"Improve Nature's gifts, and with her elements form new compounds….
"Were man's faculties given that they should slumber?"
Nothing engaged my attention more than the health of my people. I had satisfied myself that the most virulent diseases took their development from minute, nay, almost imperceptible causes.
As I had determined to find out the germs of faults in children, which, when neglected, led to confirmed vices in the adult; so I was determined to discover disease in its incipience, and wherever possible, to remove the exciting cause.
I have already referred to the creation of a new fruit-vegetable, as one of the subjects of a series of pictures in my summer palace. I will now relate to you some facts regarding the production of the fruit, the offspring of my anxiety for the health of the people.
In the early part of my reign, before the means had been discovered for detecting the incipient germs of disease, the people were afflicted by the return of a painful malady, with which they had often been afflicted before. It was attended with irritation of the intestines, and carried the sufferer off rapidly; for, although all the doctors were familiar with the symptoms, none of them had been able to discover the cause of the disease, or its cure.
I remarked that the children at the colleges were not attacked by this disease, and therefore thought that it had probably originated in something used by adults and not by the young.
The truth of my hypothesis was soon tested. A person of robust frame, whom I much esteemed, died suddenly of the malady. I entreated his friends, in the interest of humanity, to allow his body to be examined.
The people at this period indulged in the use of sauces, seasoned with strong stimulating spices. These were excluded from colleges, and consequently were used by adults only.
I communicated my opinion to the doctors: viz., that in the case they were about to examine, it would be found that these burning condiments had inflamed the intestines, and impeded nature in the discharge of her functions. My impressions were correct. With the aid of the electric microscope upwards of forty minute ulcers, highly inflamed, were discovered in the intestines of the deceased, and in each of these ulcers were seen several minute grains of some very hot condiments much in use, which had affected the inner membrane, generated the ulcers, and caused a hasty but painful death.
Assured of the baneful effect of the condiments, I determined to forbid their use, though I knew this would be a serious infliction on the people, inasmuch as the extreme heat of our climate made stimulants necessary. The condiments were much liked, and amongst all the many fruits and vegetables we possessed there were none that could be used as substitutes.
On forbidding their use, I made known publicly the discovery that had been made, every particular being clearly explained, that the people might be convinced that I was acting for their good.
In obedience to my orders, the spices were collected from every quarter, and placed in large warehouses secured under lock. The "bolts" were delivered to the kings, who were astonished at the rapidity with which I had obtained obedience to a decree depriving all of what had become a daily want.
I saw, however, that unless the people were supplied with a substitute for what they had lost, they would soon return to the deleterious condiments in spite of my decree.
Having made known to all about me that I wished some hours for serious thought, I shut myself up in a little cabinet at the summit of my palace, where I could see only the heavens. All around me was silent and calm as night.
Having prayed the aid of the Great Power, I endeavoured, by intense meditation, to discover what healthful condiment could be substituted for the deleterious spices of which the people were deprived.
After many hours of deep meditation, a ray of light burst on me and I was inspired with a happy thought. I could not as yet see the result clearly, but nevertheless I felt that in the end my efforts would be blessed with success. I did not hesitate to publish the fact that I had made a discovery which, when perfected, would repay the people twenty-fold for the loss of the condiments they had given up in obedience to my decree.
In the mean time, until I could fully carry out my intention, I allowed the people a particular kind of cordial; for I found that, after the extraordinary heat of the day, many persons required stimulants, especially mothers, who had been educated before my laws had come into operation, and whose health and constitution had not consequently been properly fortified.
I proceeded with my work. We have a small vegetable, called Jappeehanka, that hangs from its stem like a fruit and has a rich creamy taste, without any other flavour. I grafted this vegetable on a tree called Klook, the fruit of which, used generally by persons of delicate digestion, had a sour aromatic flavour.
After many disappointments and unsuccessful attempts to obtain the vegetable I wished, I succeeded, by artificial means frequently employed, in growing a small vegetable, combining the flavour of a delicate cream with the piquancy of lemon.
The most difficult part of my task had however not been accomplished, namely, to give to the vegetable all the aromatic and stimulating flavours of the prohibited spices.
A fine specimen of the seed of each of the spice plants having been procured, I took from the heart of each seed the smallest possible particle, and, having with the greatest care made an incision in one of the finest seeds of my new vegetable, I inserted therein one specimen of each of these minute particles.
The incision was made in the centre of the seed, but not deep enough to enter or injure its heart.
The seed of my cream-lemon vegetable, containing the spice seed particles, I confided to the care of my principal gardener, a man of great scientific skill and intelligence.
I must not omit to say that we extracted the oil out of the roots of each of the spices formerly in general use and mixed the oils with the earth in which we planted the newly-compounded vegetable seed.
We watched the precious seed night and day with anxious solicitude. I had other seeds ready prepared and planted, in case this should fail.
One night in my slumber I was disturbed by my attendant telling me that the gardener had an important communication to make. I bade him enter. He came to make known to me that my labours had been so far successful, that, in the vase of earth in which the seed had been planted, a little white bud was bursting from the ground. He brought the vase in his arms, and I will not deny that I shed tears of joy.
About three years from that time, to my delight, fruit made its appearance. I watched with greedy eagerness the day when it would ripen.
I cannot tell you with what anxiety I tended its growth. I fancy at this moment I feel the heart-beatings that always accompanied me as I approached the spot where the plant was placed.
The gardener, desiring to save me some of the pain of deferred hope, told me that the time of ripening would be later than I had anticipated.
A little in advance, however, of the time I had foretold, the gardener entered my study, with a face radiant with joy, and placed before me one of the prettiest little baskets I had ever seen, though the beauty of our basket-work is, as I have said, remarkable. I thought it must be a present from his wife, for she was very skilful and often presented me with baskets of her own work. Loving my people as I did and looking on them all as my children, I saw the nervous state of the man, and to reassure him, I said, "This is kind of your fair Lineena." At the same time I admiringly examined the basket, but its weight indicating that there was something inside, I raised the lid, and beholding its contents I uttered a cry, such a cry of joy as might escape a parent on finding a long-lost child.
