THE CULT OF DEMETER
For some distance we walked in silence. At last I said: "You will not be
surprised to hear that I am bewildered; everything is in some respects
so much the same and in others so different."
"I am curious to know what bewilders you most."
"Well, it is bewildering enough to be told that you are actually living
under the regime of Collectivism--a thing which we always considered
impossible; but I confess what piques my curiosity most is this cult of
Demeter----"
A scowl came over Chairo's face.
"How much do you know about it?" said he.
"Nothing, except that Lydia is a Demetrian and that she is to be married
to some mathematician----"
"Married!" interrupted Chairo. "It cannot be called a marriage! It is a
desecration!" He paused a moment as if to collect himself and then began
again in a calmer voice:
"It is difficult for me to speak of it without impatience; but
declamation which is well enough on the rostrum is not tolerable in
conversation, so I shall not give way to it. The cult of Demeter is an
abomination--one of the natural fruits of State Socialism, which, to my
mind, means the paralysis of individual effort and death to individual
liberty. I lead the opposition in our legislature, and you will,
therefore, take all I say with the allowance due to one who has
struggled, his whole life through, against what I believe to be an
intolerable abuse. The cult of Demeter is nothing more nor less than the
attempt to breed men as men breed animals. It totally disregards the
fact that a man has a soul, and that the demands of a soul are
altogether paramount over those of the body. To attempt to breed men
along purely physical or mental lines without regard to psychical
aspirations is contrary not only to common sense, but to the highest
religion. Did not Christ Himself say, 'What shall it profit a man if he
gain the whole world, and lose his own soul'?"
"You quote Christ," interrupted I. "Is it possible that the Christian
religion can live side by side with the cult of Demeter?"
"Yes," said Chairo, "and this is perhaps just where the mischief lies.
Christianity has remained among us as the religion of sacrifice; and the
priests of Demeter bolster up their hideous doctrine and their
exorbitant power by appeal to this religion of sacrifice."
"But where," asked I, "do they derive this power of theirs?"
"Where else," answered Chairo, "but through the hold they have upon the
imagination of the women--that terrible need for ritual which has given
the priest his power ever since the world began. Gambetta was right, 'Le
clericalisme; voila l'ennemi.'"
"Do you mean to say," asked I, "that superstition has survived among
you?"
"No, you cannot call it superstition; the time has long since passed
when the priesthood could impose on the minds of men through
superstition; but just because they now appeal to a higher and nobler
function of mind are they the more dangerous."
"Tell me," I said--I paused a moment, for I was very anxious to ask a
question and yet a little afraid to do so.
But Chairo looked at me again with a look so frank that I ventured:
"Tell me," I said, "is Lydia going to accept the mission?"
"No one can tell," said Chairo. "She is profoundly religious, profoundly
possessed with this notion of sacrifice; she has been brought up to
believe the mission of Demeter the highest honor which the state can
give, and it comes to her now clothed with all the mysticism of a
strange ritual and a religious obligation. Think of it: just because she
has the talent of rapid calculation, a knack which you in your time used
to exhibit as a freak in a country fair, she is to be sacrificed--ah, if
it were only a sacrifice I shouldn't complain--but she is to be
contaminated. She is to be contaminated, because, forsooth, it is
believed that by coupling this knack of calculation with one possessing
a profounder genius for mathematics, she will bring into the world a
being further endowed with mathematical ability. What if she did; is
there not something in the world worth more than mathematics?"
"And what mathematician will be selected?" asked I.
"That is the wicked part of it," answered Chairo; "that matter is
absolutely in the hands of the priests. My God!" he said, "I shall not
endure it."
His eyes flashed, and his voice, though low, rang as he spoke these
words. But we were now approaching the Hall and we saw the Pater, as
they called him, sitting upon the veranda. "I have spoken vigorously,"
he said in a lower voice, as we approached the Hall--"perhaps too
vigorously; but I do not mean to disguise my intention. I would not
speak in this way upon a public platform, because they would endeavor to
stop me, and the issue would be raised before public opinion is ripe for
it. But I warn you the Pater is on the side of the priests, and so, to
avoid discussion, which we seldom allow to interfere with the harmony of
our domestic life, I recommend you not to speak of these things to the
Pater when I am present."
The Pater arose and advanced to meet us, holding out his hands to
Chairo.
"Welcome to Tyringham," he said. And then looking toward me he added:
"You could not get hold of a better man to explain to you the changes
that have occurred since your time, but I warn you he will not give you
an optimistic view of them."
I smiled, but said nothing.
After a few words about the weather and the crops Chairo left us, and I
at once began upon the burning theme.
