Chapter 6.
CUPID'S GARDENS.
"O, in what sweets dost thou thy sins enclose." --SHAKSPEARE.
During the time that intervened before the arrival of the Caskians, tomake their proposed visit, I gleaned many more interesting hints fromSevernius relative to their life and conduct, which greatly whetted mycuriosity to meet them. For instance, we were one day engaged in aconversation, he, Elodia, and myself, upon the subject of the provinceof poetry in history,--but that does not matter,--when dinner wasannounced in the usual way; that is, the way which assumes withoutdoubt that nothing else in the world is so important as dinner. It maybe a bell, or a gong, or a verbal call, but it is as imperative as thecommand of an autocrat. It brings to the ground, with the suddennessof a mental shock, the finest flights of the imagination. It wakes thesoul from transcendent dreams, cools the fervor of burning eloquence,breaks the spell of music. More than this: it destroys the delicatecombination of mental states and forces sometimes induced when severalhighly trained minds have fallen into an attitude of acute sympathytoward one another,--a rare and ineffable thing!--and are borne aloftthrough mutual helpfulness to regions of thought and emotioninfinitely exalted, which can never be reproduced.
I have often had this experience myself, and have wished that the cookwas a creature of supernatural intuitions, so that he could divine theright moment in which to proclaim that the soup was served! There is aright moment, a happy moment, when the flock of intellectual birds,let loose to whirl and circle and soar in the upper air, descendgracefully and of their own accord to the agreeable level of soup.
On the occasion to which I have referred, I tried to ignore, and tomake my companions ignore, the discordant summons--by a kind ofdominant action of my mind upon theirs--in order that we mightcontinue the talk a little longer. We three had never before shownourselves off to each other to such striking advantage; we traveledmiles in moments, we expanded, we unrolled reams of intelligence whichwere apprehended in a flash, as a whole landscape is apprehended in aglare of lightning. It was as if our words were tipped with flame andcarried their illumination along with them. I knew that there neverwould, never could, come another such time, but Elodia thwarted myeffort to hold it a moment longer.
"Come!" she cried gayly, rising to her feet and breaking off in themiddle of a beautiful sentence, the conclusion of which I was waitingfor with tremors of delight,--for her views, as it happened, accordedwith mine,--"the ideal may rule in art, but not in life; it is veryunideal to eat, but the stomach is the dial of the world."
"We make it so," said Severnius.
"Of course, we make all our sovereigns," she returned. "We set thedial to point at certain hours, and it simply holds us to ouragreement,--it and the _chef_."
"That reminds me of our Caskian friends," said Severnius. "They haveexceedingly well-ordered homes, but occasionally one of the threeNatures waits upon another; the Mind may yield to some contingencyconnected with the Body, or the Body waive its right in favor of theSpirit."
"I had supposed they were more machine-like," commented Elodia, withher usual air of not being able to take a great interest in theCaskians.
"They are the farthest from that of any people I know," he answered."They have great moments, now and then, when a few people are gatheredtogether, and their thought becomes electrical and their minds mingleas you have seen the glances of eyes mingle in a language moreeloquent than speech,--and, to tell the truth, we ourselves have suchmoments, I'll not deny that; but the difference is, that theyappreciate the value of them and hold them fast, while we open ourhands and let them fly away like uncoveted birds, or worthlessbutterflies. I have actually known a meal to be dropped out entirelyin Calypso's house, forgotten in the felicity of an intellectual orspiritual delectation!"
"Thank heaven, that we live in Thursia!" cried Elodia, "where suchlapses are impossible."
"They are next to impossible there," said Severnius; "but they dohappen, which proves a great deal. They are in the nature of miracles,they are so wonderful,--and yet not so wonderful. We forget sometimesthat we have a soul, and they forget that they have a body; there's nogreat difference."
"There is a mighty difference," answered Elodia. "We are put into amaterial world, to enjoy material benefits. I should think thosepeople would miss a great deal of the actual good of life in thepursuit of the unactual,--always taking their flights from loftypinnacles, and skipping the treasures that lie in the valleys."
"On the contrary," he returned, "the humblest little flower thatgrows, the tiniest pebble they pick up on the beach, the smallestvoice in nature, all have place in their economy. They miss nothing;they gather up into their lives all the treasures that nature scattersabout. If a bird sings, they listen and say, 'That song is for me;'or, if a blossom opens, 'I will take its beauty into my heart.' Thesethings, which are free to all, they accept freely. Their physicalsenses are supplemented,--duplicated as it were, in finer quality,--byexquisite inner perceptions."