The basket contained a specimen of the precious fruit quite ripe. I turned it on every side with anxious interest, and, having congratulated my faithful gardener, who had so zealously carried out my wishes, I descended to the culinary department, for I would not trust the precious treasure to others, and I immediately proceeded to cook the vegetable of my creation.
I directed a small bird to be prepared with which to eat the new condiment, that I might thus test its properties; when it had been served, I directed the gardener to sit at my table. The success was beyond my best hopes. By the process of cooking, the fruit-vegetable had been dissolved to the consistency of a jelly, and formed the most relishing sauce ever tasted,—aromatic, stimulating, and appetising.
To a richness like cream was added the pungency and aromatic flavour of spices, with the relish of salt and the piquancy of fresh lemon-juice— in a word, the combination presented the finest flavour for a condiment that could possibly be desired, surpassing all the spices and sauces hitherto known in my world. Indeed, it was so exquisitely appetising that an epicure might easily be tempted to eat the vegetable without the addition of the meat.
During the growth of the tree, many slips had been planted, which were then in a flourishing state, so that in a very short time the vegetable fruit was cultivated extensively, and became a household necessity.
On examining the Allmanyuka (for so we called this fruit-vegetable, meaning, that it combined every valuable quality), and observing its effects, the doctors pronounced it very wholesome and nutritious, and admirably suited to persons of dyspeptic habit, inasmuch as it dispelled all symptoms of flatulency and, by its tonic and digestive qualities, gave a feeling of lightness to the senses.
The people wondered, and were loud in the manifestations of their gratitude, but my joy was even greater than theirs; for I had accomplished a lasting good for the subjects I loved.
Accompanied by my harp, I sang praises, with all the fervour of my soul, to Him who had inspired me with the thought, and had endowed me with patience and strength for its consummation.
Fruits had often been increased in size or improved in quality and productiveness, by grafting one tree upon another; but no new fruit had previously been created. There were instances, where trees of different kinds, the one grafted on the other, had borne two kinds of fruit. This, however, was the first instance where other means, besides grafting, were employed, and where an entirely new fruit had been brought into existence.
The Allmanyuka grows like a tree, and its stem is supported by sticks. The fruit, which hangs from its branches, is in shape, but in shape only, not unlike your vegetable-marrow, being covered with little circular divisions, each containing others still more minute.
Its colour, when raw, is of the brightest violet, which through the culinary process becomes a beautiful red, though I should observe, that the first compound vegetable in the seeds of which I inserted the spice particles was yellow.
It may not be uninteresting to know that the Allmanyuka is cooked in a vessel over steam. Indeed, everything with us is cooked by steam, this being especially serviceable, on account of the steadiness of its action. There are machines to regulate the force and action of the steam, and the attendant has only to obey mechanically the simplest instructions.
The Allmanyuka is used in some sick-rooms as a fumigator. For this purpose it is cut into slices, and the exuded juice which it bleeds is accompanied with an agreeable aromatic odour.
The fruit possesses many other valuable properties. After its discovery my people were never more afflicted with the maladies for the prevention of which it had been created. It was sometimes called by the name given by me,—often by a term signifying, "Inspiration of the Father of the World." [1]
* * * * *
[Footnote 1: Although it may appear incongruous to refer to a philosopher of this earth as illustrating the work of a philosopher of another planet, the Editor cannot help quoting a passage from a man possessed of wondrous prescience, who, to use his own words, "held up a lamp in the obscurity of philosophy that would be seen ages after he was dead." It will also in a measure convey the difference between the process of grafting and the course pursued by the Tootmanyoso in the creation of the Allmanyuka.
The inspired philosopher says: "The compounding or mixing of kinds in plants is not found out, which, nevertheless, if it be possible, is more at command than that of living creatures, for that their lust requireth a voluntary motion; wherefore it were one of the most noble experiments touching plants to find it out; for so you may have great variety of new fruits and flowers yet unknown. Grafting doth it not; it mendeth the fruit or doubleth the flowers, etc.; but it hath not the power to make a new kind. For the scion ever over-ruleth the stock."—Bacon's'Sylva Sylvarum.']
"…A handmaid and messenger of Memory.A recorder of the aspirations of Genius."
There is a peculiarity in the leaf of the Allmanyuka which I will now mention; but, to make myself intelligible, I must give you some few facts about our paper, of which we have an unlimited supply, and which is made from the leaves of nearly every kind of tree, gathered just before they begin to fade, but whilst still green. Dead leaves are used for other purposes.
The leaves of some trees make finer paper than others, and, though every kind of leaf is available, one kind only at a time is used to make paper of the finest quality. Mixed leaves are used to make paper of a common and coarser kind.
All papers, when dried in the sun, have a glossy surface, and none can be torn, or ignited by the application of fire; the paper will smoulder, but not burst into flame. Our paper is transparent, and is besides so very light, soft, and pliable, that in warm weather it is used for children's dresses. Very pretty it is to see the graceful movements of the little creatures' limbs through the pellucid costumes, which are made complete without a seam, the material being most beautifully fine, like one of the silk gauzes of your India.
In our world it was well known that paper could be made from rags, but this material was not as plentiful as leaves, and we discovered, moreover, that it was injurious to the workmen, whilst the manufacture from leaves not only produces a paper far superior to that made with rags, but is a most healthful occupation.
Our trees are, I believe, more numerous than yours; but you have many trees even in Europe from the leaves of which excellent paper of a kind similar to ours could be made, as, for instance, the horse-chestnut and oak. The horse-chestnut leaf makes some of the best paper; the leaves of the lilac-tree and of the apple-tree are also excellent; but perhaps the best leaf of all for very fine paper is the vine leaf, which has less moisture, and gives less trouble in the preparation.
