The dress of the hierarchy is simple, consisting outwardly of a white

woollen toga-like garment that is free from all ornament. I suspect

the adoption of this style of dress is borrowed from that of classical

Rome, whose laws and customs evidently form the basis of the Meleagrian

constitution. A white wand is carried in the hand, and a white fillet

is bound round the temples; only on the two great half-yearly festivals

are the ornate gold-fringed garments worn in public. The robes of the

Arch-priest are likewise of a white woollen material, which in his

case are relieved by a bordure of gold brocade, whilst the wand and

fillet are also of gold; but on state occasions he dons magnificent

vestments of cloth of gold and wears a golden mitre on his head. The

Arch-priest's office is naturally more sacerdotal in its nature than

that of his comrades, for it is he who is entrusted with the due

performance of all the services of the temple, and he too assists at

the solemn ceremony of censing the crystal altar of the Sun, as I

have already shown. He is also the custodian of the awful Fountain of

Rejuvenation, though his guardianship is shared by other members of the

inner ring. One day, finding the venerable head of the council in an

unusually expansive mood, I ventured to question him openly upon the

properties of this sacred well, this Zem-Zem of Meleagrian un-faith. He

replied that its medicated waters, though highly beneficial to a mortal

born of the Earth, would prove fatal to any Meleagrian rash enough to

attempt their use. Moreover, he added that should anyone plunge alone

and unattended into this well, the terrific suction of the current

beneath would infallibly drag the body under, never to reappear. I then

questioned him if many such accidents had ever occurred, whereupon he

answered dryly that none had happened in his own experience; which

equivocal reply I interpreted as admitting that fatal incidents in the

past were by no means unknown. I then twitted him jokingly for not

renewing his own youth, of course with all proper precautions, in the

fountain of his charge, to which he replied with considerable asperity

and horror, using the most solemn Meleagrian form of denial: "May the

God perish first and the Sun be darkened!" After this vigorous negation

he took his departure with some abruptness, nor could I ever entice

him to speak again of the fountain.

I fully realise that my account of the hierarchy or governing class of

Meleager is both incomplete and unsatisfactory, but I must plead again

the many difficulties of obtaining information which I have already

mentioned. In fact, it is from two sources only that I can derive

any details whatever, these being my own limited opportunities of

observation and discovery and the rare statements that the Arch-priest

lets fall from time to time, for I am not on confidential terms with

any other member of the council. From Hiridia and my friends of the

nobility I can gather absolutely nothing, for the simple reason that

their own ignorance of the private affairs of their ruling caste is

even greater than mine. Indeed, the marvel is that I have been able to

compile even the small amount I have inscribed here, considering the

obstacles in my way of acquiring knowledge. I must sum up therefore

by stating that I have very little communication with that body of

councillors with whom my own position and prerogative are so closely

interwoven, this state of affairs being due wholly to the persistent

refusal of the latter to take me into their confidence.

IX

Of the nobility I can speak with more confidence, for with many of them

I am on terms of intimacy and friendship. The well-bred gentleman is

not confined in our own world to any special climate or nation, for

he is to be found equally under a white, a yellow, a brown and even a

black skin; and the gentle type is also indigenous on the planet of

Meleager.

The aristocracy of Meleager is closely connected with the land, and it

is to some extent strongly impregnated with feudal principles. Every

noble is either the owner of an estate, be it large, moderate or small,

or else is connected by family ties with the actual landowner. Each

house forms a distinctive gens in itself, and all its male members are

entitled to bear a badge, which is its peculiar mark. These badges at

first suggested to my mind a relic of totem-kin, but I soon changed my

opinion on this point, and now hold the family badge to be heraldic

in its aim and use. I gather that the adoption of a conspicuous badge

or emblem for each family is of considerable antiquity, and perhaps

derives from reports made by the Meleagrian envoys on Earth at the

period of the Crusades, when coat-armour came into fashion among the

chivalry of Western Christendom.

