xU DUKE UNIVERSITY LIBRARY The Glenn Negley Collection of Utopian Literature Digitized by the Internet Archive in 2010 with funding from Duke University Libraries http://www.archive.org/details/crystalageOOhuds A CRYSTAL AGE A CRYSTAL AGE By W. H. HUDSON AUTHOR OF "THE PURPLE LAND," "A SHEPHERD'S LIFE," ETC, WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY DR. CLIFFORD SMYTH Then gin I thinke on that which Nature sayd, Of that same time when no more change shall be But stedfast rest of all things firmely stayd Upon the pillours of Eternity. NEW YORK E. P. DUTTON AND COMPANY 681 FIFTH AVENUE Published by E. P. DUTTON & CO., 1917 Foreword Copyright in 1916, By E. P. DUTTON & CO. First American Edition igij Second Printing June, 2922 •9rintrt< in H* tHnfteo States of 3mm'ta Tc.ft. tia- PREFACE Romances of the future, however fantastic they may be, have for most of us a perennial if mild interest, since they are born of a very common feeling — a sense of dissatisfaction with the existing order of things, combined with a vague faith in or hope of a better one to come. The picture put before us is false; we knew it would be false before looking at it, since we cannot imagine what is unknown any more than we can build without materials. Our mental atmosphere surrounds and shuts us in like our own skins; no one can boast that he has broken out of that prison. The vast, unbounded prospect lies before us, but, as the poet mournfully adds, "clouds and darkness rest upon it." Nevertheless we cannot suppress all curiosity, or help asking one another, What is your dream — your ideal? What vi PREFACE is your News from Nowhere, or, rather, what is the result of the little shake your hand has given to the old pasteboard toy with a dozen bits of colored glass for contents 5 ? And, most important of all, can you present it in a narrative or romance which will enable me to pass an idle hour not disagreeably? How, for instance, does it compare in this respect with other prophetic books on the shelf? I am not referring to living authors; least of all to that flamingo of letters who for the last decade or so has been a wonder to our island birds. For what could I say of him that is not known to every one — that he is the tallest of fowls, land or water, of a most singular shape, and has black-tipped crimson wings folded under his delicate rose-colored plumage? These other books referred to, written, let us say, from thirty or forty years to a century or two ago, amuse us in a way their poor dead authors never intended. Most amusing are the dead ones who take themselves seriously, whose books are pulpits quaintly carved and decorated with precious PREFACE vii stones and silken canopies in which they stand and preach to or at their contemporaries. In like manner, in going through this book of mine after so many years I am amused at the way it is colored by the little cults and crazes, and modes of thought of the 'eighties of the last century. They were so important then, and now, if remembered at all, they appear so trivial ! It pleases me to be diverted in this way at "A Crystal Age" — to find, in fact, that I have not stood still while the world has been moving. This criticism refers to the case, the habit, of the book rather than to its spirit, since when we write we do, as the red man thought, impart something of our souls to the paper, and it is probable that if I were to write a new dream of the future it would, though in some respects very different from this, still be a dream and picture of the human race in its forest period. Alas that in this case the wish cannot induce belief! For now I remember another thing which Nature said — that earthly excel- lence can come in no way but one, and the viii PREFACE ending of passion and strife is the beginning of decay. It is indeed a hard saying, and the hardest lesson we can learn of her with- out losing love and bidding good-by forever to hope. W. H. H. September 1906. A FOREWORD This is not an old book. It is recorded, indeed, that it made its first appearance some thirty years ago. Then, twenty years after, a few addi- tional copies were printed. Now it is again venturing forth from the sylvan solitude of its dreams — and this time the world, that has learned, during the last half decade, of the marvelous genius of the author of A Crystal Age, is ready for it. Some books are, in a sense, old before they are born. They bring nothing new with them; they reflect, more or less, the prevailing thought, or literary fashion, of the chronological period to which they belong; hence they achieve an imme- diate popularity. In those excellent volumes of literary criticism, for instance, Hazlitt's English Poets and The Spirit of the Age, we read much of the author's great contemporaries of a hundred years ago — Byron, Scott, Wordsworth, Coleridge, Southey, and a score of others whose fame has x A FOREWORD long since passed away. How strangely obscured was Hazlitt's vision by the clouds of his own day ! For he gives only a passing reference to Keats; of Shelley there is no mention. The omission seems inconceivable at first, in view of the fact that this glorious star of English poetry had its rise and its setting before The Spirit of the Age was published. It is not to be wondered at, however, when one realizes how far in advance Shelley was cf his day. For all practical purposes of literature this matchless singer of a golden age, without whom the great poets of the last half century could scarcely have found their own worlds of song, first came into existence on that memorable morning in London when a youth, Robert Brown- ing by name, picked up a priceless volume of his poetry from an old bookstall, and was himself kindled to immortal utterance by the divine fire that flashed upon him from its pages. After that the world was ready; Shelley's poetry was really published — just as the world is at last ready for the