In the manufacture of paper the leaves are subjected to a great pressure, and the fragrance emitted from the crushed leaves is delicious, and considered very wholesome, so much so indeed that young children are often sent to reside near the place where the leaves are being crushed to inhale the fragrance.
The original moisture is removed by a substance, chiefly consisting of a very fine sand, beautifully compounded with other materials, and spread over a hard pliant stuff. This laid on the pressed pulp sucks out all the original moisture. The fine sand material, though possessing quite a smooth surface, is like a sponge in its power of suction, and, when used, is unrolled and pressed over the pulp by a machine.
This done, the plate containing the paper is moved to an adjoining part of the building, which is roofless, and is there exposed to the rays of the sun, which finishes the drying process and gives a beautiful glaze or polish to the paper. Nothing so well dries the paper as the sun, as we have proved by frequent experiments. After the sun, fire is the most efficacious agent; but this gives the paper a dead and chill appearance.
Our paper is as good as yours, though not better to write upon. I have already informed you of some of the points of difference between them. Paper can be made to almost any size, and without any seam. One other peculiarity is that our paper makes no more noise when doubled up than a piece of linen.
The colour principally in use is that of cream or a very light yellow; for though we can produce a chalky white, we do not use it in our stuffs, except for linen.
There is a paper which we call "natural," because its green colour exceptionally resembles that of the leaf, although it is purely artificial, being produced by the use of a powder obtained from a particular fruit which hangs from a tree in the shape of small eggs, and contains a white powder of a sticky consistency. This powder is mixed with the leaves, and the paper thus prepared is very transparent. At first it has a kind of primrose tint, but, when subjected to heat, or to the sun, turns green. The egg called "Brulista Tavi," or "Lime Egg," follows a small blossom, but the fruit alone is used. The trees are plentiful, growing on marshy ground, a long distance from, the city, for there are no marshes in its vicinity.
Some paper is of a pure gold colour, the result of a property inherent in the leaf itself and needing no extraneous application.
I have told you that the coarse paper is made with leaves of every description mixed together. On one occasion some of the paper, when dried, became speckled with gold in different parts, presenting a beautiful appearance, which astonished the overseer and workmen. The paper was brought to me, and I directed the overseer to endeavour to detect in future processes the cause of these beautiful specks. Many trials were made, but he did not for months find any gold in the paper.
I meditated much on the subject, and one night I retired to rest with the singular phenomenon still in my mind. In my sleep I saw my tree, the Allmanyuka, all gold.
On awaking I immediately sent for the overseer, and, without relating what I had seen in my sleep, I told him that I was impressed with the belief that it was the leaf of my tree that produced the gold specks, and requested him to have some paper made entirely from the Allmanyuka leaf, and to use the most delicate machine for the experiment.
Though accustomed to obey my orders in implicit faith, the overseer confessed to me afterwards that for certain reasons he had great cause to doubt whether the experiment would succeed. It, however, was commenced without delay. The pulp, or jelly, after having passed through the process of boiling, was of a neutral tint, without the least appearance of gold, and all hope of the desired colour vanished in the thought of the workmen. It was, indeed, reported to me that no golden tint was apparent; but I did not yet despair.
When the pulp was spread out with the trowel, it remained still colourless, but after it had undergone the process of pressing, which generally took place immediately before sponging, it presented to the astonished workmen the appearance of one sheet of gold; and when it had been exposed to the sun, it acquired the highest golden polish possible.
The material thus obtained is finer than cambric, and is used for beautiful scarfs, sun-turbans, neckties for ladies, slippers, covers, cushions, and various ornamental articles.
"The huge poison-tree once lay concealed in the heart of the minute seed. Why seek ye not the germs of disease poison in their minute receptacles?"
Formerly, in certain parts of the low marshy lands, the moist and noxious exhalations generated various diseases, particularly one answering to your phthisis, and called by us karni-feroli, that is, "absorption of the vitality." Numbers lingered, with energies depressed and faculties impaired, till cut off by death. In its early stages, the disease gave no indications of its presence beyond the signs common to the most ordinary illnesses to which, indeed, they were attributed. However, no remedy was found by the doctors.
Even where the possible presence of the disease was suspected, the respiratory organs of the sufferer were subjected to various tests; but if certain symptoms were absent, and the patient breathed easily, the physicians concluded that there was no danger in the case. The signs they sought were in reality those belonging to an advanced state of the disease and, when these appeared, the malady was generally beyond cure.
No effectual measures were taken for discovering indications of the earlier stages of the malady before the beginning of my reign, when I observed that many young girls, who at first seemed to suffer only from debility and lowness of spirits, soon afterwards withered, and died of what was then called by a term answering to your expression of "rapid consumption." This often happened where the patients had been previously pronounced free from organic disease.
I knew that, in the physical as in the moral constitution, evils, however grave, have their origin in some incipient germ of small proportions, and I would not believe that the confirmed ulcers, which I had seen during the examination of diseased lungs in the Theatre of Anatomy, had arisen suddenly, for I reflected that the operations of nature are gradual. These ulcers, which are, I think, called "tubercles" by your physicians, had been the immediate cause of many deaths.
After much meditation, I concluded that the actual beginning of the malady was unknown, and that the inability of the doctors to master the disease arose from the inadequacy of the means employed for its earlier detection.
I had frequently expressed my convictions to the ablest medical men, but they held to their opinions and practice with unyielding tenacity. Our doctors at that time thought that there was no science beyond what they themselves knew, just as there were many able men who maintained that there was no other world but Montalluyah, until the invention of my telescope brought your earth and other worlds within the limit of their vision.
