Erewhon

With the above words the good man left the room before I had time to express my astonishment at hearing such extraordinary language from the lips of one who seemed to be a reputable member of society.  “Embezzle a large sum of money under singularly distressing circumstances!” I exclaimed to myself, “and ask me to go and stay with him!  I shall do nothing of the sort—­compromise myself at the very outset in the eyes of all decent people, and give the death-blow to my chances of either converting them if they are the lost tribes of Israel, or making money out of them if they are not!  No.  I will do anything rather than that.”  And when I next saw my teacher I told him that I did not at all like the sound of what had been proposed for me, and that I would have nothing to do with it.  For by my education and the example of my own parents, and I trust also in some degree from inborn instinct, I have a very genuine dislike for all unhandsome dealings in money matters, though none can have a greater regard for money than I have, if it be got fairly.

The interpreter was much surprised by my answer, and said that I should be very foolish if I persisted in my refusal.

Mr. Nosnibor, he continued, “is a man of at least 500,000 horse-power” (for their way of reckoning and classifying men is by the number of foot pounds which they have money enough to raise, or more roughly by their horse-power), “and keeps a capital table; besides, his two daughters are among the most beautiful women in Erewhon.”

When I heard all this, I confess that I was much shaken, and inquired whether he was favourably considered in the best society.

“Certainly,” was the answer; “no man in the country stands higher.”

He then went on to say that one would have thought from my manner that my proposed host had had jaundice or pleurisy or been generally unfortunate, and that I was in fear of infection.

“I am not much afraid of infection,” said I, impatiently, “but I have some regard for my character; and if I know a man to be an embezzler of other people’s money, be sure of it, I will give him as wide a berth as I can.  If he were ill or poor—­”

“Ill or poor!” interrupted the interpreter, with a face of great alarm.  “So that’s your notion of propriety!  You would consort with the basest criminals, and yet deem simple embezzlement a bar to friendly intercourse.  I cannot understand you.”

“But I am poor myself,” cried I.

“You were,” said he; “and you were liable to be severely punished for it,—­indeed, at the council which was held concerning you, this fact was very nearly consigning you to what I should myself consider a well-deserved chastisement” (for he was getting angry, and so was I); “but the Queen was so inquisitive, and wanted so much to see you, that she petitioned the King and made him give you his pardon, and assign you a pension in consideration of your meritorious complexion.  It is lucky for you that he has not heard what you have been saying now, or he would be sure to cancel it.”

As I heard these words my heart sank within me.  I felt the extreme difficulty of my position, and how wicked I should be in running counter to established usage.  I remained silent for several minutes, and then said that I should be happy to accept the embezzler’s invitation,—­on which my instructor brightened and said I was a sensible fellow.  But I felt very uncomfortable.  When he had left the room, I mused over the conversation which had just taken place between us, but I could make nothing out of it, except that it argued an even greater perversity of mental vision than I had been yet prepared for.  And this made me wretched; for I cannot bear having much to do with people who think differently from myself.  All sorts of wandering thoughts kept coming into my head.  I thought of my master’s hut, and my seat upon the mountain side, where I had first conceived the insane idea of exploring.  What years and years seemed to have passed since I had begun my journey!

I thought of my adventures in the gorge, and on the journey hither, and of Chowbok.  I wondered what Chowbok told them about me when he got back,—­he had done well in going back, Chowbok had.  He was not handsome—­nay, he was hideous; and it would have gone hardly with him.  Twilight drew on, and rain pattered against the windows.  Never yet had I felt so unhappy, except during three days of sea-sickness at the beginning of my voyage from England.  I sat musing and in great melancholy, until Yram made her appearance with light and supper.  She too, poor girl, was miserable; for she had heard that I was to leave them.  She had made up her mind that I was to remain always in the town, even after my imprisonment was over; and I fancy had resolved to marry me though I had never so much as hinted at her doing so.  So what with the distressingly strange conversation with my teacher, my own friendless condition, and Yram’s melancholy, I felt more unhappy than I can describe, and remained so till I got to bed, and sleep sealed my eyelids.

