The Supreme Council were seated in a semi-circle at the foot of a
magnificent redwood, nine in number, Acquilla’s seat being at one
end. At my approach they rose with a curiosity which showed in the
alacrity of their greeting, despite all their efforts at repression. I
felt no timidity. In fact it was with a certain confident pride that
I enjoyed this opportunity of presenting to the leaders of the new
matriarchal state, a not at all ill-formed example of the sex which for
four thousand years of authentic history had ruled the world. I had
of course, no way of estimating their age but their pleasing physical
appearance and apparent youth made it very easy to grasp each one
strongly by the hand and to look into her eyes with a touch of that
possessive masculine admiration which was instinctive in my day. My
manly appearance, the deep resonance of my voice, the male challenge in
my look and I believe, a certain magnetism in the handshake to which
they were not accustomed made a distinct impression. At least this was
my belief and I set it down in no spirit of conceit, but simply for its
significance as it affected surprising later developments.
The introduction over, I took my seat opposite, and studied my
distinguished hosts with the same curiosity which they in turn bent on
me. In the centre sat the famous philosopher and law giver, Manfreda.
She seemed older than her associates, and like Doctrina had the look of
a man in the fifties, and this was true of Directa, the executive head
of the state. (I learned afterwards that their extreme absorption in
the matters of intellect had removed them from the pardonable vanities
of the flesh, just as formerly holy men of the east retired to fasting
and contemplation.) Outside of this triumvirate that dominated the
Amazon civilization by right of authority and achievement, the others
were finely cut variations of the prevailing blonde types, Amazons
with regular features, blue eyes and the lithe bodies of young males.
The composition of the council interested me; Germa representing
the sciences of research; Stella, astronomy; Acquilla, medicine in
its universal state; Electra, the laboratories and the sources of
energy; Candora, history and philosophy, while Dulcina sat as the
representative of the caste of the Histriones.
I had hardly made these rapid observations when Manfreda with the
dignity of a supreme judge, turned to her associates:
“In order not to confuse Bogardus, if it is your pleasure, I shall put
to him the general questions which I know are in all our minds. At a
later day, each may interrogate him according to her special field.”
She turned to me. “You of course, Bogardus, realize the importance
of your discovery to us. Until your arrival, the principle of the
Frigidrome preservation of life was ascribed to Coperta in 2085. Will
you give us as completely as possible the account of your revolutionary
experience.”
I repeated the details I had already supplied to Acquilla, who at the
end of my recital, remarked:
“Though the crude use of hypnotism to produce a cataleptic stage is
decidedly archaic in this day when the glandular relationships are
better understood, there is no question that the principle of the
Frigidrome must be ascribed to Sachaloff, and I have already taken
steps to do justice to his discovery.”
“There can be no question of that,” said Manfreda while the others
nodded acquiescence. “And now to the purpose of our inquiry. The great
world conflict which took place at the end of the twentieth century,
Bogardus, was of such devastating character, that the records of
previous civilization were blotted out in great measure. You can supply
us not only with much valuable historical detail, but can give us
an intimate judgment on the questions which interest us profoundly.
You lived at the close of the great era of materialism when the male
mechanico-civilization finally suppressed all individualism under a
standardized collectivism.”
“I am a little bewildered,” I said tentatively, “we spoke of
standardization it is true, but in my day there was no such suppression
of that individualism of which you speak.”
“Bogardus is speaking of 1929,” said Candora, interrupting. “The spread
of standardization into the industrial domination of the state must
have just been perceptible.”
“You speak of things I did not witness,” I replied, more and more
confused. “To aid me in my recital, would it be possible to tell me
briefly just what happened in the fifty years after my disappearance.
For at that time, far from seeking war, the peoples of the world had
not only founded a League of Nations, but had agreed on a general
reduction of armaments.”
Candora, at a signal from Manfreda, rose.
“True. After 1919 there was a general revolt against war as visualized
by armaments. But the industrial conflict remained more intense than
ever. War in the last analysis is the correction for over-population,
as over-population is the cause of war. While the progress in hygiene
and the control of disease increased enormously the population, the
production of automatic machinery continually diminished the need of
man power. What was bound to happen? It became a competition for the
survival of the economically fittest nation. What was this but a war
of attrition and starvation? In order to compete internationally the
nations of the world were forced to change their political structure.
They became great business exporting corporations. The trusts were
reestablished, merged and formed one gigantic trust. This may interest
you.”
“In fact I am listening, Candora,” I exclaimed, “and yet all this was
prophesied.”
“By prophets without honor in their own countries,” explained Candora,
smiling.
“Exactly, but how was all this accomplished?”
“By 1955, there were four great trusts. The Steel Trust had absorbed
all its dependents, the railroads, the automobile, the construction
trusts, the harvester and the cement trust. Second the Mercantile
Trust, had absorbed the food trust and the chain stores. The Power
Trust had absorbed the chemical trust and the electric trust. Finally
the Money Trust had been formed from the banking trust with its chain
branches and the investment trusts. In the second step the Money Trust
absorbed all other trusts and produced the economy of one selling
office for the entire nation.”
“But was not the effect beneficial?”
“Momentarily, yes. The industry of the entire country was financed from
a central bank and distributed from a unified distributing system.”
“Then the principle of the department store finally dominated?”
“Exactly. You went to the same distributing centre for eggs or a
thousand tons of steel, a suit of clothes or a 520,000 horse power
dynamo. In a way the industrial apotheosis was sound and you will see
that we have retained its essential quality.”
“But then why did it fail?”
“Because in your hands it was for the purpose of conquest and
subjection of other nations. You men, Bogardus, were extremely
illogical beings. You erected your civilization on the survival of the
fittest and yet you did nothing to apply that principle internally.
The Spartans are the only example of a logical civilization for they
did expose their weaklings to die. So when the whole world was in the
grip of an economic war, you continued to breed instead of applying
the scientific principle of depopulation. But men have always been
unscientific breeders. It was only when women assumed direction of the
state that the problem could be treated from the standpoint of the
nation.”
“Candora, I have heard a great deal in criticism of my sex since my
arrival here,” I interjected irritated beyond measure, “and a great
deal of talk about the abuse of over-population. I am willing to
admit the admirable results of the decimation of the inhabitants of
the earth. I gladly, even enthusiastically, admit that you, in your
restoration of the world to the individual have corrected the dreadful
mass tyranny to which we men had condemned society. I likewise admire
the way you breed to perfected types. But,” here I turned to my
auditors, “is it not justice to admit that in order to have lifted man
from the brute to the gods, it was necessary first to multiply? If
mankind had simply reproduced itself like the elephant, man would be as
extinct today as the dodo. I am not defending war today, but without
war would there have been any civilization? When men multiplied rapidly
they began to move over mountains and across the seas and to do so,
they had to invent and to invent is to progress. Therefore, at least
admit that only the male instinct to breed could have raised us to the
civilization of the twentieth century. Remember that I am speaking in
defence of my embattled sex.”
There was a murmur of approbation, rather grudgingly given, it seemed
to me, but Germa, Stella and Dulcina, who represented the new radical
school of thought, beamed on me enthusiastically. Candora, however,
showed a strong atavistic tendency to be irritated by contradiction.
She hesitated and finally said:
“As an historian, it would be idle for me to deny the truth of what you
state. But in a way it only proves my contention; the male state was
instinctive and traditional. You were committed to one principle and
could not rise above it.”
“Let us leave till later what--after all, must be a philosophical
discussion,” I said, well pleased with the effect I had produced. “Let
me continue my questions.”
“Well, what?” said Candora, not relishing the turn, while Acquilla
looked at me anxiously.
“You speak of the formation of great industrial oligarchies and their
final absorption into one great national industry--then we did come to
socialism?”