The mass of the nobles exhibits various degrees of wealth and

influence, and I have noted the existence of some ill-feeling between

the leading magnates and the smaller landowners. The social cleavage

between the two sets is however imperceptible, and the constant

intermarriage between the families of what I may call the major and

the minor barons tends to eradicate many cases of jealousy. This

landed aristocracy has, of course, its chief residence in the country

districts, though the wealthier families possess houses in the cities

in addition. The country house of Meleager is usually of moderate

size, and consists of a low square white-washed mansion enclosing a

courtyard. The native love of colonnades is prominently exhibited in

these houses, which are frequently surrounded on all sides by loggias

that can be utilised according to the varying conditions of weather.

The arrangements within are somewhat primitive according to our own

luxurious standards of the twentieth century, but they are not without

a sufficiency of comfort. The floors are generally tiled; there are no

rugs or carpets, save some skins of beasts; the furniture, though often

elaborately carved, is not plentiful. There are no family portraits,

for the art of painting pictures is unknown, but in compensation for

this defect there is always the curious family chapel or mausoleum.

This has usually a low domed roof pierced by windows of coloured glass

that admit only a dim light within the chamber which seems very similar

to the _columbaria_ of the Romans, from whom I conclude this idea has

been borrowed by their unknown admirers. Rows of small semicircular

apertures line the walls, many of these standing empty, whilst not a

few are occupied by busts of deceased members of the family. Beneath

these effigies are placed small urns of metal or marble which contain

the ashes, for cremation has for sanitary reasons been made compulsory

in Meleager for many centuries past. Some of these busts are of no

small artistic merit, and evidently well portray the features of the

noble ancestors; others again are of inferior workmanship; whilst some

are obviously merely conventional in their treatment. Such a collection

certainly forms rather a gruesome substitute for a family portrait

gallery, but its atmosphere does not seem to depress the spirits of

the present generation, for I am always cheerfully invited to enter

and inspect these queer oratories. The surrounding gardens are often

beautiful, but are far less artificial than our own. One broad long

flagged terrace usually suffices for the family to stroll; otherwise

the paths and lawns are unkempt and neglected. These pleasances are

however full of a luxuriant growth of wild or half-wild flowers, so

that I found myself often being reminded of the exuberant gardens of

old-world Italian villas in past days, before the late irruption of

wealthy cosmopolitan tourists had succeeded in thoroughly vulgarising

Italy and modernising all its old peaceful haunts.

Country life as pursued in Meleager varies little in its essence from

that of our Earth, _mutatis mutandis_, for time is pretty evenly

divided between the attractions of sport and the claims of estate

management and domestic concerns. Everything is, of course, conducted

in a manner that would appear as primitive to our pampered sportsmen

as it would seem suggestive to the antiquary, for both field sports

and agriculture have remained here in the mediæval, or even sometimes

in the archaic, stage of development. Firearms, though not unknown,

are at least never employed, so that in hunting the spear, the net,

the trap and even the bow still constitute the chief weapons of the

chase. All ploughing is performed by oxen with wooden implements, and

the thorough cultivation of the crops is on a tiny scale. Again and

again have the conditions of Meleagrian rural life recalled to me the

old-world bucolic practices of Tuscany and Castile, that even down

to the close of the nineteenth century retained so many picturesque

features of remote classical times. The tenor of existence in the

country is quiet enough, and would prove unspeakably dull and irksome

to the majority of our modern squires; but it must be remembered that

the Meleagrian landowners have no newspapers, no novels, no Stock

Exchange, no party politics to sweeten and distract their daily round,

so that they are perfectly content to follow in the secure footsteps

of their forefathers. Should the younger men find the calm routine of

country life wearisome, there are other avenues of occupation open to

such restless souls. In the first place there is the army, which is

officered solely by members of the aristocracy, some of whom make a

permanent profession of their military duties and attain in due course

to the higher commands therein. The usual plan is, however, for the

younger sons of the noble houses to spend some three or four years in

the army, after which they marry and come to settle in homes of their

own, where they busy themselves for the rest of their lives with a

medley of sport, agriculture and domestic economy. Again, the life

at Court is open to a certain number of those who care neither for a

career in the army nor for the monotony of the countryside. Here they

participate in the constant variety of the palace, and hope to win

honorary appointments in the royal household. A few, more adventurous

still than their fellows, proceed to Barbaria either for the purpose

of better hunting, or for the sake of the harder and more exciting

life in a new sphere of energy. Some proportion of these latter obtain

grants of land in this less than half-occupied territory, where they

found new estates modelled on the old lines, much as the younger

scions of our gentle English houses emigrated and settled in Virginia.

