CHAPTER XXV

Duties and Pastimes

It is from my first visit to the library that I date my real initiation into the affairs of Atlantis. From that time forth I was no longer a stranger in an unknown world; I became involved in such a round of activities that I began to feel almost at home. For it was my good fortune to have plenty to do, far more to do, in fact, than the average Atlantean; and with the demands of the Sunken World calling me on the one hand, and my old companions of the X-111 drawing me on the other, I did not have far to seek for an interest in life.

First of all, of course, I was applying myself to my “History of the Upper World.” It took me a month to plan the book, though meanwhile I devoted hours a day to improving my knowledge of the Atlantean language and institutions. And when finally I had completed my preliminary outline it did not satisfy me entirely, and yet seemed adequate as a working basis. The introductory section of the book--necessarily a lengthy affair--was to be devoted to a description of the modern world, to the various nations, their customs, languages, social systems, scientific advances and wars; and having begun with this grand resume of modern achievement, I intended to show the steps by which that achievement had been consummated, and to picture in general the course of those social fluctuations, those invasions, battles, slave-raids, civil conflicts, religious persecutions, crusades, economic revolutions, industrial tumults and international blood-feuds that have brought civilisation to its present proud estate.

But while I was planning my book, my thoughts were frequently on more personal subjects. And, having completed the outline, I could not forget a certain invitation made me by the most fascinating woman in Atlantis, but wasted no time about seeking her advice and approval.

Late one afternoon, when I knew that her tutoring would be over for the day, I paid my second visit to her home. I went just a little hesitatingly, I remember, yet not without some justifiable hope, for our interview was to begin most auspiciously. It was Aelios herself that came to the door in response to my knock; and it was Aelios that escorted me into the house, with cordial greetings and delighted smiles that reaffirmed my impression of her unrivaled merits.

“Well, my friend, I thought you would be coming,” said she, simply, as we took seats side by side on the seaweed sofa we had occupied on my first visit.

“But what made you think that?” I questioned.

“Why, didn’t you say you would come?” she returned, in unfeigned surprise. “You’re undertaking a difficult task, you know--to write a

## book in a strange language. Isn’t it only natural to want advice?”

“It is, indeed,” I confessed, and should have liked to add, “when I can have such a charming adviser.”

“I suppose you’ve been working hard,” she continued, evidently unaware of what was in my thoughts. “And, of course, you’ve brought something with you to show me.”

“Yes, I have brought something,” I admitted; and, there being no choice, I forthwith unfolded the paper that contained my plans for the history.

For several minutes she gazed at it intently, her features furrowed with thought, while eagerly I awaited her verdict.

“This is going to be very interesting,” she at length decided. “As far as I can see, you’ve covered most of the important points. You will find it easier than I thought to write in our language--your beginning is most promising. Of course, you do make some errors of style....” And she proceeded to point out my mistakes, in such a manner that I felt certain never to repeat them.

For possibly an hour--or two--we discussed my outline, though all the while I was conscious that there was something in Atlantis far more interesting to me than my book.

I was still aware of that fact, when, at last, feeling that it was growing late, I arose reluctantly to leave. As she took my hand, Aelios flashed upon me her most genial smile, and requested, “Come again, my friend. Perhaps I’ll be able to help you some more. Our doors are always open, you know.”

“Well, if it wouldn’t be asking too much of you,” I started to reply, fumbling for words, while the blood rushed all at once to my head.

“It will be a pleasure. And besides,”--here she hesitated momentarily, and her fingers absently toyed with the folds of her gown--“besides, if I help you with your book, I will also be helping the State.”

“Yes, possibly that’s true,” I conceded. And so what could I do but agree to give Aelios a further opportunity to help the State?

But if I based any glamorous hopes upon her evident friendliness, I was building without knowledge of my foundations. Not long after my visit to her, a chance conversation showed me how far I was from that goal which my more sanguine fancies pictured.

* * * * *

It was Xanocles that unwittingly made me see the difficulties. During one of our numerous little talks, he touched casually upon the marriage system of Atlantis. “The Milares Compulsory Population Law,” he chanced to inform me, “is perhaps not the only reason for the present superiority of the Atlantean stock. Another factor is what I may call the marital selection. This is regulated primarily by custom and is almost exclusively in the hands of the women, yet is so rigid that an inferior man can hardly find a mate--indeed, a superior woman would be disgraced by linking herself to a weakling.”

“But just what do you mean by a weakling?” I inquired.