“Not at all, socialism preached the equality of men and the industrial
state was founded on a recognition of their inequalities. Socialism
is international and this on the contrary, was pure chauvinism; the
standardization of all activities for the better crushing out of
foreign competition.”
“But was there no revolt?”
“No, because men had become so standardized in their thinking and
habits that individualism could only exist among the leaders.”
“But the press--”
“The printed newspapers?”
“Yes.”
“They were bought up with the magazines and the radio trust in a
central control under the Mercantile Trust which in turn disappeared
with the arrival of the newspaper of the air.”
“But if America was able to organize itself with such scientific
concentration, why did it fail?”
“Because fatuously believing in pacific ideals, it did not protect
itself. Equally fatuously you believed that you could impoverish
other nations by economical pressure without their having recourse
to primitive methods of retaliation. That is what happened. Europe,
unable to meet the competition of America, founded first the central
state of Europe, and by means of the Electronoid ray discovered in the
laboratories of Europa, obliterated American civilization, prior to the
subjugation of Asia. These, Bogardus, are what are known as the world
wars.”
Candora, at a nod from Manfreda, resumed her seat. Several of the
council strained forward as though to question me, but Manfreda with a
slight peremptory gesture of her uplifted fingers, enforced silence.
“Bogardus,” she began, in her ever dispassionate voice, “you have heard
of the reasons which culminated in the final world catastrophe, and the
end of the male civilization. Later on you will be given an opportunity
to study it in more detail. Now, if you are ready, I should like to put
to you some questions of a general nature.”
I bowed and glanced around the semi-circle, noting at once, a whispered
consultation to my left. All at once Stella spoke:
“Manfreda, without desiring in any way to influence the witness, does
it not seem only fair that he should be informed of the real purpose of
this inquiry?”
“I regard the interruption as unfortunate,” said Manfreda, acidly, “and
designed only to affect the impartiality of the testimony.”
“Permit me, in the interests of justice, to record my objection with
Stella’s,” said Dulcina.
Though I did not then grasp the full import of the dissension, I was
not without certain suspicions.
“Would it not be better if I were represented by counsel?” I said,
ironically.
This question seemed to perplex my auditors.
“By counsel? What do you mean, Bogardus?” said Manfreda.
“In my day,” I answered facetiously, “when a board of inquiry was held
to discover the truth, each witness always appeared with one or more
lawyers who advised him when to refuse to answer.”
“But if the object was to discover the truth, what right had he to
refuse to answer?”
“For fear of incriminating himself.”
“But if he were guilty?”
“He could not be proved guilty unless the board had equally good
lawyers--and all traditions were scrupulously observed.”
“If I may remark,” said Doctrina, who had been fidgetting, “Bogardus
is speaking of a time when the curiously archaic jury system existed
and judges were regarded as presiding legal hosts. It is well to
remember that in those days of male-made justice, that it was necessary
to convince every one of twelve jurors to procure a verdict. If one
disagreed the accused was acquitted.”
“Oh, more than that,” I added, “he was entitled to consider himself as
publicly vindicated. I gladly surrender to your jury system, Doctrina.”
My admission evidently created a most favorable impression, for
Manfreda, stilling the chorus of surprised interjections, said in a
more cordial voice:
“Bogardus, you are so clearly a man of intelligence and observation,
that I feel it is only a recognition of your manifested open-mindedness
to inform you of the underlying purpose of this inquiry. There has
risen lately among certain of the younger group, a school of radicals
which is urging the social and political re-establishment of man. I,
myself, have no part in such sentimentalism, but in this council, this
new issue is represented by Germa, Stella and Dulcina.”
“I thank you for the warning,” I replied instantly, “and though my
male instinct will naturally desire to do full justice to a departed
society, I assure you that everything I have seen here has filled
me with such amazement and admiration that I would be incapable of
distorting the facts as I have known them.”
Dulcina and Stella smiled on me with a personal pride as though I were
an excellent exponent of their political opinions, and Manfreda, after
a moment’s deliberation, said:
“We, of course, are anxious to have your personal testimony as to the
success or failure of the institutions you knew. You were a democracy.