Such experiments moreover are strongly commended and encouraged by

the special councillors who are charged with the conduct of colonial

affairs.

Yet another and a far more important means of escape from the alleged

tedium of family or rustic routine is the career of the probationer,

who aspires eventually to be elected a member of the hierarchy. This

ambition cannot, however, be gratified before the age of thirty, when

the intending candidate is admitted to the school of the neophytes.

Here for a year he receives a course of lectures on Meleagrian history

and is taught the rudiments of Latin grammar, but no instruction in

reading or writing is yet afforded him. At the end of a twelvemonth of

such preliminary training, the neophyte is either rejected as unfit

or unsuitable, or else he is admitted a probationer of the seminary

attached to the Temple of the Sun. In that case he receives a five

years' course of far more advanced tuition; he is taught to read, write

and speak the Latin language; and presumably he is also instructed in

astronomy, politics, theology and other subjects concerning which his

existing notions must be strangely vague or wholly erroneous. This long

period of instruction entails a severe strain on the pupil, who is

henceforth cut off from all private and external ties and interests,

for he is never allowed to quit the precincts of his seminary. Of his

final election and reception into the council of the hierarchy I have

spoken elsewhere. Whether or no any candidate has ever failed to obtain

his election and has been consequently compelled to remain in the

institution for years, perhaps for the term of his lifetime, I cannot

say; yet I do know for a fact that for its inmates there is but one

door leading out of the seminary of probationers and that is the door

which admits to the council chamber.

I always enjoy my occasional visits to the country seats of the

nobility, where the calm useful healthy life affords an agreeable

change to me from the atmosphere of the palace, which seems always

charged with mystery and intrigue. The genuine greeting of my host and

the members of his family, the delightful blend of divine honours and

of frank hospitality wherewith I am everywhere received, the pride

shown in their farms and agricultural schemes, the general air of

repose and safety, all tend to soothe a mind that has grown perplexed

and wearied with the endless cares of an exalted but anomalous office.

The conversation of these uneducated but well-bred persons is certainly

not exciting, and might fairly be described as trivial, but really I do

not think, from past experience, that it is more trifling or banal than

the average talk of the British aristocracy which of recent years has

elevated sport and money-making to be the prevalent topics of society

(using that term in its narrow technical application). And though all

these excellent folk in Meleager are of necessity quite illiterate in

the sense that they cannot read and write, their memory is marvellous,

so that often after the evening meal the different members of the

household recite whole poems in the Meleagrian language, or else tell

stories that are by no means devoid of wit and imagination. Often too

there is singing to the native lute of sweet melodious songs, which are

well rendered by the fresh voices of the young performers.

The land tenure of Meleager may perhaps be best described as a

modified form of primogeniture. The family estate, whether large or

small, descends in tail male, and only in the failure of masculine

issue in the whole family to the female heirs of the last possessor.

This strict entail is, however, subject to certain limitations, which

tend to allow provision for the widow and daughters of the landowner.

Moreover, all members of the family have a species of life interest in

the estate, so long as they continue unmarried. Thus on the death of

a father, the eldest-born will inherit, but the new owner's younger

brothers (and also his unmarried uncles), if still residing under the

family roof, own the right to remain in their old home. Patriarchal

life in this manner becomes highly developed, and the family council

consisting of all its male and all its unmarried female members can

exercise considerable power over all private affairs within the scope

of the family circle. Thus the expulsion of an unworthy relative can

be arranged, and this inherent family rule is admitted and upheld by

the hierarchy. A noble thus expelled forfeits his right to bear the

family badge, and also has to relinquish the crimson cloak and tunic

of his order. A member so degraded sinks automatically into the ranks

of the plebeian or third estate, and is generally lost sight of. Such

incidents are rare, but they do occur occasionally, and this private

form of prerogative to drive into social exile is undisputed.