Xanocles looked at me in surprise. “A weakling, of course, is one with nothing to give to society. A great poet, for example, could never be thought of as a weakling; nor a competent painter, nor philosopher, nor musician, nor biologist. But the man whose contributions show no

## particular skill or individuality is regarded as a weakling, no matter

what his pursuit. Naturally, he is not condemned so long as he does his best; but he is not regarded as a fit subject for marriage except with another weakling--and, needless to say, weaklings are not permitted to propagate.”

If Xanocles noticed that I was moody and silent for the rest of the day, the reason would not have been hard to find. I do not believe that, in my own world, I had ever suffered from what is known as an inferiority complex; but among the Atlanteans, with their higher standards, mere honesty demanded that I question my own qualifications. And what, I wondered, had I to offer to a woman such as Aelios? Would not my meagre attainments appear childish and unattractive to her? Even if I finished my “History of the Upper World,” would it not be a second-rate affair, altogether incapable of winning her admiration? And would I not, by comparison with the natives, be considered a weakling, a man whom Aelios could not marry without incurring disgrace?

For days and weeks I was harassed by such thoughts; and it was to be long before I had wholly recovered. Meanwhile, however, I was partially consoled by the companionship of Xanocles. The friendship begun at our first meeting, was strengthening and solidifying in the course of the months; the proximity of our lodgings rendered it easy for us to see one another, but there also seemed to be a certain proximity of mind, which made each of us take pleasure in the company of the other; and in spite of the gulf of race, training and experience, we found that we actually had more in common than many persons who have spent all their lives in the same home. And so he would often seek me out, and we would spend hours exchanging ideas in the dim seclusion of my rooms; and often I would seek him out, and we would hold friendly debate in the quiet of his rooms; and not infrequently we might have been seen strolling arm in arm about the city, while I pictured to him the wonders and vastness of the upper world, or while he in his turn regaled me with colorful reminiscences, and told how he was employed by the State as a binder and designer of books, but how he spent his spare time in writing economic and philosophical treatises or delivering lectures in favor of the Emergence.

It was under the pilotage of Xanocles that I was introduced to the social life of Atlantis. The Atlanteans did not spend all their time in grave and serious pursuits, as I had at first imagined; they did not devote themselves to art until it palled upon them, or seek for beauty until it became blurred and illusory; but they knew how to vary their lives and make them symmetrical, and they had quite as much time for laughter and recreation as for earnest endeavor and sober thought. Indeed, they proved to be an unusually sociable people; and after I had entered with Xanocles into the rare spirit of their life and pastimes, I was forced to conclude that a prime reason for the success of Atlantean society was the sane balance it preserved, and the fact that its more ideal aims were tempered by a recognition and a measured encouragement of all the normal inclinations of man.

* * * * *

For sheer range and variety, the Atlantean pastimes excelled those of any other people I had ever encountered. To begin with the simplest first, there were athletic games, races and competitions that might have been popular even in the upper world; and on the outskirts of Archeon were fields where the young and even the middle-aged gathered in crowds, testing their prowess by boxing and wrestling, by hurling round, flat objects like the ancient discus, by sprinting along specified race-courses, by engaging in a sort of ball game remotely like tennis, or by participating in that more popular contest known as “sortos,” which reminded me of baseball except for the fact that it did not require so many players. I was surprised to observe that the Atlanteans could enter into these sports with hot enthusiasm; but I also noted that they could view their athletics with sanity, and were interested in their games only while actually engaged in them, and did not come forth in throngs as mere onlookers, nor waste time discussing the contests beforehand or after they were over, nor prostitute their spirit to a professional or commercial outlook.

Not less popular than the athletics--in fact, probably much more popular--were the dances that featured prominently in Atlantean life. These were of a hundred styles and varieties, from the ethereal butterfly movements of trained women, such as Aelios, to the tripping and capering of children keeping time spontaneously to the rhythm of a song. Leaving out of account the dances for which unusual skill was necessary, the most interesting to my mind were those held on the polished floors of the temples, where as many as a hundred men and women would gather, all swaying synchronously to the subdued beat of the music, some in couples holding hands and some singly, but all lightly passing back and forth with bird-like co-ordinated movements, until as one watched, one lost sight of individuals and thought of them all only as the parts of some exquisite, ever-varying whole.

It was not surprising to me to observe that the Atlantean love of the dance was matched by an equal taste for music. Having no technical musical knowledge, I cannot comment upon the Atlantean development of the art, except to say that its cultivation was widespread, that public concerts were held almost daily in the halls of Archeon, and that invariably their effect upon me was pleasing beyond anything I had ever heard on earth. Perhaps it was that the Atlantean music possessed in high degree the power of awakening ecstasy and visions; perhaps it was that its restrained melancholy and plaintive rapture were as keys, that unlocked a universe beyond the universe of sense, and brought the time-bound spirit into touch with the timeless; but, at all events, it possessed a ravishing power reminding me of the most consummate violin performances, and yet surpassing even the violin in the almost complete severance it effected between body and soul.

