"You see," she began slowly, "it is hard for me to do this be- cause I hate to hurt you. You must care so—so horribly."
"Stop right there, dear," I told her. "You overestimate my sensitiveness. What I feel is nothing at all to what you feel—I can see that. Remember that in our race-traditions war is a fine thing, a splendid thing. We have idealized war and the warrior, through all our history. You have read a good deal of our his- tory by now."
She had, I knew, and she nodded her head sadly. "Yes, it's practically all about war," she agreed. "But I didn't —I couldn't visualize it."
She closed her eyes and shrank back, but I went on steadily: "So you see this is not—to us—wholly a horror; it is just more horrible than other wars on account of the infamous behavior of some combatants, and because we really are beginning to be civilized. Now this pain that you see is no greater than the same pain all the way back in history—always. And you are not being miserable about that, surely?"
No, she admitted, she wasn't.
"Very well," I hurried on, "we, the human race, outside of Herland, have been fighting one another for all the ages, and we are here yet; some of these military enthusiasts say be- cause of war —some of the pacifists say in spite of it, and I'm beginning to agree with them. With you, Ellador, through you, and because of you, and because of seeing what human life can be, in your blessed country, I see things as I never did before. I'm growing."
She smiled a little at that, and took my hand again.
"You are the most important ambassador that ever was," I continued. "You are sent from your upland island, your little hidden heaven, to see our poor blind bleeding world and carry news of it to your people. Perhaps that vast storehouse of mother-love can help to set us straight at last. And you can't af- ford to feel our sorrow—you'd die of it. You must think—and talk it off, remorselessly, to me."
"You Amazing Darling!" she answered at last, drawing a deep breath. "You are right—wholly right. I'm afraid I have—a little—underrated your wisdom. Forgive me!"
I forgave her fast enough, though I knew it was an im- possible offence, and she began to free her mind.
"First as to Christianity," she said. "That gave me great hopes—at first. Not the mythology of course, but the spirit; and when that missionary man enlarged on the spread of Christian- ity and its countless benefits I began to feel that here was a lovely thing it would do us good to know about— something very close to Motherhood."
"Motherhood," always revently spoken, was the highest, holi- est word they knew in Herland.
"But as I've read and talked and studied all these weeks, I do not find that Christianity has done one thing to stop war, or that Christian countries fight any less than heathen ones—rather more. Also they fight amoung themselves. Chris- tianity has not brought peace on earth—not at all."
"No," I admitted, "it hasn't, but it tries to—ameliorate, to heal and save."
"That seems to me simply—foolish," she answered. "If there is a house on fire, the only true way to check the destruction is to put the fire out. To sit about trying to heal burned skin and repair burned furniture is—foolish."
"Especially when the repaired furniture serves as additional fuel for more fire," I added.
"You see it !" she exclaimed joyfully. "Then why don't you—but, I see—you are only one. You alone cannot change it." "Oh no, I'm not alone in that," I answered cheerfully. "There are plenty more who see it."
"Then why—" she began, but checked herself, and paused a little, continuing slowly. "What I wish to get off my mind is this spectacle of measureless suffering which human beings are de- liberately inflicting on one another. It would be hard enough to bear if the pain was unavoidable—that would be pure horror, and the eager rush to help. But here there is not only horror but a furious scorn—because they do not have to have it at all." "You're qute right, my dear," I agreed. "But how are you go-
ing to make them stop?"
"That's what I have to find out," she answered gravely. "I wish Mother was here—and all the Over-Mothers. They would find a way. There must be a way. And you are right—I must not let myself be overcome by this—"
"Put it this way," I suggested. "Even if three quarters of the world should be killed there would be plenty left to refill, as promptly as would be wise. You remember how quickly your country filled up?"
"Yes," she said. "And I must remember that it is the race-pro- gress that counts, not just being alive."
Then, wringing her hands in sudden bitterness, she added: "But this stops all progress! It is not merely that people are be- ing killed. Half the world might die in an earthquake and not do this harm! It is the Hating I mind more than the killing—the perversion of human faculty. It's not humanity dying—it is hu- manity going mad!"
She was shivering again, that black horror growing in her eyes.
"Gently dear, gently," I told her. Humanity is a large proposi- tion. You and I have a whole round world to visit—as soon as it is safe to travel. And in the meantime I want to get you to my country as soon as possible. We are not at war. Our people are goodnatured and friendly. I think you'll like us."
It was not unnatural for an American, in war-mad Europe, to think of his own land with warm approval, nor for a husband to want his wife to appreciate his people and his country.
"You must tell me more about it," she said eagerly. "I must read more too—study more. I do not do justice to the differ- ence, I am sure. I am judging the world only by Europe. And see here, my darling—do you mind if we see the rest first? I want to know The World as far as I can, and as quickly as I can. I'm sure that if I study first for awhile, in England—they seem so familar with all the world—that we might then go east in- stead of west, and see the rest of it before we reach America— leave the best to the last."
Except for the danger of traveling there seemed no great ob- jection to this plan. I would rather have her make her brief tour and then return with me to my own dear country at the end, than to have her uneasy there and planning to push on.
We went back to a quiet place in England, where we could temporarily close our minds to the Horror, and Ellador, with unerring judgment, found an encyclopedic young historian with the teaching gift, and engaged his services for a time.
