Yet the electors were convinced that it was the politicians that were at fault; and the politicians had each his theory, which, if put into practice, he was sure would set everything to rights. Every new statesman had a new panacea, and when it failed to pay the state wages and pensions in goods, down he went. Another statesman rose into power and another political nostrum was tried. Fortunately for us the last favourite theory had been the encouragement of foreigners. A politician had shown that, if commerce were encouraged and aliens invited to settle in their midst, everything would be right again; and his brief term of office covered our compulsory visit to Wotnekst. That he would fail was as certain as that night would follow day. Yet none the less would the whole people believe that salvation was to be found in passing laws; and they would continue to spend their days and their energies in arguing out new political schemes for the return of prosperity, just as they and their ancestors had done for generations. Nature, meanwhile, was kind enough to save them from actual starvation; her wild roots and fruits were free to all, and in ordinary seasons gave them bare subsistence the year round. But when in one of her violent or barren moods she refused them food, then famine and ultimately plague blotted out by the thousand the less vigorous amongst these believers in the omnipotence of legislation. The survivors, as soon as they gathered strength to talk and argue, began to hammer out a new scheme for putting the state and the state bank and the state industries and state lands and mines on a sound footing. If the passing of laws did not bring them prosperity and happiness, then they were certain that nothing would.
Such was the outline that Sneekape gave me of the history and character of the Wotnekstians; but it seemed such a caricature of human nature that I half suspected he was playing off a jest on me. He saw my hesitation and he assured me on oath that he was speaking the truth. His oaths had never impressed me much, and I tell you his story for what it is worth. That a whole people should so insanely believe in the omnipotence of legislation is beyond credit. That a whole people should adopt such foolish schemes, and on their failure continue to forge and put into practice similar schemes would strain the most primitive credulity. But that any nation could bring themselves to think that the encouragement of idleness and unthrift would lead to anything else than leaving them to the mercy of the moods of Nature was indeed a jest too patent to impose on me.
CHAPTER XX
FOOLGAR
THE adjacent island over which we had to pass made me almost regret our departure from Wotnekst. It was a low, marshy, rich-soiled island that did not bulk into the appearance of land till we were almost half-way across the straits. A few knolls, like a row of buttons, ran across it and gave it the appearance at first of a thread of minute islets strung rosary fashion. They were each topped with either a house or a group of houses that as we approached stood out amid groves of trees against the sky. A nearer view made the island even picturesque; streams and brooks flashed in and out across the low terraces that, meadowed and treed, broke the slope downwards to the shore.
When we reached the surf, there was no one to be seen; but for the cultivated aspects of the centre, we should have said that the island was uninhabited. We shot through the broken water at the mouth of a stream, and ran up its channel as far as the shallows would permit. We moored our boat and made for a little village that nestled at the foot of one of the hills; but we could not get anyone to speak to us. I thought that they were all deaf, till Sneekape demonstrated the contrary; one to whom we spoke went like the others past us, his nose turned skywards; my companion at once imitated with his tongue the twanging of a bowstring and the whizz and cloop of an arrow that enters wood; the figure first cowered and then ran, and when at a safe distance glanced furtively round.
We left the islander to recover from his fright and turned into what seemed a shop in the long street. Here we experienced wholly different treatment. We made extensive purchases of personal clothing and exchanged our absurd Meddlarian guise for this. Our appearance was now less like that of circus clowns. And something in our gait and manner, something perhaps imperious, changed the sullen irresponsiveness of the shopman into the most obsequious attention. He rubbed his hands and bowed before us and anticipated our every wish. He grew servile and cringing; and Sneekape fooled him to the top of his bent. He got the whole of the goods of the shop turned out upon the tables; he objected to everything, or showed the loftiest contempt for the services and eagerness of the capering, bowing salesman; he ordered this or that in the loudest and vulgarest of tones, and the man danced attendance on him all the more abjectly. I stood by and wondered at the change from the haughty churlishness to the supple servility. It came about after and not before we had made our purchases and donned them. In spite of the trouble that Sneekape had given to the clothier, he bought nothing more, and yet was bowed out of the shop with the most fawning of smiles.
We entered another at the upper end of the street; and our reputation, or rather Sneekape’s, had preceded us; for we experienced the same sycophantic court. The attendants bowed us in and offered us seats with bent eyes and gracious smiles. We wished something to eat and drink, and my guide gave his orders with the same insolent parade and pompous voice that he had assumed in the garment store. It was indeed amusing to see how the shopmen bustled about and smirked and bowed to his every command. I knew that there must be another section of the islanders who indulged freely in the manner Sneekape had assumed—loud, overbearing tones, inflated contempt, and supercilious swagger.