You believed that all men were free and equal. The phrase of Lincoln
was government of the people, by the people and for the people! High
ideals if sentimental ones. Actually how were you governed?”
I had intended to be an honest witness, but this first question threw
me into perplexity. I found myself seeking in my imagination for
ingenuous excuses.
“At that time,” I said by way of preface, “it is only fair to state
that a large part of the population was of recent immigration, that
there were no fixed classes and that the object of everyone was to rise
in the social scale by prospering financially. Also,” I added shrewdly,
“you must remember that women shared the suffrage.”
“Shared, yes, but they did not control it,” put in Candora.
“To be honest, I must confess that we were badly governed, but no worse
than the people deserved.”
“Why, Bogardus?”
“Because--well, because a large proportion of the people were
indifferent to how they were governed. In many cases only a small
fraction of the electorate took the trouble to vote. In our big cities
despite occasional revolts, we were in the hands of political machines
who fattened on their opportunities of selling offices and privileges.
In some cases, they were in direct alliance with criminals.”
“Was this state of affairs generally known?”
“So well known that the public was quite indifferent as to which side
robbed them.”
“But what maintained such organizations?”
“A sentiment called party loyalty.”
“The traditional way of looking at things, Bogardus?” interrupted
Doctrina.
I realized the purpose of the remark but I could not deny it.
“But outside their cities which, of course, suffered from the evils of
over-population, in the general country, what was the state of law and
order?”
I could not but admit that as respecting the observance of law, I had
no defence to offer.
“However,” I hastened to add, “it is only fair to remark that in
1929 we were in a transitional stage. New experiments in government
and new authorities in social and religious forms had to be worked
out and if the surface indications were chaotic, I believe it was
simply the ferment that accompanies the rise of new standards and the
re-establishing of authority.”
“In a way you are right,” said Manfreda, nodding, “for the age of
standardization that followed was at least a return to discipline. But
I am anxious to know what was the position of the university in all
this?”
“Again I must plead that the universities too, were in a transitional
stage,” I said frowning, for I feared this question.
“In what way?”
“They were passing through a period of great material building;
providing for the future, by the laying down of great laboratories and
recitation halls; expanding their housing and the income available for
their faculties.”
“This is the explanation. What were the facts?”
“With the notable exceptions of the technical schools, the universities
were intent on raising the standards of the mass.”
“But if you admit democracy as a principle of civilization, Bogardus,
this would seem a natural and laudable object. You hesitate. Is it
possible that the mass did not respond?”
“I cannot truthfully claim that the average college student of my day
was occupied with the pursuit of knowledge. A college experience was
regarded as a school for character. It was a sort of social melting
pot which at the time certainly had a certain value. A man who was an
outstanding figure in his class--”
“As a remarkable student, Bogardus?” said Doctrina, maliciously.
“Well, no. A man who excelled in running and jumping, or in the control
of round balls, whether baseball or golf or tennis or football, or
a man who had certain natural social gifts, undoubtedly profited by
these attainments in college by making certain restricted groups called
societies or clubs and in after life by the friendships thus formed
with powerful elements in society.”
“But those in control of the universities, for you must have had men
of pre-eminent intellectual abilities on your faculties, did they look
with favor on such a distortion of values?”
“Individually no. Collectively they acquiesced in the program of
material expansion which tolerated this system in order to use it.”
“Use it? In what way?”
“By the bequests of millions of dollars which they received by an
adroit appeal to the emotional quality of loyalty to the Alma Mater.”
My exposition was received, I could see, with profound astonishment.
“But then in general, the university as you say was really a school
for character with certain resemblances to the gymnasium and the
gladiatorial arena.”
“Of course, certain elements did pursue the acquisition of knowledge
as their prime object,” I hastened to add, feeling that I had drawn
too dark a picture, “and in later life they did rise to intellectual
prominence and received recognition.”
“In what way?”
“By the conferring of honorary degrees and sometimes by the belated
recognition of a class dinner--twenty years later.”