A young and interesting girl, a penitent, from a course of incontinence and excess, suffered much from weakness and lowness of spirits. The doctors examined her in the usual approved way, with and without their instruments, and declared that her lungs were healthy and sound; all that now ailed her, they said, was the depression arising from involuntary regrets and longings for the excitements of her former life. I had a strong impression, however, that this was not the cause of her prostration, firmly believing that her lungs were affected, though the doctors assured me that they had used every test with scrupulous care to detect disease and had arrived at a contrary decision. Not being convinced, I requested them to give me a daily report of the girl's progress.
As she grew weaker, the doctors determined to administer a powerful potion, which would lay the foundation of her cure, if their estimate of the malady was right, but would accelerate death if the lungs were really affected. Persuaded that, in the then state of medical knowledge, the girl's life could not be saved, if the disease was really phthisis, and knowing that, if it was not the case, the potion was calculated to do good, I did not prevent the doctors from acting according to their own convictions.
The potion was administered accordingly, and the girl soon fell into a calm and tranquil sleep, from which, to the surprise and consternation of the physicians, she never awoke.
The body was examined, and on the right lung were found pimples, small indeed, but visible to the naked eye, which, on closer examination with the microscope, proved to be incipient tubercles; the left lung was similarly affected. These incipient tubercles, though sufficient to cause languor and debility, by attracting the vitality of the body, had not yet become of sufficient size and virulence to affect her breathing; hence her lungs were considered sound by the doctors, who only regarded the usual tests.
I called together the principal physicians, chemists and heads of science, and requested them carefully to study this formidable disease; and, after a time, the discovery was made that all the most fatal cases of consumption were ushered in by the appearance on the lungs of minute incipient spots, which attract and feed on the vital juices of the body. These spots swell gradually into pimples of a reddish hue, on which ultimately a small yellow head appears. This breaks in due course, and the matter discharged spreads, combines, and assists in the growth and accumulation of other and larger tubercles, which cause much pain, greatly impede the passage of the air, and eventually carry off the patient.
Although pain is sometimes felt in the earlier stages of the malady, the passage of the air through the lungs is not as yet affected to any very perceptible extent. It was also found that the ordinary symptoms accompanying the presence of these spots were similar to those produced by many other causes; so that the symptoms of one disease might easily be mistaken for—as was actually the case—those of another.
The tests hitherto used were thus clearly shown to be insufficient for detecting the disease, until the tubercles had assumed a size and virulence sufficient to affect the breathing,—until, in fact, the malady was too often beyond cure.
After some time and many experiments, most efficacious means were discovered for detecting and curing this dreadful disease while still in its incipient state.
I ought to mention, that on the death of the girl to whom the potion was administered, her friends learning that I had not opposed the administering the fatal potion, were very violent against me and, instigated by those who had at first opposed my law, openly declared that she had been put to death by my orders. They thus succeeded in arousing the passions of the multitude. At that time many young persons were dying of consumption in a marshy valley, while others were afflicted with disorders, which baffled the skill of the physicians and were accompanied with the same symptoms that attended the malady of the deceased girl. During the popular excitement to which I have referred, the parents of these sufferers were made to believe that potions similar to those which had already been administered with such fatal results, were now to be administered to their own sick children, and that similar results would ensue.
I lost not a moment in summoning before me the heads of families and friends of the sufferers, at the same time announcing the subject on which I wished to discourse.
The meeting took place in the great hall of my palace, which is capable of containing many thousands, and I explained to the assembled multitude that when the potion was administered to the deceased girl, the malady was so far advanced that there were no means of saving her life, and that in administering the potion the doctors had hoped to do good, believing, contrary to my own convictions, that the complaint was not organic. I explained that her death, and the knowledge gained by the examination of her lungs, would be the salvation of most of their children, of the nature of whose malady the doctors were now convinced.
Asked by the girl's friends if I would myself take a potion similar to that administered to the girl, I offered to drink double the quantity, in the presence of the assembled multitude. When the cup was close to my lips, and I was about to drink the potion, a woman in the crowd called out that the liquid I held in my hand was innocuous, and very different to the poisonous draught administered to the girl! So convinced was she of this, that she offered to let her own child drink the potion out of my cup!
This child being, as I believed, afflicted with incipient consumption, I cautioned the mother, explaining to her what would be the consequences of her rashness. Still she insisted, and adhered to her opinion that if I could drink the potion with impunity, the child could do the same. I resisted, until at length many in the crowd, who had before been influenced by my words, inferred from my hesitation that what the woman said was really true! Perceiving that further hesitation on my part would result in great evil, and in many deaths, I allowed the child to drink a quarter of the potion, and I swallowed the rest myself. My lungs being perfectly sound the potion only stimulated my system, but the effect on the child was the same as it had been on the girl: it slept, and woke no more.
Having addressed the people for a long time and calmed their anger, I requested them to proceed to the place where the girl's body lay, to convince themselves of the advanced state of the disease under which she bad suffered. They were then marshalled by the officers of my palace, and proceeded to the Anatomical Theatre, where they satisfied themselves with their own eyes of the truth of what I had told them. Public confidence was restored, and many sufferers were saved from premature death.
Effective means were afterwards taken to detect the minute incipient pimples with which the disease was always ushered in, and never afterwards was it allowed to reach serious proportions. It was destroyed in its earliest germ, and thus much power and vitality and thousands of lives were saved to the State.
"Music….the emanation of the concentrated light of the soul….The language of the angels."
The harp is our principal musical instrument. We have one that is portable and in form like a lyre; but our great harp is much larger than yours, differently constructed, and far more effective, combining, as it does, in its tones all the delicacy, expression, and oneness of a single executant, with the brilliancy and power of a combined body of performers.
It rests on a ball firmly placed on a massive pedestal, which is easily moved from one place to another by means of small wheels. The ball on which the harp rests revolves in a socket, so that the instrument can easily be placed in the position the performer desires, and then, by means of a bolt, fixed firmly in its place. No support from the executant is needed. The harp does not rest upon him in any way, and he has, at the same time, entire power over every part.
The instrument is divided into fourths, that is, into four sets of chords. The first only of these four sets is touched by the player, but on any of the first set being intoned, each corresponding string of the three other sets, all of which are stouter and more powerful than the set played upon, resounds in harmony.
The power given out by the three sets of strings is proportioned to the sound produced on the first set by the performer, as the force of an echo is stronger or weaker according as the sound producing it is increased or diminished in volume.
In the framework of the harp there are conducting strings of electricity, which unite all the rest with the first set and with each other. The electricity is generated by a liquid contained in a small tube, and is set in motion by the movement of the strings of the first set of chords. The tube can be placed in or removed from the instrument with the greatest ease; without it, the first set alone responds to the player's touch.
The musician has the power of varying and depressing the notes of the instrument in a marvellous manner, so as to produce instantaneously the most delicate or the most powerful sounds, with endless modulations and variety of tone. I have heard echoes and responses given out as though the music had been breathed from a great distance;—the gentlest whispers were alternated with all the force of a band of music.
I could not, without much expenditure of time and labour, and without explaining our science of music, which is altogether different to yours, convey to you an adequate notion of the effect produced by a skilful player. I have seen a multitude turned away from evil designs by the exquisite playing of the harpist—their passions calmed, their thoughts raised from earth to heaven.
By the aid of little knobs on the instrument, the diapason can be changed to an extent that you would not credit, for it has reference to a system different to yours. The compass and extent of sound given by our harps is very considerably higher than the notes produced by your violins, and deeper than the lowest notes given by your contrabassi.
We do not count by octaves, but by touching twos or threes different characters of sounds are produced, indicated by names such as—gaiety, joy, melancholy, truthfulness, fickleness in some things, fickleness in all things, an exalted mind, poetry, domestic peace, hatred, jealousy, morbid sensibility, pardon, receiving again into favour, flowers, decay of health, sickness, returning health, love in a gentle degree, love in a sublime degree, doubting, also trusting love, loneliness, disappointment, ambition.
These and many other sentiments are expressed by strains that go directly to the soul, and without the need of words. As all in Montalluyah understand the language the music is intended to convey, the player, without opening his lips, can express himself on the harp as clearly as by discourse; and two persons playing can hold a conversation.
As you have certain sounds responding todo, re, mi, &c., so have we certain sounds and harmonies that convey certain expressions; for instance: "I esteem you;" "I feel you in the pulsations of my blood,"i.e."I love you." Or perhaps the vibrations of the same harmony would be varied so as to be higher or lower, sharp or flat; and the player would convey that he felt the presence of his beloved in the appropriate vibration of his nerves.
In another harmony, he would compare the admired object to some beautiful soft bird like the Zudee, or a pet like the Kamouska.[1]
[Footnote 1: See p. 145.]
On the occasion of a love scene between a great harpist and a lady, I have heard the following, amongst many other sentiments, expressed by the harp: First Lenordi the harpist expressed his glowing sympathy, his admiration of beauty, of goodness, his pleading to be heard, his hope that no other occupied the lady's thoughts, his despair if his prayers were not listened to, hope, expressions of eternal devotion; in short, all the possible outpourings of a loving heart. It would be too tedious to tell you all he conveyed, but he ended thus, "Thou art pure as the dew upon the leaf of opening day … but like to that dew wilt thy love pass away!"
Giola—the lady—took her place at the harp, and played a response expressing the following:—"Would I might believe these flattering vibrations, and the bright hopes raised within an hour to wither in a day.
"Could they but last, the skies above would pale beneath their brightness.
"Yet I would not doubt thee; thy every look makes life a dream of love."
The player then made excuses for her seeming enthusiasm, by declaring that even inanimate matter is moved by his soul-stirring strains.
"Every flower and every tendril is moved by thee, for, like thee, they are fresh and gently gay."…
This led eventually to a "choice" meeting, and the marriage was attended with many interesting incidents. Their history would of itself form a curious romance!
Every one competent is educated in the meaning of the harp-sounds, and the instruction in this branch of study commences at an early age. Certain sentences are written, and a sound is given out and repeated till the young person thoroughly understands what he has heard. Then the sentence is renewed, perhaps, in connection with another sentence, the accompanying sound is given, and in a short time the student says the word or sentence accompanying every sound, and thus he soon learns how to use these sounds, and how to vary and combine them, just as an alphabet or series of words would be used by an able writer.
When the instrument is used as a subsidiary agent, and the player accompanies his own or another's voice with words, he plays an accompaniment implying words, but not so as to attract attention from the singer. There are certain accompaniments which are adapted to anything that might be sung. These, however, the player can vary, if his talent is sufficient.
Our songs are generally spontaneous effusions, but there are songs with which certain words are permanently associated.
The harp itself is beautiful as a work of sculptural art. Around its framework most elegant and tasteful ornaments are executed with the minutest perfection—small birds of variegated plumage perched on graceful foliage of green enamel, with flowers in their natural colours, so executed as closely to resemble nature. The birds, flowers, and foliage are connected with the chords of the harp, and conceal from view small vases or reservoirs set in the framework of the instrument. From these with every touch of the chords a beautiful fragrance is exhaled, the force or delicacy of which depends on the more powerful or gentler strains produced from the instruments.
The instant the player strikes the chords, the little birds open their wings, the flowers quiver in gentle action, and then from the vases are thrown off jets of perfume. The more strongly the chords are touched, the more powerfully does the fragrance play around.
In tender passages the perfume gradually dies away, till it becomes so faint as to be appreciated only by the most delicate organisations. The result, however, is, that the sense is gratified, the heart touched, and the whole soul elevated. I have seen the most ardent natures calmed and rendered gentle by the divine strains of this angelic instrument.
