gravity. On a hint from the Elder the young people retired
to their places, leaving their offerings upon the ground.
"They don't intend to starve us at all events," muttered Gazen to me, in
an undertone. "The very fragrance of these fruits entices a man to eat
them; but will they agree with our stomachs? Notwithstanding my
scientific curiosity, and my natural appetite, I am quite willing to let
you and Carmichael try them first."
Having found the value of gestures in our intercourse, the Elder leaned
his head on one hand, and pointed with the other to a large house at
the upper end of the square. His meaning was plain; but as we had
already made up our minds to stay in the car, at all events until we had
looked about us, Gazen signified as much by energetic but indescribable
actions, and further contrived to intimate that we were all thoroughly
tired and worn out with our voyage.
The Senior politely took the hint, and repeating his courteous salute,
withdrew from our presence, accompanied by his followers.
"I told you so!" cried Miss Carmichael, when Gazen and I re-entered the
car. "They are treating us like superior beings."
"It shows their good sense," replied Gazen, and even as he spoke a
strain of heavenly music rose from the assembled multitude, and
gradually died away as they departed to their homes.
We could not sufficiently admire the beauty and fragrance of the flowers
and fruit, or the exquisite workmanship of the vases they had brought.
What struck us most was the lovely iridescence which they all displayed
in different lights. The vases in particular seemed to be carved out of
living opals, yet each was large enough to contain several pints of
liquor. Miss Carmichael decorated the dinner-table with a selection from
the trays, but although we found the fruits and beverages delicious to
the taste, we prudently partook very sparingly of them.
After dinner we all went outside to enjoy the cool evening breeze, but
without actually leaving the car. It was hardly dusk, only a kind of
twilight or gloaming, and it did not seem to grow any darker. Yet
innumerable fire-flies, bright as glow-lamps, and of every hue, were
flashing like diamonds against the whispering foliage of the trees.
With the exception of an occasional group or a solitary who stopped
awhile to look at the car and then passed on, the square was deserted;
but the dwellings around it were lighted up, and being of a very open
construction, we could see into them, and hear the voices of the inmates
feasting and making merry. Needless to say that everything we observed
was interesting to us, for it was all strange; but we were so much
exhausted with excitement that we were fain to go to bed.
Next day the professor and I, obeying a common impulse of travellers,
got up early and went forth to survey our new quarters. It was a
splendid morning, the whole atmosphere steeped in sunshine, and musical
with the songs of birds. The big sun was peeping over the distant wall
of the crater, but we did not feel his rays uncomfortably hot. A sky of
the loveliest azure was streaked with thin white clouds, drawn across it
like muslin curtains, and a cooling breeze played gently upon the skin.
The dewy air, so spring-like, fresh and sweet, was a positive pleasure
to breathe, and we both felt the intoxication, the rapture of life, as
we had never felt it since our boyhood. The grass underfoot was green as
emerald, and soft as velvet; fountains were flashing in the sunshine,
statues gleaming amongst the flowering trees, and birds of brilliant
plumage glancing everywhere.
The square opened on the lake, and afforded us a magnificent view of the
island. It was conical in shape, and the peak, no doubt, of an old
volcanic vent. I should say it was at least a thousand feet in height;
the sides were a veritable "hanging garden," wild and luxuriant; and the
summit was crowned by a glittering mass of domes, minarets, and spires.
Numbers of people, old and young, were bathing along the beach, and
swimming, diving, and splashing each other in the water with innocent
glee. Large birds, resembling swans, double the size of ours, and of
pale blue, rose, yellow, and green, as well as white plumage, were
floating in and out, and some of the children were riding on their
backs. Fantastic boats, with carved and painted prows, might be seen
crossing the lake in all directions, some under sail, and others with
rowers, keeping stroke to the rhythm of their songs. The shores of the
lake, sloping quietly to the waterside, were covered more or less
thickly with the houses and gardens of the city, and far in the
distance, perhaps fifty, perhaps a hundred miles away, the view was
bounded by the dim and ruddy precipice of the crater wall.