books of W. H. Hudson. Few names in literature come together more appropriately than Shelley's and Hudson's, and this appropriateness is emphasized in the case of a book like A Crystal Age. The kinship is not due A FOREWORD xi merely to the tardiness with which recognition has been accorded both men. It is inherent in the delicacy of imagination, the profound love of nature, the unswerving loyalty to truth, the eagle vision glimpsing salvation on mountain peaks rising above the reek of human suffering, that characterizes their work. Mr. Hudson, it is true, does not choose poetry for his medium. But, even in the matter of literary style, there is a limpidity in his periods, a grace, an utter simplicity that reminds one of the pure harmonies of the Shelleyan muse. Mr. Galsworthy, than whom no one is better fitted to speak on such a subject, says: "As a stylist, Hudson has few, if any, living equals. . . . To use words so true and simple, that they oppose no obstacle to the flow of thought and feeling from mind to mind, and yet by juxtaposi- tion of word-sounds set up in the recipient continuing emotion or gratification — this is the essence of style; and Hudson's writing has pre- eminently this double quality." The gift is rare in any form of writing; its presence in a narrative of the fairy-like quality possessed by A Crystal Age is a source of never-ending delight to the reader. Here, thought is perfectly wedded to sound. The tale is one of simple, primal things, of men and xii A FOREWORD women adoraoiy ignorant of the dust and surge, the trivialities and complexities of cities; and it is uttered in the clear-flowing syllables that poets capture from brooks, rain-kissed trees, the rustle of wind-swept grasses. It has been said that A Crystal Age renders a perfect picture of a Socialist state. If it does, I doubt very much that it was planned to do so by its author. Mr. Hudson is too profoundly an artist, too intrinsically the teller of a story for the story's sake, to shape his narrative to dogmatic ends. He himself tells us that A Crystal Age is "a dream and a picture of the human race in its forest period." It belongs to the rare type of fiction that has given us Gulliver and Erewhon. But it is more joyously free from satirical purpose than either of these. The story itself is a delicious revel of fancy, unmarred by the doctrinal digres- sions that usually obtrude upon these fictional peeps into an ideal future. It gives, unques- tionably, the poet-naturalist's view of things as they should be — as they may be, when cruelty, prejudice, and ignorance are banished from the earth; and just because it gives a poet-naturalist's view, it is big and free enough to discard the shackles of the mere doctrinaire. A FOREWORD xiii If one were looking for the secret of Hudson's unique power as a novelist, the quality that differentiates him from all other writers in this field of literature, it would be found in his delicate apprehension of the life that seethes beneath apparently inanimate things. His nature essays are the very best of their kind, not because they are richer than others in minute, painstaking observation of facts in natural history, but because they are interpretive of the human element in nature. He sees the birds, the trees, the flowers, the most harmless and the most ferocious of animals, in terms of life. There is nothing either above or below his interest. His book, A Shepherd's Life, for instance, is not only a storehouse of quaint and varied information, given with the inimitable "artless art" peculiar to its author; it is a reconstruction of an entire countryside. Whoever is fortunate enough to read it will retain in his memory a vivid world of primitive living, symmetrical, complete in all its parts. Not even Hardy's Under the Greenwood Tree leaves so definite, finished a picture of life in a placid, rural community as this. The reason is that Hudson lives his books before he writes them. For him, a barren moor is anything but barren. Put him xiv A FOREWORD in the dullest of surroundings that one can find in nature, and he still has the creative vision that belongs to seership. It is this faculty in Hudson for sensing the psychology in the inanimate that attracted the late Professor William James, who quotes at length, from Idle Days in Patagonia, in his Talks to Students. The extract is worth giving, not only for its intrinsic beauty, but as an illus- tration of Hudson's method, the mood out of which he creates the vision of an ideal state sparkling and real as that contained in A Crystal Age. "The intense interest that life can assume," says Professor James, "when brought down to the non-thinking level, the love of pure sensorial perception, has been beautifully described by a man who can write, — Mr. W. H. Hudson, — in his volume, Idle Days in Patagonia. I spent the greater part of one winter, (says this admirable author), at a point on the Rio Negro, seventy or eighty miles from the sea. . . . It was my custom to go out every morning on horseback with my gun, and, followed by one dog, to ride away from the valley ; and no sooner would I climb the terrace, and plunge into the gray, universal thicket, than I would find myself as A FOREWORD xv completely alone as if five hundred instead of only five miles separated me from the valley and river. So wild and solitary and remote seemed that gray waste, stretching away into infinitude, a waste untrodden by man, and where the wild animals are so few that they have made no discoverable path in the wilderness of thorns. . . . Not once nor twice nor thrice, but day after day I returned to this solitude, going to it in the morning as if to attend a festival, and leaving it only when hunger and thirst and the westering sun compelled me. And yet I had no object in going, — no motive which could be put into words; for, although I carried a gun, there was nothing to shoot, — the