On awaking next morning I was much better.  It was settled that I was to make my start in a conveyance which was to be in waiting for me at about eleven o’clock; and the anticipation of change put me in good spirits, which even the tearful face of Yram could hardly altogether derange.  I kissed her again and again, assured her that we should meet hereafter, and that in the meanwhile I should be ever mindful of her kindness.  I gave her two of the buttons off my coat and a lock of my hair as a keepsake, taking a goodly curl from her own beautiful head in return:  and so, having said good-bye a hundred times, till I was fairly overcome with her great sweetness and her sorrow, I tore myself away from her and got down-stairs to the caleche which was in waiting.  How thankful I was when it was all over, and I was driven away and out of sight.  Would that I could have felt that it was out of mind also!  Pray heaven that it is so now, and that she is married happily among her own people, and has forgotten me!

And now began a long and tedious journey with which I should hardly trouble the reader if I could.  He is safe, however, for the simple reason that I was blindfolded during the greater part of the time.  A bandage was put upon my eyes every morning, and was only removed at night when I reached the inn at which we were to pass the night.  We travelled slowly, although the roads were good.  We drove but one horse, which took us our day’s journey from morning till evening, about six hours, exclusive of two hours’ rest in the middle of the day.  I do not suppose we made above thirty or thirty-five miles on an average.  Each day we had a fresh horse.  As I have said already, I could see nothing of the country.  I only know that it was level, and that several times we had to cross large rivers in ferry-boats.  The inns were clean and comfortable.  In one or two of the larger towns they were quite sumptuous, and the food was good and well cooked.  The same wonderful health and grace and beauty prevailed everywhere.

I found myself an object of great interest; so much so, that the driver told me he had to keep our route secret, and at times to go to places that were not directly on our road, in order to avoid the press that would otherwise have awaited us.  Every evening I had a reception, and grew heartily tired of having to say the same things over and over again in answer to the same questions, but it was impossible to be angry with people whose manners were so delightful.  They never once asked after my health, or even whether I was fatigued with my journey; but their first question was almost invariably an inquiry after my temper, the naivete of which astonished me till I became used to it.  One day, being tired and cold, and weary of saying the same thing over and over again, I turned a little brusquely on my questioner and said that I was exceedingly cross, and that I could hardly feel in a worse humour with myself and every one else than at that moment.  To my surprise, I was met with the kindest expressions of condolence, and heard it buzzed about the room that I was in an ill temper; whereon people began to give me nice things to smell and to eat, which really did seem to have some temper-mending quality about them, for I soon felt pleased and was at once congratulated upon being better.  The next morning two or three people sent their servants to the hotel with sweetmeats, and inquiries whether I had quite recovered from my ill humour.  On receiving the good things I felt in half a mind to be ill-tempered every evening; but I disliked the condolences and the inquiries, and found it most comfortable to keep my natural temper, which is smooth enough generally.

Among those who came to visit me were some who had received a liberal education at the Colleges of Unreason, and taken the highest degrees in hypothetics, which are their principal study.  These gentlemen had now settled down to various employments in the country, as straighteners, managers and cashiers of the Musical Banks, priests of religion, or what not, and carrying their education with them they diffused a leaven of culture throughout the country.  I naturally questioned them about many of the things which had puzzled me since my arrival.  I inquired what was the object and meaning of the statues which I had seen upon the plateau of the pass.  I was told that they dated from a very remote period, and that there were several other such groups in the country, but none so remarkable as the one which I had seen.  They had a religious origin, having been designed to propitiate the gods of deformity and disease.  In former times it had been the custom to make expeditions over the ranges, and capture the ugliest of Chowbok’s ancestors whom they could find, in order to sacrifice them in the presence of these deities, and thus avert ugliness and disease from the Erewhonians themselves.  It had been whispered (but my informant assured me untruly) that centuries ago they had even offered up some of their own people who were ugly or out of health, in order to make examples of them; these detestable customs, however, had been long discontinued; neither was there any present observance of the statues.

I had the curiosity to inquire what would be done to any of Chowbok’s tribe if they crossed over into Erewhon.  I was told that nobody knew, inasmuch as such a thing had not happened for ages.  They would be too ugly to be allowed to go at large, but not so much so as to be criminally liable.  Their offence in having come would be a moral one; but they would be beyond the straightener’s art.  Possibly they would be consigned to the Hospital for Incurable Bores, and made to work at being bored for so many hours a day by the Erewhonian inhabitants of the hospital, who are extremely impatient of one another’s boredom, but would soon die if they had no one whom they might bore—­in fact, that they would be kept as professional borees.  When I heard this, it occurred to me that some rumours of its substance might perhaps have become current among Chowbok’s people; for the agony of his fear had been too great to have been inspired by the mere dread of being burnt alive before the statues.

I also questioned them about the museum of old machines, and the cause of the apparent retrogression in all arts, sciences, and inventions.  I learnt that about four hundred years previously, the state of mechanical knowledge was far beyond our own, and was advancing with prodigious rapidity, until one of the most learned professors of hypothetics wrote an extraordinary book (from which I propose to give extracts later on), proving that the machines were ultimately destined to supplant the race of man, and to become instinct with a vitality as different from, and superior to, that of animals, as animal to vegetable life.  So convincing was his reasoning, or unreasoning, to this effect, that he carried the country with him; and they made a clean sweep of all machinery that had not been in use for more than two hundred and seventy-one years (which period was arrived at after a series of compromises), and strictly forbade all further improvements and inventions under pain of being considered in the eye of the law to be labouring under typhus fever, which they regard as one of the worst of all crimes.

This is the only case in which they have confounded mental and physical diseases, and they do it even here as by an avowed legal fiction.  I became uneasy when I remembered about my watch; but they comforted me with the assurance that transgression in this matter was now so unheard of, that the law could afford to be lenient towards an utter stranger, especially towards one who had such a good character (they meant physique), and such beautiful light hair.  Moreover the watch was a real curiosity, and would be a welcome addition to the metropolitan collection; so they did not think I need let it trouble me seriously.

I will write, however, more fully upon this subject when I deal with the Colleges of Unreason, and the Book of the Machines.

In about a month from the time of our starting I was told that our journey was nearly over.  The bandage was now dispensed with, for it seemed impossible that I should ever be able to find my way back without being captured.  Then we rolled merrily along through the streets of a handsome town, and got on to a long, broad, and level road, with poplar trees on either side.  The road was raised slightly above the surrounding country, and had formerly been a railway; the fields on either side were in the highest conceivable cultivation, but the harvest and also the vintage had been already gathered.  The weather had got cooler more rapidly than could be quite accounted for by the progress of the season; so I rather thought that we must have been making away from the sun, and were some degrees farther from the equator than when we started.  Even here the vegetation showed that the climate was a hot one, yet there was no lack of vigour among the people; on the contrary, they were a very hardy race, and capable of great endurance.  For the hundredth time I thought that, take them all round, I had never seen their equals in respect of physique, and they looked as good-natured as they were robust.  The flowers were for the most part over, but their absence was in some measure compensated for by a profusion of delicious fruit, closely resembling the figs, peaches, and pears of Italy and France.  I saw no wild animals, but birds were plentiful and much as in Europe, but not tame as they had been on the other side the ranges.  They were shot at with the cross-bow and with arrows, gunpowder being unknown, or at any rate not in use.

We were now nearing the metropolis and I could see great towers and fortifications, and lofty buildings that looked like palaces.  I began to be nervous as to my reception; but I had got on very well so far, and resolved to continue upon the same plan as hitherto—­namely, to behave just as though I were in England until I saw that I was making a blunder, and then to say nothing till I could gather how the land lay.  We drew nearer and nearer.  The news of my approach had got abroad, and there was a great crowd collected on either side the road, who greeted me with marks of most respectful curiosity, keeping me bowing constantly in acknowledgement from side to side.

When we were about a mile off, we were met by the Mayor and several Councillors, among whom was a venerable old man, who was introduced to me by the Mayor (for so I suppose I should call him) as the gentleman who had invited me to his house.  I bowed deeply and told him how grateful I felt to him, and how gladly I would accept his hospitality.  He forbade me to say more, and pointing to his carriage, which was close at hand, he motioned me to a seat therein.  I again bowed profoundly to the Mayor and Councillors, and drove off with my entertainer, whose name was Senoj Nosnibor.  After about half a mile the carriage turned off the main road, and we drove under the walls of the town till we reached a palazzo on a slight eminence, and just on the outskirts of the city.  This was Senoj Nosnibor’s house, and nothing can be imagined finer.  It was situated near the magnificent and venerable ruins of the old railway station, which formed an imposing feature from the gardens of the house.  The grounds, some ten or a dozen acres in extent, were laid out in terraced gardens, one above the other, with flights of broad steps ascending and descending the declivity of the garden.  On these steps there were statues of most exquisite workmanship.  Besides the statues there were vases filled with various shrubs that were new to me; and on either side the flights of steps there were rows of old cypresses and cedars, with grassy alleys between them.  Then came choice vineyards and orchards of fruit-trees in full bearing.

The house itself was approached by a court-yard, and round it was a corridor on to which rooms opened, as at Pompeii.  In the middle of the court there was a bath and a fountain.  Having passed the court we came to the main body of the house, which was two stories in height.  The rooms were large and lofty; perhaps at first they looked rather bare of furniture, but in hot climates people generally keep their rooms more bare than they do in colder ones.  I missed also the sight of a grand piano or some similar instrument, there being no means of producing music in any of the rooms save the larger drawing-room, where there were half a dozen large bronze gongs, which the ladies used occasionally to beat about at random.  It was not pleasant to hear them, but I have heard quite as unpleasant music both before and since.

Mr. Nosnibor took me through several spacious rooms till we reached a boudoir where were his wife and daughters, of whom I had heard from the interpreter.  Mrs. Nosnibor was about forty years old, and still handsome, but she had grown very stout:  her daughters were in the prime of youth and exquisitely beautiful.  I gave the preference almost at once to the younger, whose name was Arowhena; for the elder sister was haughty, while the younger had a very winning manner.  Mrs. Nosnibor received me with the perfection of courtesy, so that I must have indeed been shy and nervous if I had not at once felt welcome.  Scarcely was the ceremony of my introduction well completed before a servant announced that dinner was ready in the next room.  I was exceedingly hungry, and the dinner was beyond all praise.  Can the reader wonder that I began to consider myself in excellent quarters?  “That man embezzle money?” thought I to myself; “impossible.”

But I noticed that my host was uneasy during the whole meal, and that he ate nothing but a little bread and milk; towards the end of dinner there came a tall lean man with a black beard, to whom Mr. Nosnibor and the whole family paid great attention:  he was the family straightener.  With this gentleman Mr. Nosnibor retired into another room, from which there presently proceeded a sound of weeping and wailing.  I could hardly believe my ears, but in a few minutes I got to know for a certainty that they came from Mr. Nosnibor himself.

“Poor papa,” said Arowhena, as she helped herself composedly to the salt, “how terribly he has suffered.”

“Yes,” answered her mother; “but I think he is quite out of danger now.”

Then they went on to explain to me the circumstances of the case, and the treatment which the straightener had prescribed, and how successful he had been—­all which I will reserve for another chapter, and put rather in the form of a general summary of the opinions current upon these subjects than in the exact words in which the facts were delivered to me; the reader, however, is earnestly requested to believe that both in this next chapter and in those that follow it I have endeavoured to adhere most conscientiously to the strictest accuracy, and that I have never willingly misrepresented, though I may have sometimes failed to understand all the bearings of an opinion or custom.