Regaling our eyes on the beautiful prospect, and our lungs on the pure
atmosphere, we wandered along the beach, ever and anon pausing to admire
the strange forms and beautiful colouring of the shells and seaweeds, or
to pick up a rare pebble, then shie it away again, little thinking that
it might have been a ruby, sapphire, or topaz, worth a king's ransom on
the earth. At length the way was barred by the mouth of a broad river,
and after a refreshing plunge in the lake, we returned home to
breakfast.
During our absence Carmichael had been visited by our venerable host of
the evening, whose name was Dinus, and a young man called Otāré, who
turned out to be his son. They had brought a fresh supply of dainties,
and what was still more important, some pictorial dictionaries and
drawings which would enable us to learn their language. As the structure
of it was simple, and the vocabulary not very copious, and as we also
enjoyed the tuition of the young man, who was devoted to our service,
and conducted us in most of our walks abroad, at the end of a fortnight
we could maintain a conversation with tolerable fluency.
In the meanwhile, and afterwards, we learned a good deal about the
country, and the manners and customs of its inhabitants. Womla, or
Woom-la, which means the "bowl" or hollow-land, is evidently the crater
of an extinct volcano of enormous dimensions, such as are believed to
exist upon the moon. It belongs to an archipelago of similar islands,
which are widely scattered over a vast ocean in this part of Venus, but
is, we were told, far distant from the nearest of them. The climate may
be described as a perpetual spring and summer, with a sky nearly always
serene, and of a beautiful azure blue, veiled with soft and fleecy
clouds.
Thanks to the lofty walls of the crater, which penetrate the clouds and
condense their moisture, the land is watered with many streams. These
flow into the central lake, which discharges into the surrounding ocean
by a rift or chasm in the mountain side. Moreover, there are frequent
showers, and heavy dews by night, to refresh the surface of the ground.
Thunderstorms occur on the tops of the mountain and in the open sea;
but very seldom within the enchanted girdle of the crater. The air is
remarkably pure, sweet, and exhilarating, owing doubtless to the high
percentage of oxygen it contains, and the absence of foreign matter,
such as microbes, dust, and obnoxious fumes. In fact, we all felt a
distinct improvement in our health and spirits, a kind of mental
intoxication which was really more than a rejuvenescence. Nor was the
heat very trying, even in the middle of the day, because although the
sun was twice as large as on the earth, he did not rise far above the
horizon, and cooling breezes blew from the chilled summit of the cliffs.
The vegetation seems to go on budding, flowering, and fruiting
perpetually, as in the Elysian Fields of Homer, where
"Joys ever young, unmixed with pain or fear,
Fill the wide circle of the eternal year:
Stern winter smiles on that auspicious clime
The fields are florid with unfading prime;
From the bleak Pole no winds inclement blow,
Mould the round hail, or flake the fleecy snow;
But from the breezy deep the blessèd inhale,
The fragrant murmurs of the western gale."
The mysterious behaviour of the sun was a great puzzle to our
astronomer. I have said that he rose very little above the horizon, or
in other words the lip of the crater, as might be expected from our high
southern latitude; but we soon found that he always rose and sank at the
same place. In the morning he peeped above the cliffs, and in the
evening he dipped again behind them, leaving a twilight or gloaming (I
can scarcely call it dusk), which continued throughout the night. From
his fixity in azimuth, Gazen concluded that Schiaparelli, the famous
Italian observer, was right in supposing that Venus takes as long to
turn about her own axis as she does to go round the sun, and that as a
consequence she always presents the same side to her luminary. All that
we heard from the natives tended to confirm this view. They told us that
far away to the east and west of Womla there was a desert land, covered
with snow and ice, on which the sun never shone. We also gathered that
the sun rises to a greater and lesser height above the cliffs
alternately, thus producing a succession of warmer and cooler seasons; a
fact which agrees with Schiaparelli's observation that the axis of the
planet sways to and from the sun. Gazen was intensely delighted at this
discovery, partly for its own sake, but mainly, I think, because it
would afford him an opportunity of crushing the celebrated Pettifer
Possil, his professional antagonist, who, it seems, is bitterly opposed
to the doctrines of Schiaparelli. But why did the sun rise and set every
fifteen hours or thereabout, and so make what I have called a "day" and
"night"? Why did he not continue in the same spot, except for the slow
change caused by the nutation or nodding of Venus? Gazen was much
perplexed over this anomaly, and sought an explanation of it in the
refraction of the atmosphere above the cliffs producing an apparent but
not a real motion of the orb.