shooting was all left behind in the valley. . . . Sometimes I would pass a whole day without seeing one mammal, and perhaps not more than a dozen birds of any size. The weather at that time was cheerless, generally with a gray film of cloud spread over the sky, and a bleak wind, often cold enough to make my bridle-hand quite numb. . . . At a slow pace, which would have seemed intoler- able under other circumstances, I would ride about for hours together at a stretch. On arriving at a hill, I would slowly ride to its summit, and stand there to survey the prospect. On every side it stretched away in great undulations, wild and irregular. How gray it all was! Hardly less so near at hand than on the haze-wrapped horizon where the hills were dim and the outline obscured xvi A FOREWORD by distance. Descending from my outlook, I would take up my aimless wanderings again, and visit other elevations to gaze on the same landscape from another point; and so on for hours. And at noon I would dismount, and sit or lie on my folded poncho for an hour or longer. One day in these rambles I discovered a small grove composed of twenty or thirty trees, growing at a convenient distance apart, that had evidently been resorted to by a herd of deer, or other wild animals. This grove was on a hill, differing in shape from other hills in its neighborhood ; and, after a time, I made a point of finding and using it as a resting-place every day at noon. I did not ask myself why I made choice of that one spot, sometimes going out of my way to sit there, instead of sitting down under any one of the millions of trees and bushes on any other hillside. I thought nothing about it, but acted unconsciously. Only afterward it seemed to me that, after having rested there once, each time I wished to rest again, the wish came associated with the image of that particular clump of trees, with polished stems and clean bed of sand beneath; and in a short time I formed a habit of returning, animal like, to repose at that same spot. It was, perhaps, a mistake to say that I would sit down and rest, since I was never tired ; and yet, without being tired, that noonday pause, during which I sat for an hour without moving, was strangely grateful. All day there would be no A FOKEWORD xvii sound, not even the rustling of a leaf. One day, while listening to the silence, it occurred to my mind to wonder what the effect would be if I were to shout aloud. This seemed at the time a horrible suggestion, which almost made me shudder. But during those solitary days it was a rare thing for any thought to cross my mind. In the state of mind I was in, thought had become impossible. My state was one of suspense and watchfulness; yet I had no expectation of meeting an adventure, and felt as free from apprehension as I feel now while sitting in a room in London. The state seemed familiar rather than strange, and accom- panied by a strong feeling of elation ; and I did not know that something had come between me and my intellect until I returned to my former self, — to thinking, and the old insipid existence. I had undoubtedly gone back; and that state of intense watchfulness, or alertness, rather, with suspension of the higher intellectual faculties, represented the mental state of the pure savage. He thinks little, reasons little, having a surer guide in his mere sensory perceptions. He is in perfect harmony with nature, and is nearly on a level, mentally, with the wild animals he preys on, and which in their turn sometimes prey on him. "For the spectator, such hours as Mr. Hudson writes of form a mere tale of emptiness, in which nothing happens, nothing is gained, and there is xviii A FOREWORD nothing to describe. They are meaningless and vacant tracts of time. To him who feels their inner secret, they tingle with an importance that unutterably vouches for itself." Unlike Hudson's other essays in fiction, A Crystal Age is without a local habitation. In outward form it is a dream, a fairy story, if you will. But it has the same poignant human interest that glows in The Purple Land and Green Mansions. Apparently, even when he plans to entertain us with the whimsicalities, antics, and adventures of ideal creatures, Hudson cannot help endowing them, phantoms though they are, with the flesh and blood of humanity. It is the patriarchal form of government that he portrays here, something absolutely different, however, from dream or theory suggested by sociologist or poet. It is the epic of forest life, and the rich and varied colors that compose the picture could be found only on Hudson's palette. And what a mingling of the humorous, the simple, and the heroic there is on this canvas that presents the magic House of Coradine! Yoletta, Edra, Isarte, Chastel — the haunting loveliness of these women is like the breath from some dew-spangled garden of wild- flowers, inspiriting, unforgettable. The story in A FOREWORD xix which they play their part has a sinuous grace, a subtlety of emotion that places it in a realm of its own in the world of romance. Not even Meredith's women are so appealing, so utterly beautiful as Hudson's. Here, too, there is a picture of mother- hood such as no poet ever before attempted; an analysis of passion that illuminates certain hidden penetralia of the human mind; suggestions of a new music, a new art, tantalizing with the rich possibilities that they offer. And the wonder of it is that this fairyland of gracious beings, this narrative of marvels that could never be, save in the poet's mind, is made absolutely real. It lives and becomes a part of the reader's own life. But after all, the vitality of The Crystal Age, the realism, the humor, the pathos of it, is not to be won- dered at. It is a dream, a fairy thing, indeed — but it is a dream of one of the master-writers of the age, a man whose slightest creations are so steeped in the truth and beauty of Nature that his place in the