The Woman Who Vowed Part 5

"She's a great sculptor," volunteered Cleon, nodding at her from the other side of the table.

"No, I am not," deprecated Anna; "I am not recognized."

I looked at the Mater inquiringly.

"By 'recognized,'" said the Mater, "she means the state hasn't recognized her; that is to say, she has to do her work at the store or wherever else she is a.s.signed during the regular three hours a day. When the state recognizes her--as it is sure to do one of these days--she will be allowed to devote all her time to sculpture."

"I don't believe the state will ever recognize her," said Ariston; "she is a great deal too good. That Sixth is a fool!"

"Sixth is head of the fine arts department," explained the Mater. "His full name is Sprague Sixth; six generations ago we had a great artist called Sprague, who was for twenty years our secretary of the fine arts, and one of his sons has borne his name ever since, until it has become a tradition in Ma.s.sachusetts that we must have a Sprague at the head of our fine arts. This man Sprague Sixth, whom we call Sixth for short, doesn't believe anybody can be good at art unless he has studied in the state school. Now Anna did not show any talent until her school days were over and she had been a.s.signed to work in the store."

"And now there is no chance for her," said Ariston ironically.

"What do you mean," exclaimed Cleon, taking Ariston seriously, "she can be a great artist, without being recognized?"

"I am not sure I want to be recognized," said Anna. "If I were recognized I should have to spend half my day in doing dull things for the state to please Sixth; whereas, now one half of the day is spent in doing mechanical work at the store; the other half I have fresh for my own work. I am going to ask to be a.s.signed to a factory; for factory work is still more mechanical than that of the store, and I can then be more free to think of my own work."

All this was very strange and illuminating. A sculptor asking to do factory work!

"But won't factory work be very hard and brutalizing?" I asked.

Anna looked at me, puzzled, and Ariston came to her rescue.

"I don't think," he said, "Anna appreciates your point of view. In your day all factory work was done purely to make money; the factories were uncomfortable places, and workmen had to work eight and ten hours a day.

Now that most of us have to do some factory work during the year, inventiveness has set to work to make the factory comfortable, and as we all of us have to work for the state and we no longer have to pay the cost of compet.i.tion, three or four hours a day are all that are necessary to furnish the whole community with the necessaries and comforts of life."

"And so I can give the rest of the day to sculpture," said Anna.

"Without any anxiety as to whether her sculpture will pay or not," added Ariston.

"She just has to please herself," said the Mater comfortably.

"I am dreaming!" said I.

"No, you're not," said the Mater; and she pinched me till I started.

Everybody found this very funny--and so I took it as good-naturedly as I could. But I made up my mind to have a little revenge, so I asked the Mater quite loud as soon as they had finished laughing:

"Tell me, is Lydia the only Demetrian here?"

All looked shocked except Cleon, who laughed louder than ever, but Anna looked at him severely and said:

"Cleon, I'm surprised."

I noticed, too, a smile curl Ariston's lip. The Mater put a warning finger to her mouth and shook her head reproachfully.

"You see," I said, with no small satisfaction at the confusion I had caused, "I am new to all these things; I have to distinguish fact from fancy; the sacred from the profane."

"Of course," said Ariston, "although we have our domestic life in the cities, apart, every family having its own separate home, even there we jostle against one another a great deal more than you used in your time; and here at the colony we are like one large family; we have, therefore, to respect one another's opinions, and I might add--prejudices." He bowed here at the Mater as though in deference to her cult of Demeter.

"We wouldn't be happy otherwise; and we have learned that after all, the highest religion is the highest happiness. And so each of us respects the religion of the other; in our heart of hearts we doubtless tax one another with superst.i.tion, but we never admit it. Every cult, therefore, is tolerated and receives the outward respect of all."

I could not help wondering whether this was true. Chairo clearly regarded the cult of Demeter as dangerous and bad; how long then would he tolerate it? Ariston divined my thought, for he added:

"Of course, I a.s.sume that the cult involves no danger to the state; or to individual liberty."

But the brows of the women darkened and I felt we were on dangerous ground, so I asked:

"And what are you going to do this afternoon?"

"We are going on with our haymaking."

"But I thought you worked only three or four hours a day?"

"Yes, that is all we owe the state; but we often ask to work all day for a season in order to have the whole day to ourselves later. And as harvesting must be done within a given s.p.a.ce of time, it suits our economy as well as our inclination to work all day at this season and have October to ourselves. Most of us go hunting all of October, and in November we meet again at the Eleusinian festival."

"Hunting?" I asked; "but where do you hunt?"

"Almost wherever we want, though, of course, this has to be arranged.

Since your time the state has replanted forests on all the high ground least suited to agriculture, and game is carefully preserved there during the whole year except October; which is our open season. Some hunting is done, too, in November and December to suit the convenience of those who have to work in October; but it is mostly done in October."

Lunch was by this time over and we adjourned to the veranda for coffee and a cigar. There we were joined by Chairo and others, and gradually I began to get some notion of the working of their Collectivist State. But as their explanations left me in considerable bewilderment, and it was only when I saw the system in actual operation that I understood it, I shall not attempt to give an account of our conversations, but rather describe the events that followed, not only for the interest of the events themselves, but for the light they threw on the problems which still remain unsolved for our race.

Lydia's good-natured reproach at my idleness kindled in me a desire to remove the occasion of it, so I set myself to learn to mow, and in a very few days my muscles accustomed themselves to the work. I soon picked up a part in their favorite refrains and was able to join in their music as well as their occupations. My ardor for Lydia cooled when I felt its hopelessness; and I confess to an admiration for Chairo which justified her love for him. Neither of them attempted to disguise their desire to be alone with each other, and yet they never moved far from the rest of us. Obviously, Lydia had not decided between Chairo and Demeter.

The Pater told me that she need not decide for another year, though it was likely that she would do so at the Eleusinian festival in November.

This festival, corresponding to our Thanksgiving Day, was held in honor of Demeter and Persephone, the genii of fruitfulness, whether of the earth or of men; and it was generally on some such occasion that vows were taken or missions renounced.

CHAPTER V

IReNe

I spent the whole harvest season at Tyringham, and when it was over I went with Chairo to New York in order to get some ocular understanding of their factory system. It was there that I understood one of the reasons that made Lydia hesitate, for I met there another woman--a Demetrian also--whose history had been intimately interwoven with Chairo's.

Lydia had decided, much to Chairo's disappointment, that she would spend October in the Demetrian cloister attached to the temple. She said she felt the need of seclusion. It was one of the functions of the cloistered to attend the daily rite at the altar, and I often went at the sacred hour to attend the service, doubtless drawn by the desire to see Lydia engaged in her ministration. One afternoon, as I sat in the shadow of a pillar, I was struck by the singular majesty of one of the ministrants. She headed the procession of women who carried the censers, and it was she who offered the incense at the altar.

I was living with Chairo and Ariston in bachelor quarters and described the priestess to the latter on my return home. Ariston's face flushed as he answered: "That must be Irene of Tania; she is a Demetrian and is the mother of a boy by Chairo."

Noticing that my question had moved Ariston I was unwilling to push my inquiries; but after a few moments of silence Ariston, who after his laconic answer had lowered his eyes to the book he was reading, looked up and seeing the question in my eyes that I had refrained from putting into words, added:

"Her story is a sad one. She was selected by Demeter not on account of any special gifts, but because of her splendid combination of qualities; she was a type; she represented a standard it was useful to reproduce.

Chairo for similar reasons was selected as her bridegroom; she chose to know him and became deeply enamored. How should she not? He remained devoted to her until her boy was weaned and then did not renew his vows.

She bore his decision with dignity; indeed, so well did she disguise her disappointment that for a long time no one knew whether it was Chairo or herself who had decided to separate. But when Chairo began to show his love for Lydia, Irene sickened; there was no apparent reason for it and no acute disease; her appet.i.te failed and she lost strength and color."

Ariston paused, as though he were going over it all in his mind, unwilling to give it utterance. Finally, he arose and walked to the window, and after looking out a little, turned to me and said: