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Cornell University
Library

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tine Cornell University Library.

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the United States on the use of the text.

http://www.archive.org/details/cu31924029201923

We. ^. p. KugfitriU

LIBRARY NOTES. New Edition. Crown 8vo, ^2.00.

CHARACTERISTICS. Essays on Coleridge, Mrs. Siddons,
Dr. Johnson, Macaulay, Lamb, Burns, Woolman, John
Randolph, and John Brown, etc. ismo, $2,00.

A CLUB OF ONE. Passages from the Note-Book of a Man

who might have been Sociable. i6mo, gplt top, $1.25.
IN A CLUB CORNER. The Monologue of a Man who

might have been Sociable. i6mo, gilt top, $1.25.
SUB-CCELUM : A Sky-Built Human World. i6mo, gdt top,
^1.25.

HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN & COMPANY,
Boston and New York.

Sub-Ccelum

A SKY-BUILT HUMAN WORLD

BY

> %■ • ., <

A. F: RUSSELL

AUTHOR OF '* A CLUB OF ONE," " LIBRARY NOTES," " CHARACTERISTICS "
" IN A CLUB CORNER," ETC.

^ Servant. Where dwellest thou ?
Coriolanus. Under the canopy.

Coriolanms^ Act IV. Sc, V.

^^^^^^S

^^^^^^^^

i

g^^sll

BOSTON AND NEW YORK

HOUGHTON, MIFFLIN AND COMPANY

®i)e mibertft&e ^te^^, Cambriboe

1893

Copyright, 1893,
By ADDISON P. RUSSELL.

All rights reserved.

The Riverside Press, Cambridge, Mass. , U.S.A.
Electrotyped and Printed by H. O. Houghton & Co.

CONTENTS

PAGE

Favorably Situated

Mundance of Leisure /o

Marked Individuality / /

Exceptional Monsters //

Conceit of Superior Excellence 12

Couples of Six /a

Schools generally Small ij

Instruction in Radical Morals 1^

Chairs of Common Sense /5

The Average Wisdom 16

Instructed in Telling the Truth ij

A Sober Experience 18

Low, Unmeaning Language 18

Conversation Cultivated /p

Specialties of Every Sort 20

Ingenuousness a Social Excellence 20

Behavior 21

A Habit of Charitable Judgment 2j

A Favorite Illustration 24

Their Superior Men and Women 25

Perpetual Surprises 26

Their Social Meetings 26

4 Contents

Their Floral Exhibitions 28

Floating Radiances }o

Each Day's Dinner }o

CooUng a Proud Art jj

Morals and Stomach }4

Bread-Making ^5

The Papaw _?5

Their Good Physicians ^6

The Quack Doctor in Contrast ^8

The Clergy of Sui-Ccelum 40

The Golden Rule 41

Clergymen of a Certain Character Extinct . . 4j

The Lawyer's Office 4-]

A Turn was Made, but Slowly 48

Effects of the Change 50

Arbitration 52

Advice Offices ^^

Laws Few in Sub-Coslum . . . . ' ^4

Special Reformers not in Favor ^6

Effect of the Pervading Individuality 5S

Their Police System ^p

Fatality of Heredity 60

Estates Limited 62

Property in Friends 64

Idleness Disreputable 6$

Indolence 6y

Trifling for Selfish Ends 68

A mbrosiafor the Soul yo

Making and Earning Money 70

Contents 5

Manhood and Personal Freedom 7/

Native Manhood 72

Ideal Manhood j^

The Plebeian and the Aristocrat 74

The Vices y6

Common Sense and Practical Wisdom . . . . 7p

Small Farms Preferred 80

Fish-Ponds 81

Bee-Culture 82

Propagation of Poultry 84

The Bird of Excellence 84

The Suh-Ccelum Oyster . . ■ 8$

Grapes and Wine 8y

Wine-Making 88

Endless Orchards go

Highways Ideal 92

How Cities and Villages were Laid Out . . . . p2

Drainage p4

Light and Heat 95

Public Edifices 96

Hotels 98

Bells 99

Music 101

Poets and Poetry 104

Musical Voices 106

Tight Dressing no

A Felicity to he Well-Born 112

A Composite Population //_?

Weddings in Sub-Ccelum 117

6 Contents

Reasons for Remaining Single / /p

The First Gentleman to Speak 119

Tbe Second 121

The Third 123

The First Lady 126

The Second 'zS

Tbe Third '}'

Drunkenness 134

Divorce '3^

Refuges for Certain Occasional Victims .... 7^7

Retreats for Convalescents 140

Hospices for Visiting Strangers 143

Inventors and Scholars 146

Old People and Children 148

Burial-Places 149

Little Distinction in Marking Graves .... i$i

Funerals 153

Chapels in Burial- Places 15$

Motives 158

Funeral Orations and Obituary Notices . . . i^p

Vocation and Avocation 161

Awed by Understanding 162

Students in Particular Lines 163

Substance of a Lecture y 65

Microscope and Camera 775

Electricity iy8

The People did not Snore lyp

fVhistling 180

Dentistry not a Profitable Profession .... 182

Contents 7

Fries Utterlji Banished ;5_j

Fondness for Squirrels 184

Respect for the Monkey 186

Instinct of Satan /90

Qualities and Faculties of the Dog /p/

Horses hredfor Moral Qualities 194

Beauty on Horseback 795

Love for Birds /p<5

Insects and Reptiles 201

Infusoria 202

Character and Mental Resources 20_j

The Individual the Immortal 204

Personal Independence 206

Men wiser than Sheep 208

Individuality Made Them Interesting 210

The Law of Diversity 21^

The Healthful Habit of Occupation 2/7

The Vice of Indolence 218

Probably and Perhaps 221

A Treasure 224

The Social Conscience 224

Amusements 22J

The Rule of E:[ra 2^1

braining. Painting, and Sculpture 2^2

Not Ambitious of Great Libraries 2^7

Thoughts and Conduct s^jp

The Press 240

Results of Evolution 244

Pride of Profession 247

8 Contents

The High Estimate put upon Woman .... 248

A High Order of Wisdom 249

How Government was Supported 25/

The Machinery of Politics 2^4

Essential Excellence of the People 2^8

Their Religion 262

Sects and Creeds 26}

Worship 26y

SUB-CCELUM

of

Sub-Coelum favorably

1 . . , , . Situated.

happy it was their

the people
were not

own fault. Their situation
was the most favorable under
the sun. Earth and sky smiled
upon them. The climate was genial and
salubrious. Extremes in temperature were
not frequent, and atmospheric violences so
rare as to be historical. Seasons of rain and
seasons of drouth, to devastate and desic-
cate, were not known. Forests of beauty
and grandeur supplied every variety and
quality of timber, for ornament and utility.
Mountains of sublimity and valleys of fertil-
ity abounded. Large streams ran by large
towns. Lakes bordered villages and villas.
Ocean provided cities with safe and com-
modious havens. Gold and silver in the suverand
mountains lay in strata convenient to be'^
operated. Where the land was poorest and
least productive, the most valuable of the

gold.

lo Sub-Ccelum

precious metals, in nuggets, was deposited ;

and in the streams of such parts the most

Pearls and pcrfcct of pcarls, and occasionally dia-

diamonds. , , . i t t i i

monds, were discovered. Happy people !
What they had not, imagination must la-
bor to supply. Misery, to any great extent,
abode not with them. So it would appear.

Abundance The case with which life was sustained
' left them abundance of leisure. Bent was
indulged and tastes were gratified. Ad-
vantages were turned to account. Not so
much to get wealth as to acquire the art of
living. To make the most of themselves
and to enjoy- the greatest amount of ra-
tional pleasure was the common ambition.
Selfishness, the one great enemy of man-
kind, was under perpetual ban. To gain
the mastery over themselves, by studying
and practicing moderation, self-control, and
humanity, was the prime object of allper-

simtiicUy sonal and organized effort. Simplicity and

and modesty . , , p

ataprtmi- modesty were at a premium, and self-re-
spect and fellowship were exalted to a high
place among the virtues. The great pur-
pose of society was to produce genuine,
individual, friendly men and women, and to
surround them with all auxiliaries and facil-
ities for growth and happiness.

An Object of Pity 1 1

Marked individuality was conspicuous marked

. ... , Indxvidual-

amid all the seeming contusion it created, "v.
The great good of it was to cultivate
mutual consideration. Toleration became
a necessity. Inseparable from it was a
strong pervading sense of justice. The
right of each to be an individual man in-
volved the right of every other to be the
same. It encouraged diversity of view
while it forbade dogmatical disputation.
The possibility of mistake compelled gener-
osity of judgment. Feeling was repressed
and reason stimulated. The occasional! T'^'waM

\wAo was €tli-

man who was always right, was an object Wi^^^Ai!.
of universal pity. His deficiencies were aj
study and his conceits a warning. If ill-
natured also, Wisdom walked by him, as
by a bad animal, and Charity guarded him
against irritation and abuse, — curing him
finally, if curable, — eleemosynary provision
being made for the worst cases.

The snarling, venomous creature, who exception-
al mon-
hated everything, and the motive-monger, sters.

who was always finding the worst reasons
for everybody's actions, were the excep-
tional monsters — confounding the philo-
sophers and the moralists. They skulked
and they crawled, in defiance of all rules

12 Sub-Coelum

and appliances, and fattened upon their
own poisonous secretions. Every popu-
lous neighborhood had one or more, to
tolerate and avoid — incorrigible objects
to even the most hopeful of reformers.

Conceit of The wondcr was that such characters so
Excl""" often had the conceit of superior excel-
lence, which made them particularly inter-
esting. They believed themselves better
than their neighbors, while their extraor-
dinary pretensions only made them more
emphatically unregenerate. Seeing only
outwardly, other people's sins exasperated
them. Society, to them, was but an exag-
gerated reflection of their own condition.
Their own moral machinery being in dis-
tressful disorder, all the world must be
taken to pieces, mercilessly made over, or
go to ruin.

Couples of It was the conclusion of intelligence
that eyes, to see, must be in couples of six

— the pigs having two. That to see in-
deed — within and without and all around

— eyes moral and eyes intellectual were
as necessary as eyes physical. Education
and conduct in Sub-Coelum were upon that
determination. It was never lost sight of.

y unity Circumspect 13

It tended to make people reflective, con-
siderate, and charitable. Self - estimates seif-esti.
were thoughtfully made, and constantly thmgu/uiiy
revised. Vanity was circumspect. It was
discovered that the truth, absolute and
unmitigated, is hard to arrive at : that the
last fact is ever necessary to correct judg-
ment : that color depends upon light : that
good is largely in the brush, and that evil
is never so black as malignity paints it.

Their schools were generally small, with schools

GENERALLY

not much system about them. No great small.
pains were taken to force the children,
especially while they were little. Memory
was respected, and not over-exerted or bur-
dened. Processes were to develop, as far
as practicable, consistent with healthful
growth, the best qualities and faculties of
individual pupils. Differences, moral and
intellectual, were recognized and regarded.
It was not thought possible to make all
alike, as eggs in a basket. Classes, for classes um-
that reason, were limited, and specially in- ' ^ "
structed. Teachers were chosen rather for
character and manners than for scholar-
ship. Thorough gentlemen and ladies were
preferred. Influence for good was looked
to as a prime factor. The ready imitative-

14 Sub-Coslum

ness of the young was made the most of.
Goad exam- Good examples were set before them — the
fare ikem. best specimcns of men and women procur-
able. Inaccurate language was exceptional
in the schoolroom. The common blun-
ders were placarded on the walls. Small
children were taught by women ; at eight
or nine years the sexes were separated, —
the girls to be instructed by ladies and the
boys by gentlemen ; to give opportunity,
little by little, of imparting and impress-
ing in a thousand ways a thousand things
essential to genuine manhood and woman-
hood. To make good, intelligent, self-
respecting men and women, fitted for self-
government, was kept in view as the great
object of education.

iNSTHuc In every part of the Commonwealth
Radical schools for all ages and both sexes were
established, where the people were in-
structed in radical morals, as essential to
true religion, and inseparable from it. Per-
sonal responsibility was inculcated. Mar-
riage was gravely considered. The rela-
tions of the sexes were discussed in every
way but the trifling. The nature and
ethics of debt were pondered and thought-
fully illustrated. Integrity was enforced

The Thing Necessary i^

impressively. Honesty to the core, in all
that it implies, was persistently urged as
the thing of all things necessary to true
manhood and womanhood. Prudential
considerations were the last to be named
in connection with it.

Chairs of Common Sense were set up chaihs of
in the universities. Wise professors filled sensb?"
them. The distinction between scholar-
ship and usefulness was continually de-
fined. Education was directed to its uses
— even to the unlearning of what could not
be applied — adapting it to the character
and wants of each individual — anticipa-
ting, as far as practicable, occupation and
position in life. Boys were taught an ap-
prehension of the diffusion and universality
of intelligence ; that no man had it all, but
every man a little,; that the average was
always worthy of respectful consultation ;
that the education of the schools was but as tju educa.
the scaffolding and tools to the builder — l^lu.
bearing in mind all the time that the build-
ing that was to endure was not made with
hands ; that the hodman and the farm
hand must teach him many things he must
know ; that the classics — valuable enough
for culture — and the maxims of philoso-

1 6 Sub-Coelum

phy must give way, again and again, and
without humiliation, to the commonest
experience of the meanest man, whom he
would despise, till he had fairly put his
mind and fact to his in the conflict of
affairs ; in fine, that he must surrender
his self-conceit, be put upon his feet with
the crowd, and totally unlearn and forget
very much that he had learned, before he
could begin to be truly sensible and wise.
Theaverage By such meaus the average wisdom came
to be respected. It was the admitted
gauge of civilization. It appeared too slow
to the seer and too fast to the philosopher ;
but the prescience of the one and timidity
of the other were not often consulted. It
gave a sympathizing ear to the fervid
thoughts of enthusiasts and reformers,
cooling and utilizing them by diffusion. It
took from the wearied eye and nerve-
shaken hand of the inventor his invention,
and put it to work in the fields and seas.
Thecommon It was the commou sense and the common
common law of lifc. It govcmed the Government

law. , . ,

and every man. It put a hope mto the
heart, and helped it to pray as well as to
work. It fostered ideas of progression,
which grew into system, and methodized
thought and exertion. It made tests for

A Means to the End /y

formulas and platforms, and widened their
scope and purpose to a generous breadth
and humanity. In its providence, it cared it cared m
for all, the little and the great, the strong
and the feeble. Its modes appeared level-
ing processes, but the valleys of shadow
were lifted up. The sun, if it did not glit-
ter upon a promontory, warmed the plain
to produce a generous harvest. If genius
seemed a little crippled in its wing, it was
by teaching it a steadier flight. If the
hills were less beautiful by cultivation, the
vintage was compensation. In short, schol-
arship, less didactically and showily stated,
was esteemed and urged, in that depart-
ment of culture, as but a means to the end
— peaceful and enlightened society, gov-
erned by humane and beneficent laws : an
Ideal Republic.

In the schools and universities great instructed

. . ..... IN Telling

pains were taken to instruct in telling the the truth.
truth. The viciousness of habitual extrav-
agance in language was explained and il-
lustrated. The close alliance between exag-
geration and lying was made apparent,
and all were made to feel their responsibil-
ity in speech. Volubility was discouraged.
Drilling in narration was constant and uni-

i8 Sub-Ccelum

versal. Facts were stated and incidents
related to be repeated. The practice was
amusing till the consequences showed them-
selves to be grave. The same story, pass-
ing through several minds and repeated
by as many tongues, was hardly recog-
A soier ex- nizcd, and the result became a sober expe-
nance. It infixed itself m the memory.
The dangers of careless speech, as they were
comprehended, became startling. Habits
of attention, therefore, and studied fidelity
in repetition, were set down conspicuously
among the social virtues. Truth-telling
was impossible without them.

Low, un- The use of low, unmeaning language was

MEANING . , , „ . . ,,.

languagb. considered an offense against intelligence
and good-breeding, and was in every proper
way discouraged and prohibited. Its rude-
ness and inelegance were not the only
objections to it : it corrupted the carefully
guarded tongue of the people. The lan-
guage, in thousands of years, had grown
to be so extensive that its dictionary was
in many ponderous volumes. The effort
for ages had been to reduce it — to elimi-
nate all that was obsolete and impure —

fc^B^fi "^ 'i^^g colloquialisms even being excluded.

excluded. Enlightened men and women were known

Conversation ig

and rated by the purity and integrity of
their speech ; standards of expression were standards
high, and not to be despised ; rank was not '{i^nt^L
risked by careless observance. Not that
there was any lack in freedom of utter-
ance. Forbidding the exceptionable en-
couraged the best. Intellect was not shorn
of her wings. Imagination soared and
gayety disported at will. Ideas, lighter
than air, clothed themselves in affluent
language. Humor gladdened and glowed
in an easy flow of words, and wit flashed
out in verbal splendor.

Conversation, indeed, was cultivated conversa-
and practiced ambitiously, but cautiously, vated.
Rude language and bad grammar were
socially punished in emphatic ways, and
people of good standing, making any pre-
tensions to good - breeding and culture,
were careful to be guiltless of them. Those
who violated in either, whatever their schol-
arship, were set down as vulgar and illit-
erate. The general readiness and felicity
were remarkable. Euphuism was tzx^. g^^ijtkm.
Affectations and excesses of free expres- ""'"'
sion were instinctively avoided. Inborn
taste and tact governed their intercourse.
Gossip was high art. Trivialities were

20

Sub-Ccelum

specialties
of every
sort.

adorned and illustrated in a manner to cre-
ate and maintain interest in them. Light
philosophy turned the smallest events to
account, and made each one seem impor-
tant and respectable. Habits of adapta-
tion led them into every sort of specialty.
Hardly anything but had its experts and
professors. Hints from nature were real-
ized in mechanism and art. Novelties,
improvements, inventions, were number-
less. Every flying and creeping thing had
its enthusiasts and exponents. Ephemera,
infusoria, animalculse, were classified and
individualized, without limit. Microbes,
bacilli, were pets of the imagination. Chil-
dren, even, seemed familiar with the mon-
sters of the microscope, and talked of them
as glibly as of their playthings and the
chemical elements.

Ingenuous- Eagerncss to know Seemed not to ex-

NKSS A So-

OAL Excel- cced the willmgness to impart. In per-
sonal affairs, secrecy was exceptional.
Where acuteness was universal, discovery
was nearly inevitable. Concealment being
next to impossible, few thought of attempt-
ing it. Ingenuousness, perforce, became
one of the social excellences. Autobio-
graphical writing was in fashion. Publi-

A Distinguishing Charm 21

cation of such self-revelation being in vio-
lation of the public taste, manuscripts
accumulated in private cabinets, to be con-
sulted only in social emergencies. Re- Reforurs
porters were everywhere respected and
deferred to. It was considered squeamish
to withhold information from them — the
reporters themselves being trusted to judge
of its fitness or unfitness for publication.
They made visits from house to house, and
it was expected that everything of general
interest would be communicated to them.
Cases sometimes occurred when public in-
dignation was aroused by efforts to mis-
inform, divert, or baffle the indispensable
news-gatherer.

The desire to behave well was as general behavior.
as the desire to talk well. Politeness was
a distinguishing charm. Manners were
simple and easy. Stateliness was avoided.
Offensive familiarity was scarcely known.
Intrusion was frankly apologized for. Side-
door visiting was not tolerated. Compli-
ment was cultivated. To say pleasant
things to one another was the universal The unwer-

._ , , . sal custom.

custom. All were gratified by praise ;
they only wanted it to be sincere. Ful-
some flattery was received in a way to for-

22 Sub-Ccdum

bid a repetition of it. It was considered a
cheapening and degradation of one's self to
invite it, and a duty of refinement to re-
buke it. Ladies set their faces against it.
Sarcasm Sarcasm was not often indulged, and only
luigid" "^ then between close friends. When ill-na-
ture prompted it, it was a crime against
the peace of society. Obliquity of every
sort was distrusted. They had a bad opin-
ion of the lion on account of his step. Di-
rectness was preferred, even to the extent
of incivility. It was a great offense to be
called cunning or shrewd. Artifice was
the sign of a wry mind and perverted heart.
To say slyly what would occasion unhappi-
ness was an outrage to justify punishment.
Good-nature and humanity were shocked
by it. To make others happy was the rule
and practice ; the contrary was the rarest
exception. Especially it was the habit to
give the greatest encouragement to worthy
effort. Good deeds were heartily com-
mended. By that means young and old
were stimulated to do their best. You
never met a boy or a girl who had not
Atfroiation reccivcd eucouragiug words. Approbation
tnjvery ^^^ .^ evcry face. Hope was kept alive
by it. Hearts were made human. They
flowed together in good-fellowship.

The Difficulty of Moderation 23

A habit of charitable judgment had a a habit of
refining effect upon the people. Experi- b"e*jud&
ence made them cautious in condemning. "^''^'
They were taught to know the limits of
bad and good — that nobody was quite per-
fect enough to merit deification, nor so
utterly corrupt as to be a castaway. That
a man must be looked at all around, within,
by a fair light, and with a good eye, to be
seen truly and judged justly. They were
taught the difficulty of moderation : that if
calm and deliberate enough to be just, they
were almost sure to be indifferent : that
ignorance, interests, prejudices, blinded
their eyes, darkened their minds, and in-
clined them to violence. If a story came
to them derogatory of a friend or neighbor,
they first asked themselves. Is it true .' Is
it a natural thing for the man to do 1 Is
he capable of such an act .' Deliberation Effects o/

1 ^. 1 . , . . ^ deliberation.

made them slow m determming and cau-
tious in accepting ; certain that the truth
would present the matter differently.
Hesitation made them charitable. It in-
culcated making the most of the good and
the least of the bad, and to hope accord-
ingly. They were refined by generosity
of judgment, as they were made modest by
introspection. Epithets of derogation and

24 Sub-Coslum

condemnation were rarely used. Motives
were not closely questioned. Sincerity
did not need to be proved. Virtue was
not absolute. Intelligence, at best, was
AfavorUe extremely limited. At sea, they said, a

illustration. , , . • i t. ■l. ±\.

person s eye being six teet above the sur-
face of the water, his horizon is only two
miles and four fifths distant ; yet his
tongue will as freely wag of the world as if
it were all spinning under his eye. We
freely discuss the ignorance of those we
believe to be less intelligent than ourselves,
never thinking that we are the cause of
like amusement to those who are more
intelligent than we are. Fewer laugh with
us than at us. The grades are so many
that contrast is more natural than compari-
son. Unfortunately, too, it is only in the
descent that we can see, and that but a lit-
tle way. We know it is up, up, that we
would go ; but the rounds of the ladder are
but vaguely visible. But a small part we
The in-odi-^ perceive of the prodigious sweep from the
lowest ignorance to possible intelligence.
Upon their feet with their fellows, and con-
scious of the countless limitations to wis-
dom and virtue, the people of Sub-Ccelum
grew more refined and truly polite as they
became more modest and charitable.

gious sweep.

Character not in the Market 2^

Their superior men and women were their su-
held in high estimation, and the influence and wo-"^
they exerted was everywhere apparent.
Society in many cases seemed only a re-
flection of them. Their high standards of
conduct toned and tempered minds and
hearts in remotest relations with them.
The atmospheres they made and carried
with them were pervasive. It was beauti-
ful to see the respect and deference that
was paid to them : silently and uncon-
sciously paid, as the mimosa renders hom-
age to a passing creature. Flatteries were Flatteries

_ _ , - , , not heaped

not heaped upon them ; the excellences upon them.
they incarnated forbade grossness or indeli-
cacy. The wisdom they dispensed and the
good they did were not for compensation.
Character was not in the market. Mere-
triciousness did not attempt to entice, nor
artifice to purchase. Ingenuousness was ingenmm.
a perpetual rebuke to devices, disguises, S.'"^^'
obliquities. Compliment was best paid to
superiority by adopting whatever was pos-
sible of preeminence. Mere ability was
not so highly esteemed as integrity — en-
tireness. Men who were morally sound
— incapable of duplicity and baseness, and
women who were genuine and pure — of
all excellence, were objects of unconscious

surprises.

26 Sub-Codum

reverence. In their lives were taught vir-
tue, honesty, honor, humanity, charity —
all that constitutes true manhood and wo-
manhood. When a superior man or woman
entered any assembly, there was always
more or less of sensation visible in visages
and slight movement. Such personages
Perpetual Were pcrpetual surprises. They were bet-
ter than they appeared, wiser than they
assumed, did more than they promised, and
were encouraging phenomena in virtue and
humanity — examples of all that is precious
in character.

Their So- Their social meetings were all that could
iNGs. be desired to promote harmony and good-

neighborship. They met together cor-
dially, without awkwardness or ostentation.
Manners were such as good sense and good
feeling had suggested and determined. Ex-
cited and rapid conversation, as stated, was
not in good taste. To talk much or eagerly
was not a common ambition. Speech was
upon the assumed basis of general intelli-
gence, and was supplementary or comple-
mentary. To assume ignorance, to enlarge
.s-!ttr3^^»;VM< pedantically, were sins against good-man-
ners. ners ; decency was offended by them. Pat-

ronizing ways were not thought of, because

Fashion not Omnipotent 27

not tolerated, — equality, for the nonce,
being the prime condition. The happy few,
with exceptional animal spirits and tact,
who were able to fuse elements together,
were acknowledged social forces : as moral Acknowi-
and intellectual amalgams, they were duly/w^i/"""
appreciated ; wherever they appeared, in-
sulation was impracticable. Whatever of
dexterity they employed was not easily
discernible; show of management or ma-
nipulation would have been fatal. Fashion
was not omnipotent, though exacting. It
was hardly a device of ugliness to entrap
beauty. Loveliness, in a great degree, was
independent of it. Youth and beauty, in
simple dresses, were conspicuous. Only
the middle-aged and old dressed richly and
expensively. Diamonds and gold were
too common to be often used for personal
adornment. Intelligence in the eye, roses
in the cheek, charity on the tongue, were
better than all artificialities. Figure was Better than
displayed, but not the charms of it indeli- ««/&«.
cately. The consciously well-dressed were
least so. Immodesty, or anything that sug-
gested it, was not seen. Rudeness, even,
blushed at the thought of it. Beautiful
women were beautiful as they appeared
pure. Deceitful enticement in the slightest

28 Sub-Ccelum

Incarnate made thcm Ugly. Incarnate virtue was
^womanhoTd. ideal womanhood. Men honored it above
everything earthly. It was reverenced in
their mothers, their sisters, their wives,
their daughters ; and their treatment of all
women was touched by the distinction. In
their social parties both sexes of all ages
commingled — a few children being consid-
ered necessary to a complete company, as
undergrowth is indispensable to a healthy
Respect and forest. Respcct and amenity characterized
amemy. jjgija^yJQj- ^^d word. The young were def-
erential to the old, and the old considerate
of the young. Venerable ladies received
the attentions of young men, and venerable
gentlemen extended every politeness to
young women. Age and youth were side
by side in the dance and at the banquet.
Courtliness and the small sweet courtesies
were taught and practiced. Manhood was
improved and womanhood exalted. Hu-
man nature appeared best in the bright-
est light. Pessimism, even, if it existed,
thought it worth while to continue the
race under hopeful conditions.

Their Flo- Not the Icast attractive feature of their

RAL EXHIBI- . .^ . .

TioNs. civihzation was their floral exhibitions.
The universal taste and a generous rivalry

Surpassing the Flowers 29

made them frequent. Everybody attended
them, and the enthusiasm shown was beau-
tiful to see. Men and women had become
famous by cultivating and propagating par-
ticular species. Gardens of roses and gar- Gardens of

T r • 1 1 T T • . roses and

dens 01 pinks were everywhere. Varieties gardem of
seemed infinite. The bloom of the dande-
lion and daisy was grown to be thrice as
great as in the wild state. The hollyhocks
were prodigious. The geraniums blazed in
a marvelousness of color. Chrysanthe-
mums of bewildering variety and beauty
were the pride of the multitude. Pansies
appeared living creatures. In these shows
the best achievements in floriculture were
brought together. The taste displayed,
and the abounding beauty, made them
delightful and memorable occasions. But
more attractive than the flowers were the
throngs of humanity that moved amongst
them. Beauty was made more beautiful Beauty and
and nobility more noble by being brought l^mgu to-
together so auspiciously. All that was^'
good in man and woman seemed to shine
out in happy faces. Roses in cheeks
bloomed with a warmth the roses in the
gardens did not have. Expression was ani-
mated by the enlivening scene. Beauty
was surprised into attitudes that poet or

30

Sub-Caelum

Two float-
ing radi-
ances.

Th£ good
ivoman of
threescore.

painter had never witnessed. The two
floating radiances that appear and disap-
pear amidst the roses ! Noiseless as spring
sunshine and as inspiring. Blonde and
brunette, distinct, together, and blending.
Raven hair and golden, rippling at random
and flowing together. Blue eyes and black,
alternating ; confusing your fancies, like
the changing hues of a sunset. Complex-
ions nut-brown and alabaster, warm and
roseate with innocency and ripeness. And
the good woman of threescore who ex-
changes civilities with them ! Her com-
plexion is as clear and her face almost as
sunny as theirs. That glistening silver
lock must but a moment since have turned
gray while she unconsciously twisted it.
Her voice and smile and eyes do not an-
swer to so much of life and vicissitude.
The three sympathize and mingle, without
adjustment or dissonance. Happy children
and grave men add to the diversity of the
occasion. What could be more elevating,
picturesque, or wholesome, than human in-
tercourse under favorable auspices }

Each Day's
Dinner.

Each day's dinner was much of an event
in every family. It came early in the after-
noon, as the hours of labor and business

The Family Dinner 31

were not many. It was the rule to forget
the cares of the day, and to put away anx-
iety, as far as possible, in preparation for
it. Plenty of time was taken, to fully en-
joy it. Not that the population were espe-
cially devoted to eating ; they looked more
to the civilities and socialities than to the The cwrn-
indulgence of the appetite. Cleanliness iilwls. "'
was particularly observed, in person and in
table-habits. Promptness was expected of
every one, and a careful consideration for
the comfort and pleasure of others was
maintained. Each one took his place,
without eagerness or disorder. The service
was deliberate, and in courses — chemi-
cally right foods being served together.
Tables were padded to limit the noise of
dishes. Personal peculiarities of taste were Pemiiari-
Ignored or not referred to. Noise m eat- ie^m-ed.
ing was scrupulously avoided. Pigs for
that, they said, not men. Children were
so instructed, but not at the table. Ra-
pidity was not indulged, for the same rea-
son. A famished manner was offensive.
Excess in quantity also. Repletion was
as objectionable as voracity. The dishes
served, their costliness and preparation,
were not elaborately discussed. Dining
was else and more than feeding. It in-

52 Sub-Ccelum

eluded all that was civilized and generous.
Best impulses were quickened and liveliest
ideas evolved. Irony was not indulged at
Goodfeeiing the cxpeuse of good-nature. Good feeling
reg,mtte. ^^^ requisite to a good dinner — a better
sauce, if possible, than hunger. Words
were not taken from others' mouths ; in-
terruption was rudeness. Subjects intro-
duced, as far as practicable, were elevat-
ing, but not above the range of the average.
Free utterance was encouraged, but not,
as before observed, too great precipitancy
or volubility. Discoursing, or talking in a
lecturing way, was a violation of good ta-
ble-manners. That every one might have
due opportunity of participating, anything
like monopoly, if indulged, was jealously
chiidrm en. restricted. Children were encouraged to
cmragf . ^ ^^j^ sharc ju couvcrsation. Occasion, in-
deed, was often made to give them promi-
nence — self-instruction being an ulterior
purpose. Birthdays of distinguished men
and women were selected for their special
benefit. A little better dinner than usual
was provided, an extra dish or an additional
course being sufficient. A suitable guest
was selected to partake, and to put all upon
their good behavior. The children were
expected to lead on these anniversaries.

Cooking in Sub-Caslum _j^

Ample time was given them for prepara-
tion. Dictionaries, cyclopaedias, and bio-
graphies were consulted for facts and inci-
dents. Each one was depended upon to
contribute an anecdote or interesting fact.
Contemporaneous history was recalled.
Lessons in philosophy and conduct were Lessens sug.
suggested. The good in the several char- ^"^'" '
acters considered was brought out exem-
plarily, and the bad referred to in admoni-
tion. The great and excellent in life and
literature were thus studied and kept in
memory. All were made to think, and to
grow in enlightenment. The children espe-
cially were helped and stimulated in self-
education.

Cooking was a proud art in Sub-Ccelum, cooking a

Phottd .Art

and was carried to great perfection. Still
they experimented, and their best results
were from time to time announced in gas-
tronomic journals. The invention of a new
dish gave distinction, next to the discov-
ery of a new planet. Chemistry was so
persistently and ingeniously applied that
kitchens became laboratories. Bad cook-
ing was a sin, and brought shame upon the l
sinner. This extraordinary interest in the
art was due in great part to the prevailing

^4 Sub-Coelum

Morals aW opinioii that morals largely were emana-
siomach. ^.^^^ ^j ^^^ stomach, and that men were

good and healthy as they were well fed.
Curious and wonderful instances were
collected in proof. Crimes were traced to
bad breakfasts, as benefactions were to
good dinners. The philosophic cook ac-
counted for conduct as he did for complex-
ions. Roses in cheeks told their history.

saihrwwss Sallowness was a reproach, and was very
rare. The shades of melancholy appeared
in few faces. It was the general belief
that most diseases were caused by bad or
ill-cooked food, and that few of them that
were remediable would not yield to right
diet. The doctor often, before writing his
prescription, questioned the economy of
the kitchen. The priest, before consola-
tion or absolution, did the same. Courts,
in the trial of criminals, directed similar
inquiry, and extenuation or commutation
was often a result of it. Law-makers were
indebted to cooks for suggestions. Moral-
ists were liberal as they were gastronomi-
cally wise. Pork was held accountable for

Roast pig. much that was bad in the world, roast pig
excepted. The young of swine, something
heavier than a full-grown capon, were
objects upon which genius expended it-

The Custard Apple 55

self. The sweet juices thereof reached the
sources of sense, and remained in the
mind as on the palate, inclining it to gen-
erous reflection. Fish, too, the particular FUh.
food of the brain, employed and exhausted
the possibilities of kitchen science. Never
a drop of water entered into one of 'the
finny tribe after the knife had done its
office. The natural juices were all pre-
served — every particle. Banquets exclu-
sively of fish, with ichthyological pictures
all round, were not uncommon events.
Symposia they were of wit and eloquence.
Bread-making was carried to great perfec- Bread.
tion. Loaves were congeries of sweet '"" '"^'
crystals. The light shone through them.
They were marvelous. Common articles
were made wondrously palatable by the
manner in which they were cooked and
served. Fruits especially were temptingly
presented. The papaw, the North Ameri- The ^a^aw.
can custard apple, was a favorite of the
people. It was sedulously cultivated, and
was considered excellent above all other
fruit. Ripening upon the tree, and falling
upon the leaves, it caught a taste of earth
and heaven that was ambrosial. It was
the supreme delicacy, and was daintily
eaten. Nothing so palatable, they said ;

_j6 Sub-Coelum

certainly nothing uncooked. An appropri-
ately artistic dish received it. The knife
to lay off its skin was set in diamonds.
The spoon to eat it with was of purest gold,
A bit at a. of delicate and exquisite workmanship. A
imeenaug . ^.^ ^^ ^ Wmo. was enough, every atom of

which rose to the sensorium. A half an
hour was considered too short a period to
linger over this achievement of nature —
her one inimitable, unsurpassable custard.
The beautiful orchards of this Fruit of
Paradise were the triumph and pride of
pomology.