It is said that in the angelic spheres flowers breathe music as well as fragrance, and that the sound itself has form, colour, and perfume. This belief suggested the thought of uniting them in harmonious concert for the gratification of those who had exercised the gifts accorded them by Heaven to a good end. As they had gained their position by their own merit, it was sought in every way to increase their happiness and their enjoyments. Nothing that art could produce was thought too good for them.
I loved the world. The wicked only are impatient and discontented. I knew that blessings are everywhere about us, though we are expected to exercise our intelligence to make them available; and whilst I inculcated that "intemperance is not enjoyment," and that "intemperance destroyed the power of enjoyment," I did not hesitate to tell my people that the world and the blessings everywhere abounding are given us to enjoy, and that, like guests invited to a banquet, we were neither to run riot nor to reject the good things offered us in love.
"The contact of society is necessary for the nurture and preservation of the generous feelings implanted in us by the Great Spirit."
In the system I inaugurated, where every man pursued his occupation with enthusiastic delight, because he was engaged in that for which nature and education had fitted him, it became necessary to enjoin recreation and amusement as a duty, particularly in the case of learned men, whose attention was concentrated on one particular subject.
Before my reign learned men had been sometimes prone to seclude themselves from the world, while the opulent indulged in amusements to excess, and had indeed need of laws rather to restrain than to enjoin indulgence. Now, however, few, except the "humble" classes (for we have no "poor" in your sense of the word), would have sought after diversions had not my laws enjoined them as a duty.
As regards learned men, I knew that if one part of the brain was unduly excited and overworked, the other portions would lie dormant and suffer. All classes therefore were required to "undergo" amusements, and many were the precepts to encourage them in the pursuit. I added to these the force of my own example; for, though occupied incessantly with the cares of government and with abstruse meditations, I nevertheless attended amusements of all kinds, and often gave fêtes of great beauty and magnificence for the recreation of the people. I was a frequent attendant at places of amusement, public games, and races, and refreshed myself almost daily with the sympathetic contact of the numerous society which my hospitality brought round my table.
When my laws on the subject of social intercourse were first promulgated there were many wise men who questioned the wisdom of my requiring the learned to cultivate social relations. These addressed to me many arguments in support of their views and objected that, without having their thoughts interrupted by the clang of society, simple changes of subject, or at least the simplest distractions, would amply suffice to give the necessary repose. I always encouraged the learned to communicate to me their opinions, to which I invariably listened with attention; and in this case the arguments they adduced in support of their views were so plausible that I resolved to convince them by an actual experiment.
To satisfy them, and confirm the belief of others, I allowed the chief opponents of my doctrines to select ten learned men who desired to pursue their own idea of seclusion, and ten others were selected by me from those who were converts to my views in matters of recreation and amusement. The twenty men thus selected were, as nearly as possible, equal in point of talent, and were all engaged on the same engrossing subject—one which required great concentration of thought. The utmost care was taken that the experiment might be fairly and conclusively tried.
The result of this experiment, which extended over many years, proved indisputably that I was right; for whilst the productions of the "amusing and amused" men were equal in all, and in many respects superior to, those of the "seclusionists," the latter showed visible marks of the evils of their abstinence.
After a few years their indifference for the world had grown into positive misanthropy. They refused to receive any visits, became negligent of their personal appearance, and centred their whole affection upon the object of their study.
Among those who had lived in seclusion seven out of the ten had lost their hair and the freshness of their complexion, both of which with us are highly valued. They were very sallow, and their figures betrayed the incipient decrepitude of old age, though for our world they were but in the prime of life, if not of early manhood. Besides which they had formed contracted notions on many subjects, some of them being what is called eccentric.
On the other hand, the collected works of the ten men who had profited by contact with the world and its amusements were equal in all respects, and indeed superior in some, to those of the "seclusionists." They were for the most part large and liberal minded. There was but one who might be called narrow-minded and eccentric, but his exceptional state was greatly owing to the fact that the origin of this tendency had not been attended to in childhood. He had, indeed, been educated under the old system and consequently before the establishment of the office of Character-divers. This man was the only one who was subject, though partially, to the physical accidents which had affected the "Seclusionists." The remaining nine "Society-sympathisers" remained fresh, vigorous, and gay.
What, however, satisfied my wise men the most was, that the works of the learned men who had lived in contact with the world were actually in many respects superior to the works of the Seclusionists, although these also were more than remarkable.
In requiring learned men to mix with the world, I did not forbid frequent solitude and retirement for meditation. I only objected to the passion being indulged in to the exclusion of the refreshing sympathies developed by a contact with society.
The result of the experiment I have referred to seemed to satisfy even the ten Seclusionists, who at least changed their habits in obedience to my law, The effects of the seclusion on some of the ten were, however, not got rid of, until a certain time had elapsed, and, but for increased knowledge of the malady of monomania, these effects on one of the ten Seclusionists would have been even far more serious than they fortunately proved to be.
This man, eminent in the highest degree, believed that another learned man, his friend and greatest admirer, was his bitter enemy. All efforts to convince him to the contrary were fruitless, for although remarkably clear-sighted on most other subjects, he obstinately refused on this to listen to the truth. Indeed, the remonstrances of his friends had the effect of strengthening his conviction that the reptile, as he called the supposed enemy, assumed the appearance of friendship, the better to mask his infamous designs.
This delusion went on for some time, but did not show itself beyond words, and even those were never addressed to the supposed enemy, whose designs he said "he would meet with simulation and the reptile's own insidious weapons." Greatly as all this was to be regretted, the man was so venerated, and was usually so calm, that none suspected any tendency to a deranged intellect. His strong feelings were ascribed to mistaken impressions, until a very disagreeable occurrence opened our eyes to his real state.
Both he and his supposed "enemy" were present at a dinner, given by a high official, the chief Knowledge-tester or Examiner. Our dining-tables are semicircular, and the guests are seated on the convex side only. The Monomaniac, being a particular friend, honoured by the host, sat next to him in the centre. The supposed "enemy" happened to be seated at the extreme end of the semicircle, and consequently in a position to be seen from the centre of the table. All went on well till about the middle of the repast, when suddenly the Monomaniac rose, pointed to his supposed enemy, and addressing himself to the guests, said, "Look there! Do you not see the grimaces he is making at me?"