forefront of imaginative literature is assured, and is even now being accorded him. Clifford Smyth. New York, August 10, 191 6. A CRYSTAL AGE I do not quite know how it happened, my recollection of the whole matter being in a somewhat clouded condition. I fancy I had gone somewhere on a botanizing expedition, but whether at home or abroad I don't know. At all events, I remember that I had taken up the study of plants with a good deal of enthusiasm, and that while hunting for some variety in the mountains I sat down to rest on the edge of a ravine. Perhaps it was on the ledge of an overhanging rock; anyhow, if I remember rightly, the ground gave way all about me, precipitating me below. The fall was a very considerable one — probably thirty or forty feet, or more, and I was 2 A CRYSTAL AGE rendered unconscious. How long I lay there under the heap of earth and stones carried down in my fall it is impossible to say: perhaps a long time; but at last I came to myself and struggled up from the debris, like a mole coming to the surface of the earth to feel the genial sunshine on his dim eyeballs. I found myself standing (oddly enough, on all fours) in an immense pit created by the over- throw of a gigantic dead tree with a girth of about thirty or forty feet. The tree itself had rolled down to the bottom of the ravine; but the pit in which it had left the huge stumps of severed roots was, I found, situated in a gentle slope at the top of the bank! How, then, I could have fallen seemingly so far from no height at all, puzzled me greatly: it looked as if the solid earth had been indulging in some curious transformation pranks during those moments or minutes of insensibility. Another singular circumstance was that I had a great mass of small fibrous rootlets tightly woven about my whole person, so that I was like a colossal basket- worm in its case, or a big man-shaped bottle covered with wicker- A CRYSTAL AGE 3 work. It appeared as if the roots bad grown round me! Luckily they were quite sapless and brittle, and without bothering my brains too much about the matter, I set to work to rid myself of them. After stripping the woody covering off, I found that my tourist suit of rough Scotch homespun had not suffered much harm, although the cloth exuded a damp, moldy smell; also that my thick-soled climbing boots had assumed a cracked rusty appearance as if I had been engaged in some brick-field operations; while my felt hat was in such a discolored and battered condition that I felt almost ashamed to put it on my head. My watch was gone; perhaps I had not been wearing it, but my pocket-book in which I had my money was safe in my breast pocket. Glad and grateful at having escaped with unbroken bones from such a dangerous acci- dent, I set out walking along the edge of the ravine, which soon broadened to a valley run- ning between two steep hills; and then, seeing water at the bottom and feeling very dry, I ran down the slope to get a drink. Lying flat 4 A CRYSTAL AGE on my chest to slake my thirst animal fashion, I was amazed at the reflection the water gave back of my face : it was, skin and hair, thickly encrusted with clay and rootlets! Having taken a long drink, I threw off my clothes to have a bath; and after splashing about for half an hour managed to rid my skin of its accumulations of dirt. While drying in the wind I shook the loose sand and clay from my garments, then dressed, and, feeling greatly refreshed, proceeded on my walk. For an hour or so I followed the valley in its many windings, but, failing to see any dwelling-place, I ascended a hill to get a view of the surrounding country. The prospect which disclosed itself when I had got a couple of hundred feet above the surrounding level, appeared unfamiliar. The hills among which I had been wandering were now behind me; before me spread a wide rolling country, beyond which rose a mountain range resembl- ing in the distance blue banked-up clouds with summits and peaks of pearly whiteness. Look- ing on this scene I could hardly refrain from shouting with joy, so glad did the sunlit A CRYSTAL AGE 5 expanse of earth, and the pure exhilarating mountain breeze, make me feel. The season was late summer — that was plain to see; the ground was moist, as if from recent showers, and the earth everywhere had that intense living greenness with which it reclothes itself when the greater heats are over; but the foliage of the woods was already beginning to be touched here and there with the yellow and russet hues of decay. A more tranquil and soul-satisfying scene could not be imag- ined : the dear old mother earth was looking her very best; while the shifting golden sunlight, the mysterious haze in the distance, and the glint of a wide stream not very far off, seemed to spiritualize her "happy autumn fields," and bring them into a closer kinship with the blue over-arching sky. There was one large house or mansion in sight, but no town, nor even a hamlet, and not one solitary spire. In vain I scanned the horizon, waiting impatiently to see the distant puff of white steam from some passing engine. This troubled me not a little, for I had no idea that I had drifted so far from civilization in my search for specimens, or 6 A CRYSTAL AGE whatever it was that brought me to this pretty, primitive wilderness. Not quite a wilderness, however, for there, within a short hour's walk of the hill, stood the one great stone mansion, close to the river I had mentioned. There were also horses and cows in sight, and a number of scattered sheep were grazing on the hillside beneath me. Strange to relate, I met with a little mis- adventure on account of the sheep — an animal which one is accustomed to regard as of a timid and inoffensive nature. When I set out at a brisk pace to walk to the house I have spoken of, in order to make some inquiries there, a few of the sheep that happened to be near began to bleat loudly, as if