The morning after this conversation, Severnius and I took a long drivein a new direction. We went up the river a mile or so, the roadwinding through an avenue of century-old elms, whose great, gracefulbranches interlocked overhead and made a shade so dense that the veryatmosphere seemed green. We were so earnestly engaged in conversationthat I did not observe when we left the avenue and entered a wood. Wedrove some distance through this, and then the road branched off andskirted round a magnificent park,--the finest I had seen,--bordered bya thick hedge, all abloom with white, fragrant flowers, and fencedwith a fretwork of iron, finished with an inverted fringe of bristlingpoints. Within, were evidences of costly and elaborate care; the treeswere of noble growth and the greensward like stretches of velvet overwhich leaf-shadows flickered and played. The disposition of shrubberyand flowers, the chaste and beautiful statuary, the fountains,brooklets, arbors, and retreats; the rustic effects in bridges, caves,grottoes, and several graceful arches, hidden in wreathed emerald,from which snow-white cherubs with wings on their shoulders peepedroguishly, all betokened ingenious design, and skilful and artisticexecution.
Beyond, seen vaguely through the waving foliage, were handsomebuildings, of the elegant cream-colored stone so much in vogue inThursia. Here and there, I espied a fawn; one pretty creature, with aribbon round its neck, was drinking at a fountain, and at the sametime some beautiful birds came and perched upon the marble rim anddipped into the sparkling water.
"How lovely! how idyllic!" I cried. "What place is it, Severnius, andwhy have I never seen it before?"
His answer came a little reluctantly, I thought. "It is called Cupid'sGardens."
"And what does it mean?" I asked.
"Does not its name and those naked imps sufficiently explain it?" hereplied. As I looked at him, a blush actually mantled his cheek. "Itis a rendezvous," he explained, "where women meet their lovers."
"How curious! I never heard of such a thing," said I. "Do you meanthat the place was planned for that purpose, or did the name getfastened upon it through accident? Surely you are joking, Severnius;women can receive their lovers in their homes here, the same as withus!"
"Their suitors, not their lovers," he replied.
"You make a curious distinction!" said I.
"Women sometimes marry their suitors, never their lovers,--any morethan men marry their mistresses."
"Great heavens, Severnius!" I felt the blood rush to my face and thenrecede, and a cold perspiration broke out all over me. There was aquestion in my mind which I did not dare to ask, but Severniusdivined it.
"Is it a new idea to you?" said he. "Have you no houses ofprostitution in your country, licensed by law, as this is?"
"For men, not for women," said I.
"Ah! another of your peculiar discriminations!" he returned.
"Well, surely you will agree with me that in this matter, at least,there should be discrimination?" I urged.
He shook his head with that exasperating stubbornness one o
ccasionallyfinds in sweet-tempered people.
"No, I cannot agree with you, even in this," he replied. "Whatpossible reason is there why men, more than women, should beprivileged to indulge in vice?"
"Why, in the very nature of things!" I cried. "There is a hygienicprinciple involved; you know,--it is a statistical fact,--that singlemen are neither so vigorous nor so long-lived as married men, and agood many men do not marry."
"Well, a good many more women do not marry; what of those?"
"Severnius! I cannot believe you are in earnest. Women!--that isquite another matter. Women are differently constituted from men;their nature--"
"O, come!" he interrupted; "I thought we had settled thatquestion--that their nature is of a piece with our own. It happens inyour world, my friend, that your women were kept to a strict line ofconduct, according to your account, by a severe discipline,--includingeven the death penalty,--until their virtue, from being long andpersistently enforced, grew into a habit and finally became a questionof honor."
"Yes, stronger than death, thank God!" I affirmed.
"Well, then, it seems to me that the only excuse men have to offer fortheir lack of chastity--I refer to the men on your planet--is thatthey have not been hedged about by the wholesome restraints that havedeveloped self-government in women. I cannot admit your 'hygienic'argument in this matter; life is a principle that needs encouragement,and a man of family has more incentives to live, and usually hishealth is better cared for, than a single man, that is all."
We rode in silence for some time. I finally asked, nodding toward thebeautiful enclosure still in view:
"How do they manage about this business; do they practice anysecrecy?"
"Of course!" he replied. "I hope you do not think we live in open andshameless lawlessness? Usually it is only the very wealthy who indulgein such 'luxuries,' and they try to seal the lips of servants andgo-betweens with gold. But it does not always work; it is in thenature of those things to leak out."
"And if one of these creatures is found out, what then?" I asked.
He answered with some severity: "'Creatures' is a harsh name to applyto women, some of whom move in our highest circles!"
"I beg your pardon! call them what you like, but tell me, what happenswhen there is an _expose_? Are they denounced, ostracized, sat upon?"I inquired.
"No, not so bad as that," said he. "Of course there is a scandal, butit makes a deal of difference whether the scandal is a famous or aninfamous one. If the woman's standing is high in other respects,--ifshe has money, political influence, talent, attractiveness,--there isvery little made of it; or if society feels itself particularlyinsulted, she may conciliate it by marrying an honest man whoserespectability and position protect her."
"What! does an honest man--a gentleman--ever marry such a woman asthat?" I cried.
"Frequently; and sometimes they make very good wives. But it is risky.I have a friend, a capital fellow, who was so unfortunate as toattract such a woman, and who finally yielded to her persuasions andmarried her."
"Heavens! do the women propose?"
"Certainly, when they choose to do so; what is there objectionable inthat?"
I made no reply, and he continued, "My friend, as I said, succumbed toher pleadings partly--as I believe--because she threw herself upon hismercy, though she is a beautiful woman, and he might have beenfascinated to some extent. She told him that his love and protectionwould be her salvation, and that his denial of her would result in hertotal ruin; and that for his sake she would reform her life. He isboth chivalrous and tender, and, withal, a little romantic, and heconsented. My opinion is that, if she could have had him withoutmarriage, she would have preferred it; but he is a true man, a man ofhonor. Women of her sort like virtuous men, and seldom marry anyother. Her love proved to be an ephemeral passion--such as she had hadbefore--and the result has been what you might expect, though Clarisis not, by any means, the worst woman in the world."
"Claris?" I exclaimed.
"Ah! I did not mean to speak her name," he returned in some confusion;"and I had forgotten that you knew her. Well, yes, since I have goneso far, it is my friend Massilia's wife that I have been speaking of.In some respects she is an admirable woman, but she has broken herhusband's heart and ruined his life."
"Admirable!" I repeated with scorn; "why, in my country, such conductwould damn a woman eternally, no matter what angelic qualities shemight possess. She would be shown no quarter in any society--save thevery lowest."
"And how about her counterpart of the other sex?" asked Severnius,slyly.
I disregarded this, and returned:
"Did he not get a divorce?"
"No; the law does not grant a divorce in such a case. There was whereClaris was shrewder than her husband; she made herself safe byconfessing her misdeeds to him, and cajoling him into marrying her inspite of them."
"I beg your pardon, but what a fool he was!"
Severnius acquiesced in this. "I tried to dissuade him," he said,"before the miserable business was consummated,--he made me hisconfidant,--but it was too late, she had him under her influence."
Another silence fell upon us, which I broke by asking, "Who were thosepretty youngsters we saw lounging about on the lawn back there?" Ireferred to several handsome young men whom I had observed strollingthrough the beautiful grounds.
He looked at me in evident surprise at the question, and replied:
"Why, those are some of the professional 'lovers'."
"Great Caesar's ghost!"
"Yes," he went on; "some of our most promising youths are decoyed intothose places. It is a distressing business,--a hideous business! And,on the other hand, there are similar institutions where lovelyyoung girls are the victims. I do not know which is the moredeplorable,--sometimes I think the latter is. A tender mother wouldwish that her daughter had never been born, if she should take up withsuch a life; and an honorable father would rather see his son gibbetedthan to find him inside that railing."
"I should think so!" I responded, and inquired, "What kind of standinghave these men in the outside world?"
"About the same that a leper would have. They are ignored and despisedby the very women who court their caresses here. In fact, they are ona level with the common, paid courtesan,--the lowest rank there is. Ihave often thought it a curious thing that either men or women shouldso utterly despise these poor instruments of their sensual delights!"
My friend saw that I was too much shocked to moralize on the subject,and he presently began to explain, and to modify the facts a little.
"You see, these fellows, when they begin this sort of thing, aremostly mere boys, with the down scarcely started on their chins; inthe susceptible, impressionable stage, when a woman's honeyedwords--ay, her touch, even--may turn the world upside down to them.The life, of course, has its attractions,--money and luxury; to saynothing of the flattery, which is sweeter. Still, few, if any, adoptit deliberately. Often they are wilily drawn into 'entanglements'outside; for the misery of it is, that good society, as I have saidbefore, throws its cloak around these specious beguilers, and theunfortunate dupe does not dream whither he is being led,--youth hassuch a sincere faith in beauty, and grace, and feminine charm!Sometimes reverses and disaster, of one kind or another, or acheerless home environment, drive a young man into seeking refuge andlethean pleasures here. It is a form of dissipation similar to thedrink habit, only a thousand times worse."
"Worse?" I cried. "It is infernal, diabolical, damnable! And it iswoman who accomplishes this horrible ruin!--and is 'received' insociety, which, if too flagrantly outraged, will not forgive herunless she marries some good man!"
"O, not always that," protested Severnius; "the unlucky sinnersometimes recovers caste by a course of penitence, by multiplying hersubscriptions to charities, and by costly peace-offerings to theaforesaid outraged society."