Their Good The people, being highly intelligent, re-
' quired the best of ^physicians. A little
smattering and a great deal of pretension
would not do. Ignorance, that presumed
to exercise important functions, was held
to be criminal. When exposed, it became
an object of public reproach. It might
trifle with anything but human life and not
be declared odious ; but when poor human
bodies were subjected to merest empiri-
cism, the public sense and the public con-
science revolted. It was understood that
the more knowledge the physician had, the
better fitted he was for his profession. No
man, in their judgment, could know too

The Human Machine ^y

much to be a good doctor. There was,
they knew, no end to the knowledge appli-
cable to the treatment of disease. The
physician was not expected to perform
miracles, as the world had grown too wise
to expect the miraculous. The human ma-
chine was admitted to be frail, and destined
to go to pieces. The house of clay was The home of
only to be kept in such repair as to be "^ '^^'
presentable and comfortably habitable till
abandoned. It was not made to resist
earthquakes nor time. Only the every-
day storms and ills were to be averted or
cured. The one great shock or poison,
which shatters or rots the structure, the
wisest could not forefend nor bafHe. Thera-
peutics could not be so exact as anatomy.
With the aid of anaesthetics, the medical
carpenter might cut and saw his poor fel-
low with certainty. But the many influ- influences of

- , . . , climate^ ap-

ences oi climate, appetite, and ^?i&sior). petite, and
upon human bodies, as varied by predispo-
sitions, habits, and ambitions as they were
numerous, were admitted to be past find-
ing out mathematically, and too often were
only to be guessed at, as the turns of the
market, or the whims of insanity. Sin-
cere, and devoted to his calling — carry-
ing conscience into it as well as intelli-

jS Sub-Cceltim

gence — the physician was not expected
to accommodate himself to pretenses nor
A tnfes- whims. A professional call meant sober
"^nt'loher business, and his sense of duty commanded
candor. If indolence, or indulgence, or
vice were the cause of ailment, he frankly
announced and characterized it. The cher-
ished habits, appetites, or desires must be
abandoned before he could begin a cure
of their results. Describing their effects
upon the body, he did not suggest their
blighting consequences upon the character.
That, he considerately left to the curer of
souls — the clergyman or the priest.

The Quack Time was, eveu in Sub-Coelum, when
CoOTRAs™ the quack doctor — the empiric, the char-
latan, the pretender — was in fashion. To
appearances he was most considerate and
respectful, while with the real he made
merchandise. A large proportion, and the
most substantial, of his patients, were only
growing old, but they submitted to be
drugged and drugged, rather than to be
told the wholesome truth. The slight
weaknesses and aches, as natural as gray
hairs and dim eyesight, pride of life and
Dignified the pretender's arts dignified into illnesses,
' Thin locks and spectacles were natural

IVise Prescriptions jg

enough, and well enough, and becoming ;
but flattening muscles and cooling circula-
tion were results of over-work or impru-
dence, and might be restored to roundness
and comfortable temperature. The doc-
tor's wise prescription was higher living
and heavier woolens, with powders and HeavUr

1 1 . ... woolens,

drops now and then as alteratives and
tonics, and just soon enough, to a visit, he
conducted the case to a favorable issue.
The air of another clime was recommended
if his patient's patience seemed failing, or
if, as the real case might be, the ill-judg-
ment of a stubborn husband was to be cor-
rected. Many of his patients who were
given to gayety and irregular hours, who
were too frail to bear children, his mere
hint of the fact was of profit to the mon-
ster in a palace, whose specialty was such
cases. Expressionless eyes and dullness
contrasted with beauty and thin dresses,
and stimulants in every form were sug-
gested to supply the needed lustre and
sprightliness, and complete the harmony.
Small potions at first were sufficient ; and smaii^o-
if gradual increase of quantity resulted """"
unfortunately, the misfortune was disease,
to be treated by a still further increase of
the cause as a remedy. If the public voice

40 Sub-Ccelum

Crime in was sileiiced by the presence of crime in
'S. *■ so many households ; if brothels sprang up
palatially in desirable streets ; if hospitals
multiplied to exhaust the public purse ; the
fashionable doctor, who was the genius and
patron of them all, was secure in his fame
and opulence. Long, long since, the peo-
ple of Sub-Ccelum had grown too wise and
excellent to tolerate such an embodiment
of insincerity and artfulness. They pre-
ferred conscience and candor in their phy-
sicians, and profited by them in body and
in spirit.

The Cler- Time was, also, when the clergy of Sub-
CcELUM. ^ Coelum were not all that they might have
been. Too many of them had grown
worldly and time-serving. The occupant
of the carved pulpit, it was said, whose
wants were only imaginary, knelt upon
cushions of velvet, and thanked gracious
Heaven for having made the circumstances
of all mankind so extremely happy. Mate-
rial demands upon him having been paid
by checks on his banker, he was profoundly
Ignorant o/ ignorant of the shifts of the multitude.

the multi- i ^i • , .

tude. Here and there, m pews nearest the pulpit,

reposed, in fresh raiment and elegance, rep-
resentatives of every institution of finance

Knew the World 41

and commerce ; and their joint possessions
impressed him with the fullness of benefi-
cence. To illustrate his theme, he was not mt limited
limited to average experience, but was experit^e.
expected to range beyond and above it.
He was understood to know the world in
an enlarged way ; and if his figures or ex-
amples suggested the successes or power
of certain of his hearers, their complacency
was stimulated if their hearts were not
softened. He was not to shock by an ex-
posure of subtlety which circumvented, or
combination which oppressed, but to soothe
by a glittering exhibition of ends and at-
tainments. The possession of money, in
whatever prodigious quantity, was not to
be questioned, but only the love of it. A zom o/
little ingenuity would comfort the posses- "^'"'''
sor by suggesting his expenditures, and
make him as conspicuous in the sanctuary
as his equipage made him in the avenue.
His thoughts were especially pitched to
the ears of those he besought, to whom he
owed all, and from whom he expected even
more. Their courtly presence he had en-
joyed till their moral atmosphere had be-
come his own, and his passions flowed
much in the same current with theirs.
Once a year the Golden Rule was dwelt Ruie.

42 Sub-Ccelum

upon, to harmonize and conciliate commer-
cial niceties. Refinement and specious-
ness might display themselves upon so
sober a generality. If not a vague abstrac-
tion, it might be only relative in its appli-
cation to life, as honesty in the common

Honor tite scuse was not integrity. Honor was the
practicable and necessary rule. The specu-
lator might have it, and trade by it, though
his ingenuous friend be ruined by his
scheme. Thief he might morally be, and
a beggar his dupe, but the contract must
be fulfilled, and justice indorse it. As the
ethics to govern in the settlement between
man and his Maker, with character only in
judgment, the Golden Rule was unques-
tionable, but not in the court of the money-
changers, where honor alone gilded the
edges of promises. With the motives of
the heart God must deal. Man must have

Atretiy his duc. He was a pretty preacher for

teacher for ,

young people, young people. His manner moved them
like the bursting spring. His similes were
of buds, and blossoms, and fresh verdure.
His soft words and gentle gestures win-
nowed fragrance. His accuracy and vari-
ety of taste made him a connoisseur in
everything pertaining to colors and fabrics.
At home everywhere where there was ele-

Artist and Arbiter 4)

gance, contrasts and harmonies had trained
him to refinement of observation, and he
was at once the artist and arbiter in per-
plexity. As a relaxation from labor, and
to gather resources for the entertainment
and instruction of his people, he had trav-
eled the world, and seen edifices, and pic-
tures, and costumes, and his perception of His fercep-
eftects was acute and unerring. His m- effects.
dorsement of the style of a house, or the
beauty of a landscape, or the trimming of
a gown, was assurance of grandeur, or har-
mony, or tastefulness. His ethics in the
pulpit and aesthetics in the drawing-room
were alike acceptable and infallible. De-
grees of future happiness, he believed,
would be determined by development.
Bliss was only relative. Enjoyment, as a
rule, was measured by capacity, and incon-
gruity would mar heavenj His theory of
fitness and likes solved eternal justice and
harmony.

Ages had passed since clergymen of that clergymen
character had been seen in the pulpit. Ex- chakacteb

. Extinct.

tinct, they were read about as strange curi-
osities, and the people were amazed at the
moral standards of their ancestors. That
the materialities had governed them to

44 Sub-Caelum

such an unlimited extent was marvelous.
A religion Thev could not comprehend that a religion

of Mammon. , ,, , , • ^ i • ii • r •

of Mammon had ever existed m their fair
land. The conditions of society had com-
pletely changed, and their views of wor-
ship had changed with them. Wealth be-
ing diffused, other stalndards of excellence
and conduct had been established. Men
who counted their wealth by millions were
not known amongst them. Churches were
not built and maintained by the prosperous
only. One class was as conspicuous in
their management as another, and each
contributed its full share to supporting
them. In their clergymen, purity above
all things was a requisite. The preacher
must first be a thoroughly honest man, be-
yond even the suspicion of duplicity or dis-
simulation — faithful to all of his vows. His
relations with society must be absolutely
A viceger- immaculate. A vicegerent of God, he was

enie/God,

not for a moment to forget the responsibil-
ities of his office. He must be utterly in-
capable of soothing the conscience to sleep
by noxious sympathy or advice ; of extenu-
ating any corrupting desire ; of concealing
any wholesome truth ; of excusing hypoc-
risy in any of its multiplied forms ; of coun-
tenancing philosophies to flatter worldli-

Educated as a Physician 4^

ness ; of confusing worship with ceremony ;
of courting power, or forgetting to enforce
its accountability ; of helping to degrade integrity
integrity to the standard of commercial ^roflTerf.
honor ; of exalting money, or disregarding
improper means of obtaining it ; of encour-
aging wine and denouncing drunkenness ;
of extolling prodigality and deploring bank-
ruptcy ; of magnifying costly raiment and
bewailing demoralization ; of cautioning
youth, with only manhood, against mar-
riage, and warning him of the strange wo-
man ; in a word, he was continually and
persistently to set his face, and exert the
utmost of his personal and official influ-
ence, against everything corrupting or de-
grading to man or woman. Not that he Not that he
was to be harsh or hard to any human hlrshor
creature. That he might be generous in
his judgments, and sympathizing towards
weaknesses, he was required to be thor-
oughly educated as a physician before en-
tering upon his sacerdotal office. Moral
ailments of every kind would present them-
selves to him, and he must be as capable
as possible of treating them. To account
for mental diseases he must know bodily
derangements. Body and mind were to be Body and
considered one and inseparable. The in-

of conduct.

46 Sub-Ccelum

terdependence was not to be forgotten.

Inheritance lessened accountability: the

. Maker only knew to what extent. The

siandards prcachcr did not set up standards of con-
duct unattainable by himself or any of his
hearers. He did not turn the key of heaven
against himself and all mankind. He did
not preach an empty heaven. He believed
that no man was so bad but that there
might be some good in him, and that no
man was so good but that he might be bet-

Thegood Xjsx. The differences between the good and
' '^ ' the bad, which, at first blush, appeared to
him so great, as he knew more of man and
men — more of the weaknesses and dis-
tresses and ignorances of his fellows —
seemed less and less to him ; and he re-
flected how, in the eye of the Maker, who
knows everything of every one of His crea-
tures — every besetment and every infirm-
ity — how impossible, with all his efforts,
to accomplish very much — how next to
impossible to use at all his imperfectly
developed wings — the good and the bad

Pitifully must appear pitifully alike, if not the same.

alike in the ^ -j- . . . ^ . . .

eye of the His Icammg, observation, introspection,
and reflection made him charitable. His
religion was love. Hence the typical
preacher of Sub-Coelum.

Maker.

The Devil's Confessional 47

Time was, too, when the lawyer's office thb law-
was named the devil's confessional. What- pfcltf
ever it was in fact, the low tone of morals
was responsible for it. The long continued
universal greediness in money-getting had
debauched the public conscience, until
integrity had come to be of inconsiderable
importance in the market. Lying was
excused as a necessity. Adulteration was
not a crime. Duplicity had no bad name.
Shrewdness was a virtue. Villainy was
not such when it succeeded. Being found
out was the dread and devil of the popula-
tion. Concealment was studied as a refine-
ment in business, and craft was exalted to cra/tex-
a chief place with wisdom. Straightfor-
ward ways were at a discount. Honest
poor men had no fair chance. In the com-
binations they were left out. The carcass
was appropriated, leaving only the bones.
Vast schemes were but conspiracies, —
powerful enough to suborn, if they did not
crush. Pettifoggers of every grade were
their instruments. Rodents sometimes in
their processes — angels of light at others.
Bold enough to assault or corrupt at the BoUenmgh
top, base enough to undermine at the bot- c^»J"
tom. Weaknesses and tastes and ambi-
tions were estimated as commodities, and

^8 Suh-CcBlum

prices put upon them. Great interests at
stake, equivalents corresponded, in money
or advancement. Great attorneys were
Mean and found to cmploy mean and bold arts in
high places. If they failed at one time
they waited for a better. A new trial
was had, and the indispensable testimony
was supplied. The courts being reputed
corrupt, corrupters had full employment.
Honest lawyers were forced to low fees and
a low station. The determination to do
right consigned them to poverty. Judges
were welcomed in disreputable and doubt-
ful places. They were shown the way to
great bargains. They enjoyed the chances
of great gain without pecuniary risk. They
were in the councils of conspirators. They
sailed the dizzying maelstrom of fashion,
and moved omnipotently in the mysteries
of markets and corporations.

A Turn WAS These things could not continue and
sloviTly." society exist. A turn was made, but
slowly. The flesh was ready to fall off the
bones. Constitutional remedies were ap-
plied. Little by little the moral sense was
elevated. Eyes were gradually opened to
the danger. New standards were set up.
Reformation began at the bottom — the

Mammon Dethroned 49

foundation of the social structure — and
worked upward as the corrupted tissues
would bear. Better blood came with bet- Better uood
ter morals. Conduct found higher aims. l^orJs. '^
Money was no longer the standard of
excellence, nor wealth the omnipotent dis-
tinction. Intellect and purity no longer
submitted to be graded, averaged, and
appropriated. The virtues were at a pre-
mium. Honest poverty ranked with com-
fortable competency. Mammon was de-
throned, and not a god. All this did get
done, but it took ages to do it. The devil
fought desperately for his advantages, but
was routed, in person, — his creatures re-
maining in the trenches to make a show
of resistance to virtue ever and ever. The
corrupt judges had to go, with the hypo-
critical priests. They died hard, but they ^
died dead. Intrenched as they were by
their evil practices, society at large felt a
throe of relief at their final discomfiture,
notwithstanding the many who suffered by
it in their interests and occupations. The The vice of
vice of courts had poisoned the streams of
trade to such an extent that traders traded
with vicious impunity, confident, if found
out, that the same vicious means would
save them from disgrace, if not from punish-

protection.

50 Sub-Ccelum

Tktjrkeqfmeat The price of protection was graded
to every depth of purse. The petty thief
felt as secure as the great swindler. For
a consideration the jury could be made to
please him. His attorney would attend to
that as to everything indispensable. All
was made easy to him by the laws, framed
by lawyers — they seemed indeed to have
been made for his special protection.

Effects of When the change began in the public
Change, morals, attomcys became more or less
objects of suspicion. In time, it became
possible to disbar them for dishonest prac-
tices. Before being admitted to practice,
their characters were scrutinizingly exam-
ined — integrity being held of greater im-
portance than legal learning. Conversa-
tions with judges about cases, outside of
courts, ceased to be common. Every word
addressed to a judge by suitor or attorney
must be in open session, — in a voice to be
heard by every bystander. A violation of
this rule was an offense against the dignity
of justice, and was punishable. Desire to
be a juror was proof of incompetency. No
Intelligence panel was completed without inquiry as to
'Hated"""^ that ; nor was intelligence discriminated
agmns . against. Lawyers were no longer preferred

The Judiciary 5/

for lawmakers ; when chosen to legisla-
tive assemblies, they were of conspicuously
high character. The judiciary was j ealously yudges
guarded. Judges were elected for long pe- "img^erZds.
riods. Solicitation disqualified them, even
for being candidates. Names of persons
suggested for judicial offices werepublished
for a time in separate lists, and each one
was carefully canvassed by the public. If
any serious moral defect was discovered,
the possessor of it was declared ineligible,
and unfit to be voted for. Legal ability
was duly considered, but not to the same
extent as personal incorruptibility. The
trouble with society had been that in a
general way too great a disproportion had
existed between those intelligent enough
for places of trust and those possessing
the essential moral qualities. Honesty and Honesty a»d

■ 1 m purity pre-

purity, consequently, came to be necessary requisites.
and absolute prerequisites to the judicial
office. Judges must be non-residents ; in
other words, they were required to sit in
districts other than those in which they
were elected. The population would not
tolerate resident judges. They were
thought to be too familiar with the people
and their affairs, and apt to be warped in
their judgments. Strangers were preferred.

strangers
Preferred'

32

Sub-Ccelum

who knew nothing of society or its influ-
ences. From their places on the bench
they did not look down upon suitors whom
they knew intimately, and whose interests
they could scarcely judge of impartially.
Only blind Justice could hold the scales
evenly ; Mercy was an independent power,
and must be consulted apart. At that
court, eyes and ears were ever open to the
tears and appeals of humanity.

Arbitra-
tion.

Scape and
freedom
allowed.

By arbitration was a favorite mode of
adjusting most of their difficulties. Ad-
justment being necessary, the most direct
way to it was chosen. Advantages were
gained by it. Delay was avoided and ex-
pense saved. Anxiety was reduced to the
minimum. Time was not allowed to deepen
distrust into hatred. The peace of society
depended upon the promptness and thor-
oughness with which differences were set-
tled. Business difficulties were adjusted
by business men. Parties tried their own
cases. If the laws of evidence were some-
times relaxed or overlooked, it was to give
those most interested greater opportunities
to show themselves. In the scope and
freedom allowed, arbitrators saw behind
the faces of transactions and suitors. Igno-

Publia Advisers 5_j

ranee was enlightened and malice disarmed
by the clash of interests and passions. Mo-
tives dropped their disguises, and truth was
conspicuous. Unconsciously, often, the
sources of trouble were exposed in a way
to make adjustment easy and unquestion-
able.

Advice offices, here and there, through- advice
out society, were established. There was
use for them, and they were freely used
by the people. They were sanctioned and
protected as were other places of business.
Men of good sense and of good health
were the counselors — astute of observa-
tion, and sagacious in the ways of the
world. Stupid people, and people of ques-
tionable character, were not tolerated in
the office. Advisers were generally well-
to-do persons, and charitably disposed.
To relieve and help in common extremities
was their sworn duty. Fees were entirely Fees

1 A ■ c t 1' voluntary

voluntary. A misuse of the generous li-
cense given them was visited with prompt
condemnation by. the public. The office
of a public adviser was held in sacredness
next to the cloister of a priest. Poor men
and women who did not see their way
clear to invade the latter were accommo-

54

Sub-Coelum

Industry
inculcated,
and
frugality.

dated in the former. They were shown
the way out of ordinary trouble, and en-
couraged to better progress. They were
warned of the consequences of evil habits.
Industry was inculcated, and frugality.
Self-dependence was impressed upon them.
The pleasure of vice and pain of virtue
were set down to ignorance. If their
troubles were of a business nature, they
were advised to arbitrate them. If a dis-
eased condition of body or mind showed
itself, they were recommended to the phy-
sician. All who came were encouraged to
attend the Public Schools of Morals, and
be taught the foundations of good conduct.
The clergyman was recommended, or the
priest, in peculiar distresses of the soul.

Laws few

IN SUB-
CcELUM.

Laws were few in Sub-Ccelum. Such as
existed were necessary, and were strictly
enforced. Their book of statutes was com-
paratively a diminutive volume, and there
was not a dead one in it. The people did
not need to be much governed — in the
main, they governed themselves. Expe-
rience had taught them that laws easily
executed were hardly necessary, and that
those which could not be enforced were
worse than useless — they were vicious.

Self-Enacted and Inevitable ^^

Such legislation as was indispensable was,
in a sense, self-enacted and inevitable ; —
in other words, was so generally required
as scarcely to be disapproved. Before en-
acting a law, lawmakers inquired, Can it Law-
be enforced ? Is society ready for it ? inquiries.
They did not think that men could be made
temperate and virtuous, or women chaste,
by statute. Moral power was considered
a better force than the most efficient con-
stabulary. The disposition or desire to do
wrong was before all prohibitory enactment.
If that existed generally, a small minority
were powerless to punish its consequences.
Penal legislation, with that view, was not
difficult — it was but the spontaneous ex-
pression of the multitude. The difficulty
had been that Government had attempted
the impossible — making itself ridiculous
by empiricism. The people became weary wearyof
of chimerical experiments — of all efforts experi-
to adapt them to imagmary, super-celestial
conditions. They were not to be made
over violently. The tiger's tooth was not
to be eliminated in a generation ; the slow
processes of breeding and gentleness could
only be counted upon in anything so radi-
cal. The habit of resisting evil was found
better than all threatened reformation.

^6 Sub-Caelum

For thousands of ages Sub-Coelum had
been a part of the inhabited universe, and
had grown to be what it was by the slow-
TitecUw est progress. The claw was yet in the soft
soft paw. paw, and was not to be torn away forcibly.
Savagery was not out of sight in their civ-
ilization. Their laws were mostly to assist
voluntary efforts in right directions. To
aid, and not to compel, was their prime
object. The edifice of their polity was of
composite construction, wherein by degrees
were appropriated and incorporated such
elements as had been proven necessary to
the safety and permanency of the struc-
ture. Ages had gone by since the people
had tolerated empiricism or charlatanry in
government. They would not be tinkered
with or unduly agitated. Repose they es-
teemed a prerequisite to healthy growth.
They discouraged the spasmodic, and were
not ambitious of an interesting history.
Health and genuineness and purity, in
their judgment, were not turbulent or the-
atrical attributes. The universe made no
noise.

Special Special reformers were not in favor ; in-

Refoemees 11,

favoe oeed, there were few of them. Society
was so individualized that there did not

Diseased in Some Way 57

seem to be use for them. Such as there
were, for one reason or another, were dis-
trusted. It was observed that too often
the evil they meant to correct was more in
themselves, than in others. In some way,
from some cause, they were diseased, and
the reforming spirit was a result of their ne reform-
condition. Healthy persons did not ex-Sfp'^*
hibit it. Only where the body was pecu- um.
liarly afflicted, deficient, or deformed, or
the mind had lost its nice balance, was this
uneasy tendency inclined to show itself
conspicuously. Reasoning from the spe-
cial to the general, they concluded all to be
in their own condition. The morbidity or
painful self-consciousness that distressed
themselves they believed to be pervading.
The common effect was to excite pity in
the sound of mind and body, and to sug- suggestmg
gest the propriety of guardianship over ^mI ""^
them. Narrower and narrower they be-
came as they traversed their remorselessly
strait and ever - narrowing path. Their
own standards must be the standards of
the universe or the universe was all wrong.
As Philosophy said, they neglected their
own fields, and went to weed the fields of
others. Also, that Virtue did not take
pupils ; she contented herself with sowing

5S Sub-Coelum

Goodness the sceds of goodness, certain that expe-
"Sice" ""^ rience would make them grow. It was
observed that where a disagreeable or
unsightly deformity existed in the body,
an answering one was apt to show . itself'
in the character or spirit. Perpetual con-
sciousness of it occasioned diseased sensi-
bility, and excited a feeling of separation
if not antagonism. Never forgetting it for
a moment, they naturally misapprehended
everybody about them.

Effect The pervading individuality, as said

Pervading bcforc, made men distrustful of radical

Individual- . . . ^ ,

iTv. reformers, as mtrospection made them

wisely observant and generous. It did
not incline them to make others over, or
to have it done. Self-reformation was a
natural effect of it — the kind they thought
to be, of all others, the most genuine and
permanent. It led to special investigation
rather than to general reformation. It
disinclined them to be organized into
parties — to be merged into multitudes.

They moved Whcu they moved, they moved not exactly

not in mohs. . , ,. i i • . i

m mobs. Leadership was temporary, and
only when necessary. Then, they did not
follow as sheep. They did not study to
conceal their personal traits ; only to train

A King Each One ^g

them to usefulness and agreeableness.
They were not made to bore, to offend,
or to bully, but to make the possessor of
them more interesting and serviceable.
Their language was not for concealment Language

t . c . mt t 1 not for con-

but for expression. They meant that what- aaiment.
ever was peculiar in their nature should
not be hidden, but laid open, and turned to
account. A certain sacredness was made
to attach to it accordingly, as contradis-
tinguishing each individual. He was made
to do something, and to do it better than
could any other. Men were not so much
mysteries to each other as wonders. Each
one stood forth a man, different from all
other men. Recognition begot respect.
Men were not to be compounded or melted
into masses. A king each one, he was re-
spected in his sovereignty — over himself.

Their police system was inseparable from their
their society as organized. It pervaded System.
and permeated every part of it. Every
individual and family and organization was
exposed to it. In truth, there was little of
what might be called private life in the
entire Commonwealth. The habits of the
people discouraged if they did not forbid
privacy. Their remarkable individualism,

6o Sub-Caelum

ingenuousness, and perception — almost

prescience — revealed all and saw all.

Mindand Mind and conduct reading had reached

conduct _ . . , , 1 .

reading. such perfection that wrong-doing was
nearly impossible. Blinds at doors and
windows were not so much to elude obser-
vation as to exclude and regulate the light.
Language, as before stated, was for expres-
sion, not for concealment or dissimulation.
Masks of any sort only invited inspection.
Faculties were sharpened by them to mi-
croscopic accuracy. Utmost apparent can-

MoHve. dor was often more deceptive, as motive-

mongers in

iii-retute. mongcrs, m the ordinary way, were in
ill-repute. People were expected to be
truthful. Falsehood was in violation of all
their training. Truth was at the basis of
their practical religion. Their morals re-
acted on their bodies. They lived to great
age in consequence. By the mere power of
enlightened will it seemed they lived or
died at pleasure. Disease was prevented
by foresight, inoculation, or vaccination.
Parents, when they punished their children,
were particular at the same time to punish

ThefatMiy thcmselves ; — recognizing the fatality of
heredity — the responsibility of paternity
— that the child did not beget itself. Only
murder was punishable by death. Breach

Means of Protection 61

of trust, ranking next in criminality, was
punished with great severity. For third
offenses, of any serious character, impris- Penalty
onment for life was the penalty, thaf^«S^!^
society might be protected, and children
be not begotten by incorrigible criminals.
The sins of lust were especially punished,
as being radically demoralizing. The face
of meretriciousness was not only a warning
to the police ; it was sadly shocking to de-
cency and the moral sense ; and admon-
ished special guardians of the social super-
structure to look well to the foundations.
Purity, of all things, was most jealously Purity
guarded. The incorrigibly impure were;^l^i
locked up forever. Men and women, as to
that, were treated alike by the police and
by the courts. If society was to continue
to exist, and grow in essential excellence,
chastity must be increasingly recognized
as the crowning virtue. Education, expe-
rience, hope, all inculcated it. The regu-
lations of society were such that many op-
portunities for crime did not exist. The neiad
bad were found out, and thwarted in their ^f ""'
evil purposes. Persons removing from one
part of the country to another were re-
quired publicly to announce and register
the same, with the causes thereof; and

62

Sub-Codum

Change of
abode.

those removing into a new community
were also required to state and record in
the same public manner the cause or causes
which prompted their change of abode ; at
the same time and in the same way, to
give a history of themselves — their occu-
pations, purposes, circumstances — every-
thing, in fact, in which the people were
understood to be interested. As little as
possible was left to curiosity or doubt.
Men and women were known and read by
all. Places in society, in a measure, were
self-assigned. It was not possible for any
one to be far deceived. Self-regulation
was a large part of the business of society.
Police officers had little to do : about all
was done for them. Personality and con-
duct stood out so conspicuously and sig-
nificantly as to make official interference
only occasionally necessary.

Estates
Limited.

Estates were generally small in Sub-Cce-
lum. Great wealth was not considered de-
sirable, and was discouraged by the popu-
lation in every way that was proper and
neighborly. It gave distinction not in
harmony with their established system of
government. Only the utmost equality
was thought to be consistent with pure

Responsibility of Prosperity 6)

democracy. This central principle was
never lost sight of in all their legislation
and social regulations. The spirit of agra-
rianism did not show itself amongst them :
their singular integrity repressed it. Pub- t/u h,rden

T •• 1 1 11 n -i 1 Upon prop-

lie opmion rather than the law fixed the erty.
burden upon property worthily, and rich
people realized and accepted it. It was
but the price and responsibility of pros-
perity. Beyond a certain limit they were
taught to hold their property in trust for
the benefit of the public, and of individuals
less prosperous than themselves. They
distinguished themselves by their generos*'
ity. Their benefactions made them popu-
lar as well as famous. Hospitals were built
by them. They busied themselves quietly
in searching out misfortune and relieving
it. They made humanity and seli-sa.cn- ffuma»,/y
fice fashionable, but not ostentatiously so. sacrifice
The good they did was by few words, and
not by formal announcement. It showed
itself rather in results. Wealth did not
array itself offensively to simple livers.
Socially, it kept within the average. Their
banquets were not insulting in their splen-
dor. They did not endanger pedestrians
with their hurrying equipages. Their ad-
vantages were not aggressive. It appeared

64 Sub-Coelum

a noble thing to enjoy opulence in a right

way. Envy was not disturbed nor hatred

awakened by its privileges and pleasures.

The virtues The vlrtues were common possessions, and

common _ . , -

possessions, disportcd themselvcs, in a sense, m palaces
as in cottages. Money, in itself, did not
give honorable celebrity. Distinctions of
God gave greatest prominence and emi-
nence. A man might be great, without
skill to advance himself, or cash to help
his fellow. The riches of heart and intel-
lect enjoyed just estimation.

Property The propcrtv of all, howcver — the prop-

iN Friends. ,,,,., , ..

erty that ranked highest — was the inesti-
mable property in friends. The man en-
joying the greatest number of good ties
was the man supremely rich. His riches
were above and beyond robbery. His
friends were wealth imperishable, while he
deserved them. The common ambition to
possess this incomparable wealth had a
stimulating and exalting influence. It was
property within the reach of all, and a dis-
paragement not to possess it. The signifi-
cance of friendlessness was duly estimated.
It meant unworthiness, and a lack of the
genuine virtues of humanity. Courage was
wanting, and fidelity. To have no friends

Significance of Friendlessness 65

was not to deserve them, and the situation
was pitiable. Utter selfishness or degrada- sei/uhness
tion only accounted for it. If the creature ^« ic"oii%.
had done any generous thing, the benefici-
ary would have adhered to him. If he had
divided his loaf, the satisfied appetite would
have kept him in remembrance. If he had
shown a poor man out of his extremity,
the happy relieved fellow would have given
him his heart. If he had been kind to
children, he would have enjoyed an ever-
increasing harvest of good wishes. If the
old and the feeble had been helped by him,
his ears would have been filled with their
benedictions. If poor woman, with all her
troubles, and his own too, had been met
more than half way by his sympathy and
tenderness, a friendship immortal would
have attached to him inseparably. To
have no friends was destitution indeed ;
but to deserve a multitude of them was to
enjoy riches incomputable and imperish-
able. Such standards of wealth and worth
were the result of experience and every
test, and were fixed and irreversible.

Labor was so honored that sheer idle- idlkness

DlSKEPU-

ness was disreputable. Every one was ex- table.
pected to have something creditable to do,

66 Sub-Ccelum

and to do it. Children were brought up
to pursue some avocation, or cultivate some
Occupation taste. Occupation was considered an in-
l^iicdutyT dispensable duty in the social man. An
absolutely idle citizen was but one remove
from a knave. To work with his own
hands was not only the duty but the pride
of every capable person ; and prejudices
which despised labor were positively un-
known. Business descended from father
to son, and perfection was attained in every
branch of it. It was found that a man was
a better bootmaker from having descended
through a long line of bootmakers. The
feet of one in the care of such an artist
were insensibly comfortable. His brain
was not racked nor his nerves tortured by
a distressing localization of his sensibility.
Happier, too, was the artist or artisan from
perfectly understanding his occupation ;
and he was esteemed accordingly. A bet-
ter feeling was established in life by expe-
rience of its utilities. Jealousies and en-
vies and hatreds were restrained by it.
Fraternity was made easy, and fellowship
possible. Manhood was helped upward by
Mere living it, and cnnoblcd. Mere living was not

not a worthy .- , - p f f m

object o/u/e. considcred a worthy object of life. True
life was above the means which sustained

Earned Leisure Most Relished 6y

it. Equanimity had an eye to results be-
yond the moment. Only the beasts that
perish were contented to be merely fed.
The nervous tread of a true man meant tju nervous
more than movement ; it betrayed absorb- true maZ
ment, and looked to an end worth attain-
ing. Idleness had every gait, and none
long. Whim changed it. Nothing to do
was held to be the worst want of nature,
and the most exhausting. It tested se-
verely mind and morals. Ennui was weari-
ness which had nothing to show : the tired
hodman counted the courses in the wall.
Languor pressed its nose against the pane,
and dreamily questioned the vitality it
mused on and envied. Earned leisure was
most relished. Pure joy was a costly arti-
cle. A little time for pleasure was pre-
cious ; time for nothing else was burden-
some.

