Next day, when Clarence had finished his daily spell of work in the
fruit-garden (he was third under-gardener to the community), he went up
to his own study, and wrote out a little notice in due form to be posted
at dinner-time on the refectory door: "Clarence and Olive ask leave of
the phalanstery to enter with one another into free contract of holy
matrimony." His pen trembled a little in his hand as he framed that
familiar set form of words (strange that he had read it so often with so
little emotion, and wrote it now with so much: we men are so selfish!);
but he fixed it boldly with four small brass nails on the regulation
notice-board, and waited, not without a certain quiet confidence, for
the final result of the communal council.
"Aha!" said the hierarch to himself with a kindly smile, as he passed
into the refectory at dinner-time that day, "has it come to that, then?
Well, well, I thought as much; I felt sure it would. A good girl, Olive:
a true, earnest, lovable girl: and she has chosen wisely, too; for
Clarence is the very man to balance her own character as man's and
wife's should do. Whether Clarence has done well in selecting her is
another matter. For my own part, I had rather hoped she would have
joined the celibate sisters, and have taken nurse duty for the sick and
the children. It's her natural function in life, the work she's best
fitted for; and I should have liked to see her take to it. But after
all, the business of the phalanstery is not to decide vicariously for
its individual members--not to thwart their natural harmless
inclinations and wishes; on the contrary, we ought to allow every man
and girl the fullest liberty to follow their own personal taste and
judgment in every possible matter. Our power of interference as a
community, I've always felt and said, should only extend to the
prevention of obviously wrong and immoral acts, such as marriage with a
person in ill-health, or of inferior mental power, or with a distinctly
bad or insubordinate temper. Things of that sort, of course, are as
clearly wicked as idling in work hours or marriage with a first cousin.
Olive's health, however, isn't really bad, nothing more than a very
slight feebleness of constitution, as constitutions go with us; and
Eustace, who has attended her medically from her babyhood (what a dear
crowing little thing she used to be in the nursery, to be sure), tells
me she's perfectly fitted for the duties of her proposed situation. Ah
well, ah well; I've no doubt they'll be perfectly happy; and the wishes
of the whole phalanstery will go with them, in any case, that's
certain."
Everybody knew that whatever the hierarch said or thought was pretty
sure to be approved by the unanimous voice of the entire community. Not
that he was at all a dictatorial or dogmatic old man; quite the
contrary; but his gentle kindly way had its full weight with the
brothers; and his intimate acquaintance, through the exercise of his
spiritual functions, with the inmost thoughts and ideas of every
individual member, man or woman, made him a safe guide in all difficult
or delicate questions, as to what the decision of the council ought to
be. So when, on the first Cosmos, the elder brothers assembled to
transact phalansteric business, and the hierarch put in Clarence's
request with the simple phrase, "In my opinion, there is no reasonable
objection," the community at once gave in its adhesion, and formal
notice was posted an hour later on, the refectory door, "The phalanstery
approves the proposition of Clarence and Olive, and wishes all
happiness to them and to humanity from the sacred union they now
contemplate." "You see, dearest," Clarence said, kissing her lips for
the first time (as unwritten law demanded), now that the seal of the
community had been placed upon their choice, "you see, there can't be
any harm in our contract, for the elder brothers all approve it."
Olive smiled and sighed from the very bottom of her full heart, and
clung to her lover as the ivy clings to a strong supporting oak-tree.
"Darling," she murmured in his ear, "if I have you to comfort me, I
shall not be afraid, and we will try our best to work together for the
advancement and the good of divine humanity."
Four decades later, on a bright Cosmos morning in September, those two
stood up beside one another before the altar of humanity, and heard with
a thrill the voice of the hierarch uttering that solemn declaration, "In
the name of the Past, and of the Present, and of the Future, I hereby
admit you, Clarence and Olive, into the holy society of Fathers and
Mothers, of the United Avondale Phalanstery, in trust for humanity,
whose stewards you are. May you so use and enhance the good gifts you
have received from your ancestors that you may hand them on, untarnished
and increased, to the bodies and minds of your furthest descendants."
And Clarence and Olive answered humbly and reverently, "If grace be
given us, we will."