Although a very distinct line is drawn between the Reds and the Greens,

between the noble and the mercantile classes, there seems no contempt

or envy of class on either side. Such jealousy as exists is rather

noticeable within the ranks of the aristocracy itself, wherein, though

nominally all are of equal rank, some are rich and some poor, some

influential and some of little account. And the same remark holds good

of the conditions prevailing in the mercantile class. Taxation of the

landed interest is raised in two ways: first by a direct tax on land

itself, which is apportioned at certain intervals; and second, by a

poll-tax on every noble. Occasionally a landed estate left without

any male heirs is sold for the benefit of the female inheritors; but

it is clear that in the vast majority of cases the present estates in

Meleager have descended in unbroken succession and unreduced in area

for many generations.

As to the characteristics of the Meleagrian nobles, doubtless they have

their failings, but these in my estimation are fully redeemed by their

many good qualities. There is apparent some display of haughtiness in

the higher nobility towards other less wealthy members of their own

caste, but their attitude and bearing towards their many dependents

and also towards the general populace would be worthy of imitation

even in our so-called democratic world. Of course such intimacy as I

can attain with them is necessarily limited, when one considers my own

range of knowledge and their utter inability to grasp the meaning of

any one of the many serious questions that perpetually vex my mind.

I sometimes have the sensation of living in a world of shadows, with

which I sport and even converse, for the mental gulf fixed between me

and them is fathomless and unbridgeable. Even my Hiridia, faithful

friend and delightful companion though he be, seems often a plaything

rather than a co-equal being of the same flesh and blood as myself. I

can study all these people and analyse with ease their simple empty

minds; I can sympathise with their artless pleasures and pastimes; I

can play and sing and hunt and bathe and feast with them;--but I cannot

talk with them seriously any more than can a septuagenarian professor

carry on a rational conversation with a child. Yet all the same they

are charming grown-up children; and was it not the Divine Master of our

world who more than once insisted that to share His promised kingdom

all His grown-up hearers must become as little children? Nevertheless,

despite such consoling thoughts, the fact remains that I am always

lonely.

* * * * *

Of the mercantile class I intend to say very little. So much that I

have just written applies with equal force to the Greens, or second

estate of the realm. I am often entertained by the leading merchants

of Tamarida and Zapyro, but these occasions really produce little

more than the exchange of polite formalities, and I know far less of

these persons than I do of the nobility. A portion of this class is

connected with the land in the form of yeomen, or small freeholders,

whose properties are however confined to Barbaria or to the poorer

districts of the Regio Solis. In their case the law of primogeniture

is enforced more strictly than amongst the landed aristocracy, for as

the yeoman's estate is reckoned insufficient to provide for all the

males of the family, only the eldest son enjoys the paternal acres. The

younger sons are accordingly dispatched to make their living or fortune

in some trade, and it is usually the stalwart young men of this small

landed stock who supply the greater part of the petty officers in the

army. The great majority of the Greens, as they are commonly termed,

are traders either on a large or a small scale, though a certain number

fill some of the lesser official posts of stewards and assistants in

connection with the work of the hierarchy. In the case of members of

this order who have amassed considerable wealth and are desirous of

entering the class of the nobles, application is made to the council,

and such appeals are either granted or refused after a full hearing

of the circumstances. The royal consent is likewise necessary for

the bestowal of this coveted privilege; and I may add that such

applications constitute the sole exception to the general rule, that

the nobles are never given to intrigue with myself. Naturally they are

jealous concerning the prerogative of their order, and some at least

are certain to resent fiercely any such attempts of outsiders to be

admitted to their ranks. A good many of such appeals are rejected,

but in the event of a successful application a large contribution

has to be paid to the coffers of the temple and the palace; a landed

estate has somehow to be purchased, usually in Barbaria, and then the

fortunate postulant doffs the green robes and dons the red, which he

is now permitted to wear, and also assumes the use of a badge granted

him by the King, who selects the emblem he deems most suitable. The

position of the new-comers for a considerable time, perhaps for a

couple of generations, is not an enviable one, for they are treated

coldly and looked at askance by the majority of their fellow-nobles.