Time was, even in Sub-Ccelum, when indolence
men generally were as indolent as they
could afford to be. Unless compelled, they
did little which was useful. Only now and
then a high nature was created which
worked from love, and was content with a
tithe of the harvest. Nine parts to man-
kind was a generous division, and only a

68 Sub-Coelum

great soul would spare so much. To such
it was not sacrifice ; his return was in mul-
tiplied blessings. Exemption from useful
labor was the ambition or boast of nearly

Trifling for all. Trifling for selfish ends was therefore
the business of most of those who could
confine themselves to voluntary effort.
They were perverted by a misuse of means.
They relied upon the adventitious, till the
natural, intrinsic resources denied them
service. They went out of themselves for
pleasure, and returned to find themselves
empty. They built palaces, and existed in
them the victims of ceremony and ser-
vants. They bought books to adorn libra-
ries, which satirized them. They bought
musical instruments as ambitious orna-
ments, and patronized the opera. They
educated their daughters expensively, and
saw them accept impertinence and imbe-
cility for escorts and husbands. Their

somin. sons were indulged and pampered, till

dulgedand i i i

pampered, amusemcnts were exhausted and occupa-
tion was purchased to keep them respecta-
ble. They rode in carriages so conspicu-
ously elegant as to make them sacrifice
comfort to propriety. Their horses repre-
sented so much capital that the weather
and their health were consulted before

Artificialities and their Effects 6g

using them. Their acquaintances were
esteemed for the rank they had and gave.
Their houses were heated by furnaces to
insure uniform temperature, and day and
night they inhaled a baked atmosphere,
and wondered at disturbed respiration. Disturbed
Pipes conducted cold and warm water into
chambers and kitchen, and they took poi-
son in all that they drank and ate, and
were surprised by palsy and an increase of
nervous disorders. The wine-cellar, meant
to be a depository of luxuries, became a
resource against wasting vitality. The
laugh of the fields and the streets was re-
produced in ghastly caricature behind the
parti-colored goblets. A joke upon the
high price of bread redeemed a dullard,
and the whole table from dullness. The
children were cared for by nurses, and
their natures modified by restraints and
drugs, till feebleness and pitiful cries iden-
tified them. The doctor's visits were as in-
dispensable as the baker's or hairdresser's,
and the household ate as they dosed, by Ate and

, . — -,, . , 1 . dosed by pre-

prescription. The priest dropped m to scrifUon.
solace the moments between drugging and
dressing. Life was taken up by the end-
less round of artificialities and their effects,
till the struggles and wants of those they

yo Sub-Ccelum

deplored compared with them as blessings.
Their civilization at its worst, they slowly
discovered that the inspiration of work
was the spirit of life : that bread for the
Amirosia body, eamcd by exertion, was ambrosia
sou . j^^ ^^ ^^^ Sweet for the sweat it cost,
it was sweeter for the promise it gave. It
satisfied the appetite, but not the longing
insatiable. The little feast was but a fore-
taste of fruition. The sickly atmosphere
of affluence, tempered to tender throats and
low enunciation, was gathered from cellars
bordered by sewers, and choked a healthy
nature, exhausted and exhaustive by exer-
tion. The great lungs of outdoor labor
inspired the upper air of heaven, and panted
for inspirations from its source. To-mor-
row, on the way with the sun, would de-
mand a full day's service, which to-day's
fidelity must assure. To-morrow and to-
morrow, and then the day supernal, long
enough for any longing, an unending har-
Making and vBst and hoHday. They realized that mak-
money. lug money and earning it were different.
Earning it was a reality ; making it a fic-
tion. Money made money ; labor earned
it. Bonds, proverbially, like infants, did
best by sleeping ; labor was obliged to be
awake, and faithful, A dollar, for a day in

IVorse than Want yi

the sun, was precious ; a dollar, got in the
dark, which could not be accounted for,
was worse than want. Knotted hands told
of the one ; nimble fingers or nothing told
of the other.

These views and activities developed Manhood
manhood and personal freedom. Creature- sonalFree-
comforts, more than were wholesome, were
regarded with suspicion. In their simple
philosophy, they were the lap of Delilah.
They emasculated and smothered. Manli-
ness, the thing every man should stand for,
grew without them. Strong roots were
made by strong winds. Careful culture
and supports gave symmetry to the shrub
in the conservatory, but the oak of com-
merce grew alone, amid storms. To the
rude soil and the tempest it owed its
texture, and it would bear the tests of the
seas. They had seen how the branches of
trees by the coast or on the mountain were
sometimes forced by the merciless winds
to grow one way ; but the willful roots
combined defiantly and forced themselves
another. Character was so much resist- character.
ance and endurance. They esteemed it a
poor and disgraceful thing, not to be able to
reply, with some degree of certainty, to the

72

Sub-Ccelum

simple questions, What will you be ? What
will you do ? To cut the cable and launch
away from conventional restraints and
The asfirc. hclps was the aspiration of every worthy
'■^Zthy7>Zn. man at some time in his life. His individu-
ality felt fettered and shorn. Before he
consented to surrender and be subordinate,
he aspired to be tried by trusts, perils, and
calamities. He had decided the fox lucky
that left his tail in the trap. The muskrat,
he had observed, would gnaw his third leg
off to be free. Native manhood was shy of
conventionality and patronage. It was in-
clined to be self-asserting, and was rarely
arm-in-arm, but for recreation. It gave
and took as it willed. It husbanded by
determining without counsel.. Its reserve
conciliated what it would appropriate. It
was democratic, essentially. It required
and permitted alike. While it chose, it
gave choice, without question. Freedom
it claimed and allowed, an immunity with-
out gyves. A receptacle, it could wait to
receive, and would not obstruct nor be
obstructed. A week was not idle that
brought something, but a day was wasted
if employed upon nothings. Its freedom
was its strength, which modish subser-
viency acknowledged by obeisance. Its

Immunity

without
gyves.

Ideal Manhood 73

faculties were fitted for work by waiting
for work worthy of them. Friction it liked,
but not the attrition of mechanic move-
ment. The principles it would freely use
were as virginal and unhandled as when
spoken of God. Ideal manhood stood for
ideas, facts, and deeds. Rectitude identi- Rectitude
fied it. The extrinsic was its foreground -^^ ""'■''^
the inherent its perspective, illimitable.
Trials quickened and refined it. Wants
supplied and pangs consoled it. Calamities
became resources, treasures which did not
waste, entailed for precious uses, perpetu-
ated in goodness, or fame, or glory. In
heroic days, plain food, in sufficient quan-
tity, was all that was required. The ap-
petite was kept whetted by labor, and
digestion was as easy and unconscious as
respiration. Sandwiches of corn-bread and
bacon, with the fallen tree for a table, un-
touched and unpolished but by the winds
of heaven, and the glittering axe for a
platter, brighter than the brightest silver,
made a delicious and brilliant dinner for a deiidms
the pioneer, after six honest hours of wood- 'dinmr. ""*
man's gymnastics. His simple and earnest
life was ever a song or a prayer. The
present was all thankfulness and the future
all hope. His daily enjoyments, dearly

7^ Sub-Coelum

and honestly earned, were doubly blessed
j/eaiiA and in health and sweet conscience by the

sweet ctytt- ^^ , x t • ■ i . - 1 i

scUnce. Master Employer. His title to the acres he
opened to the sun was directly from their
Creator ; and the bread they brought him
was by the sweat of his own face. His
future, in the steady serenity of heroic
faith, appeared abounding in only such
promises as his fidelity and devotion real-
ized. His work and wants were so simple
as ever to keep him close to the Giver.
There was no middleman to divide his
blessings or qualify his thanksgiving. His
health the Helper, and his will the Assur-
ance, his own short arm was long enough
to reach the Bountiful and Everlasting.

thk ple- In the ordinary sense, the plebeian and
theAeis?o- the aristocrat did not exist in Sub-Coelum.
Society was so constituted, and men were
so governed by exceptional conditions,
that such distinctions were not recognized.
Extremes met on the same plane. Per-
sonal freedom, self-respect, and the pride
of manhood, placed men one with another.
Every man a man, he naturally felt and
acknowledged the manhood of every other.
The uses of labor, of money, of intelligence,
and of character, were held to be insepa-

Responsibilities of Wealth 75

rable. The responsibilities of wealth
made the rich man grave, considerate, and
modest. He felt his dependence the same Midmide-
as that of his less opulent neighbor. Fru-^" '^''
gality and liberality formed a just balance.
Simple living and industry were resources
to offset affluence. The same sum repre-
sented services recompensed and services
rendered. Obligation and dependence
were mutual. It was not for employer or
employee to lord it over his copartner. In
his freedom from the care of great prop-
erty, the attentive citizen of moderate
means esteemed himself fortunate as his
eyes gradually opened to a knowledge of
its perils and burdens. As he perceived
the invisible hands reaching out from all
round for the accumulated treasure —
hands of mendicity and hands of cupidity
— he better understood the delicate atti-
tude of its possessor. The cares of honest
poverty, he discovered, were not to be com-
pared with the cares of hoarded riches, xht cares of
The piles of letters on the rich man's table '^^^^
every morning ! The fulsome flatteries,
ingenious and offensive ! The threaten-
ings, bold and insinuated ! The schemers,
soliciting money to balance prescience !
Poor women, in the extremity of pride and

76 Sub-Coelum

distress, humiliatingly appealing for assist-
ance ! Reports of deficits in eleemosynary
Toq^dcken institutions ! All to quicken sympathy
'anl^duturb^coA disturb the purse-strings. Agents
stringsT were kept busy searching out the worthy.
How could the rich man, with a heart in
him, be free from anxiety and responsi-
bility ? His vessels were on the treacher-
ous sea. His dividends had been lessened
by a sweeping fire. His boy was a sorry
expense. If he let his wealth accumulate,
how was he to find secure and profitable
investment }

thb Vices. The viccs, in a great measure, had been
eliminated, or had died out. Vast man-
ufactories of drinks and superfluities had
been abandoned. Tobacco was little used.
Houses of sin were generally closed. Gam-
bling was almost unknown. Occupations
were numerously diminished. Those de-
pending upon private vices almost ceased
to exist. Horses were bred for moral quali-
ties rather than for speed. The prize-ring
was a thing of history. People wondered
at its brutality as they read about it. That
manhood should have been so perverted

One of the was one of the shocking things in their

shocking 1 A 1 f r

things. annals. As the ordinary uses of money di-

The Change Revolutionary 77

minished, new employment was found for

it. In proportion as the vices died out the The virtues

111 .1 1 ^T-.i 1 stimttlaied.

Virtues had been stimulated. The change
had been revolutionary. Life was not the
mercenary, sensual thing it had been.
Chasing rolling bits of silver and gold had
ceased to be its nearly universal employ-
ment. Pandering to extravagance and vice
was no longer respectable. To elevate
humanity, not to degrade it, had become
the supreme object of civilization. Men
became ashamed of what before they had
been proud of. They studied, more and
more, the laws of life, and the requisites to
health and enjoyment. Expenditures being
largely confined to comforts and necessi-
ties, not much money was indispensable.
Hours of labor were reduced, and leisure i7«<« «/•/«.
was abundantly increased. Homes were
supplied with every convenience, to make
domestic occupations easy and attractive.
The kitchen became a museum. Water,
for culinary and drinking purposes, was
perfectly filtered by simple and inexpen-
sive means. Against flies, vermin, and in-
sects of every sort, there was complete pro-
tection. The common rat and pestilent
mouse had been so persistently, intelli-
gently, and humanely pursued, that both

78

Sub-Ccelum

GuillottHes,

Land in-
creased in
value.

species were nearly extinct. Nerves and
sympathies being too precious to be
wasted, heads of fowls were lopped off by
ingeniously contrived guillotines. Simple
and convenient apparatus for bathing was
in every household. In the construction
of commodes, of every variety and pattern,
the utmost ingenuity was expended. Pri-
vate offices, naturally disagreeable, were
relieved of unpleasantness by attractive
and luxurious appliances. Offal, faeces,
waste of every kind, were consumed by fire,
or reduced by chemical means to impalpa-
ble and scentless dust. The vices being
no longer commodities, to any large extent,
the multitudes dealing in them found other
occupations. Genius was developed in
unexpected abundance, and was felicitously
applied, in innumerable ways, to make life
abounding in comfort and happiness. Land
increased in value as labor became more
generally necessary to individual suste-
nance. The big diamonds and showy
charms, no longer attractions in the gin-
shops and brothels, were bartered for good
acres and implements of husbandry. Dol-
lars, got in the dark, were no longer
many : all, with the few exceptions, were
earned in the light, and under the sun ;

High Qualities Conspicuous yg

and being limited to honest and clean uses,
went a great way. Pecuniary indepen-
dence was practicable and easy. A few
hours each day supplied all that was requi-
site. Where wants were few and easily
satisfied, is it any wonder the distinguish-
ing names of plebeian and aristocrat were
obsolete or inapplicable 1

Increase of common sense and practical common

Sense an
Practice
Wisdom.

wisdom was a marked result of the new pkacti^l

life. These high qualities appeared more
conspicuously in all that they did. Their
knowledge and experience were system-
atically applied. The comparatively poor,
capable man, for that reason, became rich
in resources. The economies and possi-
bilities made him a master. How could
he be utterly poor with unexhausted means
— while anything remained to be done it
was possible for him to do ? His few acres
produced marvelously. To the depth of
three spades, sometimes, the light and
gases were let in. Pulverization, fertiliza-
tion, rotation, were matters of intelligent
study and experiment, and there was
certain increase in productiveness. Their certain in-
kitchen gardens, more, even, than their ^r^SX/e-
farms, were attentively cultivated. A '

ness.

8o Sub-Ccelum

small space seemed enough for a family.
The vegetables were exaggerations, and
their small fruits excelled in flavor and
abundance. Cabbages and cauliflowers
were favorites, and grew better by the
affection bestowed upon them. Berries!
— to know them you must taste them.
Their flavor was an inspiration, and a joy-
ful memory.

Small Farms were small in Sub-Coelum, for

tS^u. reasons stated and inferred. Well tilled,
they were found preferable to extensive
plantations. Ploughing was deep. Drain-
age was complete. When necessary, irri-
gation was easy. Lakes on the mountains
and high uplands, with perpetual streams
flowing from them, supplied an abundance
of water, and the topography of the coun-
try was generally such that the diversion of
it from natural channels was not difficult
nor expensive. Extraordinary care was
taken in the selection of the seeds they
planted. And they attentively studied the
enemies of all kinds of grain and plants.
Entomology Entomology was so understood, that the
habits of such worms and insects as they
warred against were accurately known.
How to externiinate th^m was always aq

Knowledge Liberally Applied 8i

interesting subject of conversation with
agriculturists. The knowledge they dis-
played was acute and extensive, and was
always liberally applied. Applied, mark
you ! for knowledge was not held of high
estimation that was not practical and ap-
plicable. Do as you know, was an admoni-
tory precept everywhere heard.

Fish - ponds were abundant, and great Fkh-ponds
pride was felt in everything pertaining to
piscatorial culture and art. The finest fish
for the table, and the most beautiful for
ornament, were always at hand. There
seemed to be no limit to the supply. Ich-
thyological literature was exhausted to
multiply them. Their nature was studied
until it was understood. Just how to feed
and treat them was known to perfection,
and they grew in flavor and proportions
accordingly. In the ponds, they were
petted and caressed till they delighted in
human companionship. They floated into
your hand in a manner to invite sympathy
and tenderness. Selection was made for selection
the table with the least difficulty. In the
streams, the varieties delighted in by
sportsmen abounded. Every household
had a cabinet of fishermen's supplies.

of life.

82 Sub-Ccelum

Nets, rods, hooks, flies — everything per-
taining to the art — a veritable museum of
utilities and curiosities. Everything was
done to foster and elevate the art — no-
thing to disparage and degrade it. A great
Tiiefoetry part of the poetry of life was inspired by
the music of streams, and the skillful cap-
ture of their inhabitants. The man who
did not delight in the temperate art of an-
gling possessed no quality of the philoso-
pher or poet. If he could not contemplate
the running stream as an image of human
life, and cast his hook into it as he cast his
venture into the mysterious current of
affairs, with only a hope or a guess of the
result, he did not apprehend conditions.
The shifting atoms, on their way to the
sea, and the elusive fishes, are not more
uncertain than the passing moments, and
what they promise to us.

bee-cul- The cultivation of flowers was universal :
every household had a garden of them.
Bees, as a consequence, were generally
kept and studied. Children, even, were
wise about the wonderful creatures. Bees
and bee-culture was a favorite topic of con-
versation. There was scarce any limit to
the discoveries close observation had made

TURE.

Talk of Bee-Keepers 8^

of their habits and achievements. The
talk of bee-keepers was as interesting as
the talk of astronomers. It abounded in
incidents and anecdotes worthy the atten-
tion of best-endowed minds. The ways of The ways of

, . , P , bees and

bees were as curious as those of men, and men.
were freely used to illustrate human life
and conduct. The philosophic uses of
both, indeed, were interchangeable, with-
out any great disadvantage to either, A
knowledge of the wisdom of the little in-
sects was not encouraging to the growth of
conceit in the higher species. The more
people knew of bees, the less self-flattering
the estimates of themselves were. The
parallels they constantly drew confused
their notions of instinct and reason. Dis-
tinctions between them, and their limits,
were never fixed, but constantly changing.
No other creature under their care was so
profoundly interesting. The suggestions
of the apiary and its product were steady
resources for mind and body. No food
was considered quite so healthful, in cer- Homy

. kealthfUl.

tain conditions, as honey. The respiratory
and pulmonary organs were helped by it,
and its free use was regarded by many as a
sure preventive of consumption. Well-de-
fined cases of that dread disease did not

84 Sub-Caelum

exist there, and the fact was accounted for
in part by the general use of the sweet pro-
duct. Oxymel had been an approved
remedy time out of mind.

propaga- Great attention was paid to the propaga-
PouLTRY. tion of poultry. The barnyard was a pic-
ture. By careful selection and intelligent
treatment remarkable results had been at-
tained. Enemies had been destroyed or
thwarted, and disease rarely showed itself.
Eggs multiplied prodigiously. Artificial
hatching was not in vogue. Too many of
the fowls produced were deformed. Be-
sides, in their nice sense, they did not like
to disturb the course of instinct. Capons
grew to great proportions and sweetness.
The duck, in kitchen parlance, was all
breast. The turkey increased in juiciness
and flavor under improved feeding. But
Tie Hrd of the royal peacock was the bird of excel-

excellence.

lence and preference. He adorned the
farm and completed the banquet. His
lofty, ostentatious mien made him an un-
failing attraction. Guests at afternoon
dinner-parties were entertained by his ma-
jestic strut and spread of tail and gorgeous-
ness of color. An admiring word was
enough to brighten and animate every fea-

The Royal Peacock 8^

ther, and set him forth in all his glory.
The gamut of ridiculous pride was in his
dissonant notes. No other article of food
commanded so high a price. In the poul-
terer's stall he was adorned with ribbons. Adorned
Just the time required to ripen him per-
fectly, was a question gastronomers were
ever discussing ; and how most divinely to
cook him, was a subject that inspired
genius. Poets sang the royal bird, and
painters exhausted their pigments to imi-
tate his tints. Unique ceremonies were
performed over him, as he lay in his fr?.-
grance and juiciness, on the banqueting
table, before anatomy divided his bones,
and laid bare the depths of his bounteous
bosom. The skilled carver, as he cut away
the succulent flakes, was expected deftly
to show them in such light as would dis-
play their translucency and lustre. Times
when the peacock was the special gastro-
nomic glory, were occasions of faithful and
triumphant record. Draughts were made
of the table, and the names of honored
guests were appropriately set down in rose-
ate colors.

The Sub-Ccelum oyster was the best of the sub-
all the sixty or more known species. The o?stee.

86 Sub-Coslum

beds on all the shores were extensive and
abundant — especially at the mouths of the
Favorca,u great rivers. Favorable flats for trans-
trimtiant. planting were at convenient distances from
"'^' the great beds. The greatest were in shal-

low water, not much above a dozen feet in
depth, making the dredging process com-
paratively easy. Transplanted to the
marshes, fed perpetually by innumerable
rills of sweet water from the mountains
and highlands, flowing through beds of
odoriferous herbage, imparted a matchless
flavor to the universally beloved mollusk.
The bays had been stocked till the multi-
plication was incalculable. Industry and
science had done wonders. The delicious
bivalve was of unlimited consumption, and
cheap. Raw and cooked, he was served
in every attractive manner. Only the per-
fectly healthy oyster was marketable. The
slightest show of disease consigned him to
the basket, to be fed to the poultry and the
The wading fishcs. The wading oyster-catcher was
catcher. huntcd iudustriously, and did not multiply.
In very many cases the peculiar bird was
made to lose his predatory habits by do-
mestication. Thus diverted in nature, he
formed a handsome addition to the park
and poultry yard. Once every year, a day

Oyster-Holiday 87

was set apart to the celebration of the oys-
ter ; and oyster-holiday was joyfully wel-
comed and universally kept. Public tables Puiiic tables
groaned, as we say, with the incomparable '^"""^ '
marine production. It was the festival of
the people. They met together as one
great family, and transfused a spirit of
love and patriotism from one to another.
If any estrangement existed between friends
or neighbors, it was expected to end with
that day. New acquaintances were formed,
and a flow of new blood fused society to a
higher healthfulness. Prepossessions and
jealousies and envies vanished from sound
hearts. Grudges were never more than a
year old. Sullen malice or malevolence, of
longer existence, was treated as disease, or
occasioned unenviable distinction. So-
cially, an invisible guard was set round it,
as around a dangerous malady. The moral
indebtedness of the population to the an-
nual festival was incomputable.

The grape, of different species, and of grapes and
many varieties, had been indigenous from
the beginning. Soil and climate were
adapted to its growth. In the wild state,
the fruit was inviting and palatable, but
under intelligent cultivation it was unsur-

88 Sub-Ccelum

Vineyards passcd. Thc hiUs everywhere were adorned
ei,eryw re. ^.^^ vineyards. Old and young found
congenial employment in them. Favora-
ble conditions made it possible, without
great artificial aid, to have the best varie-
ties the year round. Kinds best adapted
to the table were cultivated to be almost
seedless. Grapes were so abundant that
they were very cheap. All enjoyed them
without stint. Wine-making was one of
the active pursuits of the country, and
those engaged in it were proud of it : the
cleanly vats and the delicate manner in
which the clusters were trodden, gave proof
splashed of it. Splashed ankles of fair women added

ankles. • . rr«i t i i

picturesqueness. The red and purple upon
lustrous semi-pellucid extremities were tints
to be remembered evermore. Artists and
bards made the most of them. Attempt
was made to employ young elephants to
press out the juices ; but the innovation
was discouraged. Opportunities of fair and
just rivalry were not to be restricted. En-
dowments of nature were not to be thus
Bverjihody disparaged. Everybody drank wine, as he

drank wine. ,. , .,,.,,

did water, or milk, for refreshment and
nourishment. Nobody thought of ques-
tioning the morality of its use. It was
upon every table at every meal. As great

A Man Drunk was Odious 5p

pains were taken to keep it pure, it was
found to be healthful. Drunkenness from Drunken:-
wine-drinking was unknown. It was from wine -drink.
distillation that the mischief came. Fortu- known.
nately, the strong liquor was little used.
Public opinion was against it. Reputation
was affected by its free use. Drunkenness
was treated as disease. Victims of it were
separated from the general public. A man
drunk was odious. If shame did not pre-
vent a repetition of his offense, he was in
danger of being considered incorrigible,
and of being treated as such. Examples Examples

rii'1111 1 1 1 educated the

or the kmd helped to educate the people to peopu.
right conduct. They did more to instruct
than all the didactic poems, essays, and
addresses. Their effects were thorough,
and went to the sources of the evil. Soci-
eties were not formed to exterminate the
drunkard, nor to make a pet of him. He
was held responsible till officially declared
otherwise. Drunkenness was attacked as
a moral disease, not to be cured by salves
nor embrocations. The miserable habit
would die out when better standards and
inclinations were established. The sin The Hnper-
was personal, and not of society. The
comfort and innocent pleasures of the
many were not to be restricted by the

go Sub-Ccelum

excesses of the few. The mode of refor-
mation was not by absolute self-denial nor
The joy of prohibition. The joy of the common heart

the coTttftton , . 1 1 . • i

heart not re- ^N'a.s not Systematically restramed nor re-
pressed by individual instances of volun-
tary excess. The good things of Sub-
Coelum were to be enjoyed, and not to be
abused. Good wine was inseparable from
the life, which comprehended all that was
excellent, and a just and generous enjoy-
ment of it. To rejoice was better than to
groan. Ills were forgotten in good-fellow-
ship. Misery was not helped by lamenta-
tion. Dolor was no cure.

Endless Fruit trccs Were planted at each side of

all the public roads. Not so near together
as to impoverish or seriously shade the
land contiguous. This utilization of the
public spaces supplied the choicest fruit in
abundance to everybody. All any one had
to do was to gather it ; but it was a grave
offense to damage in the least the trees.
The laws regulating this wise provision
were of the strictest character, and were
rigorously enforced. Public opinion, how-
ever, was a better protection than any en-
The teofie actment. The people were proud of their
ti^L ° endless orchards, as they called them, and

Belonging to Everybody gi

guarded them with scrupulously jealous
care. It was the rarest thing that a tree iii4,sage the
suffered from ill-usage. The Common- '■"''""^'''^■
wealth planted the trees and maintained
them. The old, or sickly, or ill-bearing
were from time to time cut down, and
young, vigorous, promising ones put in
their places. The long lines of thrifty
trees were a delight to see. In bloom, they
filled the imagination. The bees made
them musical. Filled with luscious fruit,
they stimulated the palate, and made happy
the birds. Such walks and drives, bor-
dered by fragrance and richness ! Belong- Fragrance
ing to nobody, but to everybody ! In full ^^.'^^
fruitage, the bounty was in fruition. The
Government, if a sentient, sentimental
thing, might have realized the blessing,
and led in the thanksgiving. Patriotism,
under such conditions, was as natural as
filial affection. Incivism was not conceiv-
able. Generosity, too, was spontaneous. Generosity

--, , , 1 1 r /■ Spontaneous.

Easy supply was inseparable from free
giving. The common heart was not cir-
cumspect nor prudential. The humanities
quickened it, and made it unconscious in
all good offices. Better men and women
were but the natural result of the never-
ending munificence.

92 Sub-Ccelum

Highways Their highways were ideal in excellence.
They were made of the good materials sup-
plied by their valleys and mountains, and
were as level as practicable, and perfectly
drained. Grades were mathematical and
easy. Impediment of any sort was not
permitted. A single draft - horse would
draw as great a burden as the most sub-
stantial of their wagons would beir. It
was a joy to ride or drive on their roads ;
and the horses felt the inspiration. Vehi-
cles, almost self-moving, were in general
use. Everybody had some independent
means of mechanical locomotion. Chariots
large and chariots diminutive, with sails,
with batteries, with wings, glided along
without equine assistance. Happy chil-
dren ! happy women ! happy men ! Un-
der the blue dome was ever anything more
joyous .'

How Cities Their citics, towns, and villages were

AND ViL- 1 • 1 . • . <

LAGEs WERE laiQ out m SQuares, with streets runnmsr,

Laid Out. r , ,

as we say, from northeast to southwest,
and from southeast to northwest. Laid
out in that manner, neither side of any
street had any advantage. Sunshine and
shade were the same on both sides. Prop-
erty, in consequence, was alike desirable

Sunshine at a Premium 93

on either side, and, other things being
equal, commanded the same price. Sun-
shine being at a premium, everybody
wanted all he could get of it. Where
houses were separated sufficiently, the sun
shone on every side alike. Every outside
room had the sun a part of each day. Win-
dows, as a rule, extended from floor to ceil-
ing, and the air inside was sun-swept and sun-mept
purified diurnally. In chambers, beds were ""''
drawn out to receive the sunshine in floods.
Musty and damp beds were unknown, as
were certain diseases that breed in perpet-
ual humidity and shadow. Free sunshine
and free air were in permanent fashion,
and were not intercepted nor excluded ex-
cept when necessary. Perfect ventilation
was a desideratum, and was attained as
nearly as possible. The sweet air ! Had |
God Almighty intended they should stint
themselves in it, would He have poured it
out all round the earth forty miles deep .' ;
Sun-painted complexions were preferred. sun^aMed
Paleness was deplored. The pride of the "'«-^'""^-
women , especially was their high health
and high color, which they attributed
largely to unlimited light and pure atmos-
phere. Living much out of doors, they
unconsciously caught the freedom of the

94

Sub-Coelum

One of the
pastimes.

elements. Their eyes were strengthened
and brightened by being accustomed to
great range of vision. One of the pastimes
was to count the birds, or other small ob-
jects, so far away as scarcely to be seen.
Every considerable residence was provided
with a room lit only from above. The pur-
est glass was used, and the moving clouds
were as visible as from out-doors. Conva-
lescents and invalids rejoiced in the pure
light and living frescoes. On cloudy days
and moonlight nights the sky-lit rooms
were most attractive. A day spent in one
of them was like a day spent in another
zone.

Drainage. Drainage was as carefully considered as
air and sunshine. In the location and con-
struction of every house, provision was
made to get rid of every drop of surface
water not purposely caught and appropri-
ated. Effects of neglecting thorough drain-
age appeared in familiar statistics. In old
maps they pointed out the routes by which
epidemics had traveled, invariably over
spaces imperfectly drained. Filled - up
marshes, and little streams leading to and
from them, had been the abode of wasting
and rotting diseases, before the houses

Typhus had no Chance 95

that covered them had been pulled down,
and the land thoroughly drained, according
to scientific system. Cellars and sewers
were rigidly inspected. Typhus had no
chance to burrow or linger. Rich people Rich peopu
had no advantage over their less fortunate ■uaw^gl
fellow-citizens. The provision was general,
and people of limited means and the opu-
lent were alike rigorously governed in
every detail pertaining to the public health.
Humble abodes were not more frequently
visited by disease than palaces, and there
was not an unhealthy locality in any town
or city.

Light and heat were obtained almost light and
entirely from water. After long-continued
experiment, the elements to produce them
had been separated and applied. Every
house was illuminated and warmed at a
moderate cost. The streets of cities and
towns were brilliantly lighted. The process
was ingenious, but not complicated nor dan-
gerous. Besides being simple and cheap,
it was easily manageable. Temperature
was self-regulated. All you had to do was
to determine the standard, and the ma-
chinery did the rest, without considerable
variation. Cleanly, too, the system of light-

g6 Sub-Ccelum

ing and heating was, without measure.
Housekeepers were not troubled with dust,
nor smoke, nor vapor. With the perfect
Tie air was systcm of vcntilation, the air was kept pure
without difficulty. Nerves and brain were
stimulated by it, and the lungs delighted
to take it in generously. It was the gen-
eral belief that mind and body were both
helped by the improved method of heating,
and great hopes of increased intellectual
and moral development were fostered
by it. Exalting tonics and enrapturing
odors were diffused through the atmos-
phere at pleasure. Talent expended itself
in producing essences and tinctures and
stimulants of paradisaic delicacy to be so
employed. On great occasions the light
produced rivaled that of the sun. The
whole atmosphere seemed to be aflame.
The effect was magical. The smallest
thing was made visible, and all things were
beautified in appearance. Men appeared
more manly and women more lovely. The
pretty children seemed just to have de-
scended.

Public edi- Public cdifices werc not built to endure

FICES.

forever. Substantial enough and suitably
adorned, they were meant only for a gener-

Temples of fustice 97

ation. Instead of expending a million in
constructing one of their temples of justice,
to stand for a century or two, one fourth
of that sum was found sufficient to erect
a suitable structure, to last for an age. Toiast/or
Thirty years' time was found to be about "" ''^"'
the limit of a decent degree of cleanliness
and purity for a public building. The
foul gases and scents and creatures would
get in, and no amount of precaution or
care would keep them out. It was dis-
covered that the only way to destroy them
completely was to take down the building.
The structure to succeed it was built after
the latest models, and was adapted to the
generation that was to use it. Better
drainage was had, and better provision was
made for ventilation and lighting. In every
way the new building was an improvement
on the old, and was better adapted to the
purposes for which it was intended. This
habit of general demolition and reconstruc- Demolition
tion was for economic as well as sanitary stmcuon.
reasons. Experience had proven that re-
pairs alone, on a million structure, to say
nothing of the item of interest, exceeded
the cost of new buildings. Experiments
of architects and plumbers were not made
except at great expense, and as often dam-

g8 Sub-Ccelum

age resulted from them as benefit. At
best, modification and adaptation made it
an old building. While the architecture
changed with each new edifice, much care
Ecanom}, was taken to limit the cost of it. Showy
conm e . Qj-j^auigjij-ation was strictly avoided, as not
in agreement with the public taste or public
policy. Newness and freshness were pre-
ferred to decay and dinginess. Distaste
for soiled finery was pervading — it ex-
tended even to neglected ostentatious
buildings. Architecture, therefore, looked
to simplicity and cheerfulness, and scrupu-
lously avoided whatever might appear som-
bre or involved. The public was generous
to the limit of reason, — extravagance they
did not permit. Expenditures must be
prudent and exemplary. The citizen was
not to see in the public what would be
condemned in himself. The universally
adopted code of morals forbade the expen-
diture of public money without necessity,
or beyond what was reasonable or proper.
Reckless dissipation of the people's money
was of rarest occurrence.

Hotels. Hotels, also, for the public entertain-

ment, were built to last only for a genera-
tion. Experience had taught that, in spite

The Old-Hotel Smell gg

of all the soap and paint and disinfectants
that could be used, they would grow offen-
sive to the olfactories. The old -hotel
smell was pronounced the most objection- objediona-
able and noxious of all the variety known wL?"
to the nose of man. It was the product of
cellars, sewers, closets, et caetera, and con-
tained a portion of all the subtle poisons
known and unknown to chemistry. Only
the sunshine and fresh air would dissipate
it. Proverbially, the newest hotel was the
best. The public, as a rule, systematically
passed by hostelries where for many years
human beings had eaten and slept and
performed every private office. Pollution
bred there.

Not a bell was heard from any building bells.
in Sub-Coelum. Years and years had_
elapsed since bells had been used to call
the people together for any purpose.
Everybody had a clock in his house or a
chronometer in his pocket, and bells were
not regarded as necessary. Besides, the
noise had become generally distasteful, and
the common feeling and the common sense
had prohibited it. After every attempt had
been made to improve them in tone, it was
decided that the best results could hardly

roo Sub-Coelum

be called musical. The most complete
chimes, in the common ear, were little
more than discords — consonance or har-
mony was not in them. The highest ex-
cellence in music having been attained, the
siwckedhy pubHc ear was so acute as to be shocked

mere noise. ■ • -r* i • ^ ^

by mere noise. Every one havmg a taste
for the divine art was encouraged to cul-
tivate it. Scientific training had made the
majority pretty good musicians. Mere
noise, to the extremity of possibility, was
avoided. Exquisite and exalted strains pre-
cluded it — even the consciousness of it.
Absolute softness and sweetness were de-
siderata. The tones of forty instruments
were so perfectly blended that you hardly
heard them a few rods away. But bells
had been abolished for better reasons.
The people had increased in thoughtful-
ness, refinement, and good-breeding, until
they would not permit what might be
regarded by any considerable number of
comiderate persons as unneccssary disturbance. Sick
teotie. people, people in distress, were thought of
in all that pertained to their comfort and
protection. Jingling, jangling, tintinnabu-
lary noises, to rend sensitive nerves and
hammer inflamed brains, were tortures to
the unfortunate that considerate civiliza-

Pervading Thoughtfulness lor

tion did not tolerate. People who from
any cause needed sleep were remembered
and protected. The voice of one, in ex-
tremity, was heard and heeded by the
multitude. Majorities were considerate of
minorities. Might did not make right. Might du
The pervading thoughtfulness of others rigiu.
was one of the distinguishing charms of
the population. It quickened perception
of justice, and tenderly regarded weakness.
It made aggressiveness offensive. Hard-
ness was barbarity. Noises, irritating to
many, and not necessary to any, like those
produced by loud-sounding bells, were dis-
pensed with, as not in agreement with their
philosophy of life. Their scheme of civili-
zation was to make everybody happy —
nobody miserable.

Music was so generally cultivated and mdsic.
enjoyed that it largely governed the life.
It was vocation and avocation — employ-
ment and diversion for mind, body, and
spirit. Taste and ability for it had come
down through the generations. It seemed
as natural to them as any appetite, and as
necessary as to breathe. They could, most
of them, sit down at an instrument and
practice for hours together without weari-

mlt.

102 Sub-Ccelum

ness or nervous disturbance. If ill effects
followed application, continuance was
discouraged. The pupil was not thought
suited to the art to whom it was labor to
study and practice it. To force him was
considered detrimental to health and hap-

A goodre- pincss. The result was, that while every-
body enjoyed music, not everybody con-
tinually attempted to produce it. The
population good - naturedly put up with
tyros, at the same time they took pains to
protect themselves against them. Isolated
halls were provided for students to practice
in. Anybody could not blow his horn any-
where without authority. Brass - bands,
except the few that were distinguished,
were permitted to play in the streets and
public squares only on certain holidays.
At other times they were officially rele-
gated to the fields and forests — to play

The night Only in the daytime. The night was held
sacred to silence and sweet concord.
Learners in households were only heard at
certain hours in the morning, when ears
and nerves were most enduring. The gen-
eral musical taste and education of the
people did not tend to unfit them for other
occupations and avocations. It was possi-
ble for a performer or vocalist to get a liv-

sacred.