Much the same may be said of the drama in Atlantis--a drama almost as popular as the music, and built like the music upon that beauty which reaches beyond time and space. The prose drama seems never to have been introduced; poetry, as the natural vehicle for ecstatic expression, was evidently regarded as the inevitable substance of all plays; and the playwrights were all in a tradition that might have appealed to Sophocles and Euripides, although they had never heard of those master dramatists. Indeed, Atlantis had a score of dramatic writers who in my judgment were in no way inferior to any produced by classical Greece; and the best works of these authors, staged with picturesque simplicity and presented by actors of power, afforded me some of the most absorbing hours I passed during all my years in Atlantis.

But if delighted by such performances, I was not less pleased to note that dramatics flourished also on a small scale. In any little social gathering one of the most popular diversions would be the improvisation and acting of short plays; and the proficiency of the Atlanteans in this game seemed almost incredible to me, for the actors would not only originate their own little dramas, but would speak their impromptu lines with feeling and beauty; and so deeply was the spirit of poetry engrained that long fluent passages of exceptional verse would sometimes be delivered spontaneously.

Beyond these dramatic exhibitions, the chief private pastime of the Atlanteans was in the art of discussion. To say that discussion was an art is not to exaggerate; it was believed that the mark of the cultured man was his ability to express himself intelligently; and themes for consideration in an Atlantean drawing room varied from the latest poetry and the latest music to the nature of the human personality and the ultimate meaning of life. To the self-respecting citizen, it would have been an insult to suggest that he avoid the boredom of conversation by games of dominoes or cards; and it would have seemed ludicrous to attempt to gossip concerning one’s food or clothes, one’s athletic prowess, one’s neighbor’s idiosyncrasies or bad manners, or any of those hundred and one subjects that might have proved diverting in upper world conversation.

* * * * *

While Xanocles was introducing me to the social life of Atlantis, much of my time was being taken up by social life of a different type. Now that I had been elevated to the dignity of Atlantean citizenship, I could not forget that I had thirty-eight comrades who aspired to a similar honor. I saw fully as much of my former shipmates as before; indeed, I saw some of them more than ever, and in particular Captain Gavison, who would frequently visit me to exchange reminiscences; and I rubbed shoulders with the whole crew at the regular bi-weekly meetings of the Upper World Club, which were now held in my apartment.

These meetings were sometimes exciting affairs, perhaps because there was little else in Atlantis which offered the possibility of excitement. Looking back after the lapse of years, it is not easy for me to recall just what there was to be agitated about; but it is certain that we would be agitated indeed, and that there would be fiery debates and discussions, which occasionally became so heated that President Gavison would rap and rap with the bit of stone that served him as gavel, raising his voice until he almost shouted and the sheer awe of his presence would restore order. As nearly as I can remember, most of the disputes were due to conflicting opinions of Atlantis; for frequently one of the club members would denounce the Sunken World in the most picturesque terms at his disposal; and immediately some champion of Atlantis would spring to his feet in disagreement, and the debate would wax fast and furious, most of the club taking a part, until the imperious voice of the President would put an end to the contest.

Sometimes, however, the altercation would be over some proposal for improving our status in Atlantis. Many and curious were the views as to the drawbacks of our lot; and one of our members would be likely to suggest that we attempt the construction of a motor boat or of an automobile; and another would be convinced that a prime shortcoming of Atlantis was the absence of the phonograph or of motion pictures; and many would toy fondly with the idea of escape, and would advocate wild and wholly impractical schemes that would foment a tumult in the club. As time went by, it became increasingly apparent that the majority would never be reconciled to Atlantis; they felt estranged by its art, overwhelmed by its majesty, irritated by its suave peacefulness; and while they still studied the native language for several hours a day, and at times derived much satisfaction from being allowed a part in the native pastimes and athletics, yet on the whole they felt out of place in an atmosphere not adapted to them, and were coming to look upon the upper world as a sort of lost Elysium.

* * * * *

[Illustration: That this noise was somehow connected with the quickening wind was apparent from the first; and the relationship became evident when the path swerved abruptly away from the wall and I glanced back, to behold a series of queer-looking machines supported on stone pedestals high up against the glass. It would be impossible to say just what the machines were like ... so swiftly were they rotating that they formed each a gray blur through which the green of the wall was vaguely discernible.]

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