“Let us pass to another subject,” said Manfreda, after a significant
glance at Stella and Dulcina, who were manifestly depressed. “We are
curious to know at first hand, something of the institution of marriage
as practiced in its last phases.”
“Ask and I will endeavor to answer.”
“Is it true, Bogardus, that in your day when a man and a woman lived
together under the institution which you called marriage, that they
were compelled to promise to live together and remain faithful to each
other for life?”
I shifted from foot to foot before making a reply.
“You are well informed, Manfreda. That is true.”
“But if that is so, how was it possible for them to divorce later? For
if I am right, divorce as an institution, began about this time to have
equal popularity.”
“The marriage ceremony,” I replied, after a moment’s deliberation,
“was, of course, a survival of ancient times. It had a certain
ceremonial picturesqueness. It was taken symbolically, like the account
of the creation in the Old Testament.”
“But this mutual promise was symbolic of what?”
“Well,” I resumed, beginning to flounder, “for instance, the expression
‘Whom God hath joined together, let no man put asunder’ was undoubtedly
a relic of that time when the belief was that marriages were made in
heaven.”
“Did you believe that?”
Looking backward, truth compelled me to answer:
“No.”
“Did many others believe that?”
“A few--well, perhaps many. In my day, many politicians still believed
in Jonah and the whale.”
“I see. But if the promise was made, how could it be broken?”
“Legally--as far as the state was concerned--for infidelity, for
excessive cruelty, for failure to support. As a religious ceremony, to
divorce and remain in the church was more difficult, but certain cases
were recognized as permitting annulment.”
“Then if the divorce was granted, how was the guilty party punished? A
prison sentence, or social ostracism?”
“I am bound to admit that with the exception of a certain annoying
financial penalty called alimony, that there was no loss of standing.”
“And the guilty party could remarry?”
“Yes.”
“And repeat the same promise?”
“That is so.”
“But why didn’t you change this obsolete ceremony to an agreement to
live together until each desired to part?” interjected Candora.
“What you suggest is undoubtedly relevant, Candora,” I returned. “But
you forget that we were living under old institutions, and that the
maintenance of the home was the object of the church and the state.”
“Why?”
“Because the more children the greater the strength of the church and
the state.”
“Always the same error,” said Manfreda, turning to the council. “You
see how man’s mistaken obsession for population enslaved the individual
and forced him to archaic tyrannies that were not above the level of
the early tribal state. And now, Bogardus, in those marriages which
did not terminate in divorce, would you say that in practice a larger
percent were happy?”
“Let me preface my answer,” I replied, “it is easy to pick out the
shortcomings and failures of marriage as you have done. Most writers
and philosophers of my time did so. There was no other institution
that was so widely and continuously discussed with a sincere desire to
find a solution. I perceive now, since my arrival here, that we lived
in a sentimental age. Undoubtedly you have eliminated the greater
part of the suffering and hardships to which we were subjected. But
in our time, the union of man and woman was not a eugenic episode,
but an emotional urge. If it ended too often in disillusionment, it
had its compensations and to experience the height of a passion, we
were willing to take the consequences. We called it youth, and youth I
perceive has been abolished, along with middle age.”
