Across the Zodiac (24 page)

"And," said I, "what sort of a reception may I expect at the end of my
journey?"

"I think," he answered, "that you are more likely to be embarrassed by
the goodwill of the Camptâ than by the hostility of some of those
about him. His character is very peculiar, and it is difficult to
reckon upon his action in any given case. But he differs from nearly
all his subjects in having a strong taste for adventure, none the less
if it be perilous; and since his position prevents him from indulging
this taste in person, he is the more disposed to take extreme interest
in the adventures of others. He has, moreover, a great value for what
you call courage, a virtue rarely needed and still more rarely shown
among us; and I fancy that your venture through space has impressed
him with a very high estimate of your daring. Assuredly none of us,
however great his scientific curiosity, would have dreamed of
incurring such a peril, and incurring it alone. But I must give you
one warning. It is not common among us to make valuable gifts: we do
not care enough for any but ourselves to give except with the idea of
getting something valuable in return. Our princes are, however, so
wealthy that they can give without sacrifice, and it is considered a
grave affront to refuse any present from a superior. Whatever, then,
our Suzerain may offer you—and he is almost sure, unless he should
take offence, to give you whatever he thinks will induce you to settle
permanently in the neighbourhood of his Court—you must accept
graciously, and on no account, either then or afterwards, lead him to
think that you slight his present."

"I must say," I replied, "that while I wish to remain in your world
till I have learnt, if not all that is to be learnt, yet very much
more than I at present know about it, the whole purpose of my voyage
would be sacrificed if I could not effect my return to Earth."

"I suppose so," he answered, "and for that reason I wish to keep your
vessel safe and within your reach; for to get away at all you may have
to depart suddenly. But you will not do wisely to make the Prince
suspect that such is your intention. Tell him of what you wish to see
and to explore in this world; tell him freely of your own, for he will
not readily fancy that you prefer it to this; but say as little as
possible of your hopes of an ultimate return, and, if you are forced
to acknowledge them, let them seem as indefinite as possible."

By this time, returning by another road, Esmo stopped the carriage at
the gate of an enclosed garden of moderate size, about two miles from
Ecasfe. Entering alone, he presently returned with another gentleman,
wearing a dress of grey and silver, with a white ribbon over the
shoulder; a badge, I found, of official rank or duties. Mounting his
own carriage, this person accompanied us home.

We arrived at home in the course of some few minutes, and here my host
requested us to wait in the hall, where in about half-an-hour he
rejoined us, accompanied by all the members of his family, the ladies
all closely veiled. Looking among them instinctively for Eveena, I
observed that she had exchanged her usual light veil for one fuller
and denser, and wore, contrary to the wont of maidens indoors, sleeves
and gloves. She held her father's hand, and evinced no little
agitation or alarm. The visitor stood by a table on which had been
placed the usual pencils or styles, and a sort of open portfolio, on
one side of which was laid a small strip of the golden tafroo,
inscribed with crimson characters of unusual size, leaving several
blanks here and there. Most of these he filled up, and then, leading
forward his daughter, Esmo signed to me also to approach the table.
The others stood just behind us, and the official then placed the
document in Eveena's hand. She looked through it and replaced it on
the table with the gesture of assent usual among her people, inclining
her head and raising her left hand to her lips. The document was then
handed to me, but I, of course, was unable to read it. I said so, and
the official read it aloud:—

"Between Eveena, daughter of Esmo dent Ecasfen, and —
[13]
reclamomortâ
(the alleged arch-traveller), covenant: Eveena will
live with — in wedlock for two years, foregoing during that period
the liberty to quit his house, or to receive any one therein save by
his permission. In consideration whereof he will maintain her,
clothing her to her satisfaction, at a cost not exceeding five stâltau
by the year. He will provide for any child or children she may bear
while living with him, or within twice twelve dozen days thereafter.
And if at any time he shall dismiss her or permit her to leave him, or
if she shall desire to leave him after the expiration of eight years,
he will ensure to her for her life an annual payment of fifteen
stâltau. Neither shall appeal to a court of law or public authority
against the other on account of anything done during the time they
shall live together, except for attempt to kill or for grave bodily
injury."

Such is the form of marriage covenant employed in Mars. The occasion
was unfit for discussion, and I simply intimated my acceptance of the
covenants, oo which Eveena and myself forthwith were instructed to
write our names where they appear in the above translation. The
official then inquired whether I recognised the lady standing beside
me as Eveena, daughter of Esmo. It then struck me that, though I felt
pretty certain of her identity, marriage under such conditions might
occasionally lead to awkward mistakes. There was no such difference
between my bride and her companions as, but for her dress and her
agitation, would have enabled me positively to distinguish them,
veiled and silent as all were. I expressed no doubt, however, and the
official then proceeded to affix his own stamp to the document; and
then lifting up that on which our names had actually been written,
showed that, by some process I hardly understand, the signature had
been executed and the agreement filled up in triplicate, the officer
preserving one copy, the others being given to the bride and
bridegroom respectively. The ladies then retired, Esmo, his son, and
the official remaining, when two ambau brought in a tray of
refreshments. The official tasted each article offered to him,
evidently more as a matter of form than of pleasure. I took this
opportunity to ask some questions regarding the Martial cuisine, and
learnt that all but the very simplest cookery is performed by
professional confectioners, who supply twice a day the households in
their vicinity; unmarried men taking their meals at the shop. The
preparation of fruit, roasted grain, beverages consisting of juices
mixed with a prepared nectar, and the vegetables from the garden,
which enter into the composition of every meal, are the only culinary
cares of the ladies of the family. Everything can be warmed or
freshened on the stove which forms a part of that electric machinery
by which in every household the baths and lights are supplied and the
house warmed at night. The ladies have therefore very little household
work, and the greater part of this is performed under their
superintendence by the animals, which are almost as useful as any
human slaves on earth, with the one unquestionable advantage that they
cannot speak, and therefore cannot be impertinent, inquisitive, or
treacherous. No fermented liquors form part of the Martial diet; but
some narcotics resembling haschisch and opium are much relished. When
the official had retired, I said to my host—

"I thought it best to raise no question or objection in signing the
contract put before me with your sanction; but you must be aware, in
the first place, that I have no means here of performing the pecuniary
part of the covenant, no means of providing either maintenance or
pin-money."

The explanation of the latter phrase, which was immediately demanded,
produced not a little amusement, after which Esmo replied gravely—

"It will be very easy for you, if necessary, to realise a competence
in the course of half a year. A book relating your adventures, and
describing the world you have left, would bring you in a very
comfortable fortune; and you might more than double this by giving
addresses in each of our towns, which, if only from the curiosity our
people would entertain to see you with their own eyes, would attract
crowded audiences. You could get a considerable sum for the exclusive
right to take your likeness; and, if you chose to explain it, you
might fix your own price on the novel motive power you have
introduced. But there is another point in regard to the contract which
you have overlooked, but which I was bound to bear in mind. What you
have promised is, I believe, what Eveena would have obtained from any
suitor she was likely to accept. But since you left the matter
entirely to my discretion, I am bound to make it impossible that you
should be a loser; and this document (and he handed me a small slip
very much like that which contained the marriage covenant) imposes on
my estate the payment of an income for Eveena's life equal to that you
have promised her."

With much reluctance I found myself obliged to accept a dowry which,
however natural and proper on Earth, was, I felt, unusual in Mars. I
may say that such charges do not interfere with the free sale of land.
They are registered in the proper office, and the State trustee
collects them from the owner for the time being as quit-rents are
collected in Great Britain or land revenue in India. Turning to
another but kindred question, I said—

"Your marriage contract, like our own laws, appears to favour the
weaker sex more than strict theoretical equality would permit. This is
quite right and practically inevitable; but it hardly agrees with the
theory which supposes bride and bridegroom, husband and wife, to enter
on and maintain a coequal voluntary partnership."

"How so?" he inquired.

"The right of divorce," I said, "at the end of two years belongs to
the wife alone. The husband cannot divorce her except under a heavy
penalty."

"Observe," he answered, "that there is a grave practical inequality
which even theory can hardly ignore. The wife parts with something by
the very fact of marriage. At the end of two years, when she has borne
two, three, or four children, her value in marriage is greatly
lessened. Her capacity of maintaining herself, in the days when women
did work, was found practically to be even smaller than before
marriage. You may say that this really amounts to a recognition by
custom of the natural inequality denied by law; but at any rate, it is
an inequality which it was scarcely possible to overlook. Examine the
practical working of the covenants, and you will find that in
affecting to treat unequals as equals they merely make the weaker the
slave of the stronger."

"Surely," I said, "husband and wife are so far equal, where neither is
tied to the children, that each can make the other heartily glad to
assent to a divorce."

"Perhaps, where law interferes to enforce monogamy, and thereby to
create an artificial equality of mutual dependence. But our law cannot
dictate to equals, whose sex it ignores, the terms or numbers of
partnership. So, the terms of the contract being voluntary, men of
course insist on excluding legal interference in household quarrels;
and before the prohibitive clause was generally adopted, legal
interposition did more harm than good. As you will find, equality
before the law gives absolute effect to the real inequality, and
chiefly through its coarsest element, superior physical force. The
liberty that is a necessary logical consequence of equality takes from
the woman her one natural safeguard—the man's need of her goodwill,
if not of her affection."

"In our world," I replied, "I always held that even slaves, so they be
household slaves, are secure against gross cruelty. The owner cannot
make life a burden to them without imperilling his own. To reduce the
question to its lowest terms—malice will always be a match for
muscle, and poison an efficient antidote to the
ferula
."

"So," rejoined Esmo, "our men have perceived, and consequently they
have excepted attempts to murder, as the women have excepted serious
bodily injury, from the general rule prohibiting appeals to a court of
law."

"And," said I, "are there many such appeals?"

"Not one in two years," he replied; "and for a simple reason. Our law,
as matter of course and of common sense, puts murder, attempted or
accomplished, on the same footing, and visits both with its supreme
penalty. Consequently, a wife detected in such an attempt is at her
husband's mercy; and if he consent to spare her life, she must submit
to any infliction, however it may transgress the covenanted limit. In
fact, if he find her out in such an attempt, he may do anything but
put her to death on his own authority."

"Still," I answered, "as long as she remains in the house, she must
have frequent opportunity of repeating her attempt at revenge; and to
live in constant fear of assassination would break down the strongest
nerves."

"Our physicians," he said, "are more skilful in antidotes than our
women in poisons, even when the latter have learned chemistry. No
poisonous plants are grown near our houses; and as wives never go out
alone, they have little chance of getting hold of any fatal drug. I
believe that very few attempts to poison are successful, and that many
women have suffered very severely on mere suspicion."

"And what," I asked, "is the legal definition of 'grave bodily
injury'?"

"Injury," he said, "of which serious traces remain at the end of
twenty-four days; the destruction of a limb, or the deprivation,
partial or total, of a sense. I have often thought bitterly," he
continued, "of that boasted logic and liberality of our laws under
which my daughters might have to endure almost any maltreatment from
their husbands, so long as these have but the sense not to employ
weapons that leave almost ineffaceable marks. This is one main reason
why we so anxiously avoid giving them save to those who are bound by
the ties of our faith to treat them as kindly as children—for whom,
at the worst, they remain sisters of the Order. If women generally had
parents, our marriage law could never have carried out the fiction of
equality to its logical perfection and practical monstrosity."