The affidavits read before the court by both sides brought out the facts of the case in a manner to leave no doubt in a reasonable mind as to Chairo's guilt. It was true that the person who actually forced the gate of the cloister and overpowered the janitor remained unknown, but Chairo had been arrested in the act of flight and in the company of Lydia, whose capture was the only possible motive for the act. Then, too, on the evening that preceded the capture a typewritten message had been received by the high priest of the cult informing him that Chairo's carriage would that night break down upon a certain road, and that the cult would have an interest in watching the event. Clearly, therefore, the capture had been planned by Chairo. Then, too, for every affidavit read by Ariston to prove that the attack on the House of Detention had been arranged as well as executed by Balbus a dozen affidavits were read by the other side showing the preparations for violence that had been made by Chairo prior to the carrying off of Lydia. The only question that the court had to decide was, whether Chairo's immunity from imprisonment as a member of the legislature applied to his case; obviously he was an accessory to the crime after as well as before the fact, even though he were not guilty of the crime itself; and he was caught in the very act of carrying out the object for which the crime was committed—that is to say, the placing of Lydia beyond the reach of the cult. But Ariston argued that there was no obligation upon the court to hold Chairo; the matter under the peculiar conditions which presented themselves was practically left to their discretion; and he appealed to them to liberate Chairo lest he should use his imprisonment as an argument before the higher tribunal of public opinion, to which the question must ultimately be referred. The court adjourned without rendering a decision; and it was later arranged that Lydia be removed from New York and Chairo released on parole not to leave the city limits until the trial of his case.
Lydia, therefore, was taken to the Pater's farm at Tyringham; and I gladly accepted an invitation to join the party there, which included Ariston, Anna of Ann, the high priest of the cult, and a few others.
I was much interested to learn there the particular form of Collectivism which prevailed in the country districts of New England. The land, it is true, technically belonged to the state, but the enjoyment of it had never been taken from those farmers who were able and willing to pay to the state the amount of produce exacted by it. Assessors periodically visited every district to determine what crops the land was best fitted to produce, and what amount of the designated crop the occupying farmer should pay the state. The farmer was not bound to grow the particular crop designated, unless a shortage in a preceding year obliged the state to require a quota of the designated crop. He was free to furnish the state some other crop according to a fixed scale, the bushel of wheat constituting the standard—a bushel of wheat being equivalent to so much hay, so many pounds of potatoes, etc. But the farmer generally grew enough of the particular crop designated to furnish the amount required. The state suggested the best rotation of crops and the farmer was left a certain choice.
The working of the system was to eliminate all the incapable farmers, leaving upon the land only the most capable. The eliminated were put to other employments. The surviving fit generally enjoyed an enviable existence; for the exactions of the state were not exorbitant, and it had become a rule that no farmer should ever be deprived of a farm so long as he paid the state contribution; thus, the state contribution was practically nothing more nor less than a state tax.
The Pater had succeeded to his farm from his father, who himself had succeeded to his, so that the same land had remained in the same family since our day. There was no limitation of hours of work on the farm. The occupation was regarded as so desirable that farm laborers willingly gave their whole time; for during the summer their life was enlivened by the arrival of city dwellers, who occupied the colony buildings adjacent in the neighborhood; and in the depth of the winter, when the sporting season was over, every farm laborer had his two or three months in town. The owner of the farm, for so every farmer was still called, supported his own laborers and supplied them with money for their annual city vacation. His own wants, including the wages paid to the laborer, were supplied by the sale to the state of the farm produce over and above that required by the state for rent. The essential Collectivist feature of the system consisted in the fact that no man was obliged by the necessity of earning wages to work upon a farm. He could always refuse to work for a farmer by taking work from the state. Only those farmers who knew how to make their farms not only prosperous but attractive, could secure laborers, the relation between a farmer and his hands being that of man to man rather than that of employer to employee. Indeed, it was the security every man and woman had of employment by the state that had caused pauperism and prostitution to disappear; and with them the dependence of one class upon another. In agriculture, as in manufacture, employment of one individual by another was a matter of inclination, not of compulsion; and under these circumstances every employer took care to make his employment agreeable and to share equitably with his fellow-workers the product of their joint labors.
As soon as the hearing of habeas corpus proceedings were concluded and Lydia was transported to Tyringham she rapidly gained health. Chairo wrote to her daily the progress of his preparations for the legislature, which was to meet in a few days. He was assured of Masters's support in favor of a bill of amnesty to all engaged in the carrying off of Lydia and the attack on the House of Detention, and this bill would constitute the first business to be brought before the Assembly. An identical bill would be introduced in the Senate, and efforts were being made at once to secure the approval of the governor.
Meanwhile we often had leisure at Tyringham for the discussion of the Demetrian cult, which had given rise to so great a tumult. The day that the high priest received intelligence of the proposed amnesty bill I asked him his views regarding it.
The high priest was a tall, aged man, closely shaven—as indeed were all the priests—and very slow and distinct in his way of speaking. Though he occupied the highest function in the cult he was by no means its controlling will. On the contrary, the Demetrian council was composed almost entirely of women, that is to say, priestesses; but it had passed into a tradition that in order to avoid too great animosity on the part of the men, these last should be permitted a representation on the council and the presiding officer and the head of the cult should be a man.
The high priest answered my question with his usual deliberation and care: