IX
Of the nobility I can speak with more confidence, for with many of them I am on terms of intimacy and friendship. The well-bred gentleman is not confined in our own world to any special climate or nation, for he is to be found equally under a white, a yellow, a brown and even a black skin; and the gentle type is also indigenous on the planet of Meleager.
The aristocracy of Meleager is closely connected with the land, and it is to some extent strongly impregnated with feudal principles. Every noble is either the owner of an estate, be it large, moderate or small, or else is connected by family ties with the actual landowner. Each house forms a distinctive gens in itself, and all its male members are entitled to bear a badge, which is its peculiar mark. These badges at first suggested to my mind a relic of totem-kin, but I soon changed my opinion on this point, and now hold the family badge to be heraldic in its aim and use. I gather that the adoption of a conspicuous badge or emblem for each family is of considerable antiquity, and perhaps derives from reports made by the Meleagrian envoys on Earth at the period of the Crusades, when coat-armour came into fashion among the chivalry of Western Christendom.
The mass of the nobles exhibits various degrees of wealth and influence, and I have noted the existence of some ill-feeling between the leading magnates and the smaller landowners. The social cleavage between the two sets is however imperceptible, and the constant intermarriage between the families of what I may call the major and the minor barons tends to eradicate many cases of jealousy. This landed aristocracy has, of course, its chief residence in the country districts, though the wealthier families possess houses in the cities in addition. The country house of Meleager is usually of moderate size, and consists of a low square white-washed mansion enclosing a courtyard. The native love of colonnades is prominently exhibited in these houses, which are frequently surrounded on all sides by loggias that can be utilised according to the varying conditions of weather. The arrangements within are somewhat primitive according to our own luxurious standards of the twentieth century, but they are not without a sufficiency of comfort. The floors are generally tiled; there are no rugs or carpets, save some skins of beasts; the furniture, though often elaborately carved, is not plentiful. There are no family portraits, for the art of painting pictures is unknown, but in compensation for this defect there is always the curious family chapel or mausoleum. This has usually a low domed roof pierced by windows of coloured glass that admit only a dim light within the chamber which seems very similar to the columbaria of the Romans, from whom I conclude this idea has been borrowed by their unknown admirers. Rows of small semicircular apertures line the walls, many of these standing empty, whilst not a few are occupied by busts of deceased members of the family. Beneath these effigies are placed small urns of metal or marble which contain the ashes, for cremation has for sanitary reasons been made compulsory in Meleager for many centuries past. Some of these busts are of no small artistic merit, and evidently well portray the features of the noble ancestors; others again are of inferior workmanship; whilst some are obviously merely conventional in their treatment. Such a collection certainly forms rather a gruesome substitute for a family portrait gallery, but its atmosphere does not seem to depress the spirits of the present generation, for I am always cheerfully invited to enter and inspect these queer oratories. The surrounding gardens are often beautiful, but are far less artificial than our own. One broad long flagged terrace usually suffices for the family to stroll; otherwise the paths and lawns are unkempt and neglected. These pleasances are however full of a luxuriant growth of wild or half-wild flowers, so that I found myself often being reminded of the exuberant gardens of old-world Italian villas in past days, before the late irruption of wealthy cosmopolitan tourists had succeeded in thoroughly vulgarising Italy and modernising all its old peaceful haunts.
Country life as pursued in Meleager varies little in its essence from that of our Earth, mutatis mutandis, for time is pretty evenly divided between the attractions of sport and the claims of estate management and domestic concerns. Everything is, of course, conducted in a manner that would appear as primitive to our pampered sportsmen as it would seem suggestive to the antiquary, for both field sports and agriculture have remained here in the mediæval, or even sometimes in the archaic, stage of development. Firearms, though not unknown, are at least never employed, so that in hunting the spear, the net, the trap and even the bow still constitute the chief weapons of the chase. All ploughing is performed by oxen with wooden implements, and the thorough cultivation of the crops is on a tiny scale. Again and again have the conditions of Meleagrian rural life recalled to me the old-world bucolic practices of Tuscany and Castile, that even down to the close of the nineteenth century retained so many picturesque features of remote classical times. The tenor of existence in the country is quiet enough, and would prove unspeakably dull and irksome to the majority of our modern squires; but it must be remembered that the Meleagrian landowners have no newspapers, no novels, no Stock Exchange, no party politics to sweeten and distract their daily round, so that they are perfectly content to follow in the secure footsteps of their forefathers. Should the younger men find the calm routine of country life wearisome, there are other avenues of occupation open to such restless souls. In the first place there is the army, which is officered solely by members of the aristocracy, some of whom make a permanent profession of their military duties and attain in due course to the higher commands therein. The usual plan is, however, for the younger sons of the noble houses to spend some three or four years in the army, after which they marry and come to settle in homes of their own, where they busy themselves for the rest of their lives with a medley of sport, agriculture and domestic economy. Again, the life at Court is open to a certain number of those who care neither for a career in the army nor for the monotony of the countryside. Here they participate in the constant variety of the palace, and hope to win honorary appointments in the royal household. A few, more adventurous still than their fellows, proceed to Barbaria either for the purpose of better hunting, or for the sake of the harder and more exciting life in a new sphere of energy. Some proportion of these latter obtain grants of land in this less than half-occupied territory, where they found new estates modelled on the old lines, much as the younger scions of our gentle English houses emigrated and settled in Virginia. Such experiments moreover are strongly commended and encouraged by the special councillors who are charged with the conduct of colonial affairs.