"What sort of peace-offerings?" I asked.
"Well, an entertainment, perhaps, something superb, something o
ut ofthe common; or may be a voyage in her private yacht. Bait of thatsort is too tempting for any but the high and mighty, thereal aristocrats, to withstand. The simply respectable, butweak-hearted,--who are a little below her level in point of wealth,position, or ancestry,--fall into her net. I have observed that awoman who has forfeited her place in the highest rank of societyusually begins her reascent by clutching hold of the skirts of honestfolk who are flattered by her condescension, and whose sturdy armsassist her to rise again."
"I have observed the same thing myself," I rejoined, but he had notfinished; there was a twinkle in his eye as he went on:
"If you were to reveal the secret of your air-ship to a woman of thiskind she would probably seize upon it as a means of salvation; shewould have one constructed, on a large and handsome scale, and invitea party to accompany her on an excursion to the Earth. And though shewere the worst of her class, every mother's son--and daughter--of uswould accept! for none of us hold our self-respect at a higher figurethan that, I imagine."
"Yes, Severnius, you do," I replied emphatically.
"I beg your pardon! I would knock off a good deal for a visit to yourplanet," he said, laughing.
By this time we had left Cupid's Gardens far behind. The road bent inagain toward the river, which we presently crossed. If it had not beenfor the dreadful things I had just listened to, I think I should havebeen in transports over the serene loveliness of the prospect aroundus. The view was especially fine from the summit of the bridge; it isa "high" bridge, for the Gyro is navigated by great steam-ships andhigh-masted schooners.
Severnius bade the driver stop a moment that we might contemplate thescene, but I had little heart for its beauties. And yet I can recallthe picture now with extraordinary clearness. The river has manywindings, and the woods often hide it from view; but it reappears,again and again, afar off, in green meadows and yellowingfields,--opalescent jewels in gold or emerald setting. Here and there,in the distance, white sails were moving as if on land. Far beyondwere vague mountain outlines, and over all, the tender rose-blush ofthe sky. The sweetness of it, contrasted with the picture newlywrought in my mind, saddened me.
Some distance up the river, on the other side, we passed an old,dilapidated villa, or group of buildings jumbled together withoutregard to effect evidently, but yet picturesque. They were half hiddenin mammoth forest trees that had never been trimmed or trained, butspread their enormous limbs wheresoever they would. Unpruned shrubberyand trailing vines rioted over the uneven lawn, and the rank,windblown grass, too long to stand erect, lay in waves like a woman'shair.
In a general way, the lawn sloped downward toward the road, so that wecould see nearly the whole of it over the high, and ugly, board fencewhich inclosed it. Under the trees, a little way back, I observed agroup of young girls lolling in hammocks and idling in rustic chairs.They caught sight of us and sprang up, laughing boistterously. Ithought they were going to run away in pretended and playful flight;but instead, they came toward us, and blew kisses at us off theirfingers.
I looked at Severnius. "What does this mean?" I asked.
"Why," he said, and the blush mantled his handsome face again, "thisplace is the counterpart of Cupid's Gardens,--a resort for men."
"I thought so," I replied.
By-and-by he remarked, "I hope you will not form too bad an opinion ofus, my friend! You have learned to-day what horrible evils exist amongus, but I assure you that the sum total of the people who practicethem constitutes but a small proportion of our population. And thegood people here, the great majority, look upon these things with thesame aversion and disgust that you do, and are doing their best--orthey think they are--to abolish them."
"How?--by legislation?" I asked.
"Partly; but more through education. Our preachers and teachers havetaken the matter up, but they are handicapped by the delicacy of thequestion and the privacy involved in it, which seems to hinderdiscussion even, and to forestall advice. Though this is the only wayto accomplish anything, I think. I have very little faith inlegislative measures against secret vices; it is like trying to dam astream which cannot be dammed but must break out somewhere. I amconvinced that my friends, the Caskians, have solved the question inthe only possible way,--by elevating and purifying the marriagerelation. I hope some good may be accomplished by the visit of the fewwho are coming here!"
"Will they preach or lecture?" I asked, with what seemed to me amoment later to be stupid simplicity.
"O, no!" replied Severnius, with the same air of modest but emphaticprotest which they themselves would have doubtless assumed had thequestion been put to them. "It was simply their personal influence Ihad reference to. I do not know that I can make you understand, buttheir presence always seemed to me like a disinfectant of evil. Withmyself, when I was among them, all the good that was in me respondedto their nobility; the evil in me slept, I suppose."
I made a skeptical rejoinder to the implication in his last sentence,for to me he seemed entirely devoid of evil; and we finished the drivein silence.