alarmed, and by and by they came hurrying after me, apparently in a great state of excitement. I did not mind them much, but presently a pair of horses, attracted by their bleatings, also seemed struck at my appearance, and came at a swift gallop to within twenty yards of me. They were magnificent-looking brutes, evidently a pair of well-groomed carriage horses, for their A CRYSTAL AGE 7 coats, which were of a fine bronze color, sparkled wonderfully in the sunshine. In other respects they were very unlike carriage animals, for they had tails reaching to the ground, like funeral horses, and immense black leonine manes, which gave them a strikingly bold and somewhat formidable appearance. For some moments they stood with heads erect, gazing fixedly at me, and then simultaneously delivered a snort of defiance or astonishment, so loud and sudden that it startled me like the report of a gun. This tremendous equine blast brought yet another enemy on the field in the shape of a huge milk-white bull with long horns: a very noble kind of animal, but one which I always prefer to admire from behind a hedge, or at a distance through a field-glass. Fortunately his wrathful mutterings gave me timely notice of his approach, and without waiting to discover his intentions, I inconti- nently fled down the slope to the refuge of a grove or belt of trees clothing the lower portion of the hillside. Spent and panting from my run, I embraced a big tree, and 8 A CRYSTAL AGE turning to face the foe, found that I had not been followed: sheep, horses, and bull were all grouped together just where I had left them, apparently holding a consultation, or comparing notes. The trees where I had sought shelter were old, and grew here and there, singly or in scattered groups: it was a pretty wilderness of mingled tree, shrub and flower. I was surprised to find here some very large and ancient-looking fig-trees, and numbers of wasps and flies were busy feeding on a few over-ripe figs on the higher branches. Honey-bees also roamed about everywhere, extracting sweets from the autumn bloom, and filling the sunny glades with a soft, monotonous murmur of sound. Walking on full of happy thoughts and a keen sense of the sweetness of life pervading me, I presently noticed that a multitude of small birds were gathering about me, flitting through the trees overhead and the bushes on either hand, but always keeping near me, apparently as much excited at my presence as if I had been a gigantic owl, or A CRYSTAL AGE 9 some such unnatural monster. Their increas- ing numbers and incessant excited chirping and chattering at first served to amuse, but in the end began to irritate me. I observed, too, that the alarm was spreading, and that larger birds, usually shy of men — pigeons, jays, and magpies, I fancied they were — now began to make their appearance. Could it be, thought I with some concern, that I had wandered into some uninhabited wilder- ness, to cause so great a commotion among the little feathered people? I very soon dis- missed this as an idle thought, for one does not find houses, domestic animals, and fruit- trees in desert places. No, it was simply the inherent cantankerousness of little birds which caused them to annoy me. Looking about on the ground for something to throw at them, I found in the grass a freshly- fallen walnut, and, breaking the shell, I quickly ate the contents. Never had any- thing tasted so pleasant to me before! But it had a curious effect on me, for, whereas before eating it I had not felt hungry, I now seemed to be famishing, and began excitedly io A CRYSTAL AGE searching about for more nuts. They were lying everywhere in the greatest abundance; for, without knowing it, I had been walking through a grove composed in large part of old walnut-trees. Nut after nut was picked up and eagerly devoured, and I must have eaten four or five dozen before my ravenous appetite was thoroughly appeased. During this feast I had paid no attention to the birds, but when my hunger was over I began again to feel annoyed at their trivial persecutions, and so continued to gather the fallen nuts to throw at them. It amused and piqued me at the same time to see how wide of the mark my missiles went. I could hardly have hit a haystack at a distance of ten yards. After half an hour's vigorous practice my right hand began to recover its lost cunning, and I was at last greatly de- lighted when one of my nuts went hissing like a bullet through the leaves, not further than a yard from the wren, or whatever the little beggar was, I had aimed at. Their Impertinences did not like this at all; they began to find out that I was a rather A CRYSTAL AGE n dangerous person to meddle with: their ranks were broken, they became demoralized and scattered, in all directions, and I was finally left master of the field. "Dolt that I am." I suddenly exclaimed, "to be fooling away my time when the nearest railway station or hotel is perhaps twenty miles away." I hurried on, but when I got to the end of the grove, on the green sward near some laurel and juniper bushes, I came on an excavation apparently just made, the loose earth which had been dug out looking quite fresh and moist. The hole or foss was narrow, about five feet deep and seven feet long, and looked, I imagined, curiously like a grave. A few yards away was a pile of dry brushwood, and some faggots bound together with ropes of straw, all apparently freshly cut from the neighboring bushes. As I stood there, wondering what these things meant, I happened to glance away in the direction of the house where I intended to call, which was not now visible owing to an intervening grove of tall trees, and was 12 A CRYSTAL AGE surprised to discover a troop of about fifteen persons advancing along the valley in my direction. Before them marched a tall white- bearded old man; next came eight men, bear- ing a platform on their shoulders with some heavy