No unimportant part of the religious training which every girl

receives at her mother's knee in Meleager is the Sun Myth, with its

picturesque fables of the Sun-god and his incarnated Child. The divine

nature and mission of the latter are always dwelt on by the teacher

with particular insistence and with due solemnity; and his sanctity is

described as placing him outside the pale of ordinary men with ordinary

passions. And not only this. Should the Child of the Sun forget the

sacred character of his entrusted mission to his father's people and

flout his father's precepts so far as to stoop to philander with any

maiden of his kingdom, not only will the disobedient monarch incur his

divine parent's grave displeasure, but also a most terrible fate awaits

the unhappy object of his attentions. From this last portion of the

advice instilled into the growing female mind, I conclude that alarming

scandals have actually occurred in the past; and who can marvel at it?

But how recent or remote are these love intrigues in date; and how or

where or when they were detected and punished I am quite ignorant, nor

am I ever likely to receive enlightenment thereon. But it is also in

harmony with my theory of past troubles of this nature that a salutary

story (which is by no means regarded here as a legend) has long been

in circulation. The tale itself is strongly reminiscent of the old

Greek myth of Zeus and Semele, and in Meleager it takes the shape of an

intrigue between a foolish maiden of the people, Anata by name, and

the then reigning Child of the Sun, who fell a victim to her charms

or her advances. For it is gravely related that Anata actually made

her way to the private apartments of the King by stealth. Whether or

no she obtained any satisfaction from her forbidden interview will

never be known, but it is certain her body was found next morning in

the royal bed-chamber charred and almost unrecognisable as the dire

result of her clandestine embraces in the arms of the son of the God

of Fire. To become the mistress therefore of the Sun-child, should

the monarch descend so low as to forget his divine calling, is but

the certain prelude to an ignominious and horrible death; and such a

belief is firmly held by all women dwelling on Meleager. It is also

pronounced dangerous (as it is voted most decidedly immodest) for any

young woman, whether maiden or married, to allow even the casual glance

of the Sun-child to fall full on her face; so that it is usual for all

girls to fling the light veil, or mantilla, which every Meleagrian

woman wears, over her features in the event of her encountering

accidentally the person of the King. This custom, however, is not an

actual regulation, and I have often noticed girls, especially those of

the populace, indulge in a good solid stare as I have come riding or

walking down the streets of the capital, though sooner or later some

pretence of covering the eyes with the veil was carried out. Amongst

the nobility this formal hiding of the face is more strictly insisted

on, if only as a detail of good breeding. From what I have seen, the

young women of Meleager are short, dark and comely, with fine brown

merry eyes, small features, and dark hair. In extreme youth they are

often remarkably pretty and attractive, but after child-birth they

are very liable to lose their elegant symmetry, and to find what was

an agreeable plumpness exchanged for a rather prominent bulkiness of

figure.

I have never yet so much as spoken to a woman below the age of thirty

or thereabouts, and though the fundamental law forbidding my intimacy

with any woman in the pride and beauty of her youth is quite wise and

logical, according both to the letter and the spirit of Meleagrian

state craft, yet it is a rule that presses very cruelly upon myself.

For remember, _I_ do not grow old and languid; my own vitality is

mysteriously renewed at short intervals, and male youth craves the

society and companionship of female youth; whilst also in my case this

natural desire can never diminish with the passing of the years. In

this respect I stand therefore betwixt the devil and the deep sea,

between Scylla and Charybdis. On the one hand, I have to curb my

juvenile longings and tastes which tend rather to grow stronger and

more insistent; whilst on the other, any attempt to circumvent this

ordinance of the hierarchy would not only end in my own discomfiture,

and possibly removal, but would most certainly result in the miserable

fate of any poor favourite of my choice. The story of silly Anata's

disgrace was not invented by the hierarchy merely to serve as an empty

fable, one may be sure of that. I feel convinced, too, that the palace

teems with spies for this very purpose of thwarting any such intrigue,

and though hitherto I have given no cause even for suspicion, I feel

my position most acutely. It is so false, and I know it to be false,

and so do those who have manœuvred this particular piece of policy

concerning their monarch.

When women have once exceeded the age of thirty (which is considered

the child-bearing limit in Meleager), and have presumably lost all

officially suspected attraction in the eyes of the Child of the Sun,

the embargo is removed, though there is never much intercourse between

the King and the middle-aged or elderly ladies of the nobility.

Whenever I honour the country home of one of my nobles with my

presence, all the young women of the household, married or unmarried,

are removed elsewhere, but such as are above the fixed age of thirty

are suffered to remain, though even in these cases I note that I am

seldom left alone with women, no matter what their age. No doubt the

female mind, so strongly imbued in childhood with the inherent mystical

terrors of their monarch, still shrinks with awe from too close

proximity with such a force of potential danger. Possibly, however, I

may err on this point, and in reality some ancient notion of etiquette

unknown to me is being served by this noticeable self-effacement on

the part of the older women. Of course, the deference wherewith I am

treated by the male folk is intensified in the case of the ladies, who

regard me much in the same light that a bigoted Catholic would regard a

tangible apparition of St Peter or St Paul in their houses.

Politically, women possess no rights, but then no more do the men,

except the handful who compose the executive council, so they cannot

well complain of invidious treatment on this score, even were they

anxious to discover grievances of sex. As with the historic Prussian

queen, their empire admittedly lies in the nursery, for all children

are completely under the charge of their mothers according to

immemorial custom. In the nobility the tacit law seems to be that the

man is master outside the house, whilst the woman is mistress within

doors; and this maxim is generally acted upon throughout all spheres of

social life. Women are exempt from the poll-tax, which is levied on all

males, and indeed no taxes are exacted from women at all, except in the

rare and transitory instances of unmarried heiresses of landed estates.

Whether or no, vague, restless, unsatisfied aspirations and longings

occasionally assail the minds of some of the younger men I cannot

say for certain; but I do feel sure that the womanhood of Meleager

is absolutely satisfied with its present lot and cannot so much as

conceive of any betterment of existing conditions. The conversations

I have had with the wives or sisters of my hosts at different times

were usually of a rather stilted and uninteresting nature; but I never

failed to note their supreme content and buoyant cheerfulness.

Nevertheless, although women have never been admitted into the ranks

of the hierarchy, and presumably never will be, yet they possess a

species of council of their own sex in the college of the priestesses

of the Sun, who inhabit a large block of buildings contiguous to the

great temple. This institution is based on rules somewhat similar to

those which prevail in the Council of the Seventy, but it is worked and

administered on broader lines, and the age limit is not so strictly

drawn as in the case of the hierarchy. Girls who have no desire or

vocation for matrimony may enter the portals of this convent (if I may

so term it) as novices; nor is the acceptance of applicants confined

to one social class, as is the rule concerning the probationers of

the hierarchy. On the contrary, a fair proportion of the inmates of

this convent are drawn from the middle and lower classes, and thus the

atmosphere of the convent is of a distinctly democratic type. Even the

highest office of all, that of Domina, or lady abbess, is occasionally

attained by a plebeian, for the rules of election here are carefully

compiled so as to secure the choice of the most popular and capable of

the candidates. The senior ladies of the convent are kept in constant

touch with the members of the council, who frequently apply to the

priestesses of the Sun for advice in various matters of a social and

remedial nature, which may be deemed expedient. Thus all regulations

concerning the welfare of women and children have been carefully

scrutinised and approved by the Domina and her assessors before ever

they are enforced by the officials of the council. But how closely and

on what lines the temple and the convent work together is of course

beyond my knowledge, though it is evident that the two institutions are

conducted in apparent harmony with one another.

XI

It is scarcely fair to offer any comparison between the moral progress

as shown in Meleager and that prevailing on the Earth, and in any case

such a comparison would prove impossible, seeing how varied and how

complex are the many moral systems of the greater planet. With our

numerous nationalities it is only logical there should result great

diversities of opinion on ethics, and we are made to realise our

difficulty in estimating any average sum-total of earthly morals to

bring into the field of comparison. Has not one writer of note averred

that the views of sexual morality held by the phallic worshippers of

old and by the extreme Puritans of to-day rest equally on a common

religious foundation? And has not our British poet of empire somewhere

written that

"The wildest dreams of Kew are the facts of Khatmandù,

And the crimes of Clapham chaste in Martaban"?

In the instance of my own kingdom the many defunct and surviving

systems of the nations of the Earth have all been studied and have

doubtless been partially adapted here and there, so that in a sense the

Meleagrian outlook on morals is extremely interesting, as affording

the result of careful unprejudiced investigation over a wide space

of time. But of course the outcome of these secret researches and

deductions cannot possibly be agreeable or obvious to any one people or

set of thinkers on Earth, for it will be remembered that whereas the

Earth is a congeries of tribes and climates and faiths, so Meleager

is homogeneous, unless one takes into account the colder and almost

unexplored parts of Barbaria. And thus, as the consequence of careful

study for many, many generations by acute well-trained intellects, a

sort of eclecticism has been created here in the field of morals, as

has already arisen in the case of religious tenets.

Here there are no hard and fast rules on moral behaviour, but each

individual is supposed to be guided by his or her instincts, which

it is considered expedient to depress or encourage, according to the

benefit or damage that may accrue thereby to society at large, or to

the state, if you prefer to regard it as such. The open exhibition of

harmful instincts then is looked on by the ruling caste of Meleager as

an occasion not for punishment but for segregation; such tendencies

in themselves being disregarded so long as they are practised in

secret and kept, as it were, under personal control. And here I am

speaking only of traits and tendencies, not of actual crimes, of fraud

or violence, for the punishment of which there exists a severe code

based apparently on the Mosaic laws. A cold-blooded murder is repaid

by a death penalty, which is carried out privately in the case of a

nobleman, by beheadal in prison of a merchant, and by public hanging in

the case of a plebeian. Crimes of assault are met with strokes from the

lash coupled with a fine; outrages on children are punished by death.

But vile crimes and executions are very rare indeed, and this highly

desirable state of things I attribute to the long period wherein the

rulers of Meleager have been gradually eliminating the feeble-minded

and evil-disposed members of the community by their careful and

judicious system of segregation. Other cases of wrong-doing of a more

venial type are usually met by a scale of fines, which are intended

to compensate the injured party for any damage he may have incurred;

whilst minor instances of violence or disturbance of the peace are

frequently punished by an order to administer a certain number of

lashes there and then in open court, this penalty being not uncommonly

awarded to drunken or refractory persons belonging to the seafaring,

peddling, long-shore and such humbler sections of the populace.

Thanks again to the past measures taken to repress crime and to

ensure good behaviour, the physical health of the kingdom leaves

almost nothing to be desired. Epidemic diseases are practically

unknown, as are also contagious venereal maladies. It is the constant,

and possibly rather trying and officious, visitations made by the

sanitary inspectors into every homestead, small or great, patrician

or plebeian, which have doubtless helped to induce this highly

commendable condition of affairs. Disease and dirt are the two evils

which are attacked without rest or mercy by the councillors appointed

for their control, and by their equally energetic representatives.

Cleanliness is not reckoned as next to godliness in Meleager; it is

an inherent part of religion itself, and hygienic regulations are

perpetually being enforced upon what is now become a willing, though

no doubt in past times it was an unwilling, population. I suppose many

English Puritans would look askance at the thermal establishments

which exist both in the cities and in the rural districts, seeing

that the two sexes have here opportunities of studying one another in

a nude state; but then, as I have said before, Meleagrian morals do

not exist for morality's sake, but have evidently been framed for the

special purpose of securing a healthy vigorous race. Early marriage is

encouraged, but, paradoxical as it may appear, large families are not

considered desirable; whilst there is a curious custom which permits

of a husband no longer cohabiting with his wife after she has borne

him three children living. I have heard that this eccentric, and no

doubt to many offensive, notion also prevails in the upper ranks of

the civilised Latin races, though possibly my informant may have been

mistaken in his statement. I gather that such a tacit understanding has

its origin in the fear of over-population, and certainly the limited

land surface of Meleager possessing a desirable climate may plead as a

reasonable excuse for the holding of this whimsical tenet, which seems

to savour of the school of Malthus. Apparently the growth of population

in Meleager is somewhat analogous to that of modern France, and seeing

the high place in which French philosophy and culture are held by the

leading nations of the Earth, the Meleagrians are at least erring in

good company.

Turning to the coarser side of the question of public morals,

prostitution exists, but neither to a great extent nor openly.

Those who can recall the nocturnal conditions of the main London

thorough-fares during the latter part of Queen Victoria's reign would

be agreeably surprised to detect no outward flaunting of vice after

dusk in the streets of Tamarida; and the least tendency to riot or

disturbance is promptly quelled by the military patrols. Not that

licence and debauchery do not abound, for there are, I believe, plenty

of resorts of a certain class in the towns; but the doings of such

places do not rise to the surface, and those who frequent them dare not

offend the quiet of their neighbours.

Meanwhile the priestesses of the Sun are constantly busied with the

ultimate fate of the harlot, and their emissaries are often engaged

in reclaiming girls from a licentious career and in training them

to become useful wives, for such early lapses are held lightly by

the mass of the people. And in not a few instances these "_filles

de joie_" become wedded to their paramours, and make good mothers.