The territory of Womla may be divided into three zones, namely, a
central plain under cultivation, a belt of undulating hills, kept as a
park or pleasaunce, and a magnificent, nay, a sublime wilderness, next
to the crater wall.
The natural wealth of the country is very great. Some of its productions
resemble and others are different from those of the earth. We saw gold,
silver, copper, tin, and iron, as well as metals which were quite new to
us. Some of these had a purple, blue, or green colour, and emitted a
most agreeable fragrance. There are granites and porphyries, marbles and
petrifactions of the most exquisite grain or tints. Precious stones like
the diamond, ruby, sapphire, topaz, emerald, garnet, opal, turquoise,
and others familiar or unfamiliar to us, fairly abound, and can be
picked up on the shores of the lake. I presume that many of them have
been formed on a large scale in chasms of the rock by the volcanic fumes
of the crater.
What struck us most of all, however, was the prevalence of
phosphorescent minerals which absorbed the sunlight by day, and
glimmered feebly in the dusk. Professor Gazen seems to think that the
presence of snow and clouds, together with these phosphorescent bodies,
may help to account for the mysterious luminosity on the dark side of
Venus.
The vegetation is wonderfully rich, varied, and luxuriant. As a rule,
the foliage is thick and glossy; but while it is green to blackness in
some of the trees, it is parti-coloured or iridescent in others. Many of
the flowers, too, are iridescent, or change their hues from hour to
hour. The beauty and profusion of the flowers is beyond conception, and
some of the loveliest grow on what I should take for palms, ferns,
canes, and grasses. A distant forest or woodland rivals the splendid
plumage of some tropical bird. We heard of "singing flowers," including
a water-lily which bursts open with a musical note, and of many plants
which are sensitive to heat as well as touch, and if Gazen be correct,
to electricity and magnetism. We saw one in a house which was said to
require a change of scene from time to time else it would languish and
die.
The borders of the lakes and ponds teemed with corals, delicate
seaweeds, and lovely shells. Innumerable fishes of gay and brilliant
hues darted and burned in the water like broken rainbows.
Reptiles are not very common, at least, in the cultivated zone; but we
saw a few snakes, tortoises, and lizards, all brightly and harmoniously
marked. One of the snakes was phosphorescent, and one of the lizards
could sit up like a dog, or fly in the air like a swallow. The variety
and beauty of the birds, as well as the charm of their song, exceed all
description. Most of them have iridescent feathers, several are
wingless, and one at least has teeth. The insects are a match for the
birds in point of beauty, if not also in size and musical qualities.
Many of them are luminescent, and omit steady or flashing lights of
every tint all through the night.
There are few large quadrupeds in the country, and so far as we could
learn none of these are predaceous. We saw an animal resembling a deer
on one hand, and a tapir on the other, as well as a kind of toed horse
or hipparion, and a number of domestic pets all strange to us.