I repeated to him the substance of what Chairo had said, leaving out the
heat, the indignation, and the threat. I sat down on the balcony with
the Pater, and he, after listening to me, began:
"Chairo is a man of extraordinary gifts, and has, of course, the quality
which generally attends these gifts--inordinate ambition. Such men are
naturally prone to favor individualism as opposed to collective action,
and to desire the rewards that come from individual success. It was such
men as Chairo who prevented so long the realization of Solidarity, and
who will always constitute a formidable opposition. Nor, indeed, would
it be well for the state that they should cease to exist; for the
Collectivist community would soon lapse into mere routine and
officialism, were it not kept perpetually at its best by the opposition
of just such as these.
"Unfortunately in this particular case his opposition is rendered not
only acute but dangerous, by the fact that he has come into collision
with one of the most precious institutions of the state, through his
inordinate passion for Lydia. Indeed, I had Chairo in mind when I said
to you, as we parted, that the economic problem presented by the
distribution of wealth was by far the least of the problems that
presented themselves. The desire for the accumulation of wealth is an
artificial desire; it grew with the institution of private property, and
when the institution of private property was abolished the desire for it
very soon, in great part, disappeared. But the desire of a man for a
woman is an elemental passion which has its root deep down in the
necessities of human nature. This passion will always be with us and
will always tend, when coupled with such abilities as Chairo's, to
disrupt the state."
"But," I interrupted, "is not this cult of Demeter a dangerous thing?"
"To the mind of Chairo," answered he, "inflamed as it is by his love for
Lydia, undoubtedly it is. But all those who belong to Chairo's party and
hate Collectivism because it doesn't furnish them the reward which they
feel due to their ability, are using this issue in an attempt to break
up the entire system. But consider for a moment what is this cult of
Demeter which you think so dangerous. In the first place there is in it
no coercion, absolutely none: the priests tender to such women as they
think proper the mission of Demeter, and this mission can be accepted or
declined; no disgrace attends the declining of it; the woman to whom it
is offered is absolutely free. In the second place, the cult is to the
utmost degree reasonable. Let us, for a moment, glance at the notions
that have prevailed on this subject in times past.
"From the earliest civilization the notion has prevailed that the most
highly religious act a woman could perform was to make the sacrifice
involved in celibacy. We see it in one of its most beautiful
developments at Rome. There, to the Vestal Virgins was entrusted the
maintenance of the sacrificial flame; to them were accorded the highest
honors of the Roman state, the most favored places at all state
functions; they alone, except the consuls, were preceded in the street
by lictors, and if, in walking through the streets of Rome, they met a
criminal going to execution, he was immediately set free. The sacrifice
required by this institution was chastity. So, in the Christian Church,
those of both sexes who desired to give themselves particularly to the
worship of Christ secluded themselves in convents and took the vow of
chastity. Yet what a barren piece of sentimentality it was! We respect
it still, because there was in it the element of sacrifice; but a woman
capable of such self-sacrifice as this commits a crime against the body
politic by refusing to become the mother of children; it is just from
such women as these that we want to raise new generations, capable of
carrying the torch of civilization onward in its march. The real
sacrifice to be demanded of these is not chastity; it is the surrender
of personal inclination to the benefit of the commonwealth. The real
sacrifice consists in refusing to leave the maternal function at the
mercy of a momentary caprice, and, on the contrary, in consecrating it
to a noble purpose and to the general good. But you can hardly
understand all this till you have heard the story of Latona, who founded
the cult--the first and greatest saint in our calendar."
The Pater did not persuade me; it was horrible to me that it should be
in the power of any man or men, by appealing to a woman's willingness to
sacrifice herself or by the exercise of priestly craft, to condemn her
to marriage without love, which, to my mind, is its only justification.
"And you think," said I, protesting, "that it is right to sacrifice the
love of a woman for life?"
"No," interrupted the Pater, "not for life! There you labor under a
mistake. Let me tell you what happens: if a woman accepts the mission
she becomes attached to the temple of Demeter, and while attending upon
the ritual is slowly prepared for the act of sacrifice; this is a period
of seclusion and prayer. Not that we believe in the existence of a
goddess Demeter, but that Demeter represents to us that divinity in our
own hearts which puts passion under constraint, and makes of it, not a
capricious tyrant, but a servant to human happiness--our own happiness
best understood, believe me--as well as the happiness of the community.
And so the Vestal--for so we entitle her--invokes and keeps herself in
communion with this special divinity within us each, and without us all,
until her heart is lifted into a consciousness of her mission as the
highest possible to her sex. Compare that, my friend, with the maternity
which is often the undesired consequence of a caprice or ceremony. But
as I have already hinted, the sacrifice is neither imposed at all, nor
is it suggested for a lifetime.
"Indeed, the Demetrian ceremony, once consummated, often results in
permanent marriage; upon this point the woman has the first word;
though, of course, the ultimate conclusion must rest upon the consent of
both. For example, the woman decides the question whether the
bridegroom shall become known to her. Some women, in whom the instinct
of the mother predominates over that of the wife, elect never to know
the father of their child; and as soon as pregnancy is assured, cease
all relations with him. Others, indeed the great majority, become
mystically attached to the man who, in the obscurity of the Demetrian
temple, has accomplished for them the mission of their motherhood; they
ask to see him; and if upon fuller acquaintance both consent, a
provisional marriage is celebrated between them."