burden resting upon it; and behind these followed the others. I began to think that they were actually carrying a corpse, with the intention of giving it burial in that very pit beside which I was standing; and, although it looked most unlike a funeral, for no person in the procession wore black, the thought strengthened to a conviction when I became able to distinguish a recumbent, human-like form in a shroud-like covering on the platform. It seemed altogether a very un- usual proceeding, and made me feel extremely uncomfortable; so much so that I considered it prudent to step back behind the bushes, where I could watch the doings of the pro- cessionists without being observed. Led by the old man — who carried, sus- pended by thin chains, a large bronze censer, or brazier rather, which sent out a thin con- tinuous wreath of smoke — they came straight A CRYSTAL AGE 13 on to the pit; and after depositing their burden on the grass, remained standing for some minutes, apparently to rest after their walk, all conversing together, but in subdued tones, so that I could not catch their words, although standing within fifteen yards of the grave. The uncofhned corpse, which seemed that of a full-grown man, was covered with a white cloth, and rested on a thick straw mat, pro- vided with handles along the sides. On these things, however, I bestowed but a hasty glance, so profoundly absorbed had I become in watching the group of living human beings before me; for they were certainly utterly unlike any fellow-creatures I had ever en- countered before. The old man was tall and spare, and from his snowy- white majestic beard I took him to be about seventy years old; but he was straight as an arrow, and his free movements and elastic tread were those of a much younger man. His head was adorned with a dark red skull-cap, and he wore a robe covering the whole body and reaching to the ankles, of a deep yellow or rhubarb color; but his long wide sleeves under his 14 A CRYSTAL AGE robe were dark red, embroidered with yellow flowers. The other men had no covering on their heads, and their luxuriant hair, worn to the shoulders, was, in most cases, very dark. Their garments were also made in a different fashion, and consisted of a kilt-like dress, which came half-way to the knees, a pale yellow shirt fitting tight to the skin, and over it a loose sleeveless vest. The entire legs were cased in stockings, curious in pattern and color. The women wore garments resembling those of the men, but the tight- fitting sleeves reached only half-way to the elbow, the rest of the arm being bare; and the outer garment was all in one piece, resembling a long sleeveless jacket, reaching below the hips. The color of their dresses varied, but in most cases different shades of blue and subdued yellow predominated. In all, the stockings showed deeper and richer shades of color than the other garments; and in their curiously segmented appearance, and in the harmonious arrangement of the tints, they seemed to represent the skins of pythons and other beautifully variegated A CRYSTAL AGE 15 serpents. All wore low shoes of an orange- brown color, fitting closely so as to display the shape of the foot. From the moment of first seeing them I had had no doubt about the sex of the tall old leader of the procession, his shining white beard being as conspicuous at a distance as a shield or a banner; but looking at the others I was at first puzzled to know whether the party was composed of men or women, or of both, so much did they resemble each other in height, in their smooth faces, and in the length of their hair. On a closer inspection I noticed the difference of dress of the sexes; also that the men, if not sterner, had faces at all events less mild and soft in expression than the women, and also a slight perceptible down on the cheeks and upper lip. After a first hasty survey of the group in general, I had eyes for only one person in it — a fine graceful girl about fourteen years old, and the youngest by far of the party. A description of this girl will give some idea, albeit a very poor one, of the faces and 16 A CRYSTAL AGE general appearance of this strange people I had stumbled on. Her dress, if a garment so brief can be called a dress, showed a slaty- blue pattern on a straw-colored ground, while her stockings were darker shades of the same colors. Her eyes, at the distance I stood from her, appeared black, or nearly black, but when seen closely they proved to be green — a wonderfully pure, tender sea- green; and the others, I found, had eyes of the same hue. Her hair fell to her shoulders; but it was very wavy or curly, and strayed in small tendril-like tresses over her neck, forehead and cheeks; in color it was golden black — that is, black in shade, but when touched with sunlight every hair became a thread of shining red-gold; and in some lights it looked like raven-black hair powdered with gold-dust. As to her features, the fore- head was broader and lower, the nose larger, and the lips more slender, than in our most beautiful female types. The color was also different, the delicately molded mouth being purple-red instead of the approved cherry or coral hue; while the complexion was a clear A CRYSTAL AGE 17 dark, and the color, which mantled the cheeks in moments of excitement, was a dim or dusky rather than a rosy red. The exquisite form and face of this young girl, from the first moment of seeing her, produced a very deep impression; and I continued watching her every movement and gesture with an intense, even a passionate interest. She had a quantity of flowers in her hand; but these sweet emblems, I observed, were all gayly colored, which seemed strange, for in most places white flowers are used in funeral ceremonies. Some of the men who had followed the body carried in their hands broad, three-cornered bronze shovels, with short black handles, and these they had dropped