The people, according to their tradition, came originally from a
temperate land far across the ocean to the south-east, which is now a
dark and frozen desert. They are a remarkably fine race, probably of
mixed descent, for they found Womla inhabited, and their complexions
vary from a dazzling blonde to an olive-green brunette. They are nearly
all very handsome, both in face and figure, and I should say that many
of them more than realise our ideals of beauty. As a rule, the
countenances of the men are open, frank, and noble; those of the women
are sweet, smiling, and serene. Free of care and trouble, or unaffected
by it, mere existence is a pleasure to them, and not a few appear to
live in a kind of rapture, such as I have seen in the eyes of a young
artist on the earth while regarding a beautiful woman or a glorious
landscape. Their attitudes and movements are full of dignity and grace.
In fact, during my walks abroad, I frequently found myself admiring
their natural groups, and fancying myself in ancient Greece, as depicted
by our modern painters. Their style of beauty is not unlike that of the
old Hellenes, but I doubt whether the delicacy and bloom of their skins
has ever been matched on our planet except, perhaps, in a few favoured
persons.
From some experiments made by Gazen, it would appear that while their
senses of sight and touch are keener, their senses of hearing and also
of heat are rather blunter than ours.
Partly owing to the genial climate, their love of beauty, and their easy
existence, their dress is of a simple and graceful order. Many of their
light robes and shining veils are woven from silky fibres which grow on
the trees, and tinged with beautiful dyes. Bright, witty, and ingenious,
as well as guileless, chaste, and happy, I can only compare them to
grown-up children--but the children of a god-like race. Thanks to the
purity of their blood, and the gentleness of their dispositions,
together with their favourable circumstances, they live almost exempt
from disease, or pain, or crime, and finally die in peace at the good
old age of a hundred or a hundred and fifty years.
Their voices are so pleasing, and their language is so melodious that I
enjoyed hearing their talk before I understood a word of it. Moreover,
their delightful manners evince a rare delicacy of sentiment and
appreciation of the beautiful in life. We foreigners must have been
objects of the liveliest curiosity to them, yet they never showed it in
their conduct; they never stared at us, or stopped to enquire about us,
but courteously saluted us wherever we went, and left us to make
ourselves at home. We never saw an ugly or unbecoming gesture, and we
never heard a rude, unmannerly word all the time we stayed in Womla.
Some of their public buildings are magnificent; but most of their
private houses are pretty one-storied cottages, each more or less
isolated in a big garden, and beyond earshot of the rest. They are
elegant, not to say fanciful constructions of stone and timber,
generally of an oval shape, or at least with rounded outlines; but
sometimes rambling, and varying much in detail. Everyone seems to follow
his particular bent and taste in the fashion of his home. Many of them
have balconies or verandahs, and also terraces on the roof, where the
inmates can sit and enjoy the surrounding view. They are doorless, and
the outer walls are usually open so that one may see inside; but in
stormy weather they are closed by panels of wood, and a translucent
mineral resembling glass. They are divided into rooms by mats and
curtains, or partitions and screens of wood, which are sometimes
decorated with paintings of inimitable beauty. The ceilings are usually
of carved wood, and the floors inlaid with marbles, corals, and the
richer stones. There are no stuffy carpets on the floors, or hangings on
the walls to collect the dust. The light easy furniture is for the most
part made of precious or fragrant woods of divers colours--red, black,
yellow, blue, white, and green. At night the rooms are softly and
agreeably lighted by phosphorescent tablets, or lamps of glow-worms and
fire-flies in crystal vases.
The dishes and utensils not only serve but adorn the home. Most of the
implements and fittings are made of coloured metals or alloys. Many of
the cups and vessels are beautifully cut from shells and diamonds,
rubies, or other precious stones. Statuary, manuscripts, and musical
instruments, bespeak their taste and genius for the fine arts.
Their love of Nature is also shown in their gardens and pleasure
grounds, which are stocked with the rarest flowers, fruits, and pet
animals; such as bright fishes, luminous frogs and moths, singing birds,
and so forth, none of which are captives in the strict sense of the
word.