Yet another and a far more important means of escape from the alleged tedium of family or rustic routine is the career of the probationer, who aspires eventually to be elected a member of the hierarchy. This ambition cannot, however, be gratified before the age of thirty, when the intending candidate is admitted to the school of the neophytes. Here for a year he receives a course of lectures on Meleagrian history and is taught the rudiments of Latin grammar, but no instruction in reading or writing is yet afforded him. At the end of a twelvemonth of such preliminary training, the neophyte is either rejected as unfit or unsuitable, or else he is admitted a probationer of the seminary attached to the Temple of the Sun. In that case he receives a five years' course of far more advanced tuition; he is taught to read, write and speak the Latin language; and presumably he is also instructed in astronomy, politics, theology and other subjects concerning which his existing notions must be strangely vague or wholly erroneous. This long period of instruction entails a severe strain on the pupil, who is henceforth cut off from all private and external ties and interests, for he is never allowed to quit the precincts of his seminary. Of his final election and reception into the council of the hierarchy I have spoken elsewhere. Whether or no any candidate has ever failed to obtain his election and has been consequently compelled to remain in the institution for years, perhaps for the term of his lifetime, I cannot say; yet I do know for a fact that for its inmates there is but one door leading out of the seminary of probationers and that is the door which admits to the council chamber.
I always enjoy my occasional visits to the country seats of the nobility, where the calm useful healthy life affords an agreeable change to me from the atmosphere of the palace, which seems always charged with mystery and intrigue. The genuine greeting of my host and the members of his family, the delightful blend of divine honours and of frank hospitality wherewith I am everywhere received, the pride shown in their farms and agricultural schemes, the general air of repose and safety, all tend to soothe a mind that has grown perplexed and wearied with the endless cares of an exalted but anomalous office. The conversation of these uneducated but well-bred persons is certainly not exciting, and might fairly be described as trivial, but really I do not think, from past experience, that it is more trifling or banal than the average talk of the British aristocracy which of recent years has elevated sport and money-making to be the prevalent topics of society (using that term in its narrow technical application). And though all these excellent folk in Meleager are of necessity quite illiterate in the sense that they cannot read and write, their memory is marvellous, so that often after the evening meal the different members of the household recite whole poems in the Meleagrian language, or else tell stories that are by no means devoid of wit and imagination. Often too there is singing to the native lute of sweet melodious songs, which are well rendered by the fresh voices of the young performers.
The land tenure of Meleager may perhaps be best described as a modified form of primogeniture. The family estate, whether large or small, descends in tail male, and only in the failure of masculine issue in the whole family to the female heirs of the last possessor. This strict entail is, however, subject to certain limitations, which tend to allow provision for the widow and daughters of the landowner. Moreover, all members of the family have a species of life interest in the estate, so long as they continue unmarried. Thus on the death of a father, the eldest-born will inherit, but the new owner's younger brothers (and also his unmarried uncles), if still residing under the family roof, own the right to remain in their old home. Patriarchal life in this manner becomes highly developed, and the family council consisting of all its male and all its unmarried female members can exercise considerable power over all private affairs within the scope of the family circle. Thus the expulsion of an unworthy relative can be arranged, and this inherent family rule is admitted and upheld by the hierarchy. A noble thus expelled forfeits his right to bear the family badge, and also has to relinquish the crimson cloak and tunic of his order. A member so degraded sinks automatically into the ranks of the plebeian or third estate, and is generally lost sight of. Such incidents are rare, but they do occur occasionally, and this private form of prerogative to drive into social exile is undisputed.
Although a very distinct line is drawn between the Reds and the Greens, between the noble and the mercantile classes, there seems no contempt or envy of class on either side. Such jealousy as exists is rather noticeable within the ranks of the aristocracy itself, wherein, though nominally all are of equal rank, some are rich and some poor, some influential and some of little account. And the same remark holds good of the conditions prevailing in the mercantile class. Taxation of the landed interest is raised in two ways: first by a direct tax on land itself, which is apportioned at certain intervals; and second, by a poll-tax on every noble. Occasionally a landed estate left without any male heirs is sold for the benefit of the female inheritors; but it is clear that in the vast majority of cases the present estates in Meleager have descended in unbroken succession and unreduced in area for many generations.
As to the characteristics of the Meleagrian nobles, doubtless they have their failings, but these in my estimation are fully redeemed by their many good qualities. There is apparent some display of haughtiness in the higher nobility towards other less wealthy members of their own caste, but their attitude and bearing towards their many dependents and also towards the general populace would be worthy of imitation even in our so-called democratic world. Of course such intimacy as I can attain with them is necessarily limited, when one considers my own range of knowledge and their utter inability to grasp the meaning of any one of the many serious questions that perpetually vex my mind. I sometimes have the sensation of living in a world of shadows, with which I sport and even converse, for the mental gulf fixed between me and them is fathomless and unbridgeable. Even my Hiridia, faithful friend and delightful companion though he be, seems often a plaything rather than a co-equal being of the same flesh and blood as myself. I can study all these people and analyse with ease their simple empty minds; I can sympathise with their artless pleasures and pastimes; I can play and sing and hunt and bathe and feast with them;—but I cannot talk with them seriously any more than can a septuagenarian professor carry on a rational conversation with a child. Yet all the same they are charming grown-up children; and was it not the Divine Master of our world who more than once insisted that to share His promised kingdom all His grown-up hearers must become as little children? Nevertheless, despite such consoling thoughts, the fact remains that I am always lonely.