CHAPTER XIII.
On my return to college, after the close of vacation, I devoted myselfexclusively to history. It began with their first President; and fromthe evidence of history itself, I knew that the Nation was enjoying ahigh state of culture when its history began.
No record of a more primitive race was to be found in all the Library,assiduously as I searched for it. I read with absorbing interest theirprogress toward perfect enlightenment, their laborious searchings intoscience that had resulted in such marvelous achievements. But earnestlyas I sought for it, and anxiously as I longed for it, I found and heardno mention of a race of men. From the most intimate intercourse with thepeople of Mizora, I could discover no attempt at concealment inanything, yet the inquiry _would_ crowd itself upon me. "Where are themen?" And as constantly would I be forced to the conclusion that Mizorawas either a land of mystery beyond the scope of the wildest andweirdest fancy, or else they were utterly oblivious of such a race. Andthe last conclusion was most improbable of all.
Man, in my country, was a necessity of government, law, and protection.His importance, (as I viewed it from inherited ideas) was incalculable.It _could_ not be possible that he had no existence in a country soeminently adapted to his desires and ability.
The expression, "domestic misery," that the Preceptress made use of oneday in conversation with me, haunted my imagination with a persistentsuspicion of mystery. It had a familiar sound to me. It intimatedknowledge of a world _I_ knew so well; where ill-nature, malice, spite,envy, deceit, falsehood and dishonesty, made life a continual anxiety.
Locks, bolts and bars shut out the thief who coveted your jewels; but nobolts nor bars, however ingeniously constructed or strongly made, couldkeep out the thief who coveted your character. One little word from apretended friend might consummate the sorrow of your whole life, and bewitnessed by the perpetrator without a pang--nay, even with exultation.
There were other miseries I thought of that were common in my country.There were those we love. Some who are woven into our lives andaffections by the kinship of blood; who grow up weak and vacillating,and are won away, sometimes through vice, to estrangement. Our heartsache not the less painfully that they have ceased to be worthy of athrob; or that they have been weak enough to become estranged, tobenefit some selfish alien.
There were other sorrows in that world that I had come from, thatbrought anguish alike to the innocent and the guilty. It was the sorrowof premature death. Diseases of all kinds made lives wretched; or torethem asunder with death. How many hearts have ached with cankering painto see those who are vitally dear, wasting away slowly, but surely, withunrelievable suffering; and to know that life but prolongs their misery,and death relieves it only with inconsolable grief for the living.
Who has looked into a pair of youthful eyes, so lovely that imaginationcould not invent for them another charm, and saw the misty film of deathgather over them, while your heart ached with regret as bitter as it wasunavailing. The soft snows of winter have fallen--a veil of purity--overthe new made graves of innocence and youth, and its wild winds have beenthe saddest requiem. The dews of summer have wept with your tears, andits zephyrs have sighed over the mouldering loveliness of youth.
I had known no skill in my world that could snatch from death itsunlawful prey of youth. But here, in this land so eminently blessed, noone regarded death as a dreaded invader of their household.
"_We cannot die until we get old_," said Wauna, naively.
And looking upon their bounding animal spirits, their strong suppleframes, and the rich, red blood of perfect health, mantling their cheekswith its unsurpassable bloom, one would think that disease must havestrong grasp indeed that could destroy them.
But these were not all the sorrows that my own country knew. Crimes,with which we had no personal connection, shocked us with their horribledetails. They crept, like noxious vapors, into the moral atmosphere ofthe pure and good; tainting the weak, and annoying the strong.
There were other sorrows in my country that were more deplorable still.It was the fate of those who sought to relieve the sufferings of themany by an enforced government reform. Misguided, imprudent andfanatical they might be, but their aim at least was noble. The wrongsand sufferings of the helpless and oppressed had goaded them to actionfor their relief.
But, alas! The pale and haggard faces of thousands of those patriotsouls faded and wasted in torturing slowness in dungeons of raylessgloom. Or their emaciated and rheumatic frames toiled in speechlessagony amid the horrors of Siberia's mines.
In _this_ land they would have been recognized as aspiring natures,spreading their wings for a nobler flight, seeking a higher and granderlife. The smile of beauty would have urged them on. Hands innumerablewould have given them a cordial and encouraging grasp. But in the landthey had sought to benefit and failed, they suffered in silence anddarkness, and died forgotten or cursed.
My heart and my brain ached with memory, and the thought again occurred:"_Could_ the Preceptress ever have known such a race of people?"
I looked at her fair, calm brow, where not a wrinkle marred the sereneexpression of intellect, although I had been told that more than ahundred years had touched with increasing wisdom its broad surface. Thesmile that dwelt in her eyes, like the mystic sprite in the fountain,had not a suspicion of sadness in them. A nature so lofty as hers, whereevery feeling had a generous and noble existence and aim, could not haveknown without anguish the race of people _I_ knew so well. Their sorrowswould have tinged her life with a continual sadness.
The words of Wauna had awakened a new thought. I knew that their mentallife was far above mine, and that in all the relations of life, bothbusiness and social, they exhibited a refinement never attained by mypeople. I had supposed these qualities to be an endowment of nature, andnot a development sought and labored for by themselves. But myconversation with Wauna had given me a different impression, and thethought of a future for my own country took possession of me.
"Could it ever emerge from its horrors, and rise through gradual butearnest endeavor to such perfection? Could a higher civilization crowdits sufferings out of existence and, in time, memory?"
I had never thought of my country having a claim upon me other than whatI owed to my relatives and society. But in Mizora, where the veryatmosphere seemed to feed one's brain with grander and nobler ideas oflife and humanity, my nature had drank the inspiration of good deeds andimpulses, and had given the desire to work for something beside myselfand my own kindred. I resolved that if I should ever again behold mynative country, I would seek the good of all its people along with thatof my nearest and dearest of kin. But how to do it was a matter I couldnot arrange. I felt reluctant to ask either Wauna or her mother. Theguileless frankness of Wauna's nature was an impassable barrier to theconfidence of crimes and wretchedness. One glance of horror from herdark, sweet eyes, would have chilled me into painful silence andsorrowful regret.
The mystery that had ever surrounded these lovely and noble blonde womenhad driven me into an unnatural reserve in regard to my own people andcountry. I had always perceived the utter absence of my allusion to themasculine gender, and conceiving that it must be occasioned by some morethan ordinary circumstances, I refrained from intruding my curiosity.
That the singular absence of men was connected with nothing criminal orignoble on their part I felt certain; but that it was associated withsomething weird and mysterious I had now become convinced. My efforts todiscover their whereabouts had been earnest and untiring. I had visiteda number of their large cities, and had enjoyed the hospitality of manyprivate homes. I had examined every nook and corner of private andpublic buildings, (for in Mizora nothing ever has locks) and in no placehad I ever discovered a trace or suggestion of man.
Women and girls were everywhere. Their fair faces and golden headsgreeted me in every town and city. Sometimes a pair of unusually darkblue eyes, like the color of a velvet-leaved pansy, looked out from anexquisitely tinted face framed
in flossy golden hair, startling me withits unnatural loveliness, and then I would wonder anew:
"Why is such a paradise for man so entirely devoid of him?"
I even endeavored to discover from the conversation of young girls someallusion to the male sex. But listen as attentively and discreetly as Icould, not one allusion did I hear made to the mysteriously absentbeings. I was astonished that young girls, with cheeks like the downybloom of a ripe peach, should chatter and laugh merrily over everyconversational topic but that of the lords of society. The older and thewiser among women might acquire a depreciating idea of their worth, butinnocent and inexperienced girlhood was apt to surround that name with ahalo of romance and fancied nobility that the reality did not alwayspossess. What, then, was my amazement to find _them_ indifferent andwholly neglectful of that (to me) very important class of beings.
Conjecture at last exhausted itself, and curiosity became indifferent.Mizora, as a nation, or an individual representative, was incapable ofdishonor. Whatever their secret I should make no farther effort todiscover it. Their hospitality had been generous and unreserved. Theirinfluence upon my character--morally--had been an incalculable benefit.I had enjoyed being among them. The rhythm of happiness that swept likea strain of sweet music through all their daily life, touched a chord inmy own nature that responded.
And when I contrasted the prosperity of Mizora--a prosperity thatreached every citizen in its vast territory--with the varied phases oflife that are found in my own land, it urged me to inquire if therecould be hope for such happiness within its borders.
To the Preceptress, whose sympathies I knew were broad as the lap ofnature, I at last went with my desire and perplexities. A sketch of mycountry's condition was the inevitable prelude. I gave it without oncealluding to the presence of Man. She listened quietly and attentively.Her own land lay like a charming picture before her. I spoke of itspeaceful happiness, its perfected refinement, its universal wealth, andparamount to all its other blessings, its complete ignorance of socialills. With them, love did not confine itself to families, but encircledthe Nation in one embrace. How dismal, in contrast, was the land thathad given me birth.
"But one eminent distinction exists among us as a people," I added inconclusion. "We are not all of one race."
I paused and looked at the Preceptress. She appeared lost in reverie.Her expression was one of solicitude and approached nearer to actualpain than anything I had ever noticed upon it before. She looked up andcaught my eye regarding her. Then she quietly asked:
"_Are there men in your country?_"
PART SECOND.