Idlers did not Abound 103

ing by other means, however proficient he
might be in his art. Idlers did not abound
in consequence of the prevailing passion
and acquisition. Musical societies of Muskaisocu
every character were permanently organ-**"'
ized — small for private enjoyment, large
for public exhibition. The home entertain-
ments, in which music predominated, were
superior. Imitations of sounds of every
sort were produced by the voice and by
instruments. The .^Eolian harp itself was
imitated, as well as the notes and cries of
birds and animals. The moan of the sea
and the murmur of the brook were, repro-
duced with surprising exactness. The
birds in the cages joined in the concert.
The cock in the barnyard responded to his
own notes. Fun and enthusiasm mingled.
But in the music of Heaven — the orato- The musk 0/
rio — they were happiest and most tran-
scendent. The sublime choruses kindled
the imagination and enraptured the soul.
Not a thought of noise was suggested or
impressed. Discord was not. Harmony
prevailed, and governed, to the last degree.
You left the great auditorium full to the
throat, and the eyes, of the glories that
are, and the glories that are to be, ever-
more.

104 Sub-Ccelum

Poets and Great Doets there were in Sub-Coelum ;

Poetry

but not many. Their names being short,
you could utter them all without taking a
breath. Poetasters, however, were numer-
ous ; and rhymsters without end. Verse-
making was one of the common amuse-
ments of the people. Much of their corre-
spondence was in verse. Facility in the
use of language, and their musical sense,
made the process easy. Rhythm and
rhyme were one to them. But poetry was
another thing, and attempts at it were not
received with favor. High standards made
The Maker it Unattainable by mere labor. The Maker

made the , , _,, ... ^

poet. made the poet. The poetical view of na-

ture and man they regarded as the clearest
view, agreeing with one of the great sages,
that the meaning of song goes deep. The
poet was, to them, indeed a seer, a prophet,
a soul divinely inspired. From him more
even than from the priest, they had evi-
dence that Sub-Ccelum was overspanned
by a veritable though invisible Super-Coe-
lum, city of the Eternal God. Therefore
they held no such foolish saying as that a
proposition has in it more truth than poe-
poetry to try, for poetry to their apprehension was
&«bv>«. '' the nearest approximation to absolute
truth that human language could achieve.

The Art of Poetry lo^

To say that a statement was true as poetry,
was to exhaust the power of exact speech.
The person in their community who had
no sense of beauty, no ear for music, and
no susceptibility to poetic influences, was
looked upon with pity, much as in other
parts of the world humane people regard an
amiable and intelligent dumb animal. For
the Sub-Ccelumites were the most tolerant The most

i/-! • J- ill 11 tolerant aud

and lorbearmg or mortals, largely because forbearing
they were suffused with the sweet light of " """^ " ^'
the imagination. They could even bear to
have fellowship with men and women who
were destitute of humor, that most celes-
tial virtue. To them Poetry and Humor
were the nectar and ambrosia of the gods.
In their palaces hung the portraits of all
the great Makers from Homer and ^schy-
lus to the nobler bards of their own realm
and time. Boys and girls were brought up Brought u^
to honor the name of Poet, and to fashion »ame of

, . ,. ,. , Poet.

their lives according to the supreme mo-
rality of the immortal poems which inter-
pret both human truth and divine revela-
tion. The art of poetry itself took on a
wonderful and almost incredible develop-
ment under the new conditions of life and
new motives to action existing in their
civilization. Like every other expression

io6 Sub-Coelum

of man's consciousness, in that extraordi-
nary country, poetry was large and free,
and adequate to nature. The sublime and
beautiful forms which verse assumed were
A general innumerable. There was a general break-
lolfe/nm ing loose from conventional fetters, — an

conveniioTial . _ . . r i i r i i

fetters. infinite expansion ox the laws or rhythm,
melody, metre, stanza, and trope ; — the
inspired soul of the creative genius put on
robes of singing splendor, and revealed the
infinite Love and Beauty and Power
through the medium of words. All the
people studied and practiced, in some de-
gree, the science and art of poetical compo-
sition, as they did the elements of music,
not for the purpose of setting up as poets
or musicians, but in order to be able to ap-
preciate and enjoy the superb productions
of the mighty masters.

Musical One of the most interesting results of

their temperate and cultivated life was the
great proportion of finely modulated voices.
Very many of them were extremely musi-
cal. Voices hard, harsh, husky, disagree-
able, were exceptional. Tones, as a rule,
accorded with habits, dispositions, and ac-
quirements. Free, almost entirely, from
excesses of any sort, kindly in nature, and

Voices.

Slow and Deep Breathing loy

thoughtfully intelligent, gentleness and
sweetness of expression were only natural
to them. Vices and violences had not dis-
ordered their speech. Gluttony and drunk-
enness had not inflamed the membranes.
Breathing was free and unconscious, and Breathing

1. 1 ... . , free and uti-

was little more rapid when awake than conscious.
when sleeping. Slow and deep breathing
had long been practiced advantageously.
A dozen inspirations to the minute were
not very uncommon. Increased strength,
flexibility, and richness were added to the
voice by the good habit. Pretty long sen-
tences were easily and naturally spoken
without taking a breath. Lost or artificial
teeth did not affect their articulation. The
insides of their mouths were not covered
over with gold or other substance to
abrade or indurate the delicate surfaces,
and consciously modify expression. The
dress of men and women did not interfere
with the natural growth and expansion of
their chests. It was the rarest thing that
breasts were not broad and arched.
Throats, too, were round and full, from Throats

, round and

never having been compressed or hurt by J^n.
vicious dressing. It was considered an
outrage upon nature to do anything that
would interrupt in the least the free growth

loS Sub-Ccelum

of any part of the body — especially of the
T&e i,yi-gw.liie-giv'mg apparatus of respiration and
tits. enunciation ; on the contrary, everything

was done to promote its completest natural
development. The slightest disturbance
of its functions was anxiously observed,
and corrected, if possible, as interfering not
only with individual comfort, but the gen-
eral happiness. Inhaling tubes were freely
used, to make slow and deep breathing
habitual. Men and women walked miles
at a time breathing entirely through them.
Instances were not uncommon where the
circumference of the chest had been in-
creased from one to two inches in a year
by frequently using them, and that without
Great impi- increasc of bodily weight. Great inspira-
Txyg'"n° tions of oxygen moistened the spine and
beaded the brow, and prepared them for
any intellectual or moral work, better than
by other possible means of stimulation.
But the melody of their voices was far from
being wholly owing to their physical life
and training ; their high moral natures and
cultivated intellects contributed as much
or more to produce it, by reacting on their
cmmrsa- Sympathetic bodies. Conversation be-
tween highly enlightened and humane men
and women, upon worthy subjects, was

Their Good Readers log

charming indeed. Tones were as varied
as the notes of the harp when played upon
by the winds. Thought and feeling, in Thmght
gradation and development, were uncon-
sciously betrayed in ever-varying modula-
tions. Voices flowed, like the full-running
brook — now slow, now rapid ; rippling
joyously ; then descending, where it was
still and deep, to swell again in fuller rich-
ness, with the glow of imagination and sen-
timent. To hear one of their good readers
read was a very high order of entertain-
ment. Not an affectation or trick of the
self-conscious elocutionist was visible in the
exercise. He lost himself in the printed Losthimseif
page, and his voice echoed its thought and edpage.
emotion. The conversation between the
Twa Dogs appeared the most natural of
dialogues. The interlocutors seemed in-
deed men, until the invincible humor com-
pelled you to remember they were only
dogs. The battles in Homer were as real
as any conflicts could be. In passages of
Job and Habakkuk you felt in full force
the sublimity of supra-imagination. In the
scene of the White Rose in the Paradise of scemo/the
Dante you had a vision of highest heaven. ^
A lofty meaning was revealed that might
have astonished the poet himself.

no Sub-Ccelum

Tight Tight drcssing was not fashionable in

Dressing. Sub-Coelum. The people were proud of
their natural bodies and sound children.
It had been a great while since any gen-
eral effort had been made to divert or
thwart nature. Occasional attempts in
that way were always attended and fol-
lowed by the same results. Time was
when distortion of the body was common.
It was thought beautiful to be out of na-
ture. The shape was fixed by the artist's
patterns, no matter at what cost of pain or
violence. The rules of tape and scissors
Protortiom wcre rcmorselcss. Proportions must be
^HistL artistic. Form must be fitted to the
mould. Life was absorbingly artificial.
Balls and calls and parties and operas and
shopping left little time for anything else.
Children were an incumbrance. Nurses,
most trustworthy, might be obtained ; but
the mother could not withdraw her mind
wholly from her offspring. The success
of her friend's magnificent entertainment
would be qualified or marred by her uneas-
iness and anxiety. The tastes and re-
quirements of gayety and maternity were
Fashion incongruous. Fashion was exacting, and
exactng. ^^^j^j j^qj. jg|. jjgj. yotarics divide or sus-
pend their worship. Out of fashion, out

The Race Threatened in

of the world, was one of her maxims.
Out of sight, out of mind, was another.
Lists of friends were continually being re-
vised, and a chance would occur of being
left off. Babies, she said, were vulgar ; Babies.
they were troublesome and spoiled the
shape. Her rule was omnipotent while it
lasted. Only the general decline of health
and weakness of progeny abated her
power. The vigor and happiness of the
race were threatened, even its existence.
Nervous disorders multiplied. Soundness
of mind as well as of body was slowly
sapped. Three or four successive genera-
tions showed marked declension and de-
generacy. Society, only after such con-
vincing results, became alarmed at her
follies, and set about righting herself.
Revolution was pretty nearly complete.
It became fashionable to keep good hours,
to eat healthful food, to wear loose, com-
fortable clothing, and to carefully avoid mture not
any interference with nature. The beauty /«-«iwS.
of the race — of men and of women — in-
creased. They were healthier and hap-
pier. They enjoyed, more and more, their
homes and children. Gayety abounded of
the natural kind. The joys of life were
the joys of health. The Style and Mrs.

112 Sub-Ccelum

Grundy did no longer govern absolutely.
In fact, it became the fashion to be health-
com^ux- ful and natural and robust. Good com-
"'"' plexions came of right living. Paleness

or sallowness was exceptional. Uncon-
sciously elastic bodies and sound minds
predominated. The young, left to nature,
were as free-bodied as young animals al-
ways are. Domestic life was ideal. The
atmosphere of well-ordered homes was the
best under heaven.

A Felicity It was deemed the greatest part of their

TO BE Well-

Born. felicity to be well-born — of parents with
sound bodies, sound minds, and correct
principles, and to inherit the same. It was
asserted that ncf one ever changed his
character from the time he was two years
old ; nay, from the time he was two hours
old. That he might, with instruction and
opportunity, mend his manners, or alter
them for the worse, as the flesh or fortune
served ; but the character, the internal,
original bias, remained always the same,
true to itself to the very last, feeling the
ruling passion strong in death. They be-
lieved, with the same authority, that the

The fatal color of their lives was woven into the fatal
thread at their births ; that their original

Each Man's Destiny ii^

sins and redeeming graces were infused
into them ; nor was the bond that con- The hand
firmed their destiny ever canceled. It was ceud.
said, and believed too, that, by whatever
name you call it, the unconscious was found
controlling each man's destiny without, or
in defiance of, his will. Also, that all in-
dividuals were the outcome of past in-
fluences. Generations lived and thought
and acted that each one might be what he
was. Were any link in the chain of hered- The chain of
ity lackmg, he would be different in apti-
tude, in capacity, in very form and appear-
ance. The absence of some faculty, the
feebleness of some disposition in some one
or other of his ancestors, were sufficient to
vary the results in his own person. Ah !
they thoughtfully and sadly exclaimed, if
only full-grown men and full-grown women,
with sound bodies and sound minds, were
permitted to marry ! Conscience, integ-
rity, and reason, as far as possible, were
educated to that end.

The population was of many races com- a compos-
pounded. The blood of many peoples had t^on. °'^'"'*'
been infused into it. So composite in its
character, social problems had been slow
of solution. Prejudices of race had been

tagonisms.

114 Sub-Ccelum

a great hindrance. The more refined and
gentle had been shy of the rude and ag-
gressive. Conservatism had resisted the
clamors of new blood. Power grew timid
from variance of interests and suscepti-
sharpan, bllity of change. Sharp antagonisms kept
society continually at the point of boiling.
Good had come of all this clashing and fer-
mentation ; but the people wearied of it.
Reaction was inevitable. It came ; and
with it a disposition to liberality. Fusion
seemed not so difficult. Opponents cooled,
or went arm-in-arm. Individuals graciously
cooperated for the public weal. Notions
gave place to opinion, and opinion to
reasonable judgment. Where clamor had
been bedlam, deliberation reigned. Like
a mighty stream of many tributaries, pro-
gress was no longer checked and fretted
by obstructing jealousies and hatreds.
Minor differences, in thought and in action,
Racepreju- wcrc tolerated. Race prejudices gradually
'^'^"" gave way, and bigotries. Fibres intermin-
gled and blood interfused. Distinctions
were obliterated by intermarriage. Free-
dom of taste was indulged. So many
varieties, the faculty of discerning enjoyed
great scope. Each race had supplied its
characteristics, physical, intellectual, and

Vigorous Men and Women n^

moral. Temperaments, from the frigid to
the fiery, were in contact. Every color of
hair and almost every tint of complexion. Emr^f tint
Voices coarse, and musical as Apollo's »«!"'"
lute. Noses straight, aquiline, and snub.
Ears delicately transparent and ears rudely
drooping. Lips refined and lips voluptu-
ous. Deep chests and shallow, with great
lungs and feeble. Muscles of ropes and
apologies for muscles. Alexanders tall
and Thumbs diminutive. Bearded and
beardless. Every variety of man and
woman to select from. Marriage was not
interfered with, except in cases of close
relationship. Complexions, as a result,
were often very striking and beautiful, and
figures produced of remarkable mould.
Vigorous men and women were the rule.
The exceptionally puny of both sexes, kept
apart, not considering themselves proper
subjects for wedlock. The population riu^ofuia.

,,- . , . T 1 iion Steadily

steadily improved m every respect. Intel- improved.
lect was quickened and the heart softened.
Temperament, especially, was refreshed
and stimulated. Emotion was indulged;
feeling was exhibited without exciting de^
rision. Children were born happy, and
were not regretted. Grace was in their
attitudes and music in their voices. Na-

1 16 Sub-Ccelum

ture had free sway. Aptitudes developed
early. Inherited traits were conspicuous.
It was soon perceived what the child
desired, and was born to do, and he was
educated and encouraged accordingly. It
Amaximqfwas 3. maxim of one of their sages, and

otu: of ikeir . • /~\r t^ n't

«£•«. they acted upon it : Of that which a man
desires in his youth, of that he shall have
in age as much as he will. Elements of
power and culture were realized in conse-
quence. Love of thought and love for the
beautiful appeared spontaneous and upper-
most. The man or woman was what na-
ture meant him or her to be. Old family
portraits showed many shades of complex-
ion and great variety of conformation. Ex-
tremes met in every collection. Faces so
dark as to require light backgrounds to
make them distinctly visible were close
beside others, delicate, fair, and rosy.

Contrasts. Rudcncss and coarseness contrasted with
high-breeding and refinement. Looking at
the differing portraits, it was not difficult to
account for their liberal and enlightened
civilization. Nature, in a fateful, myste-
rious way, had propitiously brought about
the inevitable. Toleration and upward
growth were necessities. They must re-
spect each other, and be better.

foys of Wedlock iij

Weddings in Sub-Ccelum were strictly weddings

• . T • T^T m IN Sub-

private and unostentatious. Not that mar- Ccelum.
riage was more uncertain there than in any
other part of the universe. It was a test
of character, the result of which was every-
where and always past anticipating. The
least promising often turned out the best,
was a proverb. The miseries of wedlock,
they said, were to be numbered among
those evils which cannot be prevented, and
must only be endured with patience and
palliated with judgment. Its joys were the
greatest known to mankind — inestimable
and inexhaustible. The dream of hope Thednam

of hope and

and expectation, when realized, was the expectation.
one incomparable and never-ending felicity.
The worse than blanks with the prizes
made the drawing always dangerous, and it
was deemed prudent to postpone the cele-
bration till a year or two after the wedding.
These occasions of rejoicing were frequent,
and were participated in heartily by friends
and relations. Fate and fortune had been
bounteous, and thanksgiving was sponta-
neous. Fact was commemorated, not hope
celebrated ; happiness was realized, —
better than all anticipation. Man and wife Man and

, , _ wife co7>

were congratulated, not bride and \iX\Q&- gratuiated.
groom. Whatever of fret and irritation

11 8 Sub-Caelum

had been experienced, the calm had come,
and the open sea, with a bright sky over
idtaiwas all. Ideal was real. Misconception had
given way, and each appeared better to the
other, though different. They understood
each other, and were incorporated. A
child perhaps had blessed the union, and
the household was a home, in all that the
word implied. Presents were simple and
appropriate — useful and to be used — and
were not in any sense satirizing or vainly
showy. A different moral atmosphere
pervaded one of these commemorations
than that of a bridal celebration. At the
wedding, mystery and uncertainty made the
thoughtful grave ; only the giddy were un-
qualifiedly joyous. Shadows and clouds
did not appear to their hopeful eyes. Plain
sailing only was thought of, without variable
or conflicting winds. Compounding incom-
patibles had not entered into their intel-
lectual chemistry. Fusing dissimilar na-
tures they had not thought of as one of the
Theinspir- difficult thin gs undcr the sun. Love, the
gam. mspirmg amalgam in their theory ot lire,
would as often fail as succeed in the con-
flict of diversities. Interest and necessity
and pride did not enter into their calcula-
tions of connubial existence. They did not

The Omnipotence of Silence 119

calculate at all ; they only dreamed. Con-
cession, compromise, surrender, they did
not see as necessities. The omnipotence
of silence, in extremity, was not compre-
hended. Wise Sub-Coelumites, to celebrate
marriage a year or two after the wedding
ceremony !

At one time six unmarried persons, rhasons
three of each sex — guests at one of their maiming

. . . Single.

unpretending watermg-places — were m a
sail-boat together, becalmed. For enter-
tainment, it was determined that each one
should tell the rest, in a word, why he or
she had remained single. Acquaintances
but for a week, and not likely ever to meet
again after a fortnight, they spoke with
unqualified frankness. Of uncertain age,
they were not without experience.

The first to speak was a gentleman, say Thefrsno
of forty-five or fifty years. The governing '^"^ '
reason, he said, why he had not married,
was self-distrust. Early experience had
taught him the inconvenience, if not the
distresses, of poverty. He remembered
the sacrifices of his mother, and had re-
solved that his wife, if fated to have one,
should not be subjected to like expedients
and hardships. At twenty he was enam-

720

Sub-Ccelum

She fasci-
nated him.

A nxious
days and

nights.

ored of a fair girl — the fairest, by far, he
ever had seen. She filled his eye, his
mind's eye, his imagination. She was very
lovely. He was shy of her presence, but
he could not keep entirely away from her ;
she fascinated him completely. He had the
will of a full-grown man, with a few years
of initiatory experience in a respectable
occupation ; but all, indeed, of real life,
was yet before him. He did not know the
stuff of manhood that was in him : he had
not been measured and tried by affairs.
His intellectual and moral grappling-irons
might be unequal to the grasp that was
necessary even to ordinary success. He
dared not meet the incomparable girl
alone — he was sure to tell her he loved
her if he did. There was not a word or a
caress that all the world might not have
heard or seen. He subjected himself to
severest self-questioning. If he asked her
and she said yes, what was he to do with
her .' Over and over he turned the prob-
lem in his mind, through anxious days and
sleepless nights. Not without many a
struggle he distrustingly determined that
he had no right to ask her — the all-worthy
incarnation of super-excellence — to take
the chances of life with him. Heaven sent

Violence of Disposition 121

her a more courageous lover, and she died
an idolized wife and mother. He might
say he had prospered in the world ; but he
had never met with another who was the
same in his eyes and affections. And was
it possible he could love one inferior to
her.?

The next gentleman to speak was The next
younger by a few years. He had a devil ^"^^""'"■
of a temper, he said, and all of his life he
had been afraid of its consequences.
Quick as a flash, he had once thrown a
hatchet at a boy for a slight indignity.
Placid as he appeared, the violence of his
nature could not be comprehended. With
plenty of red in his complexion ordinarily,
in a rage he turned white as a sheet. In
one of his fits he dared not look at himself
in the glass. At such times a vicious
grandfather looked out of his eyes. The
dangerous old man was a terror as long as
he lived. Two or three times he had been
locked up as insane. He himself was in
constant dread of the same treatment. He /« cmstant
did his utmost to govern himself ; but once
in a while, in spite of all that he could do,
the Satanic in him would break loose.
His acquaintances were chosen for their
forbearance and placidity. He had an eye

ture.

122 Sub-Caslum

to the same traits in his employees, and
paid a premium for them. Once, a con-
flict with one of his workmen nearly cost

HaevUna- him his life. He had also exposed his
evil disposition in a court of justice, while
giving his testimony. Through the good
influence of his mother he became a mem-
ber of a church society ; but his dread of
becoming a disturbing element made him
withdraw from it. His best reliance as a
safeguard was his ability to control a
strong appetite for drink. The possibili-
ties of his evil nature were terrifying
enough without artificial stimulation.
Think of it ! A man with such tendencies
to marry ! God help the poor woman who
risked a union with him ! The novel irri-
tations of the relation would have been
sure to develop the bad in him preter-
naturally. The tiger and serpent might

Oneexferi. nevcr bc whoUy quiescent or torpid. One
experience of the tender passion, he said,
was enough. His sweetheart had know-
ledge of his success in the world, and
seemed disposed to encourage his suit.
She was not suspicious, and would not be-
lieve what was told to her. Her own body
and soul in perfect health — without an
evil inclination that could be perceived —

ence eiurugh.

The Passion of Passions i2)

how could she believe it — the least part
of it ? Confidence inspired affection —
devotion. The joys of wedlock were
dreamed of in a way, for the time being, to
transform his nature. The Satanic was
forgotten in the glories awakened by the
passion of passions. When an old lover Ancidiomr
made his appearance ! New eyes were
given him. Dazed at first, he soon saw
falsely. Jealousy took possession of him.
A scene ensued. He was understood, and
dreaded, of course, and there was a separa-
tion. The misery that sweet woman es-
caped !

The third gentleman said he felt some The third

_ ,,. - . , gentleman^ s

reluctance about telling his story, as it story.
might appear to bear a little hard upon the
other sex. But the case was exceptional,
and he would be excused. He had met
the lady at two dinner-parties, but never
at home. He had been struck by her
gracefulness and ease of manner, and by
her brilliancy in conversation. She had
charmed him as he had never been charmed
before. He determined to visit her, as
they say, with a view to matrimony. The
reception was cordial, and he was delighted Receftun
with the prospect. The beautiful girl was
more attractive than ever. Her graceful

124 Sub-Caelum

person was exquisitely adorned. Her eyes
Taci and in- -were brighter than diamonds. Tact and

telhgence in °

condMt and intelligence marked her conduct and

speech. Her music was finished and
chaste : one of her songs touched him par-
ticularly : emotion was in every note of it :
it reminded him of much that had been
delightful in his varied life. The drawing-
rooms were adorned in an elegant manner.
Mirrors, the costliest, were on the walls.
Carpets of velvet softened and warmed the
floors. The rugs were pictures. In the
midst of his enjoyment it began to storm,
and it continued to storm, violently, with-
out intermission. It was a wild night.^ Far
away from his lodgings, he was obliged to
accept further hospitalities. The chamber
he occupied was in such contrast with the
salon he had just left that he was dum-
founded. He rubbed his eyes and collected
Lost in the his scattcrcd wits ; but he felt lost in the

changed sit- , _ . , ., ,

naiionand changcd situatiou and conditions. Every-
thing in the room had a neglected look.
The draperies were faded and mean. In-
hospitableness was in every detail. The
bed was most uninviting. The linen was
not clean nor fresh. The contents of the
pillows were not eider-down by far ; and
they were lumpy, and had an unwholesome

conditions'

The Truth Revealed to Him 12^

smell. The storm, and the revelation of
neglect, and the miserable disappointment,
made a very uneasy night for him. The Anmeasy
breakfast-room had the same neglected "'" ''
look and the same noisome smell. The
carpet had one great offensive spot upon it
that had never been forgotten. The muffins
and omelet were overdone, and the coffee
was muddy. The drawing-rooms, after the
night's and morning's experience, appeared
affectedly fine indeed, and confused all his
memories and previous impressions. He
took his leave a wiser but not a happier
man. He was sorry to have had the truth
revealed to him in such an unexpected
way. The thoughtlessness of the impos-
ture had surprised him beyond measure.
To call such a household a home seemed a
monstrous misuse of the word. Could it
be possible for one bred in such an atmos-
phere to comprehend what a home should
be.' All idea of cleanliness and comfort
had been lost in affectations, disguises, and
self-delusion. He frequently met the
young woman afterwards, but never other-
wise than as an acquaintance : the disillu- Thedmiiu-

e It . sion.

sion had divested her of all attractiveness.
The world took possession of him — its
cares and responsibilities. Burdens of

126 Sub-Ccelum

others came upon him, one after another,
and he believed he was contributing to the
common stock of happiness. It was not
likely that he would entertain thoughts of
matrimony again.
The first Thc first lady to speak was strikingly
speak. attractive, from her beauty of health and
perfection of maturity. She might have
stood for Juno in sculpture. She said she
would be frank as the rest, and tell her
story without let or disguises. The gov-
erning cause of her single-blessedness, she
said, was discovered by the professor in
the examination of her head, when he pro-
nounced her exceptionally small in philo-
progenitiveness. Where a bump ought to
be, was found a perceptible cavity. When
this organ was small, science taught, there
would be shown lukewarm attachment for
children ; they would not be esteemed a
blessing ; weariness and impatience would
be felt in their company ; their prattle
would not be tolerated. Her experience
She could was in confirmation of science : she could

not abide , i • i i m i . •

children, not abide children, except m very rare
cases. As studies merely, as a rule, they
had been interesting to her. Young ani-
mals of other species were about as engag-
ing. As she could not help this perversion,

Two Husbands i2y

she had yielded to it reluctantly. It was
not pleasant to be out of nature in such
an extraordinary way. It made marriage
— the haven of happiness to most women —
impracticable to her. She had dreamed, she had
time and agam, of maternity — of being mcUemUy.
surrounded by her own children ; and the
joy of relief upon awaking was spasmodic.
Other loves than those of motherhood had
been vouchsafed to her. She had two
husbands, so to speak, — literature and art.
Never a day was long to her with a good
book for company. Belles-lettres, in all
that it included, was ever fresh and abound-
ing in interest. Life in literature was the
life she most relished. She could enter
into it or quit it at will. The creatures
and personages of books did not need to
be petted and flattered : unceremonious
usage did not offend them. Pictures she
enjoyed, and sometimes painted, in a poor
way. Her sense of vision was helped by
the pastime. She saw more, the more she
drew and colored. The possibilities of Thefossiba.

ities of tints.

tints were a perpetual surprise to her.
Sometimes she essayed portraiture, but
only in attempts to portray manhood in
rare specimens. All of her powers were
in best employment at such times. Lines

print and
canvas.

128 Sub-Coslum

of thought in a thoughtful face it was her
chief pleasure and ambition to trace. Com-
plexions of women and children were too
delicate for her brush, as were all expres-
sions of effeminacy and softness. The
bold, the strong, the manly, excited her to

Marriedio utmost cffort. So married to print and
canvas, what more could she desire ? She
had had lovers — not a few. One poor
fellow adored her, and threatened self-
destruction if she did not marry him.
Another was diverted in his homage by
the fascinations of the card-table. Ap-
proaches of others were discouraged as
waste of the emotions. Nature had ap-
pointed her to a single life. Her destiny
had been predetermined from the founda-
tion. The daughters of Erebus and Night
were executing the decrees of Nature with
inexorable decision. Their ministers, the
Furies, had not been necessary ; there was
no resistance.

The second The sccond lady said that a few facts,
simply stated, would satisfactorily account
for her voluntary maidenhood. She was
the eldest of five children. When she was
only ten years old her mother became a
hopeless invalid, and the cares of a full-
grown woman were suddenly imposed upon

lady.

Self-Sacrifice I2g

her. She gave up all — head, heart,
hands — to her mother and brothers and
sisters. The youngest was a mere baby,
and you must know the constant attention
he exacted. Her father was kind, perhaps,
in his way ; but he was a confirmed hypo- mr/aHer
chondnac, forever groaning and complam- driac.
ing of everything. God and nature were
at enmity with him, he said. Smileless
and discouraging, his presence was a per-
petual blight. He never said a generous,
inspiring thing to any one of them that
she remembered. Unconsciously selfish,
his whole thought was of himself and his
imagined distresses. The looking-glass
was his great resource in his absorbingly
self-pitying moods. He would pull at his
beard and penetrate the lines in his face,
and sighingly wonder what other tortures
were in reserve for him. Any misfortune
or crisis in the family, instead of stimu-
lating his humanity and sympathy, only
increased his malady. When his wife suf-
fered most, he was most jealous of atten-
tions to her. He bemoaned himself and Bemoaned
groaned, when a little bit of self-sacrifice ^^l-TiL/"
and tenderness would have brought sun-
shine into the joyless household, and light-
ened all its burdens. The baby died when

I JO Sub-Caelum

he was scarcely three years old. The
blue-eyed cherub ! His death was a great
blow. Her cares were lessened by it ; but
there was an aching void. A record of the
Tie soUmn solcmn entombmcnt was in everything '

entombment. . . ^ 0*1 1 r 1 *

about her. Special remembrance of him
always occasioned a pang. Strange to say,
the death of the little fellow seemed to
give relief to his mother, and she grew
perceptibly better, though still bed-ridden,
to remain so till she died. He is better
off, she would quietly say, with a touching
smile of self-consolation. The girl-children
were lovely, and grew in helpfulness.
There was nothing they would not do.
The boy was always manly, and rapidly
developed the most genuine traits. He
seemed preternaturally strong and wise.
His hopefulness and sturdy self-confidence
gave joy to them all. He acquired and
thought, and every day grew in intellectual
stature. You shall see what will be done
Pride and for you, he sometimes proudly and heroic-
ally said. The world soon recognized his
abilities and manhood. His advancement
was steady and sure, and he soon ranked
an exceptionally prosperous man. The
desire of his great heart was realized, and
the family at home enjoyed more and more

heroism.

A Generous Annuity i^i

his fostering care. The girls married gen-
tlemen, well-to-do and generous. Their
father was indulged and their mother
cherished and petted. Ah! the smile oismiUofn-
rejoicing that illuminated her invalid ia-ce,^"""^'
after all her trials and miseries. A word
or two more would complete all that was
necessary to relate of her story. Her
noble brother and grateful sisters had
settled a generous annuity upon her ; and
her life was as free as that of any woman
, could be. She was getting the most out of
it that was possible to her, and she be-
lieved she had no complaint to make of
fortune or condition.

The third and last spoke with a little ne mrd

. . .-r,. .. and last.

more spirit. The preceding statement
made her own less difficult. While her
experiences had been alike bitter, they had
been more tragical. She also had been a
victim 0^ circumstances ; the miseries of
unfortunate marriage had been indelibly
impressed upon her. They had been
brought home to her in a way to make her
hesitate about accepting an attractive offer,
in all respects promising. The marriage a marriage
of her father and mother had been one of «v>«."' '"
blind passion or affection. Friends had
urged a postponement, to give a little time

/_j2 Sub-CcBlum

for consideration ; but both were infat-
uated, and would not live apart, even for a
short season. Her father was handsome
and gay ; devoted to the world and its
pleasures ; governed without limit by his
Appetiie/or impulscs. His appetite for drink in-
creased. crcased ; and indulgence soon became dis-
sipation. Evil associations made him rude
and reckless. He changed from what they
called a gentleman to a brute. He abused
his wife in outrageous ways. The narra-
tor called attention to the mark on her
mouth, the same exactly as the scar left
on the lip of her mother by the heel of her
husband, months before she was born.
Daughter and mother with the same in-
effaceable memorial of brutality ! Her
father, she said, had tried to be kind to
her sometimes while she was a child ; but
long before she became a woman every-
thing like affection had disappeared from
his conduct. He even hated her, as he
did her mother. A complete transforma-
tion had taken place. He had grown to
Three/aces, be 2. monster. He seemed to have three
rus. faces, like Cerberus, every one of them

cruel ; and each one had the remorseless
evil eye. To get behind him, and to es-
cape the fatal look, was impossible. He

Moral Atmospheres i})

saw all, and suspected more. Physician,
clergyman, friends, male and female, were
objects of his suspicion and jealousy.
You talk about moral atmospheres ! Think
of living in one of profanity and drunken- Pro/anity.
ness ! Recollections of what she and her
mother endured, terrified her. An in-
cubus was upon their lives, asleep and
awake. Certain demoniac noises and
oaths came to them in ways to threaten
reason. Pandemonium could not produce
worse. From bad to distressing the
wretched days continued; till one night
the monster was brought home dead, with
a bullet in his brain by his own hand. His
poor, relieved, heart-broken wife survived
him a few weeks. Her life went out in
agony. The event of her own marriage,
often talked over with her mother, and
postponed at her request, would be con-
summated in the early autumn. Her lover
was acquainted with every circumstance of
her life, even to the birth-mark on her lip, xhetirth.
and had many times befriended her and """^ '
her mother at the risk of his existence.
He was a noble fellow, and she dared hope
for happiness the remnant of her days.

Something like a breeze, by this time,
was seen to ruffle the surface of the sea.

1)4 Sub-Coelum

a mile away, or less. One said it was a
school of mackerel on the way to Arcturus.
Howbeit, they made sail ; and Zephyrus
came gently to fill it, and bear them away
to their several hostelries.