Members of one family live under the same roof, or at all events within
the same ground. The father is head of the household, and the highest in
authority. The mother is next, and the children follow in the order of
their age. They hold that the proper place for the woman is between the
man and the child, and that her nature, which partakes of both, fits
her for it. On the rare occasions when authority needs to be exercised
it is promptly obeyed. All the members of the family mix freely together
in mutual confidence and love, with reverence, but not fear. They are
very clean and dainty in their habits. To every house, either in an open
court or in the garden, there is a bathing pond of running water, with a
fountain playing in the middle, where they can bathe at any time without
going to the lake.
They deem it not only gross to eat flesh or fish, but also barbarous,
nay cruel, to enjoy and sustain their own lives through the suffering
and death of other creatures. This feeling, or prejudice as some would
call it, extends even to eggs. They live chiefly on fruits, nuts, edible
flowers, grain, herbs, gums, and roots, which are in great profusion. I
did not see any alcoholic, or at least intoxicating beverages amongst
them. Their drink is water, either pure or else from mineral springs,
and the delectable juices of certain fruits and plants. They eat
together, chatting merrily the while, and afterwards recline on couches
listening to some tale, or song, or piece of music, but taking care not
to fall asleep, as they believe it is injurious.
They rejoice when a child is born, and cherish it as the most holy
gift. For the first eight or ten years of its life it is left as much as
possible to the teaching of Nature, care being taken to guard it from
serious harm. It is allowed to run wild about the gardens and fields,
developing its bodily powers in play, and gaining a practical experience
of the most elementary facts. After that it goes to school, at first for
a short time, then, as it becomes used to the confinement and study, for
a longer and longer period each day. Their end in education is to
produce noble men and women; that is to say, physical, moral, and
intellectual beauty by assisting the natural growth. They hold it a sin
to falsify or distort the mind, as well as the soul or body of a child.
They seem to be as careful to cultivate the genius and temperament as
the heart and conscience. Their object is to train and form the pupil
according to the intention of Nature without forcing him beyond his
strength, or into an artificial mould. Studious to preserve the harmony
and unity of mind, soul, and body, they never foster one to the
detriment of the others, but seek to develop the whole person.
It is not so much words as things, not so much facts, dates, and
figures, as principles, ideas, and sentiments, which they endeavour to
teach. The scholar is made familiar with what he is told by observation
and experience whenever it is possible, for that is how Nature teaches.
Precept, they say, is good, and example is better; but an ideal of
perfection is best of all.
At first more attention is paid to the cultivation of the body than the
mind. Not only are the boys and girls trained in open-air gymnasia, or
contend in games, but they also work in the gardens, and during the
holidays are sent into the wilderness under the guidance of their
elders, especially their elder brothers, to rough it there in primitive
freedom.
The first lessons of the pupil are very short and simple, but as his
mind ripens they become longer and more difficult. The education of the
soul precedes that of the mind. They wish to make their children good
before they make them clever; and good by the feelings of the heart
rather than the instruction of the head. Every care is taken to refine
and strengthen the sentiments and instincts, the conscience, good sense
and taste, as well as the affections, filial piety, friendship, and the
love of Nature. Spiritual and moral ideals are inculcated by means of
innocent and simple tales or narratives. Children are taught to obey the
authority placed over them, or in their own breast, and to sacrifice all
to their duty. The conduct of the teacher must be irreproachable,
because he is a model to them; but while they look upon him as their
friend and guide, he leaves them free to choose their own companions and
amuse themselves in their own way.
In the cultivation of the mind they give the first and foremost place to
the imagination. The reason, they say, is mechanical, and cannot rise
above the known; that is to say, the real; whereas the imagination is
creative and attains to the unknown, the ideal. Its highest work is the
creation of beauty. Because it is unruly, and precarious in its action,
however, the imagination requires the most careful guidance, and the
assistance of the reason. Students are taught to idealise and invent, as
well as to analyse and reason, but without disturbing the equilibrium of
the faculties by acquiring a pronounced habit of one or the other. It is
better, they say, to be reasonable than a reasoner; to be imaginative
than a dreamer; and to have discernment or insight than mere knowledge.