Every one marvelled! The host addressed the Monomaniac in a gentle tone, entreating him to have more control over his temper, Those seated close to the supposed "enemy" declared loudly that he had made no grimaces; but their denial only increased the fury of the accuser. A bird— considered a great delicacy—had just been placed before the host. It was arranged, as were our dishes generally, to please the eye as well as the palate, being ornamented with olives, sweetmeats, and other ingredients of varied colours. Birds, I may incidentally remark, are cooked without the bones; these are skilfully taken out and serve to enrich the gravy.
The Monomaniac again rose suddenly and, before his arm could be arrested, seized the fowl, larded as it was with accessories and dripping with gravy, and with all his force hurled it whole, with unerring aim, at the face of the supposed enemy. So great was his excitement, and so rapid his movements, that he had seized one of the "knife-spoons," and had he not been arrested, would probably have hurled that, and, indeed, everything within reach against the object of his fury.
At private dinners the number of guests never exceeds twelve, and at the back of each, corresponding to every seat, is a small closet, ordinarily used by each guest for his ablutions. Into one of these the Monomaniac was placed with considerable difficulty, everything with which he could injure himself having been previously removed. By the doctor's order he was treated as a patient and, after some time, the result of the application of the tests, then only recently discovered, showed that he was much affected with brain animalcula, which had been generated by the exhaustion of one part of the brain, in consequence of the incessant occupations of another portion, by one all-engrossing subject, without the relief of sufficient air, recreation, and bodily exercise.
The "supposed enemy" and the Monomaniac had been both occupied on the same subject; the latter was much superior, and had consequently attained greater distinction. Nothwithstanding this, he was fearful that the "enemy" would ultimately excel him.
At the end of a few months the Monomaniac was completely cured. It was not, however, until after a year's travel and change of scene that he was allowed to resume his old studies. He now became more brilliant than ever, and we were indebted to him for some valuable discoveries. He had learned that his supposed enemy was a real friend and true admirer of his great talents. He never suffered again from the affliction, which, had it not been arrested in time, would have ended in confirmed madness. He became more than ever a strong advocate for the observance of my laws in favour of recreation.
"….Even the daisies of the field grow in company…."
Besides theatres of another kind, there are large arenas, where the entertainments principally consist of feats worked out by electricity and produce effects far beyond anything as yet known in your planet. These arenas are open to the sky, for electric effects are not exhibited in roofed buildings, from fear of the explosions which would probably occur were antagonistic electricities brought in contact with each other in a covered space.
The games exhibited are varied; but, in all, electricity has some part. As I have already said, we have electricities, some attractive, some antipathetic to the human frame,—and by the aid of both kinds many interesting feats are performed.
I have seen a man and horse in the arena, who, at a given signal, would rise gradually and gracefully to a distance of more than fifty feet from the earth. When suspended in the air a cloud, like fire, would encircle them, and then after a certain time, sufficient for the spectators to observe and admire them, they would alight on the earth as gradually and gracefully as they had ascended.
In one of these arenas is a large sheet of running water, supplied by a cataract in the neighbourhood; and I have seen the most beautiful effects produced by children gliding over and as it were dancing on its surface. The children are selected from the most graceful and beautiful of those, who, not having sufficient intellect to learn, give no signs of making a progress which would fit them for more important occupations.
These children are taught andwilledto move in the most graceful forms. Joining hands and forming exceedingly beautiful groups, they will glide over the cascade and over the surface of the agitated lake, walking, dancing, or reposing.
In assuming these graceful forms, the children are aided by a person skilled in the use of the Will, who, with the assistance of our "sympathetic-attracting machines," [1] canwillthe children to take the most varied and graceful positions. The effect is fascinating, elevating, and refining.
[Footnote 1: See p. 265.]
The man who directs the sympathetic machine,willsthe figures from his imagination or memory, this being part of the art in which he is skilled.
In your planet, you do not know the extent of the power of the Will; and yet it is the Will—the Will of the Soul—which sets our vital electricity in motion, directs it on particular parts of its own machine—the brain—or on the sentient faculties of others. This same vital electricity can be used with greater force and certainty of direction, when assisted by the instrument which I have called "the sympathetic machine."
I have seen one little girl deaf and dumb—the only instance in my time—in consequence of a fright her mother had experienced. The child was of so nervous a temperament, that she could not be taught anything intellectual. She was lovely, with long hair that fell about her in graceful curls, and in whatever way she sat, moved, or reclined, her poses and movements were angelic.
It was found that the only thing which would awaken her dormant senses was electricity; and that, under its influence, she would be well and happy.
This child was at length taught to remain for some time together in one of her beautiful poses.
The circus in which I saw her is built close to a mountain or steep ascent, which rises almost perpendicularly to a great height. By the power of an attractive electricity, she would be made—whilst in one of her beautiful poses—to rise gradually, and to be borne flying, as it were, in the air. She would then be made to alight on the top of the high rock, where a halo of concentrated light was thrown on her; this clung about her, attracted by a solution with which her dress was sponged. The light was calculated to remain undissipated for half an hour.
After some time, and having taken the most graceful poses, encircled with the lovely halo, the child would glide off the rock and descend slowly and gracefully through the air—with the varied colours of the halo about her—as though she were a being of the celestial stars.
Of all exhibitions, I have never seen any more beautiful than this. It served admirably to raise, refine, and rouse the spectator to enthusiasm.
On the other hand, some of our electric exhibitions produce mirth. For instance, the effect of electricity on the monkeys in Montalluyah—who are very sagacious, having faces white like a human being, and talking like parrots—is ludicrous in the extreme. When engaged in chewing and eating their favourite nuts, they find themselves, in spite of their cunning, raised to a great height, without seeing the man underneath their pedestal, who impels them upwards with antipathetic electricity.