Drunken- Evcn the Sub-Ccelumitcs found drunken-

NESS.

ness the most stubborn of all the social
evils. Though rare, they found it impos-
sible to abolish it utterly. Destroying the
effects of alcohol was like annihilating the
archenemy. They believed implicitly with
the poet, that the loved and hated thing
was introduced by Satan into the tree of
knowledge before the primal pair partook
of it, and was attended with the same ef-
fects that had followed it ever since. Con-
firmed drunkenness they regarded as one
of the most virulent of moral and physical
diseases, and they took every pains to pro-
tect society against it. Some idea may be
had of their success by remembering the
early excesses of one of the countries that
had supplied them with much of their pop-
A matter of \Aa.t\on. They had history for it that on
the signboards of noted gin-shops in that
country it was announced that a customer
might get drunk for a penny, and dead
drunk for two-pence, and have straw for

Early Excesses /_J5

nothing. Faith was kept by providing
cellars strewn with straw, on which the
customer who had got his two-pennyworth
was deposited till he was ready to recom-
mence. Higher, socially, excesses were as
extreme, but different. They had the state- statement

J. ,, , - of a noble

ment ot a noble writer that he was present writer.
at an entertainment where a celebrated
lady of pleasure was one of the party, and
her shoe was pulled off by a young man,
who filled it with champagne and drank it
off to her health. In this delicious draught
he was immediately pledged by the rest,
and then, to carry the compliment still
further, he ordered the shoe itself to be
dressed and served up for supper. The
cook set himself to work upon it ; he
pulled the upper part of it, which was of
damask, into fine shreds, and tossed it
up in a ragout ; minced the sole, cut the
wooden heel into very thin sHces, fried
them in butter, and placed them round the
dish for garnish. The company testified
their affection for the lady by eating very
heartily of the impromptu. The'authorities Authorities

-' *• promirt to

of Sub-Coelum were prompt to grant a«f<-
divorcement of man and wife when either
became a victim of drunkenness. Hospi-
tals were established for confining and

/ ^6 Sub-Ccelum

treating it, not without hopeful conse-
Licemesto quenccs. Licenses to marry were not
S^^""" granted without inquiry as to the habits
grante . ^^ appHcants and their progenitors. Ten-
dency to intoxication, even, was alarming,
and might entail itself. Prevention was
the only sure remedy. Indeed, no short
list of questions must be answered satis-
factorily, under oath, before a license could
be obtained. Drunkenness was not the
only evil that society did its utmost to
cure, to limit, and to prevent. Diseases
that rot the moral and physical structure
were searchingly hunted out and pursued
while a visible remnant of them remained
to taint the generations. Habitual lying,
hypocrisy, and dishonesty were recognized
moral diseases. A deliberate breach of
trust was such a monstrous crime in their
moral code that the name and blood of the
perpetrator were not perpetuated. Society
held itself not guiltless if it permitted the
odium of serious crime to descend upon the
irresponsible and innocent, to say nothing
of possible continuance.

Divorce. While there were other legal causes of
divorce than drunkenness, the authorities
were slow in acting upon them. Separa-

Must Live Together i^j

tions were oftener authorized than divorces.
The theory and rule of their civilization
were, that husband and wife must live to-
gether, and not be long separated. Es- Estrange-
trangement was provided against in every Srf
possible way. Trifling differences between
married people were not patiently consid-
ered. A custom of the olden time became
a rule of action in their courts. When a
quarrelsome couple applied for a divorce,
the magistrate did not listen to them. Be-
fore deciding upon the case, he locked
them up for three days, in the same room,
with one bed, one table, one plate, and one
tumbler. Their food was passed in to
them by attendants who neither saw nor
spoke to them. When they came out, at
the end of three days, neither of them
wanted to be divorced.

Victims of occasional intoxication were refogbs

FOR ObR"

kindly provided for by the establishment tain occa-

. r r 1 • 1 • SIGNAL VlC-

of Refuges, for their care and protection, tims.
Fortunately, they were not many, and the
wonder was they were so few, considering
the exigencies and extremities of even
exceptional human life, and that the vast
majority there, as elsewhere, were gov-
erned by their passions and emotions, and

1^8 Sub-Ccelum

not by their judgment. Reason, there, as
everywhere, was the property of the chosen
few. Living to-day upon the experience
of yesterday, and so providing for the mor-
row, if it come, was easier of philosophic
ThefacuUy Statement than practice. The faculty of
"ingti'the continuing in the right way, without being
■wa}i. ^j^^g jjj ^ while turned aside by folly or
temptation, was not given to common
mortality: it was a rare endowment — the
gift of God. Their stream of life, also, had
its numberless eddies, to obstruct and hin-
der. Caught by them, and whirled about,
it was difficult to get themselves back into
the current the same creatures as before,
to enjoy again, in the same healthful way,
the inspiration of progress. Maelstroms,
indeed, they sometimes proved to be,
wrecking hopelessly, if not utterly swallow-
ing up, the moral man, in their uncondi-
tional irresistibleness. Human wisdom, as
they possessed it, was largely the result of
saffmng Suffering and blundering. It was not given

and blunder- ^ \ -t 111

ing. to them to know the next step but by tak-

ing it. Discouragements and calamities
made them timid about taking it at all.
Business complicated and embarrassed,
they could not always see their way to sol-
vency. Expenses exceeding income, ruin

The Bottle 139

impended. Fraud victimized and paralyzed
them. Conspiracy gave them new eyes.
Immoralities were in danger of being ex-
posed. Losses, one after another, seemed
ruinous altoerether. A spendthrift boy a sfmd-
brought unexpected entailments. A fool-
ish girl woundeS the family pride and com-
promised her honor. Domestic infelicity
was possibly creating new irritations. A
rasping voice and intrusive nose might
never be out of his ear and affairs. Super-
added, a dismal atmosphere, to overwhelm
with gloom. What more natural, even in
Sub-Ccelum, than a short cut to temporary
relief through the bottle .' A little of the
artificial sunshine being found good, a
flood of it was better, and intoxication
ensued. Days of it, probably, before dis-
continuance was thought of. The poor
victim — perhaps for the first time in his
life — cares not to go home : he goes of
preference to the Refuge, where he is
admitted upon application ; few questions Few qms-
are asked ; discipline is so slight as hardly
to be felt ; he is thoughtfully let alone ;
permitted at will to wander through the
beautiful grounds, without molestation ;
supplied with everything necessary to his
comfort, in the way of food, baths, and

I40 Sub-Ccelum

clean beds ; but not a drop of anything

intoxicating is given to him during his

The healing stav. The healing solitude and absolute

solitude. ■' . ° 1 , .

freedom, m a few days, complete his resto-
ration. No record is made of the matter,
and he is discharged without scrutiny or
pledge. So little indeed is made of the
circumstance that Gossip herself is her-
metically dumb concerning it.

Retreats Retrcats for convalcscents were estab-

FOR CONVA-

LEscENTs. lished, here and there, throughout the Com-
monwealth. People came to them from
every part, — especially those who had
not comfortable homes. These Retreats
were situated in attractive places, where
the air was the best, and where inviting ac-
cessories could be easily provided. Trees
were planted of the most beautiful varie-
ties. Flowers in abundance were culti-
Fmntaim vated. Fountains played, in volume and
»i7w'a«rf spray, displaying rainbow colors to the
'^'' greatest advantage. Rills ran through the
grounds in a natural manner. Ingenious
little contrivances for entertainment were
operated by them. Mechanical skill ex-
erted itself to invent diminutive engines
for all sorts of purposes. Musical instru-
ments were made to play by the force of

A Convolution of Rainbows 141

the element. The prettiest little ponds
were provided for the fishes, and for the rhe fishes
birds to bathe in. Of the former, those of Tirds."
every brilliant color were to be seen ; and
of the latter, those of every quality and
tint of plumage. In moulting time the
birds were especially interesting. When
the sun shone, the atmosphere, at times,
was a convolution of rainbows. Intelli-
gent monkeys climbed about in the trees, Li/em the
and suspended themselves by their tails.
Grave and gay, wise and foolish, they never
ceased to be objects of study. Record
was made of their cunning and imitative-
ness, and they were respected in propor-
tion as they were known. Lessons were
taught by the application of their powers.
Not every man was exalted in comparison
with them. Their ailments — much the
same as those of their human brethren —
were treated not empirically, but scientifi-
cally — too much affection for them being
felt to permit mere practice upon them;
besides, they might avenge themselves, —
curious instances of the kind being of
record in all the institutions. Milk of the MUk o/tke-

, , cow and ike

cow and the goat and the mare was s\m- goat and the
plied as needed. The cooking was exactly
adapted to the stomachs and nerves and

142 Sub-Ccelum

palates of the feeble. The most delicate
dishes were served to nourish and stimu-
late. Sleep - producing qualities were spe-
cially aimed at, — the belief being preva-
lent that frequent and complete suspension
of the functions of the hemispheres of the
cerebrum was necessary to sound physical,
Drugs es. intellectual, and moral health. Drugs were
eschewed, as especially for the hospital.
Generous wine, in sufficient quantities, was
supplied, but nothing stronger. Tea, also,
and coffee, were forbidden, except under
peculiar circumstances, the excessive use
of either being held accountable for many
idiopathic and morbid conditions. Mani-
fold amusements were provided, — such as
were suited to the tastes and strength of
oniyheaithy convalcsccnts. Only visitors were ad-
mitted. mittcd who were healthy ; and those must
be considerate and of stimulating effluence.
The brooding mood and complaining habit
were shut out as pestilential influences.
Full veins and abounding vigor were
welcomed as inspirations. Sickness and
death were not subjects of conversation.
Restoration to health being the object of
these wise and merciful Retreats, anything
to hinder or thwart that was scrupulously
forbidden. Inmates must get well, and not

Free Intercommunication 14)

expend any part of their powers, moral or
emotional, in brooding over distresses and
perils past and escaped. Reluctance to
adopt cheerful moods, and to cooperate
with wise and compassionate treatment,
were grounds of prompt dismissal from the
institution.

Hospices for visiting strangers were in hospkes
all the considerable towns. They held a ing stran-

•' GERS.

place half way between the hotel or hos-
telry and the private home. They were
conducted respectably but not extrava-
gantly. The strictest cleanliness was ob-
served, and plain food was generously fur-
nished. There, as everywhere, pains were
taken in the preparation of articles to be
eaten ; nothing was spoiled in the cooking.
Abundance of pure water was supplied for
bathing purposes. Accessible reception
rooms were provided. The prices charged
were only a trifle above the cost of material
and service. The social character and
habits of the people required such institu- suchimutu-
tions. Enjoying abundance of leisure, a quired.
good part of their time was taken up in
visiting, and every facility was necessary
to free intercommunication. From town
to town they went, singly and in parties.

144 Sub-Coelum

and these Hospices were comfortable
enough homes for them while they re-
mained. Their friends were relieved of
the burden of entertaining them, and never

Absolute wearied of seeing them. The absolute
ree om. £j.gg(jom all cnjoyed was favorable to hap-
piness. Housekeepers were relieved of
anxiety and a great part of the social pres-
sure. It was astonishing the amount of
pleasure received from this free inter-
course with visiting friends and strangers.
Nobody was embarrassed by obligation.
All material enjoyments were paid for.
Politenesses were voluntary, and without
complications. Society had almost nothing
of the debt -paying element in it. Pre-
tenses of overwhelming gratitude and favor
were without excuse, and were not exhib-
ited. A thousand and one of the little
insincerities and hypocrisies were avoided.

Disguises Disguises, so many, were not thought to be

not neces- - . ^ , - , ^ .

sary. necessary to appear kmd and hospitable.

It was possible to look into each other's
faces without embarrassing remembrance
of deceits and dissimulation. Self-respect
was less difiScult when free of the burden
of petty sins against veracity. Greater
transparency existed in the social relation.
Less of conduct was a mockery of con-

Life Not a Game 14^

science and religion. Young people, es-
pecially, were benefited by the freedom
and liberal facilities. With the aid of the
public Hospices they saw each other often,
and in a catholic manner. Life was not
so much a game with them. The sexes Tke sexes.
were upon a common plane. They were
more apt to comprehend each other, and
be better fitted for the holy bonds. Free-
dom from much expense and ceremony
gave more time and better opportunity for
consideration ; and precipitation in mar-
riage was not the rule by any means. In
the enlarged facilities for intelligent court-
ing, society found important protection.
There was less likelihood of crazy infatua-
tion. If the suitor was not the right kind
of gentleman, his sweetheart was pretty
sure to know it. His conduct was more
open to inspection, and would expose it-
self, if not based upon trustworthiness. In
the general interchange, outside of busi-
ness relations, the Hospice was found
indispensable. Greater opportunity was
given to the offices of patriotism, charity,
and benevolence. Society was more like a Likeagreat
great family. By its liberal and healthful
intercourse, its civic and social virtues
were perpetually nourished.

146 Sub-Ccelum

Inventors Invcntors and scholats, in a pecuniary
AND scHoi, ggjjgg^ ^gj.g jjot apt to be more prosperous
there than elsewhere, and so were relieved
of many ordinary burdens. Society, hav-
ing been benefited by their labors, was
willing to compensate them as it could.
In cases where they had grown old and
poor special provision was made for them.
Especially they were preferred for any
public service they could perform. Con-
sidering the great intellectual activity, the
wonder was there were not more that re-
quired assistance. The proverbial unthrift
characterizing the purely intellectual
classes they had their share of, but no
more. You heard the same incidents
of innocency of the arts of trade that
literature has been recording ever since
living and language began to improve.
How, while they were evolving great
Cheated 0/ thoughts, they were cheated of their
nies. pennies. The same old instances of for-

getfulness of self and material interests
that ignorance is forever quoting to fortify
its self-conceit. A man had actually died
while reading a proof-sheet of great astro-
nomical researches, when not a crumb to
eat was found in his lodgings ! Defective,
half-made creature, of course, not to pro-

Incompatibles 147

vide properly for his stomach ! Jones, who
had a great estate, did not care for con-
stellations and comets. Smith had accu-
mulated, and hardly knew how to read!
What of all the host of stars ? Cabbages what o/aii
did not grow better for all the knowledge \iar°f
of them. Incompatibles, they said, were
thrift and scholarship and scientific inves-
tigation. Intelligence understood the mat-
ter better, and provided in many ways
for neglects and omissions. When manu-
facturers made great fortunes by utilizing
great inventions, whatever the terms or
circumstances of purchase, they did not
forget the inventors. If they did not re-
member them fittingly and substantially.
Government prompted them by significant
means. They were required to furnish
money or employment — assistance to the
inventor being as far as possible in just
proportion to the pecuniary value of the
invention. Publishers, in case of unex-
pected large sales of publications, were ex-
pected and required to further share their
profits with authors, if necessitous. The Tkefrevaii.
prevailing sense of justice amongst appre-jSr'"
elating people did not permit a neglect of
classes preeminently worthy. Conscience
was wide awake in such cases.

148 Sub-Ccelum

Old People Very few old pcoplc or children were
DREN^""' objects of public charity. The humanity
of the people and their religion were
against it, except in cases of direst extrem-
ity. Affection was more than water, and
provided for its own. No greater disgrace
could fall upon a man than by the neglect
of the old or the young of his own blood.
Whatever the exigencies, relief generally
came from the natural source. Families
were not so large but that room might be
made for one person more, in extremity.
The aged were guarded and comforted by
their children or children's children —
by their relatives, immediate or remote.
Degrees of relationship were not counted
when suffering presented. Blood was not
denied in any condition of indigence or
affliction. It flowed and interfused un-
consciously on occasions of calamity. Re-
xeii^ion Hgion — more than mere words, and more
7kZ!-deep'.' than skin-deep — delighted in self-sacrifice.
The helpless were helped as a religious
privilege, and the burden was not shunned
nor calculated. The Founder of their
religion was the poorest of the poor, and
the religion He founded was for the poor
especially. Hungry and thirsty. He went
about doing good, though rejected and

Nature and Art i4g

despised. He was love and self-sacrifice
incarnated. Pitiful, shameless followers,
who deserted their own blood, in poverty
or wretchedness.

The most beautiful spots in Sub-Coelum bukial-
were the burial-places. The celestial vis-
itant, hovering over, must have been
charmed by their attractiveness. Nature
and Art did their utmost to beautify them.
Grounds were chosen for their diversity
and irregularity. What Art did was only
to assist Nature : not a thing was done to
show her tricks and fantasies. Hills and
valleys in abundance, little was left to the
landscape-gardener but to adorn them
naturally. The native forest was little dis-
turbed. Additional trees and shrubs were
planted to give greater variety. Exuber-
ant vines crept and climbed about in fan-
tastic ways. Perennial plants and flowers Peremiai

... J j.jv , plants and

were everywhere in view, and ditterent at flowers.
every turn. Exotics were cultivated where
not too much labor and expense were in-
volved, and where they did not give a look
of too great artificialness. Particular pains
were taken in the cultivation of plants and
shrubs the leaves of which emitted pleasant
perfumes ; rosemary, lavender, sweet-brier,

i^o Sub-Caelum

and the like ; which, upon the slightest touch
or disturbance, filled the air with delicious
odors. Roses, roses, were everywhere ;
and pinks, too, in great abundance. Sin-
uous roads and walks ran in and about
The line 0/ bc wilder in glv. The line of beauty was

beauty coti' , . ,., .... , . ..

spimms. conspicuous. 1 he birds delighted to dwell
in these enchanting places : they were fed
and cherished in every hospitable and
afFectionate way. Squirrels of many varie-
ties were perfectly domesticated, and added
greatly to the general animation. They
came down out of the trees to be noticed
and petted. The children they delighted
to run over, searchingly and caressingly.
Names were given to the prettiest, and
when they died they were mounted or de-
cently buried. These lovely burial-places
were freely visited by everybody without
Noemhar- distinction. No embarrassing rules or
rules. by-laws were placarded on the gate-posts
or elsewhere. No scrutinizing look was
given by officer or lodge-keeper at the en-
trance. It was only expected that the
sacred place be not made a haunt, and that
good behavior would characterize the con-
duct of the visitor, such as enlightenment
and good feeling would suggest as befit-
ting. The public was encouraged to go to

Death Leveled All i^i

the beautiful cemeteries for their civiliz-
ing, refining, and moral influence. If an
adult or half-grown person misbehaved in
one of the resting-places of their dead,
he was uncivilized, and hardly responsible.
Breaches of good conduct were so rare as Breaches of
to be historical. Their religion taught im- far/"" "^
mortality, and that death was but emanci-
pation. Believing that they began to be
here what . they were to be hence — that
they made their future in this world and
took it with them to the next, they felt
the responsibility of living ; and anything
that tended to increase that feeling was
religiously encouraged.

There was little distinction exhibited in little db-
marking the graves. The stone-cutter was maeking

. , , . _ , , Graves.

not required to be an artist. Costly tombs
and monuments were not in fashion. The
graveyard was considered a poor place to
draw the lines upon penury. Wealth was
too considerate to display itself in places
of the dead. Fortunes were not expended
in commemorative columns and shafts.
Ambitious display stopped short of the
tomb. The poorest man was not reminded
there of his indigence — grandeur did not
mock him at the grave. Death leveled all.

1^2 Sub-Coelum

Sensibility might show itself, but not cash.
Adornments were such as affection sug-
gested to thoughtfulness and refinement.
Any one might embellish a grave. Plants,
flowers, a modest stone, intelligent care,
were not costly. Simplicity and tender-
ness gave greatest distinction. Birds were
sometimes lured, by ingenious and affec-
tionate means, to nest on the graves.
Broods of the same pair successively took
EtKbiems of vimg — cmblcms of immortality. Flowers
'ity'" " grew better by the tears dropped upon
them, and the fragrance they exhaled was
super-terrestrial. Little evidences of af-
fection and remembrance were everywhere
to be seen. Lettered phrases were touch-
ing to read. Memorial verses from time
to time were found in the grass. In every
imaginable way the deep humanity and
profound religious sentiment expressed
themselves in these sacred places. At the
NMing same time, nothing gloomy or dreadful
^dreJ^fS'. was suggcstcd. Rcmembranccs of the
dead were quite as apt to be joyful as dis-
tressing. Pleasant things of them were
rehearsed, and they lived again, and
were reenjoyed. Children felt themselves
nearer their lost parents by cheerfully re-
viewing their kindnesses and self-sacrifice.

The Common Lot 75^

Parents iorgot themselves in agreeable
reminiscences of their children. The best
was remembered as most apt to be perpet-
uated ; the regretted was buried with the
dust. The common distinctions were for- commmdu-
gotten in these cities of the dead. Costly /Zs^en.
improvements in roads and chapels were
directed by the general management.
Opulence was arm-in-arm with indigence
in the enjoyment of the pervading beauty,
and nothing existed to suggest any dis-
parity. In the park or in the public gar-
dens grandeur might display itself, but not
among the graves, where all humanity was
common dust. Not that pride aped hu-
mility: it was humiliated indeed by the
thoughtful consciousness of the common
lot.

Neither were ostentatious funerals in funerals.
vogue in Sub-Coelum. They did not com-
port with the prevailing ideas of propriety.
It had been a great many years since any-
thing of the kind had occurred there. Sim-
plicity, rather than display, characterized
the burial of the dead. Any appearance
of vanity or vain show, in connection with
death, had come to be regarded as more or
less barbaric. Costly equipage and con-

1^4 Sub-Ccelum

spicuously fine dress had long since been
tabooed. In one of the countries from
which a great part of their population was
Ostentation desccndcd, ostentatious and expensive
not the ""' funerals had been the rule. They had
record of one, where the procession was a
mile long, and walked sixteen miles to the
place of burial. Every variety of refresh-
ment was served, and over five hundred
gallons of whiskey were consumed. Sim-
ple religious services at the house of the
deceased were customary, attended by the
family and their friends, and such acquaint-
ances as were invited. The remains then
passed into the hands of the director, and
were quietly conveyed to the cemetery,
accompanied by a few near friends. The
face of the poor dead human body was not
exposed to the multitude at any time. Cu-
riosity was not gratified in so indelicate
and rude a way. Mourning, in the sense
of outside manifestation, was rarely exhib-
Their cheer- itcd. Their chcerful views of life, here

ful views of c 1 1 1 1 .

life- and hereafter, led them to accept the m-

evitable resignedly and hopefully. They
could not account for this existence with-
out a belief in a better to succeed it. Fi-
delity and purity and humanity in this,
would be followed by felicity in that. It

Display Avoided i^^

was a faith they all had, without qualifica-
tion. Expense they avoided as far as prac-
ticable. They regarded the occasion of
death as not a fit one for the display of this ThUworid's

1-1, . ^^ 1 . .1 . Possessions.

world s possessions. Good in their way,
they were not to be compared with the
priceless abundance promised to the
worthy. Besides, their delicate sense did
not permit them to exceed the average in
expensiveness at the last hour. Penury
was not to be reminded of its limitations
by prodigality. It was a common thing for
neighbors to bear each other to the burial-
place, and to dig each others' graves.

In every considerable burial-place there chapels in
was a convenient and commodious chapel, places.
adapted to religious and other exercises
connected with the dead. There the sealed
caskets containing the remains of persons
well known were frequently placed, and for
a time opportunity was given to the public
for free expression upon the lives and ser-
vices of the deceased. The general intelli-
gence and readiness of speech, with the
prevailing habit of reflection, made these
occasions particularly interesting and im-
pressive. The utmost propriety and so-
lemnity were observed. Sometimes elabo-

1^6 Sub-Coelum

rate orations were delivered ; but generally
remarks were spontaneous and unpremedi-
tated and brief. Incidents of the life that
was ended, illustrating its character, were
related in a natural, conversational way.

FoMesfar- Foiblcs wcrc forgottcn in the generous
consideration of aims. So much that was
good was found to be said, that disparage-
ment had no voice. It was not remem-
bered when an uncharitable thing had been
uttered on any one of these occasions.
The people were too wise to expect perfec-
tion in any human life, and too considerate,
if not too good, to cherish memories of
common errors and occasional lapses from
strictest rectitude. Analyses of character,
while often acute, were always kindly and
forgiving. It was surprising how the
strong light of observation brought out the
virtues. A man, thought by the casual
beholder to be hard and ungenerous, ap-
peared, in the judgment and knowledge of
his friends, a just and self-sacrificing citi-
zen. So far from being selfish, there was
nothing he would not have done for others,

Ungracious- without advertising it. Ungraciousness of

Ttess of man- , . . -

ner. manner was his misfortune. A poor man,

the victim of his appetites, appeared a no-
ble fellow in instances where he had risked

Essential Unselfishness 757

his life for the helpless. His depravity had
exhausted itself upon himself. Tributes to
his humanity and essential unselfishness
were in hearts without tongues to express
them. An eminently proud man to super-
ficial apprehension, in the flood of truth
poured upon him, seemed only the self- oniythesei/.
respecting gentleman. His pride indeed ^SS.
was lost in his profound integrity. An
unfortunate woman, a martyr to her
beauty, who had incurred the odium of her
sex by certain irregularities, lay one day in
this house of the dead, as might be thought-
lessly supposed, for condemnation. Far
from it. The silence of the tomb was
broken by feminine sobs, and the best of
her sex repeated. He that is without sin
among you, let him first cast a stone at
her. The whole house rose responsively,
and passed out, one by one, touched by the
spirit of the Master. Men and women,
conspicuous by their acts of patriotism and
humanity, received their just tribute. But
nothing fulsome escaped the lips of any mmng/ui.

■r. '11 . rr , some escaped

one. It was considered a great offense to the ups qf
say of the dead what could not be truth-
fully said of any living human being. Acts
were recognized and appreciated ; but mo-
tives were not discussed.

755

Sub-Ccelum

Motives. In that land of intelligence, observation,
and introspection, it was profoundly real-
ized that an attempt by law-makers to
define motives, and by judges to punish
them, would be puzzling occupation. To
the self-observant Sub-Coelumite nothing
jnteresting was morc interesting and surprising than
'ilg.'"^ ''" his own, as they appeared to himself, and
as they were interpreted by others. Often
they seemed wholly beyond his comprehen-
sion or control. They were prompted he
did not always know how nor why, and
would lead him he could not tell where.
Their meanness often humiliated him, and
he used the utmost caution and careful-
ness to conceal them. His complacency
was only preserved by a consciousness of
the world's ignorance of them. Better
motives than the real ones were often
attributed to him, which both satirized
and dignified his conduct. His greatest
achievements often sprang from motives
so insignificant that he would have been
ashamed to acknowledge them. His ap-
parent and exemplary virtues would have
lost much of their effect if the secret vices
which alarmed them into exercise were ex-
posed. Worse motives were also found
for his conduct than ever entered his heart.

Both satir-
izedand
dignified
his conduct.

The Protecting Statute i^g

the possession of which would have made
him a different man. If conspicuous good
to others resulted from an act meant pri-
marily to benefit himself, his sagacious His saga-
benevolence was praised and his character una
accepted a model. If wrong was inci-
dentally or intentionally done his neighbor
through his neighbor's simplicity or igno-
rance, his conscience was soothed by the
protecting statute. He had been annoyed
by an ostentatious recognition and acknow-
ledgment of acts, with a parade of assumed
systematic intentions, when the real ones
so spontaneously sprang from his humanity
that design or calculation was impossible.
Their intrinsic goodness was so disparaged
and obscured by misinterpretation and
flaunting that their promising fruit was
stinted in the growth. The sweeter virtues,
crushed into life, are embarrassed by being
displayed. The silent tear which attends
their birth drops away in shame at being
discovered.

There were professional funeral orators, funbral
and writers of obituary notices, whose ser- and obitu-
vices were frequently solicited. Facts and tices.
incidents supplied them were responsibly
employed, simply or elaborately as re-

i6o

Sub-Ccelum

A cis ar-
rayed and
events por-
trayed.

A good
woman.

quested. Where the character justified it,
acute and thorough analysis was made.
When connected in any conspicuous way
with the public, acts were arrayed and
events portrayed to impress its value and
usefulness. A good man appeared better
by the recital of enterprises of which he
was an important part. Where his suc-
cesses fell short of his aims, cooperation
was found wanting. His wise and benevo-
lent projects had to wait for favorable con-
ditions and sympathizing coadjutors. The
truth of men and women was told without
exaggeration or adulation. Whatever of
religion was in the life was shown in the
portrayal of its enthusiastic humanity and
self-sacrifice. What better could be said
of it than that it employed and exhausted
itself in the service of others .' A good
woman, who had bred a large family, and
led a long life of devotion and self-sacri-
fice, worn out by care, and weary of her
burdens, came at length to what was sup-
posed to be her deathbed. A clergyman
thought it to be his duty to call upon her.
He asked her if she had made her peace
with her Maker ; to which she replied that
she was not aware that there had been any
trouble. Cases like this were used to

Tongue Charity i6i

illustrate the possible in right directions.
Words were slightly estimated in compari- n^ordi in
son with acts. Canting pretension was Z^hZtsT
silently buried ; for what was to be said of
emptiness and tongue charity merely?
Lives were better than professions. In
funeral orations and obituary notices were
kindly presented realities ; ideals were in-
ferred or suggested. Embodiments of
practical virtue and religion stood forth.
Standards of conduct were animated by
personal illustration, more impressive than
didactic instruction.

As before said, every one had his voca- vocation
tion and avocation, into which he carried tion.
his enthusiasms. By the former he made
his money ; in the latter he gratified his
tastes. Special occupations were numer-
ous, and hobbies also. Favorite objects of
pursuit gave full employment to particular
faculties. It was expected, in the prevail-
ing mental activity, and dishonor of idle-
ness, that every intelligent person would
have some appropriate diversion, befitting
his abilities and imagination. Men and
women were made more interesting by
these worthy pastimes, and were rarely
humdrum or commonplace. Their minds.

1 62 Sub-Ccelum

so to speak, had their little holy of holies,
with windows toward heaven, into which
they entered in best moods, and recreated
Duiithey their powers. Dull they could not be,
e. gj.jj.j.gjj gQ often into definite, ennobling
action. It might be only an insect the en-
thusiast gave his hours of leisure to ; but
it was an object of creation, and stimulated
him. Observation was discovery, and led
him into ever-widening fields, and away
from the beaten track. Absorbed by his
hobby, he was respectful and hospitable
to that of his neighbor. He did not apply
the epithet hobbyhorsical to any special
enthusiasm. He was not found among the
dogmatists or satirists. He realized the
limits to knowledge, and honored every
effort to transcend them. He had been
mistaken, and would be again and again.
He had laughed, but oftenest through ig-
Awedhy norance. If wise enough to understand,
ing. he had been awed. Realizing that men

are most apt to believe what they least
comprehend, he did not require the last
fact to give credence. He could disbelieve
upon ultimate testimony. Inconsistency
or apostasy did not affright him. Modest
in his beliefs and disbeliefs, bigotry was
impossible to him.

Jupiter and Juno's Wedding i6)

These patient and enthusiastic students students
in particular lines had many opportunities lar linhs. '
to contribute of their knowledge to the
public. They were encouraged to give fre-
quent lectures and demonstrations, which
were always numerously attended, and at-
tentively and sympathizingly received. In-
deed, these learned talks and exhibitions Learned

, . ^ . , 1 • 1 talks andex-

constituted their highest amusements, haiuons.
They were illustrated in every attractive
and ingenious way, and were comprehen-
sible even to the children. The public were
proud of these special investigators, who
worked for love, and for the general good,
and were more than glad to sit reverently
at their feet and learn of them. The com-
monest subjects and objects in the hands of
these enlightened enthusiasts became more
interesting than any fiction. Crawling and
flying things, despised by the common, ap-
peared indeed wonderful in the flash of light
ingeniously poured upon them. They say
that when Jupiter and Juno's wedding was
solemnized of old, the gods were all in- The gods in. -
vited to the feast, and many noble men be-
sides. Amongst the rest came Chrysalus,,
an Oriental prince, bravely attended, rich
in golden attires, in gay robes, with a ma-
jestical presence, but otherwise z. very in-

1 64 Sub-Caelum

ferior creature. The gods, seeing him in
such pomp and state, rose up to give him
place ; but Jupiter perceiving what he was,
Turntiinto z. light, fantastic, idle fellow, turned him
and his proud followers into butterflies ;
and so they continue still, mythology de-
clares, roving about in pied coats, and are
called chrysalides by the wiser sort of men.
These winged worms, in the hands of a
master who had intelligently and zealously
studied them, were made more interesting
than any Eastern prince in all his splendor
of attire and pomp of retinue. Of the
more than seven hundred species in one
small province, he presented you the most
beautiful varieties, in all their gorgeous-
ness and bewilderment of color. En-
larged by the camera, they appeared of
enormous proportions — more gigantic
Wings of than the fabled roc. The wings of certain
"LT"' " '' species, covered on both sides with imbri-
cated scales or feathers, to the unassisted
eye presenting the appearance of dust or
powder, under the microscope they dis-
played an arrangement as uniform and
characteristic of species as that of the
scales of fishes and the feathers of birds.
He told you that in a piece of mosaic work
there might be nine hundred separate

Metamorphoses i6^

pieces in an inch square, while the same
extent of surface in a butterfly's wing con-
tained from one hundred thousand to nine
hundred thousand of these wing-scales or
feathers. You saw the despised caterpil- Thedespued
lar in all his metamorphoses, from the "" ^'^' '"^'
process of hatching — eagerly eating, eat-
ing, growing prodigiously, changing its
skin several times, evacuating his intes-
tines, suspending himself by a little rope
of silk to the under surface of a leaf, ap-
pearing, after other mysterious changes,
the perfect butterfly, sipping honey from
the flowers, like his cousin the humming-
bird ; reproducing himself and dying, like
every other thing of mortality. At the
theatre and the circus the people were not
amused and profited as they were at these
astonishing platform exhibitions. They
laughed, and were wonderstruck.

Even the pestilent, friendless rat was the substance
theme of discourse at one of these popular turh.
assemblages. The humane investigator
had made a particular study of the animal,
and surprised his audience with the num-
ber and character of his facts and obser-
vations — original and from authentic
sources. The nature and qualities of the

1 66 Sub-Ccelum

creature were presented in a manner to
excite astonishment and sympathy. At
the risk of being considered tedious, some
of his facts and anecdotes are repeated.
htcidentre. Hc related an incident communicated by a
clergyman, clergyman, to prove that the detested ro-
dent shows a consideration and care for its
elders on the march which was worthy of
human philanthropy. Walking out in some
meadows one evening, he observed a great
number of rats migrating from one place
to another. He stood perfectly still, and
the whole assemblage passed close to him.
His astonishment, however, was great
when he saw amongst the number an old
blind rat, which held a piece of stick at one
end in its mouth, while another had hold of
the other end of it and thus conducted its
A kindred blind companiou. A kindred circumstance
Sr was witnessed by a surgeon's mate. Ly-
ing awake one evening in his berth, he saw
a rat enter, look cautiously round, and re-
tire. He soon returned, leading a second
rat, who seemed to be blind, by the ear.
A third rat joined them shortly afterwards,
and assisted the original conductor in pick-
ing up some fragments of biscuit and
placing them before their infirm parent, as
the blind old patriarch was supposed to be.

A Necessity of Us Existence i6y

Incredible as the story might appear of
their removing hens' eggs by one fellow
lying on his back and grasping tightly his
ovoid burden with his fore paws, whilst his
comrades drag him away by the tail, he had
no reason to disbelieve it, knowing as he
did that they would carry eggs from the ingenious

, r , ,-r ■ , methods.

bottom to the top of a house, liftmg them
from stair to stair, the first rat pushing
them up on its hind and the second lifting
them with its fore legs. They would ex-
tract the contents from a flask of oil, dip-
ping in their long tails, and repeating the
manoeuvre until they had consumed every
drop. He had found lumps of sugar in
deep drawers, at a distance of thirty feet
from the place where the petty larceny was
committed ; and a friend of his saw a rat
mount a table on which a drum of figs was
placed and straightway tip it over, scatter-
ing its contents on the floor beneath, where
a score of his expectant brethren sat watch-
ing for the windfall. The propensity of the AivopensUy

° , ., , . explained.

rat to gnaw, he said, should not be attri-
buted altogether to a reckless determina-
tion to overcome impediments. The never-
ceasing action of his teeth was not a
pastime, but a necessity of his existence.
It was explained : the rat had formidable

1 68 Sub-Coslum

weapons in the shape of four small, long,
and very sharp teeth, two of which were in
the upper and two in the lower jaw. These

In the shape Were formed in the shape of a wedge, and
had always a fine, sharp, cutting edge. On
examining them carefully, it was found
that the inner part was of soft, ivory-like
composition, which might be easily worn
away, whereas the outside was composed
of a glass-like enamel, which was exces-
sively hard. The upper teeth worked ex-
actly into the under, so that the centres of
the opposed teeth met exactly in the act
of gnawing ; the soft part was thus being
perpetually worn away, while the hard part
kept a sharp, chisel-like edge ; at the same
time the teeth grew from the bottom, so
that as they wore away a fresh supply was
ready. In consequence of this peculiar
arrangement, if one of the teeth be re-

Effectofre- moved, either by accident or on purpose,
the opposed tooth would continue to grow,
and, as there would be nothing to grind
it away, it would project from the mouth
and turn upon itself ; or, if it were an un-
der tooth, it would even run into the skull
above. There was a preparation in one
of the museums which perfectly illustrated
the fact. It was an incisor tooth of a rat,

Simulation i6g

which, from the cause mentioned, had
increased its growth to such a degree,
that it had formed a complete circle and
a segment of another; the diameter was
about large enough to admit a good-sized
thumb. He once saw a newly killed rat
to whom this misfortune had occurred.
The tooth, which was an upper one, had cwious
in this case also formed a complete circle,
and the point, in winding round, had passed
through the lip of the animal. Thus the
ceaseless working of the rat's incisors
against some hard substance was necessary
to keep them down, and if he did not gnaw
for his subsistence he would be compelled
to gnaw to prevent his jaw being gradu-
ally locked by their rapid development.
He quoted from a traveler, whose dogs set
upon a rat, and making them relinquish
it, he took it up by the tail, the dogs leap-
ing after it the whole time. He carried it
into his dining-room to examine it by the
light of the lamp, during the whole of
which period it remained as if it were dead, Feigmd

. , death.

— limbs hanging, and not a muscle moving.
After five minutes he threw it among the
dogs, who were still in a great state of
excitement, and, to the astonishment of all
present, it suddenly jumped upon its legs,

lyo Sub-Caelum

and ran away so fast that it baffled all its

pursuers. The sagacity of the animal in

craftintss cluding danger was not less than his crafti-

in dealing . , , . . ^ . .

■with danger, ness in dealing with it when it came. A
gentleman who fed his own pointers ob-
served, through a hole in the door, a num-
ber of rats eating from the trough with his
dogs, who did not attempt to molest them.
Resolving to shoot the intruders, he next
day put the food, but kept out the dogs.
Not a rat came to taste. He saw them
peering from their holes, but they were too
well versed in human nature to venture
forth without the protection of their canine
guard. After half an hour the pointers
were let in, when the rats forthwith joined
their hosts, and dined with them as usual.
Even with his great natural enemy and su-
perior, the ferret, he would sometimes get
the advantage by his steady bravery and

Enemies in the Superiority of his tactics. A rat and a
ferret were turned loose in a room without
furniture, in which there was but one win-
dow. Immediately upon being liberated
the rat ran round the room as if searching
for an exit. Not finding any means of
escape, he uttered a piercing shriek, and
with the most prompt decision took up his
station directly under the light, thus gain-

Advantage of the Sun lyi

ing over his adversary — to use the lan-
guage of the duelists — the advantage of
the sun. This advantage he managed to
keep all through the conflict ; when the
gentleman, to prove whether the choice of
this position depended upon accident, dis- iVo< <&r«-
lodged the rat and took his own station dent.
under the window; but the moment
the ferret attempted to make his ap-
proach, the rat, evidently aware of the
advantage he had lost, endeavored to creep
between the gentleman's legs, thus losing
his natural fear of man under the danger
which awaited him from his more deadly
foe. A number of rats had got into a
basket of grapes, and devoured a consider-
able part of the contents. The man who
discovered them replaced the basket, in
hopes that they would again visit it and
be caught ; but the wary animals never wariness.
again came to the basket in which they
had been detected. They were so numer-
ous and so bold that they used to come and
pick up the crumbs from between the
men's feet as they sat at meals. Wishing
for a shot at some of them, one of the men
dropped a few grains of corn on the
ground, and took up his position, gun in
hand. Soon one rat bounded across the

lyz Sub-Ccelum

space as if in great alarm ; but no rat
touched a grain of the corn, which was ex-
posed for several days and nights, being at
last crushed and lost by the passing of feet
and vehicles. Rats were numerous in the

Exhmttms pig-sties, and ate with the pigs, one of
which was turned out of her sty, and a
trap-door was contrived to close the trough
by pulling a cord, fhe trough was baited
with good maize, of which they were very
fond ; but neither by day nor by night
would a rat venture there as long as the
pig was excluded. Returning the pig to
the sty, the rats also returned. A similar
case was related in which the rats were so
many and so bold that they forced them-
selves into the troughs, would not be
driven away, and consumed no small
amount of the food which ought to have
gone to the pigs. The owner of the pigs
then laid a gun so as to rake the trough,
turned out the pigs, and had the trough

Not one filled as usual. Not a rat would make its

made Us ap- i i i ■

tearance. appearance ; and at last the pigs were put
back, when the rats came trooping in as
numerous and as bold as ever. In a gen-
tleman's garden was a conservatory along
the roof of which was trained a vine on
which the fruit would not ripen ; so he had

The Gardener's Discovery 173

the vine inclosed in a glass frame, in the
hope that, the heat being confined, the
grapes would ripen better than when ex-
posed to the night air. The plan was suc-
cessful, and he had a plentiful crop of
large-sized bunches. These, however, be- Tkebig

. 1 . • 1 1 bunches dis-

gan to disappear very quickly as soon as appeared.
ripe, but not bunch by bunch, as would be
done by thieves, but only the ripest grapes
of each bunch were taken. The gardener,
when lying on his back for rest after cut-
ting a lot of branches, heard a scuffling
sort of sound, and looking round saw five
or six large rats come into the frame ; they
then jumped up at the lowest hanging
branches and managed to knock down two
or three grapes, which they proceeded to
eat like a squirrel, sitting up on their hind
legs and holding the fruit in their front
paws. Soon after a large female, followed a large/e-
by four young ones, came in, and the old /ourymng

. „ . ones.

one ran up the vine and bit oft one of the
ripest bunches, which fell down to the ex-
pecting young ones below, who fastened
on it and began to eat. The gardener
could not keep his laugh, but shouted out,
which sent them all away, as if a dog were
after them. A lady living in the country
had her attention drawn one day to some

n4

Sub-Coelum

Means of
rescue.

Resuscita-
tion jtot at-
te^npted.

rats in an outer room, surrounding a pail
which had been prepared for the pigs.
Observing them carefully, she soon discov-
ered that a young rat had fallen into the
pail, and that his friends, to the number of
five or six, were in consultation as to the
best means of rescuing him. The lady
called others of her family to witness their
manoeuvres, while they continued busily
at work, regardless of the presence of
the spectators. By twining their feet
together — the hind feet of the foremost
rat being entwined with the fore feet
of the next, and so on — they formed a
chain extending over the side of the pail.
The foremost rat, supposed to be the
mother, then reached down, grasped the
young one in her paws, and both were
drawn out on the floor. Unfortunately,
their deliberations had occupied so much
time that the young rat was drowned be-
fore he was extricated, and apparently the
intelligence of his friends did not extend
so far as to attempt resuscitation. Three
persons were looking over a garden at sun-
set, when a rat appeared near a stone wall ;
then another and another, until five had
assembled, the fifth and last dragging a
dead rat. A council then seemed to be

A Novel Burial I'j^

held. Then four of them took the foot of
their dead companion and drew the body
to a place where the earth was soft. The Tkeyt/a
fifth dug a grave with his head and feet, "^"^'^'""■
the depth being sufficient to allow the
earth to cover the body. The four after-
ward assisted in covering it up, leaving the
tail of the deceased out of the ground.
With a touch of humor, the humane natu-
ralist so far departed from his loved theme
as to wind up his interesting hour-and-a-
half's talk by referring to the suggestive
instance of a mouse and a scorpion being
put under a glass together. The mouse
was immediately stung by the scorpion, and
to all appearances mortally. It remained
for some time in a kind of lethargy ; but
on a sudden it collected its strength, and,
as in a fit of frenzy, fell upon the scorpion,
killed it, and eat its body entirely up, leav-
ing nothing but the claws. The moment
it had swallowed the scorpion the swelling
disappeared ; no signs of pain remained,
and the poor animal was set at liberty, in
great health and spirits. Similia similibus
curantur.

The microscope and the camera were of microscope
great service to specialists of every descrip- era.

iy6 Sub-Caelum

tion. The revelations of the former ex-
ceeded all expectation or calculation. It
had been improved until an expert was no
longer necessary to adjust it. Intelligent

Children children, even, made free use of it. With

emeries' their sharp eyes they were constantly mak-
ing discoveries and noting them. In many
houses a room was set apart to microscopy.
Specimens without end accumulated in
them. Habits of observation were formed,
and elevated thinking was encouraged. It
was not possible for a man to be groveling
and mean whose mind had been trained to
atomic observation of nature. No matter
what his occupation might be, his diver-
sion made him totally forget it. He was
with God in his wonders — lifted out of
himself for the time being to a sphere
supremely above craft and handicraft. At
his bench in the shop the artisan's fore-
head might be gloomily contracted, and
his face appear expressionless ; but speak
to him of his loved diversion, and his brow

Countenance lifted, and his countenance was illuminated.

noted. Cases were frequently made known where
character had been completely changed by
the adoption of an elevating hobby. Du-
ality was a recognized principle. Tastes
for the sensual and devilish were put aside,

The Indian Summer 177

and finally wholly displaced, by pure and
exalting enthusiasms. The camera was
hardly less wonderful than the microscope
in its discoveries and revelations. Difficul- Difficulties

,' !_• 1 J 111 ' surmounted.

ties which for so many years had been in-
surmountable by the operator and experi-
menter had been overcome by superior
methods. Photographs in colors were
common achievements. One color was
not more difficult to the camera than an-
other. Effects, indeed, were heightened,
as in the Claude Lorraine mirror. Slight
color in the cheek became roseate in the
picture. Draperies were improved in like
proportion. Fabrics appeared finer and
richer. Colors were reproduced with su-
per-accuracy. Flowers did not lose much
by transfer to sensitized paper. The au-
tumnal forest, in all its colors, contracted
to a little space, bloomed and glowed like oimiediike
a great verbena-bed, with the Indian Sum- iem-ied.
mer haze enveloping it and the still land-
scape. Ah ! that wonderful Sub-Coelum
season, as one of their great poets de-
scribed it ! The stillness of the landscape
in that beautiful time was as if the planet
were sleeping, like a top, before it began to
rock with the storms of autumn. All na-
tures seemed to find themselves more truly

iy8 Sub-Coelum

in its light ; love grew more tender, reli-
gion more spiritual, memory saw farther
back into the past, grief revisited its mossy
marbles, the poet harvested the ripe
thoughts which he would tie in sheaves of
verses by his winter fireside.

electri- Electricity was in general use for all

CITV. . „ r

sorts of purposes, especially for transporta-
tion and communication. It was applied
to every kind of vehicle, and to every kind
of machinery. Bicycles, tricycles, and four
and six-wheeled carriages, of every de-
scription, were moved by it. They ran
about noiselessly, as if propelled by the
wind. Even the air was traversed by
ingeniously contrived vehicles, or balloons.
Like the condor, they did not ascend
easily or rapidly, but when once up, they
sailed away like floating clouds or flying
birds, in horizontal curves and straight
Aimethe lines. Abovc the spircs and stceplcs there

spires and . ... 1.1 r

steefUs. was impressive silence ; only the song of
the lark, and an occasional voice or noise
from below, disturbed the profound still-
ness. People in one talked to those in
another. Signals were given by notes of
the flute. Telegraphic and telephonic
communication was universal. People sat

A Great Step lyg

in their parlors and listened to oratorios.
Lines stretched from farmhouse to farm-
house, and households communicated with
ease. Country life was relieved of its lone- Country u/e
liness. Neighbors enjoyed each other's
music and conversation. In sickness they
were advised of every turn. They were
guarded against danger. They extended
invitations, and gave notice of visits.
Offers of help were extended. Horses and
implements and vehicles not in use were
advertised. Little accommodations and
civilities were universal, and closely bound
large neighborhoods together.

In Sub-Coelum the people did not snore, the people
They had trained themselves to avoid the shorh.
disagreeable act. This will not appear
strange when it is remembered that in at
least one great nation the children do not
cry. Harsh, high-sounding respiration was
never heard. Their breathing apparatus
had been improved by long avoidance of
it. Their nostrils had g^rown like the
deer's by habitually inhaling through them.
They had learned to keep their mouths
shut, except while speaking or eating.
Taking the air straight into the lungs was
considered unhealthy and unwise. Their

i8o Sub-Ccelum

ears, too, had increased in sensitiveness by
the good habit. The external organ was
exclusively relied upon, as nobody opened
Reiegatedtc his mouth to hear more distinctly. That
clownish way was relegated to farce. The
women, naturally, had first learned to sleep
without making a noise ; and, in time, the
habit became intolerable in the coarser sex.
The former had read of a grand seignior
hundreds of years before, and had profited
perhaps by the lesson. He kept qualified
persons, whose duty it was to travel
through the whole empire, to see and
choose the fairest and rarest women, hav-
ing leave to enter all places, nay, their very
bed-chambers, to view them in what pos-
tures they pleased, but chiefly to know
whether they snored or stirred much in
their sleep, or whether they slept quietly ;
and, having made choice, they carried them
to the prince, and their parents were much
honored and esteemed.

Whistling. Nor was whistling heard in Sub-Coelum.
It was a lost art, not worthy of the name.
It had departed with other barbarisms, but
reluctantly. The tendency seemed to have
been born in the people, and was nearly
ineradicable. Its stubbornness had been

A Production of Satan i8i

one of the discouraging things in their
progress. At first, society laughed at the
effort to discourage and prevent it. It
was the universal safety valve. As a last Theumver-

- . . - . . . . sal safety

resort oi impatience and irritation it was vaive.
regarded as indispensable. Convincing
argument was answered by it. It relieved
the thinking faculty of vexation. By it
audacity announced its defiance, and mean-
spirited husbands insulted their patient
wives. Nowhere the noise was not heard.
It was the gauge of happiness, the stan-
dard of ebullient emotion. Nothing
showed thoughtlessness like the unpremed-
itated whistle. The tones of it were the
gamut of impulse, and might be marked,
as degrees of temperature. Vanity varied
them, as it adjusted the drinking-man's
hat, hanging it, at last, on his organ of
self-esteem. Oft-repeated legends, mixed
with religion, had a good influence. It be-
gan to be said that the whistler's mouth
was not to be purified till after forty days ;
that the offensive sound was produced by
Satan's touching the human body ; and
that the act was disrespectful to God. Disrespect-

■r-. ^ » -i' ' ' r 1 fultoGod,

Even a whistling noise ot any sort scared
away the Holy Ghost. A woman tried to
coax a dog by whistling, when a pious

i82 Sub-Ccelum

servant interrupted her, Please, ma'am,
don't whistle ; every time a woman whis-
tles the heart of the BlessM Virgin bleeds.
In some districts it was said that if one
itmadethe whistlcd in the evening it made the angels

angels weep. j l i ■ j-

weep. It was a widespread belief — more
than a superstition — that it was at all
times unlucky for women to make the im-
pious sound, as, while the nails for the
Cross were being forged, a woman stood
by and whistled. But the thing, perhaps,
that had the greatest influence in ridding
the nation of the nuisance was a famous
instance of heredity everywhere known.
The child and grandchild of a persistent
whistler were born with mouths puckered,
as if in the act ; and, as long as they lived,
they could only take spoon food, and that
by a tube adapted to the purpose. The
cases were so peculiar that surgery did not
risk attacking them, and they remained a
perpetual warning against irreligion and
bad manners.

Dentistry It was remarkable how generally the
iTABLE pkoI people had good teeth. They were lus-

FESSION. ,., . , , ,./■ 1

trous, like ivory, and beautiful to view.
It was a rare thing they were lost, except
by accident or by wearing away. Dentis-

A General Blessing 183

try was not a profitable profession. Many
causes might be found for this general
blessing. The intelligence the people car-
ried into their living was perhaps the chief.
Their food, as you have seen, was health-
ful, and thoroughly cooked. They realized
the importance of good digestion, as being importance
the basis of all physical, intellectual, and gesum.
moral soundness. Foods of every kind had
been scientifically and practically studied,
and their effects accurately determined.
Dinners of tragedians, it was said, were
adapted to their parts ; they ate pork when
they had to play tyrants, beef for murder-
ers, boiled mutton for lovers. One of their
great poets, seeing another sedulously oc-
cupied with an underdone beefsteak, in-
quired. Are you not afraid of committing
murder after such a meal.' Much wis-
dom, they said, was in olives, and that soup
and fish explained half of the emotions of
life. Fries had been utterly banished from Fries utterty
the Commonwealth. Thorough mastica-
tion was considered a necessity to health,
and rapid eating an offense against de-
cency. The pigs, even, had been trained
to something like moderation in feeding.
The people sat long at table, with abun-
dance of good talk, and kindness, for sauce.

184 Sub-Ccelum

They were ashamed of indigestion, know-
ing very well that it meant excessive in-
dulgence. Admitting it was advertising
Eruciaiwa their intemperance. Eructation was dis-
iie. gusting and unpardonable. For the teeth,

especially, sound digestion was considered
better than any dentifrice. Deleterious
drugs had not been used for very many
years. There had not been a case of sali-
vation in all that time. Devices to sweeten
the breath of maidens were not known, for
the good reason that they were not needed.
The air they exhaled in respiration was as
sweet as zephyr in a garden of roses. The
breath of kine was not to be compared
with it. It was more like a cherub's in
perfection of fragrance. Cleanliness was
the thing of all things they relied upon.
It extended not more to the care of their
teeth than to everything pertaining to their
living. It was a large part of their reli-
gion. Purity was not more shown in their
complexions and conduct than in their
shining teeth and lustrous great eyes.

Fondness The reader, following the writer thus far,
KELs. '^""'' has inferred the general fondness for squir-
rels. They were the universal pets of the
people. Their livehness commended them.

A Suggestive Lesson i8^

and their remarkable cleanliness. To see
them airing, sunning, and inspecting their
beds, bit by bit, was a suggestive lesson in
housekeeping. Insects or vermin found no
quarter with them. The climate was favor- cumate/a-
able to the interesting little animal. The "'"^*
native species were many and attractive.
Others were acclimated and domesticated
without much difficulty. Even the great
Malabar squirrel, thirty-three inches long,
and as large as a cat, was transplanted suc-
cessfully. The tendency of the common
species to trouble the nests of birds dimin-
ished with the care they received. The
predatory in their natures was largely elim-
inated by humanizing influences. Like
many other animals, they betrayed a liking
for children. While they did not permit
themselves to be handled to any great ex-
tent — their self-respect prohibiting that —
they were very free to run over the per-
sons of those that they liked ; peering into
pockets and perching themselves on shoul-
ders in familiar ways. Occasionally, in FamiUar
favorable seasons, the squirrels of the^for-
est would multiply so abundantly that days
were appointed to hunt them. Only at
such times were they generally killed and
eaten. In summer they seemed particu-

1 86 Sub-Ccelum

larly to delight in the fruit-trees at the
sides of the roads. They ran from tree to
A racing tree as if in a racing contest with the pass-
ing wheels. The alertness of their move-
ments and cheerfulness of their bearing
were so inspiring that no wonder the little
fellow was a favorite. With his prominent
eyes and broad head he seemed to see and
comprehend everything about him. The
cleft upper lip gave an amused and affec-
tionate expression to his animated face.
The soft fur was always clean, and free of
any disturbed look ; and his long, beautiful
tail, expanded laterally, and carried ele-
gantly over his back, was a picture of light-
ness and grace nobody tired of seeing.
There was nothing of the snarling or
threatening in his appearance or conduct.
He was the embodiment of cleanliness,
cheerfulness, gracefulness, and good hu-
mor, and was a perpetual inspiration to his
biped sympathizers. One of the amuse-
ments at the ponds was to set him on a
bit of wood and see him floated about by
the breezes. With his tail for a sail, he
appeared the ideal navigator.

Respect Great rcspect was paid to the monkey
Hotkey™" by the humaue inhabitants of Sub-Coelum.

geous
teazles.

The Simian Species i8j

No small proportion of their population
had descended from countries where he
was an object of worship, and was raised
to the rank of a god. Gorgeous temples Gorge,
were erected,

With pious care a monkey to enshrine.
History describes one of great magnifi-
cence ; it was fronted by a portico for re-
ceiving victims sacrificed to it, which was
supported by no less than seven hundred
columns. Hospitals were erected for their
benefit, where thousands were kept in
fancied ease and indulgence. One of the
cities, upon its surrender to an invading
army, contained a population of forty thou-
sand, and as many monkeys. Specialists
in Sub-Ccelum were interested in observ-
ing the simian species, and noting their
peculiarities. The belief was by no means
limited that the human race was descended
from the monkey. One species, at least,
of ape, was entirely destitute of tail. Stu- Destitute of
dents of the animal monkey had collected
a great number of interesting facts, show-
ing his resemblance in conduct and traits
to the animal man. One female went out
to service, made the beds, swept the house,
and so far assisted in the cooking as to
turn the spit. One on board a man-of-war

1 88 Sub-Caslum

assisted the cook and turned the capstan,

and furled sails as well as any of the sail-

Assistedin ors. Monkevs had assisted in tea picking

tea picking. , , i i >-n

in countries were tea was produced. One
pious fellow, like many of the religious
castes of his country, entertained an an-
tipathy to an indiscriminate use of animal
food, and would eat neither of the flesh
of the cow or hog ; sometimes he tasted
beef, but never eat of it. The young of
one species were tended with greatest care,
the females having been seen to carry their
children to the banks of a stream, wash
them, notwithstanding their cries, and wipe
and dry them in the most careful manner.
A certain specimen would open a chest or
drawer by turning the key in the lock,
would untie knots, undo the rings of a
chain, and search pockets with a delicacy
of touch which would not be felt until the
thief had been discovered. On board ship
an attempt being made to secure an orang-
outang by a chain tied to a strong staple,
Unfastened he instantly unfastened it, and ran off with
the chain dragging behind ; but, finding
himself embarrassed by its length, he
coiled it once or twice, and threw it over
his shoulder. In making his bed he used
the greatest pains to remove everything

Human-Like Expression 189

out of his way that might render the sur-
face on which he intended to lie uneven ;
and having satisfied himself with this part utmt first
of his arrangement, spread out the sail, *"""">''•
and lying down upon it on his back, drew
it over his body. Sometimes the captain
preoccupied his bed, and teased him by
refusing to give it up. On these occasions
he would endeavor to pull the sail from
under the captain, or to force him from it,
and would not rest till he had resigned it ;
if it was large enough for both, he would
quietly lie down by the captain's side. He
preferred coffee and tea, but would readily
take wine, and exemplified his attachment
to spirits by stealing the captain's brandy
bottle. He would entice the boys of the
ship into play by striking them with his
hand as they passed, and bounding from
them, but allowing them to overtake him
and engage in a mock scuffle, in which he
used his hands, feet, and mouth. He never
condescended to romp with another mon- Romped
key on board as he did with the boys of *<yj.
the ship. Persons who aided in killing a
red orang-outang, stated that the human-
like expression of his countenance, and
piteous manner of placing his hands over
his wounds, distressed their feelings, and

I go

Sub-Coelum

A curious
instance.

Insiinci of
Satan,

made them question the nature of the act
they were committing. A checked shirt
was frequently thrown over a specimen,
which he wore with great complacency.
One day a gentleman wearing linen of a
similar pattern appeared in the room, and
was immediately singled out, nor was the
animal satisfied until he was allowed to ex-
amine the shirt, pulling it out from the
breast, and holding it in comparison with
that which covered himself, expressively
looking up in the gentleman's face, as if
doubtful of his right to a garb which agreed
so nearly with his own. One said of
monkeys as a dish that they were excel-
lent eating, and that a soupe aux singes
would be found as good as any other, as
soon as you had conquered the aversion to
the bouilli of their heads, which looked
very like those of little children. Very
remarkable, they said, and curious beyond
measure, were the seeming consciousness
of evil and apparent instinct of Satan that
these very human animals, under certain
circumstances, exhibited. Turtles and ser-
pents were sometimes put into the cells of
poor captives. They did not much care
for the turtles, but the snakes were the
very devil.

Proverbial Fidelity igi

The dog, next to man, was esteemed for Qualities

. , ^ , , . AND FaCUL-

his companionable qualities, and for his in- ijes of thb
tegrity. His estimable nature was recog-
nized and appreciated, and was developed
in every way that was practicable. Kind-
ness and encouragement did for him what
it did for humanity. Treated like a dog
was not a saying in that country. Bad
dogs were not more numerous than bad
men, and were as mercifully treated. Only
incorrigibleness cost them their lives.
Hopeless depravity in man or dog was
guarded or punished as humanity willed
or permitted. Cruelty was for savages.
High qualities of the animal were as well
comprehended as those of man. His fidel-
ity had ever been proverbial. Other ani-
mals acknowledged kindness, but were in-
capable of voluntary sacrifices. Only man Oniy man

,.111.1. . anddogself-

and dog spontaneously risked their lives m sacrificing.
the service of others. A portion of the
population were of a race of affectionate
and polite savages, who claimed their de-
scent directly from a dog. They were
described by the traveler as having low,
musical voices, with a smile full of sweet-
ness and light. So descended, the animal
was their close friend and associate. He
was taught to do many useful, graceful, and

19^ Sub-Ccelum

generous things ; but especially he was
used as a guard and protector. In one of
the churches on Mount Athos was a fresco
representing Saint Christopher with a
dog's head. Many instances were related
of his fidelity to the point of death. He
A irm^ii. was pronounccd a true philosopher by the

losopher. r i .1 ,

greatest of philosophers, because he distin-
guished the face of a friend and of an
enemy only by the criterion of knowing
and not knowing. Whenever he saw a
stranger he betrayed mistrust ; when an
acquaintance, he welcomed him, although
the one had never done him any harm, nor
the other any good. He determined what
was friendly and what was unfriendly by
Knowledge the tcst of knowledge and ignorance. It
ranee. was z. Saying that when you go to visit a
friend at his house, you can perceive his
friendliness the moment you enter the
door, for first the servant who opens the
door looks pleased, then the dog wags his
tail and comes up to you, and the first per-
son you meet hands you a chair, before a
word has been said. Intelligence and cor-
diality were much the same in man and
Dog Wheat, animal. Dog Wheat was not a perfect
dog ; he had his aversions, as men have.
He snatched cats, and they fell dead. But

Incidents ipj

he was magnanimous towards his own ; he
took the part of small dogs, and of dogs
that were muzzled. Two friends, man and
dog, went out for a walk together. The out/ora
latter had contracted a deep cold, and""*
suffered, on the road, two or three violent
paroxysms of coughing. Returning to the
village, master, or superior, had occasion to
go into a shop where sweetmeats and can-
dies of all kinds were kept for sale. While
passing a word with the proprietor, some-
thing was heard to fall upon the floor a few
paces away. Turning round he discov-
ered that Diogenes had reached up and oiogents's
knocked down a package of medicated
candy — marrubium vulgare — and was ea-
gerly eating it. He knew what was good
for his cough. A faithful but sinful dog,
misnamed Pluto, had been betrayed by his
immaculate master into the hands of an
executioner. When the unhappy creature
comprehended his hopeless situation, and
just before the fatal axe crushed his per-
verted brain, he gave his false friend a Pi«to'sfaise

° friend.

searching, miserable look, as much as to
sayj What has Pluto done to you, that you
should betray him to death in this perfidi-
ous manner.' The astonished, appealing
expression of discovery and reljuke haunted

ig4 Sub-Ccelum

the conscience-smitten owner in hours of
disturbed sleep and wakefulness. It infixed
itself in his memory, it distressed his soul.
The incident was made public, and ever
-afterwards the killing of the canine species
was determined by Council.

HoRSBs Horses, as said before, were bred for

BRED FOR .

Moral moral qualities, rather than for speed and

Qualities. *

strength. Good temper and trustworthiness
were prime considerations. They were
treated with great kindness, and were
trained to many valuable and ornamental
uses. Breaking, or violent usage of the
young animal, was not known. His spirit
was not crushed, but cultivated, along with
other good qualities. He was found to be
good as he was well treated. He grew
in beauty, also, under affectionate care.
Horsemanship was a favorite amusement
of the people. The beautiful shaded
xwairy roads invited and encouraged it. Rivalry
was general in all fitting feats and exer-
cises. Ladies and gentlemen were ambi-
tious of distinction in them. Men did not
allow themselves, Mazeppa-like, to be bound
to wild horses, and let loose on the plains
and roads ; nor women to represent Godiva,
with flowing hair and close-fitting suits.

getteral.

Poetry in Motion ig^

Grace gave distinction rather than daring
or boldness. Beauty on horseback was
supereminent, and received homage. Po-
etry in motion vi^as a fair woman and her
proud palfrey so perfectly matched that,
centaur-like, they appeared and moved Centaur-
as one, unconsciously, semi-human and
semi-equine, — tasting in fullness, in the
master's language, purest life as it came
from the bosom of the deities. Amphithea-
tres were not uncommon, where displays
were made in horsemanship. Horses were
trained to perform graceful evolutions, cir-
curapositions, and convolutions, and to en-
joy them. The circus was a favorite place
of entertainment for the people. What
will and the human body could not do, was
a never-ending problem of interest. They
were proud of their bodies and their minds,
and liked to see them tested cooperatively,
especially in equestrian exercises. The
superior intelligence of their horses was
illustrated in the reply of the distinguished Repiy of a
rider, when asked if there were not times
when, from physical or other causes, he
felt doubtful about being able to perform
his difificult feats. Yes, he said, there were
such times ; but his horse always knew of
them ! Aware of his increased responsi-

ig6 Sub-Coelum

bility, the noble animal was more than ever
thoughtful and circumspect — accommo-
dating himself carefully to his rider, being
Ai ike right sX-^a-ys exactly at the right place at the
t^duif. right time. Famous horses, grown old,
were not neglected as in other countries.
The fastest mile horse of his day, in one
of them, was consigned to a coach, and at
length was found in a ditch, stoned to
death. Another, as celebrated, was draw-
ing a cab, after having won seventeen races.
The religion of the people, as well as their
humanity, forebade such brutality. Hap-
pily, they were not insensible to pity or
shame.

Love FOB The birds, of course, were favorites of
this enlightened, tasteful, and kindly pop-
ulation. They recognized in them many
of the same qualities and traits they pos-
sessed themselves, and delighted to study
them. Of the more than eight thousand
known species they enjoyed a generous
proportion. They were not so far away
from the equator but that they had many of
the most beautiful tropical varieties. The
superabundance of the flowers invited them,
especially the humming-bird. Over one
hundred of the more than four hundred

Wisdom of Birds igy

species of that interesting family, from the
smallest to the greatest, were found within
their borders. Even the little flame-bearer Th^iuite
— sometimes found inside the crater of an be^r.
extinguished volcano — was occasionally-
discovered. Its scaled gorget was of such
a flaming crimson that, as a naturalist re-
marked, it seemed to have caught the last
spark from the volcano before it was extin-
guished. It seemed to prefigure the re-
finement and glory so often resulting from
complete self-sacrifice and devotion to the
worn-out and helpless. The wisdom of the
little birds interested them. Mention was
made of a nest of one beautiful species,
which, being heavier on one side than on
the other, was weighted with a small stone
to preserve the equilibrium. They did not
permit the wanton destruction of the hum-
ming-bird, or other varieties of birds of
bright plumage, for mere decorative pur-
poses, as less enlightened peoples had in-
dulged, to the almost entire extinction of
many genera. Their experience had
taught them that all birds were useful, and
they referred to their perfect and abun-
dant fruits and grains of every kind as evi-
dence of it. The great bird of paradise, Great urd
so rarely found in any other part of the "

ig8 Sub-Ccelum

world, was not uncommon in Sub-Coelum.
The splendid ornaments of this species
were entirely confined to the male sex, the
female being a very plain and ordinary
bird ; though the young males of the first
year so exactly resembled the females that
they could only be distinguished by dissec-
tion. Whence these philosophical people
Anargu- deduccd an argument for limiting coeduca-
duced. '' tion ! The fact that the ordinary bird of
paradise, from the very nature of his plum-
age, could not fly except against the wind,
illustrated to them the habit and necessity
of approximate virtue in a world of violence
and temptation. Supreme pride, and an
unconquerable love of freedom, were seen
in the quetzal, a native of the tropics, re-
sembling a parrot. It was so constituted
that if but one of its feathers was plucked
it instantly died. If an attempt was made
to cage the strange feathered visitant, it de-
liberately attempted suicide by pulling out
its own feathers, preferring death to captiv-
ity. A species of variegated woodpecker,
called the carpenter, interested them, for
Fidelity and the fidelity and devotion it exhibited. If

devotion,

one were killed, it was rare that its mate
did not come and place itself beside the
dead body, as if imploring a similar fate.

Incarnate Selfishness igg

The wren was their type and model of
content and confidence. Instances were
known where young ones that had been
disturbed and threatened were found in
the nests of robins, by whom they were
fed and protected. They did not like the
cuckoo, for the incarnate selfishness it dis-
played. It would deposit its eggs in the Thecmkoo.
nests of other insectivorous birds, not more
than one in a nest, leaving the care of the
young entirely to the foster parents thus
selected, A distinguished poet and close
observer of nature was asked why it hap-
pened that so many young singing birds
were lost for a single young cuckoo. In the
first place, he said, the first brood is gener-
ally lost ; for even if it should happen that
the eggs of the singing bird are hatched at
the same time with that of the cuckoo,
which is very probable, the parents are so
much delighted with the larger bird, and
show it such fondness, that they think of
and feed that alone, whilst their own young
are neglected, and vanish from the nest.
Besides, the young cuckoo is always greedy Always
and demands as much nourishment as the
little insect-eating birds can procure. It
is a very long time before it attains its full
size and plumage, and before it is capable

200 Sub-Ccelum

of leaving the nest, and soaring to the top
of a tree. And even a long time after it
has flown it requires to be fed contin-
ually, so that the whole summer passes
away, while the affectionate foster-parents
constantly attend upon their great child.
Da not think and do not think of a second brood. It is

of a second , , i , -

brood. on this accouut that a smgle young cuckoo
causes the loss of so many other young
birds. But they did enjoy the blackbird,
for his loquacity and gregariousness. They
had studied his language, and understood
him when he talked. Their interpretations
were very amusing. Nothing delighted
them more than to see him bathing in
moulting time, and he alike enjoyed the
admiration he excited. There were places
along the shallow streams where great
flocks assembled for that purpose. Half
an hour before sunset was a favorite time
for the entertainment. Successively and
simultaneously they rose out of the water,
chattering as they ascended, and shaking
out their glittering plumage, they filled the

Myriads of air with myriads of rainbows — reminding

rainbows, . - , _ .

observers of the ascent of the great groups
of gay butterflies, described by travelers in
the tropics, — orange, yellow, white, blue,
green, — which, on being disturbed, rise

Naturalists' Enthusiasm 201

from the moist beach of the pools into the
air by hundreds and hundreds, forming
clouds of variegated colors.