"Provisional marriage!" exclaimed I, aghast again.
"All our first marriages are provisional," answered the Pater with
magnificent disregard for my indignation. "What can be more
preposterous--more fatal to happiness--than to commit a man and woman
for life to bonds accepted at an age when the mind is immature, and
under an impulse which is notoriously blinding. It became a commonplace
paradox in your time that the fact of being in love was a convincing
argument against marriage; for a human being in love is one who has been
by so much deprived of reason--by so much deprived of the exercise of
the very judgment most necessary to select a life companion. Look back
at the consequences of your institution of marriage: in your time it
was already in process of dissolution; the facility of divorce had
already destroyed the indissolubility of marriage, and made of it a mere
time contract. And divorce, that the clergy of your day regarded as a
trespass of Immorality on the sanctity of the marriage tie, was, as a
matter of fact, the protest of Morality against the immoral consequences
of the indissolubility of the marriage tie. No, there are two essential
elements in sexual morality: one is temperance; the other is sacrifice.
All are expected to practise the one; the few only are capable of
practising the other. The art is to frame institutions which recognize
this and to accommodate the institution to the temperament of the
race----"
"Yes," interrupted I, "but this is just where you fail; how are you
accommodating your Demetrian institutions to such temperaments as those
of Lydia and Chairo? Do you not see that by imposing them in such cases
as theirs you are risking the wreck of your entire system?"
"You are perhaps right," answered the Pater. "I am not initiated into
the secrets of the priesthood; but it may be easily guessed that upon
the application of the system there may well be divergence of opinion.
We have already seen the system result in infamous outrage in the
South, and give rise to the necessity of government intervention--a very
dangerous thing in such questions."
"But how do you practise this system of provisional marriage?"
"Simply enough: the first marriage is always provisional; if a child is
born, the marriage must last until the child is weaned; at that time the
parties are expected either to renew the vow of fidelity in the temple
of Demeter, or to renounce it. They can at that time renounce it without
disgrace, though it is seldom renounced without heart-burning; one wants
to renounce and the other to renew. But both know in advance that the
day of the weaning--which is a function of the cult--is the day upon
which final vows are to be pronounced; both prepare for it, and its
inevitable coming insures on the part of the one who most desires the
renewal a conduct of a nature to insure it. But renunciation on the part
of either involves no disgrace. A second renunciation after a second
marriage is otherwise. There is no institutional obstacle to it; each or
both can at any time renounce; but public opinion has happily created a
sentiment against a second renunciation, which makes them rare. This is
just where the system broke down in the South; the public opinion
against repeated renunciations did not exist; caprice became the order
of the day; the priests of Demeter became corrupt; and sexual disorder
involved, as it always must, every conceivable other disorder in the
state."
"And what was done?" I asked.
The Pater looked grave: "The Government interfered and substituted state
control for individual control. It is this that furnishes to Chairo and
his party their strongest weapon. State control is abominable;
institutions like ours are possible only in a community possessed of
such a moral sense as prevails in these New England States."
"But how could the Government undertake control of marriage?"
"By an extension of our State Colony system; this you will understand
only when you have seen the working of the State Colony system for
yourself."
One thing more I was eager to know. "What had the gesture of Lydia, as
Chairo kissed her hand, meant; was it an acceptance?" I asked the Pater,
and he answered:
"Just as it is no disgrace to a man that a woman should not return his
love, so is it no disgrace to a woman that she should withhold her
answer. In your time a woman who did not respond affirmatively or
negatively to a proposal of marriage was accused of playing fast and
loose. But we do not regard it as a bad thing for a man to be kept
waiting, or for a woman to keep him waiting; indeed, I am reminded of a
word of one of your own authors who said that there was no better
education for a man's character than the effort to win the love of a
worthy woman. And so, when a man has altogether made up his mind that he
loves a woman, he does not feel it necessary to keep his love secret
till he knows whether the woman will accept it; on the contrary, he
makes open confession of it as Chairo did. And the woman, if she is not
prepared to decide, responds to such an act as Chairo's, with a sign of
the cross to indicate that she is for the time being set apart until
such time as she has prayerfully considered. And in Lydia's case, this
has a double signification; her choice is doubly religious, in that she
not only has to consult her heart as to her love for Chairo, but also
her conscience as to her duty to the cult."
I was glad that the reapers began returning and that our conversation
was brought to a close by their return, for I was fairly tired. Great as
was my curiosity to know more of these singular institutions I felt the
need of thinking a little about them before my mind was crowded with
further information. And so I gladly returned to the men's quarters,
which were becoming crowded with those who had more right there than I
to a plunge in the crystal pool. We were soon ready for lunch, and I was
accompanied thither by Chairo, Cleon, and Ariston.