The most important study of all is the art of living, or in other words
the art of leading a simple, noble, and beautiful life. It finishes
their education, and consists in the reduction of their highest precepts
and ideals to practice. The reasons for every lesson are given so far
as they are known, and they are always founded in the nature of things.
A pupil is taught to act in a particular way, not in the hope of a
reward or in the fear of punishment, but because it would be contrary to
the laws of matter and spirit to act otherwise; in short, because it is
right. They hold that life is its own end as well as its own reward.
According as it is good or bad, so it achieves or fails of its purpose,
and is happy or miserable. We are happy by our emotions or feelings, and
through these by our actions. Happiness comes from goodness, but is not
perfect without health, beauty, and fitness: hence the pupils are taught
self-regulation, practical hygiene, and a graceful manner. Indeed, their
passion for beauty is such that they regard nothing as perfect until it
is beautiful.
As beauty of mind, soul, and body, is their aim, a beautiful person is
held in the highest honour. Prizes are offered for beauty, and statues
are erected to the winners. Many are called after some particular trait;
for example, "Timāré of the lovely toes," and a pretty eyelash is a
title to public fame. Beauty they say is twice blessed, since it pleases
the possessor as well as others.
The sense of existence, apart from what they do or gain, is their chief
happiness. Their "ealo," or the height of felicity, is a passive rather
than an active state. It is (if I am not mistaken) a kind of serene
rapture or tranquil ecstasy of the soul, which is born doubtless from a
perfect harmony between the person and his environment. In it, they say,
the illusion of the world is complete, and life is another name for
music and love.
As far as I could learn, this condition, though independent of sexual
love, is enhanced by it. On the one hand it is spoiled by too much
thought, and on the other by too much passion. They cherish it as they
cherish all the natural illusions (which are sacred in their eyes), but
being a state of repose it is transient, and only to be enjoyed from
time to time.
Since an unfit employment is a mistake, and a source of unhappiness,
everyone is free to choose the work that suits his nature. Parents and
teachers only help him to discover himself. One is called to his work by
a love for it, and the pleasure he takes in doing it easily and well. If
his bent is vague or tardy, he is allowed to change, and feel his way to
it by trial. Since the work or vocation is not a means of living, there
is no compulsion in it. Their aim is to do right in carrying out the
true intentions of Nature.
For the same reason everyone is free to choose the partner of his life.
They are monogamists, and believe that nothing can justify marriage but
love on both sides. The rite is very simple, and consists in the elected
pair sipping from the same dish of sacred water. It is called "drinking
of the cup."
Most of them die gradually of old age, and they do not seem to share our
fear and horror of death, but to regard it with a sad and pleasing
melancholy. The body is reduced to ashes on a pyre of fragrant wood, and
the songs they sing around it only breathe a tender regret for their
loss, mingled with a joyful hope of meeting again. They neither preserve
the dust as a memento, nor wear any kind of mourning; but they cherish
the memory of the absent in their hearts.
They believe that labour like virtue is a necessity, and its own reward;
but it is moderate labour of the right sort, which is a blessing and not
a curse. They all seem happy at their work, which is often cheered by
music, songs, or tales. Everyone enjoys his task, and tries to attain
the perfection of skill and grace. Those who excel are honoured, and
sometimes commemorated with statues.
They seem artists in all, and above all. They hold that every beautiful
thing has a use, and they never make a useful thing without beauty.
Apart from portraits, their pictures and statuary are mostly historical,
or else ideal representations. Many of these are typical of life; for
example, a boy at play, a pair of lovers, a mother weaning her child,
and the parting of friends. The ideal of art is to them not merely a
show to please the eye for a while, but a model to be realised in their
own lives; and I daresay it has helped to make them such a fine people.