Insects and reptiles of all sorts were insects and
objects of interest and study. Nothing
pleased the children more than to fasten a
little snake in the grass with a forked stick
an inch or two behind its head, and on their
knees with a good glass to look inspect-
ingly into his interesting face. And the
little beauty, they always said, looked into
their faces with as much interest as they
did into his. Some sensation was created
in an electric railway carriage, where there
were many passengers, by the escape of a
boxful of mountain adders ; but the boy
soon gathered up his pets without damage
or difficulty. The wife of a distinguished
naturalist found one morning in one of her
slippers a cold, little slimy snake, one of
six sent the day before to her scientific
husband, and carefully set aside by him
for safety under the bed. She screamed,
There is a snake in my slipper ! The ThesavanCs
savant leaped from his couch, crying, A J£»"""^
snake ! Good heavens ! Where are the
other five .' Strange, the people naturally
exclaimed with the philosopher, that nature

202 Sub-Caelum

was never so powerful as in insect life.
They were ever ready with striking exam-
ples. The white ant could destroy fleets
and cities, and the locusts erase a province.
And then how beneficent they were !
Man would find it difHcult to rival their
exploits : the bee that gave honey ; the
worm that gave silk; the cochineal that
Infusoria. suppHcd the brilliant dyes. But infusoria !
One saw in a little drop of water on a piece
of glass a whole world of insects, of wliich
the largest looked like grasshoppers, the
smallest as pins' heads. Some of them
were really like grasshoppers, others had
the most monstrous shapes, all were tum-
bling about each other, and the big ones
swallowed their smaller neighbors. He
saw infusoria in his own blood ; it swarmed
with eels and cod and all sorts. It was no
optical illusion ; he saw the forms of the
insects and the movements of the different
joints ; and besides, when he touched the
globule with the point of a pin dipped in
acid, they at once fled to the other side
White and died a moment after. The white
Sr "' mould in ink appeared a great forest,
with plants, trees, and bushes ; the infi-
nite opened before him, and he turned
dizzy.

In Universal Sympathy 203

All this to give some idea of the character character
and mental resources of the people. They tal rk- '
were simple in tastes and philosophic in
tendency, and their humanity was broad
enough to cover every living substance.
This love of life, and perception of conscious
existence, brought them in contact and
sympathy with every pulsating organism,
whether of man, animal, insect, bird, or
reptile. The smallest living object was as
wonderful to them as the greatest, and
commanded their admiration and rever-
ence. Their greatest happiness was in in-
tellectual and moral activity. The possi-
bilities of mental achievement and moral
elevation determined their aims and duties.
This tendency to universal investigation
had not only established the feeling of uni-
versal brotherhood, but had opened the
way to its possible accomplishment. No-
thing seemed small that looked to that
end. The utmost that any one could do
was only a little — the aggregate was the
crown of mortality. Man was less to The crown.

ofmortaliiy.

them than men, but manhood was above
the mass, and not to be compounded.
That was scrupulously in view and practice
throughout all their education and civiliza-
tion. It had the good effect to fix responsi-

204 Suh-Ccelum

bility. Society was not held responsible for
conduct, however much it might influence
Tk€ individ- it. The individual was the immortal, and
'Zirtau"^ not the multitude. Multitudes might dis-
solve, as solid bodies, into particles, but in-
dividuals, as atoms, were not lost in the
dissolution. The utmost estimate was put
upon a just and enlightened man, and he
was not disparaged nor degraded but by
himself. There were limits to fusion with
the multitude. Surrender was incompatible
with sound growth. Discipline was much,
but did not constitute character. Wheels
and cogs were not the motive power. Char-
acter grew by individual endeavor, and was
exalted by worthy aims. Powers were de-
veloped and determined by being constantly
tested. A thing acquired by the man him-
self was more than acquisition, it was dis-
covery. The habit of individual efEort and
Not to be investigation made it impossible to knead

kneaded into . ,^, . ' . . . , .

«msses. men into masses. Their intrinsic and in-
destructible personality occasioned only
effervescence and explosion whenever
the attempt was made, — which was not
often, as a memory of consequences was
not quick to die out. The people were
very generous in compromise, but not to
the extinction of personal rights and obli-

The Business of Society 20^

gations. Their tolerance was unqualified,
but as the principle of give and take quali-
fied it. They gave as they demanded. Im-
patient of intrusion, they did not intrude.
The business of society was to help the mip u the
individual, not to absorb him. Where ' '"'""'
every man was a man, that was impossible.
There was not anything of which the Sub-
Ccelumite was so sensitively jealous as of
the undisturbed possession of the ground
each one stood upon. His title was of
God, and his ownership was not to be
questioned. He met his obligations and
acknowledged citizenship, but not to the
last extremity. There was always a point
where compliance would be extinction or
slavery. Abreast and arm-in-arm he was
willing to move generally, not always. As
he respected himself he respected others.
He would not tread upon nor be trodden.
He granted the large liberty he exacted.
By his personal, individual efforts he had
become contradistinguished, as every other cmtradu.
man had who deserved the name. He ''"^"
had not aimed to be like any other, but to
be himself. His study of the ant had
made him reverent of him, as of the
species. The gifts of individual and asso-
ciated character appeared in tbQ insect

2o6 Sub-Ccelum

commonwealth as in Sub-Coelum. They
matched as they were known, and were not
underestimated as they were perceived in
either. Intelligence, in whatever crea-
inteiiigence ture, inculcatcd humanity, as sentient ex-

inculcated . ... ... p

humanity, istcnce iHspircd reverencc. All was of
God, for His own wise purposes, and ines-
timable but by Him. From ant to man
was a sweep the Sub-Coelumite did not pre-
tend to compass. He bowed low, and
trusted.

Personal Pcrsottal independence — born of intel-
DENCE. ligence, plain living, and individual devel-
opment — was a marked characteristic of
the population. Habits of reflection, self-
denial, and just self-estimation, made
them poor material for the demagogue and
crafty churchman. They could not be
trained, at will, to perpetual thoughtless
subordination and submission into sects and
parties. Not that they resisted coOpera-
conduiom tiou, but that conditions were always
changing, and that the point of observa-
tion of any one was never long exactly the
same. Deference to others did not signify
involuntary surrender of themselves. Pa-
triotism made them generous in political
action, but not heedless, nor personally irre-

Charitable to Others 207

sponsible. Being essentially religious, in
all that the word implies, they were char-
itable to others alike so, and were unfit- unjuted/or
ted for sectarian antagonism. Feeling and ZlZ^um.
judgment, operating together, prevented
any rash committal that might be embar-
rassing or unjust to themselves or others.
They did not love power for the sake of it.
They respected minorities as much as ma-
jorities, because of the possibility of their
being in the right, and of the probability of
their preponderance upon a slight turn of
affairs. They were conservative of neces- cmaerva.

*,. n ' 11 M 1 tive of neces-

sity, because of their reflection and hberal- suy.
ity of judgment. Only conscience brought
them to a stand of defiance or aggressive-
ness. What was wrong was not to be
compromised with ; but the common weal
was always of interest in every heart, and
divisions were generally upon modes and
processes. It had been many, many years
since they had been drawn into a war, a war/or
and that was intestine, and for personal laerty.
liberty. A crisis had arisen when a dis-
tinction was made between the rights of
individuals and classes, not in harmony
with fundamental policy or sound morals.
Every man was guaranteed freedom : each
to enjoy the same rights and be entitled to

208

Sub-Coslum

the same protection as any other. The
conflict had not been possible but for in-
flamed passions and ambitious leaders.
Love of power and love of place, aggra-
vated by material interests, arrayed section
against section, and blood of brothers
flowed, almost without limit. Mere busi-
ness questions could not have so bitterly
divided them, even at that time ; but later,
from any cause, such antagonism was im-
shody war- practicable. Bloody warfare was an extrem-
iZt^tof. ity not to be thought of. Leadership that
would commit them to it was impossible.
To the point of desperation partisan zeal
was not to be excited. Leaders, indeed,
were only for a season, and then only be-
cause they were indispensable. Organi-
zation for a purpose did not pledge continu-
ance for any other. Each movement was
independent, and not connected with any
scheme of personal ambition or emolument.
Men were wiser than sheep, who follow
their leader whithersoever he may please
to lead them. With what devotedness the
woolly hosts adhere to their wether ; and
rush after him, to speak with the rugged
philosopher, through good report and
through bad report, were it into safe
shelter and green thymy nooks or intp

Men wiser
than sheep.

A Significant Illustration 209

asphaltic lakes and the jaws of devouring
lions. It is worth repeating, that, if you
hold a stick before the leader, so that he
by necessity leaps in passing you, and then
withdraw your stick, the flock will neverthe-
less all leap as he did, and the thousandth
sheep shall be found impetuously vaulting impetuously
over air, as the first did over an otherwise ^ot"r''a^.
impassable barrier. The people delighted
in this illustration of leadership and blind
following. In their amphitheatres they re-
peated it, again and again, for amusement
and instruction. Sensitive to satire, and
proud of their personality, the lesson im-
pressed itself upon them in a manner to
make them distrustful of unnecessary disci-
pline. When they accepted a leader, it was
unavoidable, and not without qualification.
Following last year was not a reason why
they should do the same this. In conse-
quence, dissolution was as inevitable as
organization, and a result of it. The ambi-
tious demagogue and subtle priest did not
find them plastic in their dextrous hands. Not Elastic
As said, they were thoughtful, individual, hamu.
self-respecting, responsible human beings —
not poor, silly, timid sheep, to be led and
herded and butchered by kings and priests
and heroes without questioning.

TERESTING.

21 o Sub-Ccelum

iNDivmuAi. This individuality made them interest-

ITY Made

Them In- insT. Eveii thc average man was not com-
monplace from conformity, nor the most
inferior servile by submission. While of
the mass, they were separable, if not self-
separated. They avoided, as said, that gen-
eral language and general manner which
tended to hide all that was peculiar —
in other words, whatever was uppermost
in their own minds, after their own indi-
Everyman vidual manner. Every man, in their phi-
fwT" losophy, as expressed by the philosopher,
was a new creation, could do something
best, had some intellectual modes and
forms, or a character the general result of
all, such as no other in the universe had,
which needs made him engaging, and a
curious study to every inquisitive mind.
They did not look at life as a game of
checkers, as reformers are apt to do, where
every man has the same fixed powers and
the same even line of moves. They re-
garded life, to use the illustration of an-
L,yi like a otlicr, not as a game of checkers, but as a
fw" game of chess, where every piece has in-
dividual characteristics, where every pawn
has a chance to be a queen, where the
powers and possibility of each piece change
with every move or change of square, in-

The Typical Citizen 211

fluenced by past, present, and future, so
that every piece may develop into any
other by recognition of the law of inequal- The /aw of
ity that presides over individuality, and "^^ '*^'
each move opens new, divine, and won-
drous possibilities. That view of life
taught each man, if possible, to put a just
estimate upon himself, to live appropriately,
and to realize, if practicable, his own ideal.
He was made to believe, as was truly said,
that his real influence was measured by
his treatment of himself; that he must
first find the man in himself, if he would
inspire manliness ; that like begets like the ukehegeti
world over. The typical citizen, conse-
quently, stood eminently a man amongst
his fellows. Genuineness identified him.
He did not want any recognition he did
not deserve. If influence or fame came to
him it was his desert. It was not asked
which side he was on. Though possessing
the humility of true learning, his mental
enlargement was discerned and appre-
ciated. Better than fame, it had been
truly said, was the silent recognition of
superior knowledge. It was something to something
be a superior man in Sub-Ccelum. His rwr man.
rank was that of a citizen of the universe,
whose mind, as described, was made to

2J2 Sub-Ccelum

be spectator of all, inquisitor of all, and
whose philosophy compared with others as
astronomy with other sciences ; taking
post at the centre, and, as from a specular
mount, sending sovereign glances to the
circumference of things. Serene, above
the clouds of passion and contending inter-
ests, he preserved, to use the happy lan-
Equifoiseof guagc of auothcr, that equipoise of man-
ner which told of an equanimity of life.
His stature had been determined by possi-
bility. He had made the most of himself
within his power. He had been open and
receptive, and had invited understanding
from all things and all men. Nothing was
too small for his consideration, nor too
great for his admiration. There was no
challenge of superiority, no apparent con-
sciousness of supremacy. Any one might
approach him, but no one could appropriate
him. Conspiracies did not disturb him, as
from their nature they must fall apart.
He did not perceive slights, nor care to
Envy comprehend their spirit. Envy was oblique
'miration, admiration. Because great, he did not
contend with smaller men in small things.
The platform was not to his taste, however
worthy of it. Exhibition of himself was a
cheapening of his character. The essen-

Not for Display 21^

tial was occult, and did not care to be made
self-conscious. It was for inspiration, and
not for display. The causes of things are
silent, however tremendous may be their
results. He did not exact, being sure of a
full measure of whatever was his due. De-
serving was fate. Impatience was weak- zie^rorv
ness, and evidence of self-distrust, -pjje """■^'''''"
courage of his heart was for worthy enter-
prises, and could not be wasted upon
trivialities. He did not hurt his powers
by an ignoble use of them. Wings for
possible flight into the empyrean were not
to be impaired by rude uses. His best
faculties were for best work, and were not
dissipated upon nothings. He did not care
to usurp or invade ground already too
well occupied. Room, of all things, was
what he most wanted, for growth and
development.

While absolute personal freedom wasTHELAwoF
secured to all men, no attempt was ever
made to produce social equality ; that had
been left exclusively to self-regulation. The
beautiful and interesting law of diversity in
all things had been established from the
foundation. Out in the forest, under the
spreading tree, looking up at the luxuriant

214 Sub-Ccelum

foliage, you may not think of the difference
between the leaves ; but pull down a limb,
and spend an hour comparing them ; you
find, much as they resemble, that no two

Plumage of arc preciscly alike. Examine the plumage
of the owl that you cruelly brought down
with your rifle ; every feather of his beau-
tiful dress differs from every other ; and,
what is more remarkable, every fibre of
every feather is another feather, still more
delicate, difTering from every other, all of
which together yield to the pressure of
your hand like floss silk. No wonder he
fell upon the mischievous mole or mouse as
noiselessly as the shadow of a cloud. Go
down to the seashore ; the tide is out ;
there is an apparent waste of white sand,
a dull extent of uniformity; but stretch
yourself on the beach, which the innumer-
able differing waves have beaten to incom-
parable smoothness, and examine leisurely,
with a good glass, a few hundred of the in-

Grainsof finite grains which you thought to be the
same, and you discover that they differ,
that each is differently shaped, each holds
the light differently, and, what is more
wonderful than all, each appears to be a
shell, or part of a shell, which was once the
abode of a creature, and a different crea-

sand.

Could They Exchange Souls? 21^

ture from every other inhabiting, or that
ever inhabited, any other shell of the
ocean. Look into the crowded street ; the
men are all men ; they all walk upright ;
they might wear each other's clothes with-
out serious inconvenience ; but could they
exchange souls? What professor, ex-
claimed the philosopher, has ever yet been
able to classify the wondrous variety oiThewm.
human character ? How very limited as etyo/human

ckaracter.

yet the nomenclature ! We know there
are in our moral dictionary the religious,
the irreligious, the virtuous, the vicious,
the prudent, the profligate, the liberal, the
avaricious, and so on to a few names, but
the comprehended varieties under these
terms — their mixtures, which, like colors,
have no names — their strange complexi-
ties and intertwining of virtues and vices,
graces and deformities, diversified and
mingled, and making individualities — yet
of all the myriads of mankind that ever Themyriads

, t ^ 1 i>i of mankind

were, not one the same, and scarcely alike : »»/««■,
how little way has science gone to their
discovery, and to mark their delineation !
A few sounds, designated by a few letters,
speak all thought, all literature, that ever
was or will be. The variety is infinite,
and ever creating a new infinite ; and there

2i6 Sub-Ccelum

is some such mystery in the endless variety
Endless va- of humaH character. Such endless variety

riety con- , - . , , ,

spimms. was coHspicuously seen m the population
of Sub-Ccelum. It was impossible, with
their intellectual activity and prevailing
disposition to make the most of them-
selves, that it could be otherwise. Free-
dom of choice in vocation, avocation, and
association only made the natural dissimi-
larity more apparent. Freedom, freedom,
without infringement of the privileges,
rights, or liberty of others, was the pride
of every Sub-Coelumite. Fetters, gyves,
shackles, were his aversion : he would not
wear them. Badges, even, he hated, as
compromising his freedom. His sense of
liberty was shown in an incident in one
of the foreign revolutions, when so many
persons of different views assumed the tri-
color for protection. One well-known per-
son refused to wear it. A workingman
meeting him in the street addressed him :
Reasonfor Citizcn ! why do you not wear the badge of
'oe tadg^" freedom .' To which the distinguished per-
son replied that it was to show to the world
that he was free ! In exact proportion to
their happy and complete freedom was
their unqualified tolerance and liberality.
Intolerance was so utterly absent from the

One Compendious Unity 21 j

spirit and habit of their lives that they did
not even comprehend it. Why another
should be deprived of what they enjoyed
themselves was one of the profound mys-
teries. A distinguished professor in a for-
eign university showed a visitor a very
pleasing print, entitled, Toleration. A ToUrattm.
Roman Catholic priest, a Lutheran divine,
a Calvinist minister, a Quaker, a Jew, and
a philosopher, were represented sitting
round the same table, over which a winged
figure hovered in the attitude of protection.
For this harmless print the artist was im-
prisoned, and, having attempted to escape,
was sentenced to drag the boats on the
banks of the river, with robbers and mur-
derers ; and there soon died from exhaus-
tion and exposure. The Christianity of
the Sub-Coelumite had survived all the
barbarisms of other forms, and was broad
enough to include all differences in one
compendious unity — his philosophy and
religion cherishing and protecting it, as
the figure in the picture.

Behind all their civilization, and apparent the
in every detail of it, was the healthful habit habit of

OcCUFA-

of occupation. It made men self-depen- tion.
dent, self-sacrificing, intelligent, and happy.

21 8 Sub-Ccelum

Idleness was disreputable. Homes for
the Indolent were not established to ele-
vate it, but to warn against it, and to bring
additional shame upon slothfulness and in-
application. The servitude of involuntary

The vice of labor was a quick corrective of the vice
of indolence. Poverty was rare, and not a
disgrace, except when no effort was made
to escape from it. Wants were few and
inexpensive. The necessaries of life were
cheap and abundant. The vices were not in
the market, being largely eliminated. Great
sums formerly paid for them were directed
to better uses. Appetites were sound,
and did not require costly stimulation.
Like the passions, they were largely sub-
servient to reason, but in exceptional cases.
Enjoyments were found satisfying in pro-
portion as they were pure. Evil propensi-
ties and depraved affections were believed
to be perversions wholly out of nature.
Observation of the habits of animals was

A ussonin a perpetual lesson in moderation. The
beasts that perish were decent compared
with gross men. The habit of uprightness
kept them in line from the centre of the
earth to the top of heaven. Hours of labor
being few, occupation in the main was vol-
untary. Well-applied skill and industry

Every Man a Laborer 21 g

easily supplied all that was necessary. All
labor was alike honorable. Poverty was
not dishonorable in itself, but only where
it arose from idleness, intemperance, ex-
travagance, and folly, a maxim of theirs de-
scended from the ancients. There were no Every me
drones, as every one did somethmg for ■a.thmgMa
living. Whether with brain or hands, every ''^'"^'
man was a laborer. Sympathy and frater-
nity were inevitable ; contempt, one of
another, impossible. Whether in the gar-
den, the workshop, the senate, or the field,
each one was accepted a man, and was ex-
pected to walk worthily. The grub in the
fresh furrow, and the blackbird that de-
voured it, were resources for his intellect,
as the food his labor brought him was sus-
tenance for his body. As he trod the
clods, the earth moved to meet him.
Whatever his occupation, when he stepped
out under the blue dome, and looked up at
the galaxies, he beheld, with the enraptured
poet, the Street-lamps of the City of God.
His mind his kingdom was, and not the hu mind

.his kingdom

shop or farm, ever and ever. He was less was.
for the morrow than for the everlasting.
Leisure, to those who knew rightly how to
employ it, they held with the philosopher
to be the most beautiful of possessions ;

220 Sub-Ccelum

yet without this knowledge it became bur-
densome and a fate. One must, they said,
espouse some pursuit, taking it kindly at
heart and with enthusiasm. Fruit he must
bear or perish of lassitude and ennui. Lei-
sure to be perfectly enjoyed must be earned
Letmre that — then it is divine. It opens the windows

is divine. - , , . , , . .

or promise, and receives what it invites, to
fullness. Rightly employed, as in Sub-
Coelum, it fills society — to borrow just
words — with gentlemen, of inherent self-
respect and inherent courtesy ; it fills it,
also, with ladies, of purest mould and di-
vinest exemplariness. It made the people
self-sacrificing, with opportunity. It was
a maxim with them, that man is never
wrong while he lives for others ; that the
philosopher who contemplates from the
rock is a less noble image than the sailor
who struggles with the storm. Recogni-
tion or compensation of humane service
was not in the least a consideration. The
Lessmqfthe Icsson of the Wisc Man, in language and

wise tnan. . , i r ^ rT^^

spirit, was ever before them : There was
a little city, and few men within it ; and
there came a great king against it, and be-
sieged it, and built great bulwarks against
it : Now there was found in it a poor wise
man, and he by his wisdom delivered the

Importance of Habit 221

city ; yet no man remembered that same
poor man.

The frequent use of the words probably probably
and perhaps, and their equivalents, was ha?s. ™'
characteristic of the people. It showed
that consideration and deliberation were
habitual in their speech. Care was taken
to impress upon the young the importance
of these words. They were printed upon
cards and hung upon the walls of school-
rooms. Sentences illustrating their value
and correct employment were written on
the blackboards. In these ways the diffi-
culty or impossibility of absolute know-
ledge was stamped upon the growing mind,
and the necessity of circumspection in
speech impressively enforced. They were
taught the importance of habit — in that
as in everything. Frequent reiteration
fixed in the memory the valuable precept, vaiuaiie
Choose the course which is best, and habit
will make it easy. Truth holding the first
place in their system of education, ap-
proaches to it were opened and guarded in
every practicable manner. Frequent repe-
tition was required to make the pupils ac-
curate, and to impress them with a sense of
accountability. Dogmatic statement, from

222 Sub-Ccelum

its very nature, was suspected. It closed
every avenue but the one traveled over by
him that made it. It also had an element
of violence in it that was inimical to just

Disfuiatim. thinking. Disputation was its life. There
is an account of an orator who was wonder-
fully choleric by nature and indulgence ;
to one who supped in his company, a man
of gentle and sweet conversation, and who,
that he might not move him, approved and
consented to all that he said ; he, impa-
tient that his ill-humor should thus spend
itself without aliment : For the love of
the gods ! contradict me in something, said
he, that we may be two ! When thinkers
met together to think, or dilate, they did
not, so to speak, answer one another ; they
permitted to thought the utmost freedom,
consistent with just intellectual hospital-
ity, and did not antagonize it ; they might
differ from it, but not by direct reference.
Thought stimulated but did not provoke.
Disputation was out of the question in in-
dependent thinking. While each one was
free to express himself, a like liberty was

Dogmatic not denied to any other. Dogmatic dis-
cussion was not consistent with their con-
ception of intellectual growth. Where
each one knew a little, and no one pre-

Avoided Detraction 22^

sumed to know all, the way to a fair under-
standing was not difiScult. Feuds were
discouraged in every possible way. Hard
names were not given to men and things,
certain of their reaction, as of their injus-
tice. The habit was to say the most fa- Tkehantta
vorable things of others, and to avoid fi^tkingt
detraction. If a harmful thing was idly
or viciously said of a neighbor, some one
present was sure to make a note of it. If
not apologized for and withdrawn, account-
ability for it was fixed. Dangerous gossip
in this way was largely prevented. Truth
and falsehood were discriminated. Visit-
ing faults and sins upon those innocent of
them was not a fashion of general adop-
tion. Their religion was against it as
well as their habit and philosophy. They
looked to their own conduct, rather than
to their neighbors' : for it they were ac- Accoutuaiie
countable, and not for theirs. Ever Y^e.'s,-<mn conduct.
ent with them, and not to be forgotten,
was their profound sense of personal re-
sponsibility — the foundation and super-
structure of their ethics and religion.
All of which promoted good neighbor-
ship and inspired security. The man, they
said, who delights in giving you full credit
for every excellence you possess, rather

224 Sub-Ccelum

than in belittling you by an exaggeration
A treasure, of your foibles, is a treasure ; and the pro-
tection you feel in the neighborhood of
such a man, law could not give you. He
shuts your gate, he protects your child, he
guards your reputation ; he does the fair
and generous thing. If men were weighed
and not counted, such an one would over-
balance many of poorer material. A wise
man, having a farm to sell, bid the crier
proclaim also that it had a good neighbor.

The Social It was another of their maxims, that mis-

CONSCIENCE. 1 . T n 1 .

understandmgs and neglect occasion more
mischief in the world than even malice and
wickedness, and they looked to them es-
pecially. Only the very few indeed, by
what has been called the alchemy of pri-
vate malice, concocted a subtle poison from
the ordinary contacts of life. For the fun
of the thing, not for the mischief of it, the
world there, as everywhere, prattled on.
Sometimes it was cruel ; but it was the
cruelty of the thoughtless boy. It did not
much concern itself, for the time being,
about justice or injustice. To the sources
it did not much care to go if it could. It
preferred to see with its eyes rather than
with its head, — by its senses rather than

Idle Personalities 22^

by its reason. It saw outwardly, and talked

for recreation — irresponsibly, too often,

and without reflection. When it criticised

or ridiculed, it did not always consider that

the best continually blunder and stumble, The best

and only learned to keep their feet by fall- St&.""^

ing. Morally as well as physically. If an

invisible knocking machine tapped each

one on the head the instant and every

time he meant evil or thought wrong, what

a getting up there would be ! What a

scene the street would present ! To the

church or the market the same. The

world laughs; — with us, and then at us.

Careless words sometimes left their sting,

and rankled long after they were uttered.

Repeated, the wound was less curable.

Thy friend has a friend, and thy friend's

friend has a friend ; be discreet ; was a

saying they did not always carry in their

minds. The inward wounds that are given

by the inconsiderate insults of wit, they did incamider-

- , , , , ate insuUs of

not always wisely remember are as danger- ■mu.
ous as those given by oppression to infe-
riors ; as long in healing, and perhaps
never forgiven. Particular pains were
taken to impress these truths upon the less
reflective. They were taught the danger
of idle personalities, and that the mischiefs

226 Sub-Coelum

they created were sure to be permanent if
not soon corrected. A habit of often re-
viewing their social relations was urged,
Exfiana. and pretty generally adopted. Explanation
"^' was promptly made whenever it was

thought just and merited. If the slightest
cloud was discovered on an acquaintance's
face upon meeting him, time was not lost
in removing it. If avoidance was percepti-
ble in the conduct of any one, the reason
of it was sought, and good relations were
restored. The social conscience was
quickened and enlightened by these good
offices. While it was not possible, with
the utmost circumspection, to altogether
prevent misunderstandings, it was found
easy to correct them by going a little more
than half way towards it. The conscious-
ness of possible offense was enough to
prompt explanation and apology. While
words and circumstances were remembered,
and not aggravated or perverted by brood-
ing, candor and truthfulness were sure to
Malice make all plain and satisfactory. Malice

thwarted. ... -

was thwarted by anticipation and preven-
tion, and memory was not even disturbed
by the remembrance of misconception or
diflference. A better understanding was
established, and the friendship temporarily

Kindness to Children 22j

lost was made permanent. Neglects were
atoned for by greater consideration and
kindness. Affection was fed by tenderness,
and starved hearts restored by bounteous
sympathy. Ill-treatment of children was
one of the gravest of social offenses. It
was considered a mean and cowardly in- a grave so-
iquity. One of the distinguishing marks
of a thorough gentleman was his consider-
ate kindness to children. Their favorite
novelist had said — a favorite on account
of his searching, sympathetic, profound
humanity — that in the little world in
which children have their existence, there
is nothing so finely perceived and so finely
felt as injustice. It may be only small in-
justice that the child can be exposed to ;
but the child is small, and its world is
small, and its rocking-horse stands as many
hands high, according to scale, as a big-
boned coursing hunter.

Amusements were simple — as far as amuse-
possible educational and hygienic — and
adapted to the multitude. The tone of
their theatres was generally elevated — in
no sense degrading. Comedy and tragedy
of the highest order were preferred. Stage
dress was limited to decency. Representa-

228 Sub-Ccelum

tions that would occasion a blush the pub-
lic taste prohibited. Applause was judi-
cious, and never clamorous. Doors were
closed before the performance commenced.

TheOieatre. Disturbance from going in and out was not
permitted. People went to see the play,
and not to display themselves. Showy
dress was considered vulgar — refined peo-
ple avoided it. At the opera, greater free-
dom was indulged ; the audience being a
larger part of the entertainment. Eyes
were feasted at the same time that minds
and tastes were gratified. As before said,
the people most delighted in oratorio, and
their dress and behavior were much the
same as at the theatre. Too elaborate
adornment made them self-conscious, and
limited their enjoyment of the higher, bet-

The circus, tcr music. The circus was more generally
popular than any other entertainment. Its
character brought together great audiences
— appealing especially to the senses. The
masses of humanity, comfortably seated
and happy, were a great spectacle. Twenty
thousand was not an unusual audience.
Physical education was inspired by the
amphitheatre, and added interest was given
to the gymnasium. Pedestrianism was a
favorite amusement and exercise of the

Pedestrianism 229

people. It taught grace, and gave vigor
and health to the constitution. It stirred
the mind, whetted the appetite, and drove
away melancholy. So common was the
healthful diversion that no able-bodied per-
son thought of spending a day without a
long walk. Their beautiful roads were Their teau.
most inviting to pedestrians. In favorable
weather, walkers were never out of view.
Women as well as men enjoyed the pas-
time. The grace and beauty of their
movements were a perpetual charm.
Springs of sweet water were at convenient
distances on the highways, affording de-
lightful resting-places. Manly men and
womanly women exchanged courtesies.
Bright eyes and rosy cheeks and musical
voices animated these natural and acci-
dental meetings. Cupid was close about,
and Hymen not far off, and nobody could Hymen not
guess what a morning would bring forth.
Dancing, of course, was a chosen amuse-
ment ; but it was scrupulously limited and
guarded. Public balls, where anybody
might be admitted for the money, were not
tolerated — even by the most inferior of the
population. The universal self-respect
tabooed all such degradation. Pyrotechnic
displays were common, especially on anni-

2_jo Sub-Coelum

versaries and other popular occasions.
Great crowds assembled to witness them.
Perfect order prevailed in these street as-
semblages. Not a word was spoken that
was unfit to be heard, nor a glance or
movement ventured that could offend.

Kiteflying. Kite flying was universal ; it seemed to be
the one outdoor amusement that every-
body loved. Old and young participated
in it. Their kites were mechanical and
scientific wonders. They were ingeniously
constructed, and rose as naturally and
gracefully as birds. Some of the designs
were very beautiful and suggestive. For
hours and hours together all ages amused
themselves with all manner of aerial contri-
vances. Spelling-contests had long been
kept up, and the people never wearied of
attending them. A high premium was put
upon perfect spelling. It was felt to be a
shame not to be able to spell any word in
common use amongst intelligent people.
Rewards were paid to perfect spellers, and
distinction was conferred upon them.

Reading. Reading, also, was a public exercise, and
was of great service in general education.
As so great a part of their pleasure and in-
struction came through reading, the great-
est effort was made to improve themselves

The True Standard

231

in it. In the book of Neheraiah they
found the true standard of reading aloud
— how Ezra, the learned and pious priest,
and the Levites, read to the people the
law of Moses : they read in the book, in
the law of God, distinctly, and gave the
sense, and caused the people to understand
the reading. The rule of Ezra and the The rule oj
priests was the rule adopted throughout
the Commonwealth, which, by its very
nature, discouraged anything like elocu-
tion. It produced a multitude of good oral
readers, who penetrated the words of the
printed page, perceived their sense, and
participated their feeling, and were able,
unconsciously, to interpret, reveal, and en-
kindle them in the reading. Chemical ex-
periments were constantly made for the
edification and amusement of the people.
They were taught the chemical elements, Theckemi-
and all their known offices in nature. Such
practical instruction helped them in out-
door observation, which, at last, was their
best resource and entertainment. Some
pains have already been taken to show the
reader how the population were interested
in everything that existed — from creature
to man, from atom to sun, from sun to
universe. Their habits of observation

2^2 Sub-Caelum

made their minds acute, and their close

sympathy with nature exalted their souls.

wiihGod To repeat, they were with God in His

in His , __, - _ , ,

works. works. Each season produced its won-
. ders. To see a noble forest, they said,
wreathed in icy gems, was one of the
transcendent glories of creation. You
looked through long arcades of iridescent
light, and the vision had an awful majesty,
compared with which the most brilliant
cathedral windows paled their ineffectual
fires. It was the crystal palace of Jehovah.

Drawing, In the provincc of Kadoe is the great
AND Sculp- temple of Boro-bodo, described by travel-
ers in the tropics. It is built upon a
small hill, and consists of a central dome
and seven ranges of terraced walls cover-
ing the slope of the hill and forming open
galleries each below the other, and com-
municating by steps and gateways. The
central dome is fifty feet in diameter;
around it is a triple circle of seventy-two
towers, and the whole building is six hun-
dred and twenty feet square, and about one
hundred feet high. In the terrace walls
are niches containing cross-legged figures,
larger than life, to the number of about
four hundred, and both sides of all the

TURE.

Sculptured Hill-Temple 2^3

terrace walls are covered with bas-re-
lief s^ crowded with figures, and carved in
hard stone ; and which must, altogether,
occupy an extent of nearly three miles !
The amount of human labor and skill ex-
pended on the Great Pyramid sinks into
insignificance when compared with that re-
quired to complete this sculptured hill-
temple in the interior of a tropical island.
A philosopher told a story of one of the phiUso-
lords of session in his country, a strange, "^ ' ' '^^'
rough, gruff judge, who was in the habit of
taking sketches of people in court with a
pen and ink. One day he asked the usher.
Who 's that man yonder .? That 's the plain-
tiff, my lord, was the answer. Oh, he 's
the plaintiff, is he .' he 's a queer-look-
ing fellow ; the Court will decide against
him and see how he '11 look ! History goes
not back to the time when art in many of
its diversified forms was not practiced.
In Sub-Ccelum the taste for it was univer- The artistic

- , 1 • •. 1 taste univer-

sal, and great progress was made in its cul- sai.
tivation. The artist's eye and habit had
been quickened and strengthened by the
generous system of instruction. The prin-
ciples and practice of drawing were carried
into all their schools and intelligently
taught. Perhaps one pupil in fifty discov-

234 Sub-Coelum

ered ability, and was encouraged ; if one
in ten thousand showed genius, there was
hope ; but the multitude was benefited.
Taste was cultivated if nothing more.
Adepts in drawing were not uncommon.
The little books in side-pockets contained
many admirable sketches. They revealed
Searching the Searching observation of faces that the

observation , _ ,

of/aces, judge m the story exhibited. Thumb-nails
were shaped to use in sketching. A very
small card in the artist's hand would re-
ceive and retain necessary outlines. In
public places there were 'conveniences for
posting anonymous and other original
drawings. Very acute many of them
were, and taught as the most logical dis-
courses could not. A little picture would
illumine a public question. Caricature
was of course indulged, but not danger-
Private ously uor liceutiously. Private character,
sacred. uulcss Connected with the public in a way
to occasion mischief, was sacred to it.
Women also, whatever the folly to be ex-
posed, were never subjects of ridicule or
open attack. There were limits that the
public had severely prescribed, and they
were rarely transcended. The artist who
misused his pencil or brush became odious.
He was not tolerated. If incorrigible he

Human Nature Exalted 2_J5

was locked up. The public taste ran to
the virtues, and delighted to see them rep-
resented. Infinitely were they exhibited,
in pencil and in color. Human nature
was constantly being exalted by these rep-
resentations. Sculpture, especially, ^t^- hcw scui^-
ployed itself in embodying the highest ^«^'"''«-
qualities and achievements of manhood
and womanhood. Martyrs to reason, to
humanity, and to personal freedom, were
the favorite subjects of superior genius.
Heads and figures of Socrates, of Jesus
Christ, and of John Brown, were to be seen
in public places. The brow of the first
appeared the home of intellect ; the face of
the second shone with a supernatural light ;
the front of the third was rugged, like the
brow of Hercules. These representations,
idealizations, realizations, were instructive instnauve
and elevating according to the mood or ex- ting.
tremity of the beholder. An intellect in
shadow, ill-recognized and unrequited for
the time being, gained courage in contem-
plating a head of the brave philosopher ; a
poor fellow, feeling himself oppressed, re-
covered hope as he paused before an ideal
representation of his hero ; a woman, in
anguish, uncovered before a figure of the
immaculate Saviour, and cast an upward

2)6

Sub-Ccelum

Blessidie
art.