Such an outlook is of course utterly unmoral to large sections of the

civilised and Christianised nations of Europe and America; but the

Meleagrian view is shared by many other races of the Earth who have

enjoyed a longer and perhaps a better record of civilisation than

have these complacent modern nations whose ancestors were half-naked

savages in the days of the Roman Empire. Universal chastity, in

short, is a feature almost exclusively confined to northern tribes of

barbarians, for whom it has great natural advantages certainly, for it

tends to breed a hardy and prolific race. But I do not think it can be

classed as a genuine virtue in itself, and it always tends promptly

to disappear the moment the trammels of education and development are

assumed. Now the Meleagrians can lay claim to be an intensely civilised

race, whereby I mean their rulers have been engaged in the study of the

arts of peace and progress for many centuries, and have consequently

left behind them the old barbarian necessity for absolute chastity,

though they still recognise its value as a wholesome ingredient of

married family life. For with marriage chastity in their eyes takes on

another aspect, which must not be confounded with the former, and that

is faithfulness. A faithless wife is very rare indeed in Meleager, and

her treatment at the hands of her neighbours is not enviable.

XII

Religion has already entered so significantly into my narrative that I

feel I must apologise for a special dissertation on this subject. Yet I

have never so far described the exact nature or scope of the Meleagrian

faith which may be said to permeate and regulate the whole private and

public existence of the people.

The inhabitants of Meleager--and in the ensuing statements, of course,

I always except the hierarchy--are worshippers of the Sun, who is

their sole deity. He is visible to them for a large portion of almost

each day; he is tangible, in so far as they can feel the warmth of his

beams; he is alive and in constant motion, as they watch him "ride the

heavens like a horse" and disappear into the waters of the western sea

only to uprear again next morning above the eastern horizon. As in the

old Greek mythos, the Sun is popularly supposed to drive his golden

chariot with its flaming wheels and with its yoke of fretting stallions

across the dome of heaven, till finally god and car alike pass over the

containing rim of the Meleagrian world. Below the flat surface of the

land and sea the Sun-god inhabits a vast palace, whose splendours far

exceed anything known to men. Here he rests after his daily labours

amongst his numerous progeny, and refreshes himself after his late

exertions undertaken solely for the benefit of the favoured race, that

in the illimitable past he created in his own image. The firmament

is his field of action; the space below the ground is his haven of

retirement. At night the dome of heaven shorn of his effulgent presence

is lighted only by the sparkling stars; "jewels of the Sun," as they

are termed in Meleagrian parlance; or else the great vacant arc is

illumined by the sickly lustre of the Moon. For the Moon stands to

the Meleagrian mind, as it did largely to the antique and mediæval

imagination, for all that is uncanny and malign. Few Meleagrians will

walk abroad in clear moonlight, if they can reasonably avoid so doing;

and in the many tales and legends that are current the Moon in her

various phases and with her evil influence always occupies a prominent

place. The oldest legend concerning the Moon, that is a legend parallel

with such theories as the origin of the rainbow or the story of the

Ark on Mount Ararat of the Jewish Pentateuch, relates how in the days

of chaos there were two Suns, rivals, who fought one another for the

possession of the beautiful world of Meleager; and that after a titanic

combat, wherein the heavens thundered and the mountains belched forth

fire and smoke, and the waters tossed and hissed furiously, the benign

Sun conquered and slew the opposing deity, whose dead body still floats

abroad in the sky, wherein it serves as an eternal trophy to the

prowess of the victor. In the popular imagination however the corpse

of the vanquished Moon is not wholly impotent for ill. A scintilla of

mischievous vitality is still believed to lurk in its form, during

the hours of the night, what time the Sun himself is absent from the

heavens. The average Meleagrian therefore has a peculiar dread of the

night, and of a moonlit night in a special degree. The practice of

magic, both of the black and white types, is fairly common in all ranks

of Meleagrian society, and its preparations and philtres are always

popularly associated with the period of the Moon's fulness, when that

deity's surviving spark of life is deemed most active.

The cult of the Meleagrians for the Sun not only recognises his vital

warmth and fructifying properties, but also attributes to him the

gathering or dispersal of the clouds which drop the refreshing rain

upon the thirsty soil and swell the opening buds of tree and plant. The

winds are also under the Sun's control, and are apparently regarded as

his offspring, who sometimes disobey their august parent's injunctions,

and either sportively or maliciously vex the people of Meleager with

unwelcome gales that imperil the fisher-folk at sea, and injure the

springing crops on land. But speaking broadly, the Meleagrian is of

St James's opinion that "every good gift and every perfect gift is

from above, and cometh down from the Father of Lights with whom is no

variableness neither shadow of turning." And in truth the unchangeable

benignity and faithfulness of the Sun-god are so evident to his people

that one can scarcely wonder at their fixed belief in his omnipresent

power for good, and at his unsullied reputation of their sole

benefactor.

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