They are clever architects and gardeners. Indeed, the whole country may
be described as a vast ornamental garden. In the middle zone, which
borders on the wilderness, their wonderful art of beautifying natural
scenery is at its best. They have a good many simple machines and
implements, but I should not call them a scientific people. Gazen, who
enquired into the matter, was told by Otāré, himself an artist, by the
way, that science in their opinion had a tendency to destroy the
illusion of Nature and impair the finer sentiments and spontaneity of
the soul; hence they left the systematic study of it to the few who
possess a decided bias for it. As a rule they are content to admire.
They have many books of various kinds, either printed or finely written
and illustrated by hand. I should say their favourite reading was
history and travels, or else poetry and fiction; anything having a
human interest, more especially of a pathetic order. Everyone is taught
to read aloud, and if he possess the voice and talent, to recite. Poets
are highly esteemed, and not only read their poems to the people, but
also teach elocution. They have dramatic performances on certain days,
and seem to prefer tragedies or affecting plays, perhaps because these
awaken feelings which their happy lot in general permits to sleep. They
are very fond of music, and can all sing or play on some musical
instrument. Their favourite melodies are mostly in a minor key, and they
dislike noisy music; indeed, noise of any sort. Gesture and the dance
are fine arts, and they can imitate almost any action without words. A
favourite amusement is to gather in the dusk of the evening, crowned
with flowers, or wearing fanciful dresses, and sing or dance together by
the light of the fire-flies.
The inhabitants of the whole island live as one happy family.
Recognising their kinship by intermarriage, and their isolation in the
world, they never forget that the good or ill of a part is the good or
ill of the whole, and their object is to secure the happiness of one and
all. It is considered right to help another in trouble before thinking
of oneself.
When Gazen explained the doctrine of "the struggle for existence ending
in the survival of the fittest" to Otāré, he replied that it was an
excellent principle for snakes; but he considered it beneath the dignity
and wisdom of men to struggle for a life which could be maintained by
the labour of love, and ought to be devoted to rational or spiritual
enjoyment.
Thanks to the helpful spirit which animates them, and the bounty of
Nature, nobody is ever in want. As a rule, the garden around each home
provides for the family, and any surplus goes to the public stores, or
rather free tables, where anyone takes what he may require.
As I have already hinted, personal merit of every kind is honoured
amongst them.
Dinus, the gentleman who received us on the night of our arrival, is the
chief man or head of the community, and was appointed to the post for
his wisdom, character, and age. He is assisted in the government by a
council of a hundred men, and there are district officers in various
parts of the country.
They have no laws, or at all events their old laws have become a dead
letter. Custom and public opinion take their place. Crime is practically
unknown amongst them, and when a misdemeanour is committed the culprit
is in general sufficiently punished by his own shame and remorse.
However, they have certain humane penalties, such as fines or
restitution of stolen goods; but they never resort to violence or take
life, and only in extreme cases of depravity and madness do they
infringe on the liberty of an individual.
Quarrels and sickness of mind or body are almost unknown amongst them.
The care and cure of the person is a portion of the art of life as it is
taught in the schools.
An account of this remarkable people would not be complete without some
reference to their religion; but owing to their reticence on sacred
subjects, and the shortness of our visit, I was unable to learn much
about it. They believe, however, in a Supreme Being, whom they only name
by epithets such as "The Giver" or "The Divine Artist." They also
believe in the immortality of the soul. One of their proverbs, "Life is
good, and good is life," implies that goodness means life, and badness
death. They hold that every thought, word, and deed, is by the nature of
things its own reward or punishment, here or hereafter. Their ideals of
childlike innocence, and the reign of love, seem to be essentially
Christian. Their solicitude and kindness extends to all that lives and
suffers, and they regard the world around them as a divine work which
they are to reverence and perfect.
Our visit fell during a great religious festival and holiday, which they
keep once a year, and by the courtesy of Dinus, or his son, we witnessed
many of their sacred concerts, dances, games, and other celebrations. Of
these, however, I shall only describe the principal ceremony, which is
called "Plucking the Flower," and appears to symbolise the passage of
the soul into a higher life.