Stella and Dulcina’s eyes shone on me with such brilliance that,
encouraged, I continued:
“It is easy indeed, Manfreda, to criticize and you will admit that I
have not sought to avoid your criticisms, though each one has been
designed to force me to condemn my sex. Very well, I admit as you
want me to do, that we lived in a chaotic state of society, that our
ideals were for the most part materialistic, that our democracy was
usually a complaisant indifference to the rule of plunderers, and that
mediocrities led us rather than supermen. This is true. But it was
also an age of liberation that produced a ferment of rebellion against
traditions. We were not smugly contented but dared to question our
gods. We applied a new searching scientific method to every relation
in life. We were explorers, rebels. Because an idea was new, we wished
to try it out even if we suffered for it. We men conquered the air
and the depths of the sea, we dared to seek the riddles of life, of
space and of eternity. We produced exceptional minds to do this. If
in our political society, we lacked pre-eminent leaders, at least
this is what we accomplished. We gave to the masses an opportunity to
enjoy life, such as kings in the middle ages had never possessed. We
no sooner invented, than we adapted the invention to the mass. What
great emperor before the year 1820, ever lived in a palace, lighted by
electricity, heated mechanically, was able to move at a hundred miles
an hour, had the world’s journal brought before his eyes each day, and
listened to great artists, great orchestras and famous men and women
at great distances. Yet, that is what the age you call materialistic
did for those who formerly would have lived in poverty and dirt, in
unsanitary hovels, who used to eat meat once a week, if at all, never
touched butter and were tied to the spot where they were born. Isn’t
this to the credit of man?”
Several of the council sprung up to respond, agitated by the heat of
my defence but Manfreda silenced them and without departing from the
philosophic calm of her even tone said:
“All this is true if we admit that the object of civilization is to
produce multitudes and to raise the level of a low average. That,
Bogardus, is not our conception. We stand for the selection of the
fittest, not the multiplication of a cheap article which your democracy
did, in men as in machines. But to answer you. It is true your time
saw a marvelous advance in science, but to what did you apply the
noblest creations of the scientific imagination? Every new discovery
was immediately put to the perfecting of the art of destruction. The
railroads became the arteries of military communication. The automobile
followed them and produced the dreadful juggernaut of the armored tank.
You mastered the wisdom of the fishes to do what--to make war more
horrible on the sea. You conquered the secret of the birds in order
to destroy whole country sides from the air. Your scientists evolved
high explosives, poison gases, your mathematicians calculated the
trajectory of projectiles that could bombard cities fifty miles distant
and range-finding devices to locate unseen enemies. The telephone,
the telegraph, the camera all became part of this perfected military
organization. You discovered the principle of wireless transmission
of energy to direct torpedos in the water and aeroplanes to bombard
from the sky. Even your artists were enlisted. Your musicians wrote
military marches, or glorified war and heroes in their symphonies. Your
painters not only invented camouflage but exalted the conqueror in
historic decorations. I can admit all that you record of the fertility
of an inventive age and answer that your genuises were but the servants
of man’s brutal conception of war as the sum of all talents and all
energies within a state.”
At this moment the air was filled with the pleasant sound of chimes.
Manfreda rose and advancing towards me said:
“Enough for today. You have an open mind, Bogardus. Keep it open and
judge our civilization fairly, having known the old. I am certain the
result will bring small comfort to those sentimentalists who today
would have us imperil all that we have achieved, by the dangerous
doctrine that men should be restored to equality with women.”
Whatever the result of my first encounter with Manfreda, it was evident
to me from the flattering expressions I received, that the spectacle of
a mere man, stating his contentions with lucidity and inspiration, had
made a marked impression on my hearers.
Acquilla pressed my arm with a new tenderness as we departed but I was
surprised to notice on her forehead a foreboding frown.
“You have created a profound effect, Bogardus,” she said, when we were
alone, “too profound I’m afraid. Be on your guard and don’t let your
enthusiasms lead you into an imprudence. Remember this is a woman’s
world and sentiment plays no part in it. What I can do I shall do to
preserve your liberty of action,” she added in a tender tone, “but you
must do nothing to make it difficult.”
Had I realized then the import of her fears, my pardonable elation
would have been chilled indeed.
“When shall I really know how men live under this civilization?” I
asked eagerly.
“This evening,” Acquilla answered, “I shall take you to the Promenade
of the Males, but before that, I shall give you a great sensation.”
“Where now?”
“We are going to the great Astrodrome in the Berkshire valley.” Acquilla
took up the telephone and gave the order to the machinot. Instantly
the aeroplane turned towards the northeast and shot off at a speed of
a thousand miles an hour; yet so easy was the motion that only the
slipping by of the landscape below betrayed our vertiginous pace.