He denied that sewing would affect his daughters' health, unless, perhaps, they followed it exclusively as an occupation; but, as they would have it in their power to consult their inclinations and convenience in this matter, they might take it up when the occasion required, and lay it down whenever they found it irksome or fatiguing: that as they themselves were inclined to follow this course, it was a plain proof that the occupation was not unhealthy. He maintained that they would stoop just as much in gardening, and washing and nursing their children, as in sewing; and that we were not such frail or unpliant machines as to be seriously injured, unless we persisted in one set of straight, formal notions, but that we were adapted to variety, and were benefited by it. That as to the practice being favourable to wantonness and vice, while he admitted that idleness was productive of these effects, he could not see how one occupation encouraged them more than another. That the tailor, for example, whom he had been speaking of, though purse-proud, overbearing, and rapacious, was not more immoral or depraved than his neighbours, and had probably less of the libertine than most of them. He admitted that evil thoughts would enter the mind in any situation, and could not reasonably be expected to be kept out of his daughters' heads (being, as he said, but women): yet he conceived such a result as far less probable, if they were suffered to ramble about in the streets, and to chaffer with their customers, than if they were kept to sedate and diligent employment at home.
Having, with great warmth and earnestness, used these arguments, he concluded, by plainly hinting to his wife that she had always been the apologist of the tailor, in all their disputes; and that she could not be so obstinately blind to the irrefragable reasoning he had urged, if she were not influenced by her old hankering after this fellow, and did not consult his interests in preference to those of her own family. Upon this remark the old woman took fire, and, in spite of our presence, they both had recourse to direct and the coarsest abuse.
The Brahmin did not, as I expected, join me in laughing at the scene we had just witnessed; but, after some musing, observed: "There is much truth in what each of these parties say. I blame them only for the course they take towards each other. Their dispute is, in fact, of a most frivolous and unmeaning character; for, if the father was to carry his point, the girls would occasionally sell the productions of their garden, and pay for making their clothes, or even buy them ready made. Were the mother, on the other hand, to prevail, they would still occasionally use their needles, and exercise their taste and skill in sewing, spinning, knitting, and the like. Nay," added he, "if you had not been so much engrossed with this angry and indecorous altercation, you might have seen two of them at their needles, in an adjoining apartment, while one was busy at work in the garden, and another up to the elbows in the soap-suds—all so closely engaged in their several pursuits, that they hardly seemed to know they were the subject of discussion."
I told the Brahmin that a dispute, not unlike this, had taken place in my own country, a few years since; some of our politicians contending that agricultural labour was most conducive to the national wealth, whilst others maintained that manufacturing industry was equally advantageous, wherever it was voluntarily pursued;—but that the controversy had lately assumed a different character—the question now being, not whether manufactures are as beneficial as agriculture, but whether they deserve extraordinary encouragement, by taxing those who do not give them a preference.
"That is," said the Brahmin, "as if our landlady, by way of inducing her daughters to give up gardening for spinning, were to tell them, if they did not find their new occupation as profitable as the old, she would more than make up the difference out of her own pocket, which, though it might suit the daughters very well, would be a losing business to the family."
CHAPTER XIII.
Description of the Happy Valley—The laws, customs, and manners of the Okalbians—Theory of population—Rent—System of government.
The Brahmin, who was desirous of showing me what was most remarkable in this country, during the short time we intended to stay, thought this a favourable time to visit Okalbia, or the Happy Valley. The Okalbians are a tribe or nation, who live separated from the rest of the Lunar world, and whose wise government, prudence, industry, and integrity, are very highly extolled by all, though, by what I can learn, they have few imitators. They dwell about three hundred miles north of the city of Alamatua, in a fertile valley, which they obtained by purchase about two hundred years since, and which is about equal to twenty miles square, that is, to four hundred square miles. A carriage and four well-broke dogs, was procured for us, and we soon reached the foot of the mountain that encloses the fortunate valley, in about fifty-two hours. We then ascended, for about three miles, with far fatigue than I formerly experienced in climbing the Catskill mountains of my native State, and found ourselves on the summit of an extensive ridge, which formed the margin of a vast elliptical basin, the bottom of which presented a most beautiful landscape. The whole surface was like a garden, interspersed with patches of wood, clumps of trees, and houses standing singly or in groupes. A lake, about a mile across, received several small streams, and on its edge was a town, containing about a thousand houses. After enjoying the beauties of the scene for some minutes, we descended by a rough winding road, and entered this Lunar Paradise, in about four hours. Along the sides of the highway we travelled, were planted rows of trees, not unlike our sycamores, which afforded a refreshing shade to the traveller; and commonly a rivulet ran bubbling along one side or the other of the road.
After journeying about eight miles, we entered a neat, well built town, which contained, as we were informed, about fifteen thousand inhabitants. The Brahmin informed me, that in a time of religious fervour, about two centuries ago, a charter was granted to the founder of a new sect, the Volbins, who had chanced to make converts of some of the leading men in Morosofia, authorising him and his followers to purchase this valley of the hunting tribe to whom it belonged, and to govern themselves by their own laws. They found no difficulty in making the purchase. It was then used as a mere hunting ground, no one liking to settle in a place that seemed shut out from the rest of the world. At first, the new settlers divided the land equally among all the inhabitants, one of their tenets being, that as there was no difference of persons in the next world, there should be no difference in sharing the good things of this. They tried at first to preserve this equality; but finding it impracticable, they abandoned it. It is said that after about thirty years, by reason of a difference in their industry and frugality, and of some families spending less than they made, and some more, the number of land owners was reduced to four hundred, and that fifty of these held one half of the whole; since which time the number of landed proprietors has declined with the population, though not in the same proportion. As the soil is remarkably fertile, the climate healthy, and the people temperate and industrious, they multiplied very rapidly until they reached their present numbers, which have been long stationary, and amount to 150,000, that is, about four hundred to a square mile; of these, more than one half live in towns and villages, containing from one hundred to a thousand houses.
They have little or no commerce with any other people, the valley producing every vegetable production, and the mountains every mineral, which they require; and in fact, they have no foreign intercourse whatever, except when they visit, or are visited from curiosity. Though they have been occasionally bullied and threatened by lawless and overbearing neighbours; yet, as they can be approached by only a single gorge in the mountain, which is always well garrisoned, (and they present no sufficient object to ambition, to compensate for the scandal of invading so inoffensive and virtuous a people,) they have never yet been engaged in war.