Sculptural
maniMda-

Capable

draughts-

men.

look of adoration that no eye witnessed
without sympathy. Blessed be art, they
said in their hearts, that hfts us up when
we are cast down ; that puts a hope into
discouraged souls ; that exalts wretched-
ness to a place in the bosom of Deity.
There was not any person or place that
did not feel the pervading influence.
Homes were adorned by it, and flooded
with a healthy moral atmosphere. Not
one but had ideals of virtue that were per-
petually teaching. Shame covered the
face of wrong in their pure presence.
Sculptural manipulation of clay was one
of the common amusements. The expert
would take in his hand a portion of
kneaded earth, and exhibit the passions and
emotions one after another, as they were
asked for. Grief would drop a tear over
the thumb-nail, and Santorini's laughing-
muscle show itself in the face. Horrible
were some of the faces made, and lovely
were others as genius could make them.
Draughtsmen, in goodly number, were
alike capable in their department. On
the blackboard, or other suitable drawing
surface, they gave to observers whatever
expression or outline they requested. An-
imals were drawn with human-like faces,

Quality Preferred 2^7

and men with the faces of animals. Wings
were transferred from birds to reptiles.
There was no limit put upon these diver-
sions except by time. Audiences broke
up with abated respiration.

Books they had in abundance — too not ambi.
great abundance, they constantly felt. great°li-
With all their weeding, the number was
not lessened. They were not ambitious
of great libraries, quality being preferred
to quantity. Their aim was to preserve
only the best. They realized that minds,
like some seed-plants, delight in sporting ;
there is great variety in thinking, but the
few great ideas remain the same. They are The/ew
constantly reappearing in all ages and in all ^"^
literatures, modified by new circumstances
and new uses ; though in new dresses, they
are still the old originals Like the virtues,
they have great and endless services to
perform in this world. Now they appear
in philosophy, now in fiction ; the moralist
uses them, and the buffoon ; dissociate
them, analyze them, strip them of their
innumerable dresses, and they are recog-
nized and identified — the same from the The same
foundation and forever. If a discrimina.- /mndaticn.
ting general reader for forty years had noted

2^8

Sub-Caelum

their continual reappearance in the tons of
books he had perused upon all subjects, he
would be astonished at their varied and
Thinkers multiplied uses. Thinkers he would per-
ousthan. haps find more numerous than thoughts ;
yet of the former how few. The original
thought of one age diffuses itself through
the next, and expires in commonplace-^
to be born again when occasion necessi-
tates and God wills. At each birth it is
a new creation — to the brain it springs
from and to the creatures it is to enlighten
and serve. If the writer or speaker could
know how often it has done even hack-ser-
vice in the ages before him, he would repen-
tantly blot it out, or choke in its utterance.
In the unpleasant discovery, that indispen-
sable and inspiring quality, self-conceit,
would suffer a wound beyond healing. In
literature, as a rule, the oldest books were
preferred ; in science the newest. The
classic, they said, was always modern. Sim-
plicity they considered, with the critic, the
last attainment of progressive literature : as
men are very long afraid of being natural,
from the dread of being taken for ordinary.
They accepted the definition of literature to
be the written thoughts and feelings of in-
telligent men and women arranged in a way

Simplicity
t}u last at-
tainment.

Perspicuity Essential 2)g

to give pleasure to the reader. Pleasure
could not be had where there was affectation,
and where meaning had to be groped for.
Perspicuity was an essentiality. The mis-
erable habit of some biographers of search-
ing out the weaknesses of authors with their
audacious dark-lanterns, was not in favor in
Sub-Coelum. Men had a right, they said,
to be themselves, if they were authors :
and they were not to be called hypocrites
if their thoughts and conduct did not al- ThmgUs

■r , e ^ I . 11. . and conduct.

ways agree. It was from this sublime in-
evitable simulation of literature, they said
and repeated, that the world gets its lay
working ideal perpetually renewed. As
yet, a human creature can only sometimes
be quite good in the still act of writing.
By a happy error those who do not write
mix up the man and the author, where the
difference is not forced on them, and think-
ing there are beings so much better than
the common, they try fitfully to live after
the style of books. If the illusion should
be destroyed, and it ever came to be univer-
sally known that literature is intentional LUeraiwe

11 1 . 1*1 1*1. 1 intentioTtal

only, that the writers of these high judg- o»iy-
ments, exact reflections, beautiful flights of
sentiment, are in act simply as other men,
how is the great bulk to be stung into try-

240 Sub-Coelum

Metaphysics, ing after progress ? Metaphysics, having
long ceased to be considered a science,
books on the general subject were scarce ;
they had mouldered away, or been con-
signed to the paper-makers. The same
Political judgment of political economy had reduced
economy. ^^ books upou that subject to a few. The
political economist, they said, looked upon
men too much as machines, and his system,
they thought, contained too many conflict-
ing calculations and theories to be useful.
Masterpieces of authors were scrupulously
treasured ; indeed it was their rule, with
voluminous writers, to preserve only their
greatest achievements. Those books that
the ages had passed upon were accepted as
indubitably worthy. They believed with
No luck in one of thc greatest that there was no luck
utZim." in literary reputation. They who make up
the final verdict upon every book are not
the partial and noisy readers of the hour
when it appears ; but a court as of angels,
a public not to be bribed, not to be en-
treated, and not to be overawed, decides
upon every man's title to fame. Only
those books come down which deserve to
last.

The Press. The tonc of the press was such as might

The Antidote 241

be expected from the character and intelli-
gence of the people. It was moderate, but
wholly and habitually free. As well said,
a press is mischievous only where it is par-
tially and irregularly so. Just as a draught
gives you a cold, while even a storm in the
open air is innocuous. If the press were
free for a fortnight only in every year
there would be an annual revolution. Its m duty.
duty, as defined by a distinguished mem-
ber, was to make war upon Privilege — to
see that a ruling class was not formed in
the State, to reduce the functions of offi-
cials, to eliminate from the popular appre-
hension the illusions of political supersti-
tions. It adopted as a maxim, The less
government the better ; the fewer laws
and the less confided power. The antidote
to the abuse of formal government, they
said, was the influence of private character,
the growth of the individual. Journalism,
adopting the language of a critic, was puchedon a
pitched on a low key, and set about on the ^'^ '^^'
ordinary tone of a familiar letter or conver-
sation ; as that from which there was little
hazard of falling, even in moments of neg-
ligence, and from which any rise that
could be effected must always be easy and
conspicuous. A man fully possessed of

242 Sub-Ccelum

his subject, and confident of his cause,
may almost always write with vigor and
effect, if he can get over the temptation of
writing finely, and really confine himself
to the strong and clear exposition of the
Accuracy matter he has to bring forward. Accuracy

and definite- , , - , r a\ n •

ness. and definiteness were 01 the first impor-

tance in their journalism. Violence was
suspected — even strong language — ex-
cept in rarest cases. Italics were not
used, as every word was expected to itali-
cize itself. Intelligence was discriminated
and severely sifted. News was not any-
thing that might be invented, embellished,
or perverted. It was the rule to publish
only what was literally true. News gath-
erers were instructed to be direct and con-
cise. A column about a trifle was not ac-
ceptable. Ability in condensation was
preferred before facility or felicity. While
personal items were sought and desired,
great care was taken to print only such as
were respectful and creditable. Journal-

Mottoand ism generally had adopted as a motto and

ride o/con- , r i r r

duct. rule of conduct a sentence from a famous

writer : Private vices, however detestable,
have not dignity sufificient to attract the
censure of the press, unless they are united
with the power of doing some signal mis-

Chronicle of Perdition 24)

chief to the community. Objectionable
matter, from its nature, found a place in
The Chronicle of Perdition, a journal that,
in spite of public opinion, found a suffi-
ciency of readers to support it. Alas!
there were people, even in Sub-Coelum,
with prurient tastes and appetites, who de- Prurient

,.,,. .^.., , .. tastes and

lighted in recitals of evil and gross crimi- appetites.
nality. A journal of general circulation
was called Information for the People. It
was crowded with condensed facts upon all
sorts of subjects, and formed a literature of
its own. It was intelligently indexed, and
had grown into many large volumes. It
was a mine of information, that was con-
stantly consulted by all classes. But the
most popular of all their journals bore the
significant title of Confidential Letters to
the Public. Each number of it contained
a hundred or more free communications,
from as many persons and places, upon a
great variety of subjects. It was some-
times called The National Barometer. It The Nation,
indicated the matters upon which the pop- ter.
ulation were generally thinking, and es-
pecially those about which they were most
uneasy. Questions were discussed, but
not in an elaborate manner. Space was
too valuable to permit the inundating

244 Sub-Ccelum

method to any. Grievances of all sorts
were acutely and forcibly presented.
Function- Functionarics, especially, consulted the
suuedit. suggestive journal tor cues, and assembly-
men referred to it as authority. No wor-
thy subject, of social or political interest,
escaped investigation in Confidental Let-
ters. Communications were anonymous,
but the names of authors were registered,
and produced, if in extremity they were
called for. It was not possible for any in-
telligent citizen to avoid being interested
in its contents. It determined for him the
average judgment upon current topics ; it
It gauged put his finger upon the public pulse ; it
liona,^ gauged apprehension and anxiety with ap-

anxiety.

proximate accuracy. Nothing unhealth-
fully stimulating, as a rule, was found in
their newspapers. Sensation was not in
favor; truth and decency were elevated
above everything. They were not ambi-
tious of the picturesque or startling in
their annals ; on the contrary, they pre-
ferred the commonplace and tiresome, as
more significant of contentment and pros-
perity.

Results of In the evolutionary processes of this pe-

EVOLUTION. ....... ^

cuuar civilization some unexpected changes

Changed Places 24^

had resulted. The dogs did not bark
noisily, as had been their wont ; the moon,
even, did not disturb them. They contem-
plated Luna, but without demonstration.
The cats, likewise, were considerate of the
peace of neighborhoods. Men, many of ^«« lecame
them, changed places with women, and
became essentially domestic. Household
duties, in a great degree, had passed into
their hands. They discovered a fondness
for them, as to the other sex they became
distasteful. In well-to-do households every
department but the nursery was surren-
dered to them. They were strong, and
could lift, and climb, and stoop, without
difficulty or detriment. The kitchen, es- ThekUchm
pecially, was their domain. Cooking, as main.
before observed, was a very high art in
Sub-Coelum. Learning had been devoted
to its development. Chemistry, particu-
larly, had been ransacked, and its mysteries
applied extensively. Kitchens were lab-
oratories and museums. Contrivances for
everything had been invented and appro-
priated. Cook books had grown to the cookhooks
proportions of cyclopaedias. As the
word servant was obsolete, and never used
throughout the Commonwealth, the pro-
fession of cook was as respectable as any

246 Sub-Coelum

other; indeed, a master in the kitchen
ranked with scholars and scientists. To
his genius they attributed much that was
best in their life and achievements. In
their profound study of body and mind —
of their dependence and interdependence
— how astonishingly morals depended
Necessity of uDon stomach — the necessity of good

good cook- ^ 1

ms- cooking was appreciated, and the art ele-

vated. Soups were in such variety that
every want of appetite and emotion was
provided for, A dinner for the gymnast
and a dinner for the poet were as different
as any two things of a kind could be. The
resources and gamut of the emotions had
been studied as profoundly as the possibil-
ities and power of the muscles. Training
for anything remarkable was largely
through the wisdom and manipulations of
Eating de- the kitchcn. Eating was determined by
occupation, occupation. The orator prepared himself
for highest flights by days of discriminate
living. The clergyman, to impress his
hearers, was conscientious about his break-
fasts. It was not thought possible for a
judge to be considerately just without judi-
cious and temperate diet. The actor, es-
pecially, was indebted to the cook for his
reputation. The green-room and the

Enjoyment Inevitable 247

kitchen were inseparable to him. Dinners
in well-ordered households were inspira-
tions, the cook having eaten appropriately
to achieve them. The dishes were so
wisely various, so divinely cooked, and so
perfectly served, that enjoyment from them
was inevitable. Conversation was in keep- convena-

1 1 11.1 Hon in keep-

ing, and men and women regarded them- ing.
selves as worthy of the perpetuation they
hoped for. The cook commanded better
wages than the senator. Anybody, after a
fashion, might perform the functions of the
latter ; the skill of the former was excep-
tional and essential. The perfect cook
was a desideratum in that high civiliza-
tion. At banquets, the chef appeared at
the end of the entertainment and received
his just homage. Pledges were drank, and
wine poured out in honor. Guests rose,
and bowed low, as their genius and bene-
factor passed out. Grades there were, of
course, in the profession — in ability and
dignity ; but there was pride in it through- Pride of
out, and every member of it studied to
attain the utmost excellence. Households
were happier with male cooks ; the" wo-
men preferred them, and treated them as
gentlemen. Servant or scullion was not
thought of in the pleasant relation.

248

Sub-Ccelum

The High
Estimate

PUT UPON

Woman.

Emancipa^
ted/rom
7nenial dv^
ties.

Made the
best physi-
cians.

The high estimate put upon woman was
evidence of incomparable advancement.
Feminineness, whether in virginity or ma-
ternity, was exalted. No man forgot to
pay reverence to the sex of his mother,
his wife, or his sweetheart. Adoration of
the Virgin Mother was its apotheosis.
Oh ! exclaimed the humanist, if the loving,
closed heart of a good woman should open
before a man, how much controlled tender-
ness, how many veiled sacrifices and dumb
virtues would he see reposing therein.
As far as possible woman was emancipated
from menial duties. The offices of mo-
therhood, especially, were not infringed by
avoidable domestic drudgery. She was
left free to devote herself to the care and
development of her children, and to the
enjoyment of such society as would supply
the want occasioned by continually de-
scending and imparting. All suitable oc-
cupations were thrown open to women,
and some of them they monopolized. It
was found that they made the best physi-
cians — especially for children and women.
Their delicacy and courage made them
superior surgeons. Their fingers manipu-
lated in a manner impossible to men's.
In cases of confinement they were pre-

Remarkable Intuitions 249

ferred, without exception. Women in that
crisis reasoned, as reported, and were lis-
tened to deferentially. They said frankly,
if pressed in so delicate a matter, that all a deikate
their strength, in the act of violent exer- '""""''
tion, consisted in the liberty of the exer-
tion, and that this liberty was as nothing
if a man was in the room. From this
cause, at every moment, hesitation re-
sulted, and contradictory movements.
They exerted and they restrained them-
selves. You will say, says the wise re-
porter, that they are in the wrong, that
they should be at ease, .should, in such a
crisis, forget their superstitions of shame
and fear, the little annoyances which so
humiliate them. But, however this may
be, such they are ; as such they must be
treated. And he who, to save them, will
put them in such peril, is certainly unwise.
Male physicians, therefore, in such cases,
were seldom or never called. In deter-
mining the causes of disease, the medical
knowledge of women was supplemented by
their remarkable intuitions — a very high a high «--
order of wisdom. As such they were rec- doJ. """'
ognized and employed in many important
offices. As moral police they kept guard
over society. The invisible was duly

2^o Sub-Coelum

rated — nothing escaped their unerring
ken. Mysterious and inexplicable, they
were nevertheless authority. Judges con-
sulted them in difficult cases. Testimony,
contradictory and involved, was analyzed
and made perspicuous. Motives were re-
vealed marvelously. The oblique was
wheninfai- dircct to them. These intuitions were

lible,

particularly infallible when the conduct of
females was in question ; for women knew
women in Sub-Coelum. Their knowledge
and instincts, so applied, appeared omnis-
cient. Indications unseen and unknown
to men were apparent and unmistakable to
women. Signs of concealment were as
conspicuous as those of unquestioned
frankness. Good women were known and
read by all ; happily there were few in
Sub-Coelum that were not good. Their
superior nature was acknowledged and ap-
preciated by all men. It enlightened so-
ciety and elevated it. Better standards of
conduct were set up. Encouragement was
Pure and giveu to well-dircctcd effort. Pure and
wcmaSod. enlightened womanhood was the ripe fruit
and governing influence of civilization. It
pitched thought and enthusiasm. It
adorned whatever it touched. It stimu-
lated charity. It led in religion. The

Its Typical Aureola 2^1

beauty of all things was heightened by it.
It was the medium in which all men lived,
moved, hoped, and worshiped. The flow-
ers grew better in its atmosphere; the
birds sang sweeter ; fruits were more de-
liciously flavored ; supernatural rainbows,
such as they had, were its typical aureola.

Her brow
A wreath reflecting of eternal beams.

Government was largely supported by How gov-

■,,11 ERNMENT

taxes upon incomes and upon heads, and was sup-
by a generous system of licenses and an-
nuities. Rich people, being able, were
also willing to bear the greater part of the
public burdens. It was a privilege they
esteemed and were proud of. Estates did
not grow enormously. Great possessions
were not thought good for the possessors
or for the public. They were apt to create
distinctions not in agreement with the gen-
eral system of society and government.
The utmost practicable equality was the
universal aim. Money was especially ap- what money
predated for the leisure it gave to do what ^MiyJppn-
was preferable to making it. As repeat-""' '^'
edly said before, the ambition of every one
was to make the most of himself — to
gather resources and treasures that would

2^2 Sub-Coelum

not fade — that would make him a man in
whatever condition or state he might be
placed. Believing that this life was only
preparatory to a better, every effort was
made to develop themselves worthily, and
everything not necessary to that was an
incumbrance. It was the rarest thing that

Money na- any oue thought money anything in it-

«|?^ '" ' ' self. The small tax placed upon every head
produced a large aggregate, and it was
cheerfully paid. It stimulated patriotism.
Every one had a money interest in his
Government, and was a supporter of it.
When he walked out on one of the beauti-
ful roads, it was his as much as anybody's.
When he plucked fruit from the endless
orchards, it was from his own trees, that
his own money had assisted to plant. The
vast and perfect system of schools, by
which his children were educated, was not
a charity in his eyes, as he and every other
inhabitant had helped to establish and sup-
port it. The citizen who would withhold

Atheart his pittaucc was at heart guilty of incivism.

civism. Privileges, in the form of licenses, were
liberally and cheerfully paid for. Special
rights included special immunities that
were inviolable. They were worth more
than they cost, and were estimated accord-

System of Annuities 25^

ingly. They included also honor and re-
sponsibility. If an individual exceeded his
purchased privilege, he was guilty of a
breach of trust, and was severely punished.
Betrayal was one of the high moral and
penal offenses. The system of annuities,
as before said, was considerately provident
and generous to the people, and was a great
convenience. For a sum of money given
to the Government, the giver received
quarterly a liberal per centum during his a merai
lifetime — the amount, of course, being 4»-?£-*^
determined by the longevity tables. To '°"^'
scholars and to old people it was a great
accommodation. Their savings were
turned over to the Commonwealth, and they
were supported from them without risk or
anxiety. Scholarship was free to pursue
its investigations, and old age reposed in
the security of independence. In such
cases death was not made interesting by
possible inheritance. Indeed, it was not
thought good that property should descend.
Every man, according to their theory, was Every man

•* •'an incarna-

an accretion, an incarnation ; was just ''""■
what he was naturally, and what he had
gathered and assimilated. His personality
represented his earnings as well as his at-
tainments. No genuine man wanted what

2^4 Svib-Codum

he did not earn. It was common for the
prosperous to place annuities upon the old
and helpless of their kindred, to relieve
them of the humiliation and discomfort of
zj^sra^j/e/- dependence. Many rich people, before

rich People. , . , , ^ . , .

their deaths, gave away, in this manner,
about all that they had, to the eminently
needy and worthy. They perpetuated
themselves by their good acts, leaving
nothing to be wasted in dissipation and in-
dolence. This well-devised system of an-
nuities was not only a pecuniary resource
to the Government ; it strengthened it also
in the affections and interests of the peo-
ple. Helpful essentially, its judicious and
fostering protection was affectionately re-
membered.

The Ma- The machinery of politics, in the sense
PoL^mra."'' of office-getting and office-holding, was not
strained. Terms of office were short, and
elections, of course, frequent. Salaries
were small and therefore not greatly
desired. Judges alone were elected for
long periods, and were paid good salaries.
Persons who sought office persistently
were mistrusted ; desire for place was
therefore cautiously and modestly exhib-
ited. Those most worthy were sought

The Man Himself 25^

by the public. Voluntary preference was
gratifying, but place-holding was not con-
sidered especially honorable. The man
who was fit for a place was not more of a
man by occupying it. Merit was in the Merit netiK.
man himself, and was not increased by recognaum.
recognition. The best men did not hold
place at all, except in extremity. Crises
sometimes occurred when their services
were demanded. In such cases it was
manifest surrender, and not for personal ad-
vancement or emolument. Titles, though
permitted, were not encouraged, and were
not often bestowed. They were extra-
neous, and did not belong to the man ; the
intrinsic was his personality. Society was
filled with men who had been governors
and the like, whose rank had not been
increased by their temporary eminence.
Occasionally one presumed upon it, and
arrogated importance in consequence ; but
the average wisdom and common sense
soon relieved him of his conceit and put
him back in his place. The airs of a pre- Airs 0/ a

. . , , pretended

tended favorite were soon perceived and /«»»■»>.
corrected. A man might be a favorite, in-
deed, until he assumed to be, when he was
not. Public favoritism was fickle and
qualified. Gifts were scattered, but lim-

2^6 Sub-Ccelum

ited to the public weal. The privileges
secured to each were not incompatible
with the rights of any. The citizen was
elevated by his own worthiness, rather

opfortunuy than by factitious assistance. Opportunity
was given to all, advantages to none.
Every man had an equal chance to make
himself what he would. It was not pos-
sible to organize men permanently into
parties ; self-respect and personality for-
bade. Demagogues were sometimes lis-
tened to in times of extremity, but were
soon overwhelmed. The ready attention
given to ambitious factionists beguiles
them to ruin. If the public ear can be
easily had, why not its strong right hand,
with a dagger in it? Thousands may be
got to subscribe a compact of defiance to
authority, and the leaders in the scheme of
treason may be confident of its success.
The roll of names may attain an immeas-
urable length, and the time for violence
arrive. The signal agreed upon, and per-
fectly understood, is given, when the whole

The devilish dcvilish plot appears a failure to its in-

plot a fail-

ure. ventors. Those enrolled to participate in

the parricidal crime expose and identify
their leaders, join in exultation at their
disgrace and ruin, and a purer patriotism

Objects of Amusement 257

is established. Desperate disorganizers
misinterpret public impatience. Their
own hearts corrupted, and bent upon dis-
ruption and revolution, they assume as
much perfidy and baseness in those who
listen to and seem to sympathize with
them. Popular discontent cannot easily be noi easily
organized into revolt. An attempt to so TntTrZoit.
organize it, while a particle of patriotism,
gratitude, or hope remains, will only
quicken a remembrance of benefits, and
warm the common heart to a more fervid
attachment. Once put upon its guard, no
temptation could seduce it. It had been a
great while since the people of Sub-Ccelum
had been seriously disturbed by dema-
gogues. The few specimens they pos-
sessed were generally harmless, and were
objects of public amusement. Society was
too intelligent, upright, and individual to
be long influenced by them. Election day
was not more exciting than any other.
The utmost independence was secured to The utmost
the voter, and any infringement of it was 'Inff^-
rigidly punished. The public conscience
at ease, there was little, if any, likelihood
of disturbance. Evils were slight, and
easily corrected. Clamor was impossible
where the people were contented and

2^8 Sub-Coslum

happy. Showy and expensive inaugura-
tions were not in fashion. They were con-
vtdgarand sidcred vulgar and barbaric. If any dem-
ar arK. Qustration was made it was at the end of a
term of office, where the service had been
worthily distinguished. Even the chief
magistrate quietly subscribed his oath of
office, and entered upon its duties without
flourish, ostentation, or self-gratulation,
modestly impressed with its responsibili-
ties.

Essential Though the pcoplc of Sub-Coelum, as a

EXCEI^ . , , , .

LENCE OF rule, were good, — good as goodness is
PLE. qualified and limited by human nature, —

they made no pretensions to sanctity;
though religious, they were not professors
of religion ; though Christians, they did not
wear badges of piety. There was nothing
in the way of dress, language, or manner to
advertise super-excellence. Goodness was
a personal matter with each one, and was
only to be known by character and con-
Gemineness duct. Picty was in the life. Genuineness

the staji- ii ^ 1 1 rf~« ■ r .

dard. was the standard. Consciousness of im-
perfection taught them humility. Acutely
observing and reflective, they saw God in
everything, and were reverent ; perceiving
the universal dependence, they felt the re-

Responsibility 259

sponsibility of existence. They truly be-
lieved and realized that here we begin to
be what we are to be ever. They con-
scientiously and persistently sought the sought the
good and avoided the evil. They carefully ftaafe^Mf
guarded themselves against whatever must
perish with the body, and ardently culti-
vated all which must survive it. Happi-
ness was not sought in its transient forms.
Life was appreciated by its resultant uses.
The duty of the hour was the duty of all
time. The good inhered. The present Thetresent

,._ , .,. , - the period of

was realized as the period of growth 3.na growth md
achievement ; and, having something to do vent.
worth doing, they needed all the time they
had to do it well. The duties of the day
faithfully discharged, they did not much
concern themselves about the morrow.
The morrow was so far provided for that
it was anticipated and made easy if it came.
Refinement and intelligence and excel-
lence resulted from fidelity to duty, and a
happiness was established as serene as it
was unconscious. Living and acting, and
getting the pleasure and good of life out of
each day of it, they enjoyed a foretaste of Enjoyeda.

... , ._,, ^foretaste of

fruition and perpetuity. They reverenced >«ai»«a»<;
the life and teachings of Christ for their
purity and humanity more than for any

26o Sub-Ccelum

dogmas of theology that might appear to
be taught in them. They did not under-
stand Christianity to be for the super-ter-
restrial, to whom sin is known only by wis-
dom. They understood it to be for men,
needing it, and proved its adaptability by
accepting it — its practicableness by prac-
TAeir Chris- ticing it. Their Christianity was encour-

tianityen- . . . ,. , . i i .

cmrasing. agmg, m that it did not require absolute
imitation of, but some slight approxima-
tion to, the Founder. A religion that was
discouraging to hope was a poor religion
for men ; and a religion that required of
them the impossible was such. For some
it might be easy to be good — very good —
as they understood goodness ; for others it
was nearly impossible to be good at all ac-
cording to ideal and exclusive standards.
To the former it might seem easy to be-
lieve that Christ should be imitated; to
the latter it seemed to be only possible
that He could be approximated. He was

The Great the Great Exemplar, the Divine, to be ap-
proached, and only approached, as nearly
as possible, by the creature. Now and
then, it might be, a man was born into the
world in whom were all the virtues so
admirably mixed that it was possible for
him to approach very near to the Divine

The Mighty Difference 261

Founder — so near as almost to touch the
hem of His garment ; the many, however,
were unable to approach so near by a very
great way; while the multitudes were so
far off that, instead of seeing the light of
His countenance, they only saw the reflec- Oniysawthe
tion of it as it appeared faintly, very
faintly, in the happy few, very few, alas !
who were able to approach near enough to
feel a little the direct rays of the Divine
Effulgence. After a poor creature had
done all that it was possible for him to do,
it was discouraging to be told that he had
not done enough ; that after he had done
all that it was possible for him to do, he
should be lost. He knew himself what he
could do and what he could not do ; and
found himself unable to accept a form of
faith which offered rewards for the imprac-
ticable and impossible only. If the gate
of Paradise was to remain shut against
him, for what he could not help, it must
remain shut against all mankind, as he was
not able to see the mighty difference in
men that their hopeless separation implied ;
— a separation inconceivable to the vast a sefara^
majority of sincere believers in a future '«"aT&r'
state, — believers in Christ, and heirs to
heaven under His testament.

262

Sub-Ccelum

Their Re-
ligion.

Humility
and amity
itsfruits.

They re-
posed in the
promises.

Their religion — the religion of the peo-
ple — was not a science nor a profession ;
it was a life ; dogmatic theology was not a
part of it. It did not consist in words, but
in spirit. Its essence was in the Sermon
on the Mount, and in the New Command-
ment. Love was its ruling principle.
God and humanity was their unwritten
creed. It taught reverence of the Creator,
and charity for the creature. Humility
and amity were its fruits. They loved
God, and trusted Him ; there was not, to
them, a single element of terror in His at-
tributes ; Indulgent Parent was the lan-
guage they most used in addressing Him.
When they prayed, they used not vain
repetitions; their Father knowing what
things they had need of before they asked
Him. Rarely other prayer than the
Lord's was made use of — the sum and
summary of all adoration and supplication.
They did not disfigure their faces by as-
suming sad countenances ; they did not
toss up their eyes sanctimoniously. Con-
fidence in the promises made them tran-
quil and grateful ; they reposed in them.
Sound morality was a great part of their
religion. Moral honesty — integrity to
the core — was its chief corner-stone. At

Substance and Shadow 263

the foundation of the character of every
genuine Sub-Coelumite there were virtues
and elements, cemented and established,
to make it worthily everlasting. He felt Feitumseif
himself continually searched by the eye of searched.
Omniscience, and the observation and esti-
mate of the world were of secondary im-
portance to him. He distinguished be-
tween the real substance, character, and its
shadow, reputation. He was careful about
repeating the Lord's Prayer, as he could
not help regarding it as a test of himself,
as well as an act of adoration to Deity.
Before pronouncing the words, Forgive us
our debts, as we also have forgiven our
debtors, he hesitated, and inquisition be-
gan. Conscience donned the ermine, and conscience

.,.£,--. -A. c dmnedthe

consciousness testified. Conceit of sane- emum.
tity was not a natural result of such self-
examination. The ideal seemed further
from attainment with every effort; but
effort was encouraged to become habitual
by increased sense of responsibility. An
individual, not responsible to party or sect,
he had a conscience toward God. Doing
his best to live virtuously and walk hum-
bly, he confidently trusted the Creator to confidently
take care of the creature. With the high- "" ' '
est standards of conduct practicable or at-

264 Sub-Caelum

tainable, he judged himself not less se-
verely than his neighbor. The Golden
MbraiaH. Rule he believed to be particularly for self-
ci,m-a£:es. application. His moral anchorages were
fixed and habitual. There were things
that under no possible circumstances
would he do. His principles were in such
constant use that they had the look of in-
stincts. His morals were so constantly
applied that they had the appearance of
habits. As was said, he picked out the
marrow of religion, leaving the bones of
theology to the professors. Sectarianism
existed, but was not emphatic. Differ-
ences of opinion could not be serious
where there was only one sentiment. If
priests and preachers quarreled to the
detriment of religion, they were required
to get together and understand one an-
other ; nor was authority often necessary
to separate them ; a few hours' contact
Extremes rcconciled them. Extremes and nice dis-
titictions. tinctions in faith were more and more for-
gotten or subordinated ; and while a com-
mon basis was being discovered, it was felt
to be wise by the sects to press diflferences
tenderly. Religion was too essential, they
said, to cling to any dogma. It looked to
better and immutable conditions. Every

Everything Prospective 26^

man believed in immortality; and felt, as
had been truly said, that he had a right to
this belief ; that it corresponded with the
wants of his nature. To him, the eternal
existence of his soul was proved from his Proof of kh

.. * .. , • r 1 -1-1 . eternal ex-

idea 01 activity ; that, if he worked on in- utence.
cessantly till his death, nature was bound
to give him another form of existence,
when the present one could no longer sus-
tain his spirit. Everything, he exclaimed,
with a great soul, is prospective, and man
is to live hereafter. That the world was
for his education was the only solution of
the enigma. He inferred his destiny from
the preparation. Whatever it is which the
Great Providence made ready for him, it
must be something large and generous,
and in the great style of his works. The
future must be up to the measure of man's
faculties, — of memory, of hope, of imagi-
nation, of reason. In a word, the life, the
character, the faith, the aspirations of the
Sub-Ccelumite, all united to make him an
intelligent, responsible, religious optimist.

Many of the religious denominations Sects and

■' Creeds.

had dwindled away, but those that re-
mained showed a considerable degree of
vitality. Descended from parents to chil-

266 Sub-Coelum

dren, memory and association clung to
them tenaciously. Chapels were every-
where in which sectarian doctrines were
still taught. Teachers were zealous, and
Hardly a coHgregations were faithful, but hardly a
Mgotrymr- particle of bigotry survived. Intelligence
and charity had made the sects friendly
one with another. No attempt was made
by either to turn the key of heaven
against the rest. Exclusion or monopoly
was no longer dreamed of. A hint of it,
even, was an offense to Christianity.
Creeds were antiquated; new ones were
impossible. People generally thought, and
thought differently, and could not again be
got to agree upon any set of abstract ideas.
Godliness was a mystery they did not at-
tempt to comprehend. It was in the en-
deavor to know the unknowable that creeds
had been produced and sects organized.
If its teachers, they said, had continually
taught the practice of Christianity, and not
expended themselves in developing sys-
tems of theology, all Christendom would
long since have been a united army against
The gloomy Satan. Alas ! they exclaimed, when the
Iheo^us. gloomy and awful theologies become cu-
riosities, how prodigiously ingenious will
the intellects of their inventors appear !

Manner of Worship 26j

Also, in addition to the churches or worship.
chapels of the different sects, in all the
considerable towns there were commodious
cathedrals, in which were sittings for all
the inhabitants. These cathedrals were
especially sacred to Religious Worship,
which, to the enlightened and Christian
population of Sub-Ccelum, consisted chiefly
in Thanksgiving. Anthems were sung, Thmksgw-
and choruses, of the most exalted and ex- '"^'
alting character. Great organs shook the
lofty edifices with their joyful and divine
harmonies. When thousands of trained
voices, led by the great organ, sang.

Be Thou, O God, exalted high I
it did seem the Deity was lifted up. In The Deity

, , , , ,- , , liftedup.

these great cathedrals, at a fixed hour, on
Sunday, the sects and the people assem-
bled, and together, in one voice, and with
one heart, worshiped God.