But as the older folk pass away, and memories grow shorter, the new

lord, or rather his progeny, becomes gradually absorbed by matrimonial

connection into the mass of the nobility, and intermingles with the

rest. Still, the stigma of having risen from the Greens clings, I

fancy, to this type of pseudo-aristocratic house for a long time.

On the other hand, marriage with a junior member of the nobility at

once confers the husband's rank on a bride of the second estate,

who henceforth ceases to hold open intercourse with her own family.

Contrariwise, ladies of the nobility who ally themselves with merchants

or yeomen sink to the level of their husbands' station.

* * * * *

With the populace again I have more intimacy and sympathy than with

the Greens, and through my attendants and bodyguard at the palace I

am brought more closely into touch with the people at large. This

third estate of the realm consists of all the manual labourers, the

artisans, the fisher-folk, and in short all such persons as live by

receiving wages, whether in money or kind. I have already hinted

that their condition and well-being form the constant care of the

councillors, who see that their homes are sanitary, well built and

generally adequate, whilst the wages paid must be deemed sufficient

to support the individual or his family in decency and comfort. In

fact, the supervision of this, the largest and economically the most

important section of the community, constitutes the first care of the

hierarchy. The people seem hale and happy, nor do they exhibit any envy

of the better-fed and better-clad Greens, nor yet of the majestic and

privileged Reds. The rules of family life prevail less strongly here

owing to the wider dispersal of its members, but they are nominally

identical with those in the classes above. There are no law courts

in Meleager, and usually disputes and difficulties in this class

are settled, as I have already shown, in the judgment hall of the

capital, where I sit on most days. The women-folk of the third estate

live in less seclusion than do those of the nobility and merchants, a

result that is due (as in our Mohammedan countries) to the necessity

of the poor having to perform their marketing and daily business in

public. This same class also may be said to include the numerous

tribe of indentured labourers, mostly from Barbaria, whose status

somewhat resembles that of the Roman slaves under the Empire. Vice and

drunkenness, though by no means unfrequent, are not conspicuous in

this class; whilst the police patrols keep a pretty sharp eye on the

landlords of the lower sort of wine-shop and brothel. These resorts

of the more dissipated of the people are also visited at times by the

councillors charged with their management and reputation, so that the

streets of Tamarida at night would compare favourably with those of

most European cities, and such debauchery as does exist is assuredly

kept well concealed behind doors and is not allowed to offend the eyes

or the ears of the passer-by in the streets, which, though dark and

narrow, can be safely traversed by all after nightfall. A few cases of

quarrelling and use of the knife occur and are severely punished by

the lash whenever the culprits are brought to book; deliberate murder

is very rare; theft is not frequent; assaults on women and children

are practically unknown. So far as my observations tend, I can sum up

without hesitation by saying that the proletariat of Meleager is a

remarkably happy, healthy, well-behaved, industrious and sober body

under what I may call the benign despotism of councillors who have not

only been educated to command by years of special training, but also

possess a natural gift for such functions.

X

I should not like the reader from anything I have written hitherto to

carry away the impression that, because I am myself debarred from their

society, the women of Meleager own a status at all similar to that

prevailing in Mohammedan countries. On the contrary, setting aside the

exceptional case of their semi-divine monarch, the sex has little to

lament on the score of inferior or unfair treatment. The Council of

Seventy, it is true, contains no female element, but to balance this,

the college of the priestesses of the Sun, which I shall describe

presently, wields considerable powers in the government of the state.

Moreover, the severe restrictions concerning their relations with the

King rest, at least nominally, on religious grounds and would therefore

naturally be less likely to cause resentment. I think therefore I

had better first discuss the existing attitude of my female subjects

towards myself, for on this point I can at least offer some correct and

detailed information, both from personal knowledge and as the result of

inquiries I have from time to time cautiously ventured to make of the

older women, with whom alone I am permitted to hold social intercourse.

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