When they are thus in the air, and, in spite of all efforts, unable to descend, their antics are of the drollest kind. They, in turn, threaten and entreat the audience, but are soon reassured and liberally rewarded for the parts they have played in amusing the public.
Apart from the contemplation of electrical effects, these amusements may appear somewhat puerile. It should therefore be observed that our people generally retain to the last an almost child-like freshness of feeling, which renders them keenly susceptible to the most innocent pleasures. The tragic drama is for us extinct. Towards the middle of my reign, plays based upon crime ceased to be heard with pleasure, as the new generation, trained under the wholesome influence of my laws, could scarcely understand a plot relating to passions entirely foreign to their nature. The writers for our theatres, properly so called, have since that period confined themselves to subjects illustrative of country life in plain and mountain, and to incidents which, though happening at a distance, are known to occur.
No accidents arise. Our professors are very skilful, knowing the exact quantities of electricity required for a given time, and at what rate its power will decrease. Electricity in all its variations is thoroughly understood by our electricians.
Electricity, indeed, now forms part of the studies of youth in general, and its leading features form part of the early knowledge taught to both girls and boys.
There are races and public games of all kinds, and, besides the fêtes and amusements given by private persons, there are balls and social reunions given by the districts.
Even children have their parties and balls, to which they are taken from four years of age and upwards. The labouring people, or poor, have theirs. They go to work more cheerfully when they know that amusements are to follow, and return to their labours with redoubled energy. They are now contented and happy.
Old people, although allowed to attend the soirées of the young, have parties of their own, to which none who have not passed a certain age are admitted.
One day in the week is set apart for amusements of all kinds.
To the reunions given by the districts, all who have passed a certain age are invited, every seven days, until the age of forty; after forty, once in three weeks; after sixty, once in every six weeks. All who have not passed their fortieth year are expected to attend these reunions. Those who have passed forty may attend as often as they please.
Amongst these reunions there are balls and parties given on certain days in every month, for the introduction of strangers coming from other parts, who are received in a separate room by the Master of the Ceremonies, or, as we say, "Introducer of Strangers." Having satisfied himself of the status of the strangers, this officer announces the name of the eldest and conducts him round the great room, where all the company are assembled, which duty performed, he conducts the guest back to the strangers' room, and then, having returned into the assembly-room, asks if any one wished to make objection to the stranger's reception. If none is made, the visitor is escorted back and presented to the whole company, and the most distinguished amongst them are expected to take him by the hand and seat him by their side.
This ceremony over, the stranger is allowed to visit every person present at their residences, where he is received with great hospitality.
When, however, in answer to the Introducer's question, any one says, "I do object to be introduced to that person," he is required to state his reasons, which the "Introducer" writes down, and which the objector is required to read and sign.
The "Introducer" then proceeds to the strangers' room, and says to the proposed guest, "We find it will not be agreeable to terminate the presentation to-night, so we reserve it for another day," which is fixed accordingly.
On the following day, the most effective means are taken to test the validity of the objections, and it has been found that the few cases of objection that have been raised have been almost invariably based on error, or on exaggerated trifles, which would scarcely bear a moment's examination.
As a record of every one's career is faithfully kept, we have ready means of making ourselves acquainted with every one's antecedents and, consequently, of testing the validity of the "objections."
The objections being removed, the stranger is received with a hearty welcome. When conducted into the assembly-room, the person who made the objections having been pointed out to him, he is addressed as follows:—"In all this great assembly, this is the only person who urged anything against you, and we find that all he imagined arose from misconception [or as the case may be]. This we have taken every pains to rectify, and we leave to you to do what may be pleasing to yourself, in order to convince him still more completely of his error; and you have our best wishes that unity, harmony, and peace may exist between you." This done, the newly-received guest is seated between the principal personages, and is treated with, if possible, more kindness and consideration than if no objection had been made. In each class we follow the same custom, which we find works admirably well. It is peculiarly adapted to our system.
I have spoken above of our sympathetic attracting-machine, and I may mention here that by means of certain acids acted on by the sun's rays, a person can be compelled to move even from a great distance towards a given point in the way willed by the operator. It is, however, necessary to discover, first; the particular acids that have most affinity with the person to be attracted. To ascertain these with certainty, there is a little instrument with many separate cells, all communicating by means of its tube with one little ball, and each containing a different acid.
Unless some attraction, or power in sympathy with the acids, is applied to the ball, the acids remain quiescent, each in its separate compartment. To discover what acids have most attractive force with a given person, the ball is placed against his breast, whereupon the portions of those acids which have affinity with him rush forth from their respective cells up each tube into the ball, where they immediately commingle, forming one compound liquid of unequal component parts. The scientific man charged with the operation then notes the exact quantities of each of the component acids, and all pertinent particulars.
This is an easy process. Each principal acid is weighed before being placed in its cell, which is open from the top; and before the ball is removed from the chest, what remains of each acid is taken out from its compartment and re-weighed. The difference between the weights, before and after the operation, gives the exact weight of each acid, forming one of the component parts of the amalgamated fluid in the ball.
It is rare that the exact proportions of the same acids are applicable to any two men, though, as in the case of faces, the difference may be so slight as almost to approach identity. In some it is very great; but the same kinds of acids suffice to ascertain the attractive power of every individual.
The particular sympathetic acids and their proportions having been ascertained, the attracting-machine is prepared and charged with a large quantity of the sympathetic compound, sufficiently powerful to attract the person selected, although placed at some distance. To be effective, however, the operation must take place while the sun is shining; and it is also necessary that the person directing the machine should exercise a certain amount of will tending towards the end desired. The power of will is great, and there are a few persons who can make others do certain things without the aid of the instrument, by the power of will alone; but, in such cases, the person "willing" must be near the person acted on.