upon the grass on arriving at the grave. Presently the old man stooped and drew the covering back from the dead one's face — a rigid, marble- white face set in a loose mass of black hair. The others gathered round, and some standing, others kneeling, bent on the still countenance before them a long earnest gaze, as if taking an eternal farewell of one they 18 A CRYSTAL AGE had deeply loved. At this moment the beautiful girl I have described all at once threw herself with a sobbing cry on her knees before the corpse, and, stooping, kissed the face with passionate grief. "Oh, my beloved, must we now leave you alone for- ever!" she cried between the sobs that shook her whole frame. "Oh, my love — my love — my love, will you come back to us no more !" The others all appeared deeply affected at her grief, and presently a young man standing by raised her from the ground and drew her gently against his side, where for some minutes she continued convulsively weeping. Some of the other men now passed ropes through the handles of the straw mat on which the corpse rested, and raising it from the platform low- ered it into the foss. Each person in turn then advanced and dropped some flowers into the grave, uttering the one word "Farewell" as they did so; after which the loose earth was shoveled in with the bronze implements. Over the mound the hurdle on which the straw mat had rested was then placed, the A CRYSTAL AGE 19 dry brushwood and faggots heaped over it and ignited with a coal from the brazier. White smoke and crackling flames issued anon from the pile, and in a few moments the whole was in a fierce blaze. Standing around they all waited in silence until the fire had burnt itself out; then the old man advancing stretched his arms above the white and still smoking ashes and cried in a loud voice: "Farewell forever, O well beloved son! With deep sorrow and tears we have given you back to Earth; but not until she has made the sweet grass and flowers grow again on this spot, scorched and made desolate with fire, shall our hearts be healed of their wound and forget their grief." II The thrilling, pathetic tone in which these words were uttered affected me not a little; and when the ceremony was over I continued staring vacantly at the speaker, ignorant of the fact that the beautiful young girl had her wide-open, startled eyes fixed on the bush which, I vainly imagined, concealed me from view. All at once she cried out : "Oh, father, look there! Who is that strange-looking man watching us from behind the bushes?" They all turned, and then I felt that four- teen or fifteen pairs of very keen eyes were on me, seeing me very plainly indeed, for in my curiosity and excitement I had come out from the thicker bushes to place myself behind a ragged, almost leafless shrub, which afforded the merest apology for a shelter. Putting a 20 A CRYSTAL AGE 21 bold face on the matter, although I did not feel very easy, I came out and advanced to them, removing my battered old hat on the way, and bowing repeatedly to the assembled company. My courteous salutation was not returned; but all, with increasing astonishment pictured on their faces, continued staring at me as if they were looking on some grotesque apparition. Thinking it best to give an ac- count of myself at once, and to apologize for intruding on their mysteries, I addressed my- self to the old man: "I really beg your pardon," I said, "for having disturbed you at such an inconvenient time, and while you are engaged in these — these solemn rites; but I assure you, sir, it has been quite accidental. I happened to be walking here when I saw you coming, and thought it best to step out of the way until — well, until the funeral was over. The fact is, I met with a serious accident in the mountains over there. I fell down into a ravine, and a great heap of earth and stones fell on and stunned me, and I do not know how long I lay there before I recovered my senses. I 22 A CRYSTAL AGE daresay I am trespassing, but I am a perfect stranger here, and quite lost, and — and perhaps a little confused after my fall, and perhaps you will kindly tell me where to go to get some refreshment, and find out where I am." "Your story is a very strange one," said the old man in reply, after a pause of con- siderable duration. "That you are a perfect stranger in this place is evident from your appearance, your uncouth dress, and your thick speech." His words made me blush hotly, although I should not have minded his very personal remarks much if that beautiful girl had not been standing there listening to everything. My uncouth garments, by the way, were made by a fashionable West End tailor, and fitted me perfectly, although just now they were, of course, very dirty. It was also a surprise to hear that I had a thick speech, since I had always been considered a remarkably clear speaker and good singer, and had frequently both sung and recited in public, at amateur entertainments. After a distressing interval of silence, during A CRYSTAL AGE 23 which they all continued regarding me with unabated curiosity, the old gentleman con- descended to address me again and asked me my name and country. "My country," said I, with the natural pride of a Briton, "is England, and my name is Smith." "No such country is known to me," he returned; "nor have I ever heard such a name as yours." I was rather taken aback at his words, and yet did not just then by any means realize their full import. I was thinking only about my name; for without having penetrated into any perfectly savage country, I had been about the world a great deal for a young man, visit- ing the Colonies, India, Yokohama, and other distant places, and I had never yet been told that the name of Smith was an unfamiliar one. "I hardly know what to say," I returned, for he was evidently waiting for me to add something more to what I had stated. "It rather staggers me to hear that my name — well, you have not heard of me, of course, but there have been a great many distinguished 24 A CRYSTAL AGE men of the same name: Sydney Smith, for instance, and — and several others." It morti- fied me just then to find that I had forgotten all the other distinguished Smiths. He shook his head, and continued watching my face. "Not heard of them!" I exclaimed. "Well, I suppose you have heard of some of my great countrymen: Beaconsfield, Gladstone, Darwin, Burne-Jones, Ruskin, Queen Victoria, Tenny- son, George Eliot, Herbert Spencer, General Gordon, Lord Randolph Churchill " As he continued to shake his head after each name I at length paused. "Who are all these people you have named V he asked. "They are all great and illustrious men and women who have a world-wide reputation," I answered. "And are there no more of them — have you told me the names of all the great people you have ever known or heard of?" he said, with a curious smile. "No, indeed," I answered, nettled at his words and manner. "It would take me until A CRYSTAL AGE 25 to-morrow to name all the great men I have ever heard of. I suppose you have heard the names of Napoleon, Wellington, Nelson, Dante, Luther, Calvin, Bismarck, Voltaire 1 ?" He still shook his head. ^Well, then," I continued, "Homer, Socrates, Alexander the Great, Confucius, Zoroaster, Plato, Shakespeare." Then, grow- ing thoroughly desperate, I added in a burst: "Noah, Moses, Columbus, Hannibal, Adam and Eve !" "I am quite sure that I have never heard of any of these names," he answered, still with that curious smile. "Nevertheless I can understand your surprise. It sometimes happens that the mind, owing to an imperfect adjustment of its faculties, resembles the un- educated vision in its method of judgment, regarding the things which are near as great and important, and those further away as less important, according to their distance. In such a case the individuals one hears about or associates with, come to be looked upon as the great and illustrious beings of the world, and all men in all places are expected to be 26 A CRYSTAL AGE familiar with their names. But come, my children, our sorrowful task is over, let us now return to the house. Come with us, Smith, and you shall have the refreshment you require." I was, of course, pleased with the invitation, but did not relish being addressed as "Smith," like some mere laborer or other common per- son tramping about the country. The long disconcerting scrutiny I had been subjected to had naturally made me very uncomfortable, and caused me to drop a little behind the others as we walked towards the house. The old man, however, still kept at my side; but whether from motives of courtesy, or because he wished to badger me a little more about my uncouth appearance and defective intellect, I was not sure. I was not anxious to continue the conversation, which had not proved very satisfactory; moreover, the beautiful girl I have already mentioned so frequently, was now walking just before me, hand in hand with the young man who had raised her from the ground. I was absorbed in admiration of her graceful figure, and — shall A CRYSTAL AGE 27 I be forgiven for mentioning such a detail 4 ? — her exquisitely rounded legs under her brief and beautiful garments. To my mind the garment was quite long enough. Every time I spoke, for my companion still maintained the conversation and I was obliged to reply, she hung back a little to catch my words. At such times she would also turn her pretty head partially round so as to see me: then her glances, beginning at my face, would wander down to my legs, and her lips would twitch and curl a little, seeming to express disgust and amusement at the same time. I was beginning to hate my legs, or rather my trousers, for I considered that under them I had as good a pair of calves as any man in the company. Presently I thought of something to say, something very simple, which my dignified old friend would be able to answer without intimating that he considered me a wild man of the woods or an escaped lunatic. "Can you tell me," I said pleasantly, "what is the name of your nearest town or city 1 ? how far it is from this place, and how I can get there?' 28 A CRYSTAL AGE At this question, or series of questions, the young girl turned quite round, and, waiting until I was even with her, she continued her walk at my side, although still holding her companion's hand. The old man looked at me with a grave smile — that smile was fast becoming intoler- able — and said: "Are you so fond of honey, Smith? You shall have as much as you require without disturbing the bees. They are now taking advantage of this second spring to lay by a sufficient provision before winter sets in." After pondering some time over these enigmatical words, I said: "I daresay we are at cross purposes again. I mean," I added hurriedly, seeing the inquiring look on his face, "that we do not exactly understand each other, for the subject of honey was not in my thoughts." "What, then, do you mean by a city*?" he asked. "What do I mean? Why, a city, I take it, is nothing more than a collection or con- geries of houses — hundreds and thousands, or A CRYSTAL AGE 2g hundreds of thousands of houses, all built close together, where one can live very comfortably for years without seeing a blade of grass." "I am afraid," he returned, "that the accident you met with in the mountains must have caused some injury to your brain; for I cannot in any other way account for these strange fantasies." "Do you mean seriously to tell me, sir, that you have never even heard of the existence of a city, where millions of human beings live crowded together in a small space? Of course I mean a small space comparatively; for in some cities you might walk all day without Siting into the fields; and a city like that might be compared to a bee-hive so large that a bee might % in a straight line all