They had a series of maps—from old blank "terra incognita" ones, with its bounding ocean of ancient times, to the spread of accurate surveying which now gives us the whole surface of the earth. She kissed the place where her little homeland lay hidden—but that was when he was not looking.
The rapid grasp she made at the whole framework of our his- tory would have astonished anyone not acquainted with Her- land brains and Herland methods of education. It did astonish the young historian. She by no means set herself to learn all that he wanted to teach her; on the contrary she continually checked his flow of information, receiving only what she wanted to know.
A very few good books on world evolution—geological, botan- ical, zoological, and ethnic, gave her the background she needed, and such a marvel of condensation as Winwood Reade's Martydom of Man supplied the outline of history.
Her own clear strong uncrowded and logical mind, with its child-fresh memory, saw, held and related the facts she learned, with no apparent effort. Presently she had a distinct view of what we people have been up to on earth for the few ages of our occupancy. She had her estimate of time taken and of the rate of our increased speed. I had never realized how long, how immeasurably long and slow, were the years "before progress," so to speak, or the value of each great push of new invention. But she got them all clearly in place, and, rigidly re- fusing to be again agonized by the ceaseless wars, she found eager joy in counting the upward steps of social evolution.
This joy increased as the ages came nearer to our own. She became fascinated with the record of inventions and discover- ies and their interrelative effects. Each great religion as it entered, was noted, defined in its special power and weakness, and its consequences observed. She made certain map effects for herself, "washing in" the different areas with various colors, according to the different religions, and lapping them over where they had historically lapped, as for instance, where the "mafiana" of the Spaniard marks the influence following Ori- ental invasion, and where Buddhism produces such and such effects according to its reception by Hindu, Chinese, or Japanese.
"I could spend a lifetime in these details," she eagerly ex- plained again, "but I'm only after enough to begin on. I must get them placed—so that I can understand what each nation is for, what they have done for one another, and for the world; which of them are going on, and how fast; which of them are stopping—or sinking back—and why. It is profoundly interesting."
Ellador's attitude vaguely nettled me, just a little, in that earlier consciousness I was really outgrowing so fast. She seemed like an enthusiastic young angel "slumming." I resen- ted—a little—this cheerful and relentless classification—just as poor persons resent being treated as "cases."
But I knew she was right after all, and was more than de- lighted to have her so soon triumph over the terrible influence of the war. She did not, of course, wholly escape or forget it. Who could? But she successfully occupied her mind with other matters.
"It's so funny," she said to me. "Here in all your history books, the whole burden of information is as to who fought who—and when; and who 'reigned' and when—especially when. Why are your historians so morbidly anxious about the exact dat^?"
"Why it's important, isn't it?" I asked.
"From certain points of view, yes; but not in the least from that of the general student. The doctor wants to know at just what hour the fever rises, or declines; he has to have his 'chart' to study. But the public ought to know how fever is induced and how it is to be avoided. People in general ought to know the whole history of the of the world in general; and what were the most important things that happened. And here the poor things are required to note and remember that this king "came to the throne" at such a date and died at such another—facts of no historic importance whatever. And as to the wars and wars and wars '—and all these 'decisive battles of history'—" Ellador had the whole story so clearly envisaged now that she could speak of war without cringing—"why that isn't history at all !"
"Surely it's part of history, isn't it?" I urged.
"Not even part of it. Go back to your doctor's 'chart'—his 'his- tory of the case.' That history treats of the inception, develop- ment, success or failure of the disease he is treating. To say that 'At four-fifteen p. m. the patient climbed into another patient's bed and bit him,' is no part of that record of tubercu- losis or cancer."
"It would be if it proved him delirious, wouldn't it?" I suggested.
Ellador lifted her head from the chart she was filling in, and smiled enchantingly. "Van," she said, "I'm proud of you. That's splendid!
"It would then appear," she pursued, glancing over her pa- pers, "as if the patent had a sort of intermittent fever— from the beginning; hot fits of rage and fury, when he is practically a lunatic, and cold fits, too," she cried eagerly, pursuing the il- lustration, "cold and weak, when he just lies helpless and can- not do anything."
We agreed that as a figure of speech this was pretty strong and clear, with its inevitable suggestion that we must study the origin of the disease, how to cure, and still better, prevent it.
"But there is a splendid record behind all that," she told me. I can't see that your historians have ever seen it clearly and consecutively. You evidently have not come to the place where all history has to be consciously revised for educational purposes."
"Ours is more complex than yours, isn't it?" I offered. "So many different nations and races, you know ?"
But she smiled wisely and shook her head, quoting after her instructor: "And history, with all her volumes vast, hath but one page.'
"They all tell about the same things," she said. "They all do the same things, and not one of them ever sees what really matters most—ever gives 'the history of the case' correctly. I truly think, dear, that we could help you with your history."
She had fully accepted the proposition I made that day when the Horror so overthrew her, and now talked to me as freely as if I were one of her sisters. She talked about men as if I wasn't one, and about the world as if it was no more mine than hers.
There was a strange exaltation, a wonderful companionship, in this. I grew to see life as she saw it, more and more, and it wasJike rising from some tangled thorny thicket to take a bird's eye view of city and farmland, of continent and ocean. Life it- self grew infinitely more interesting. I thought of that be- nighted drummer's joke, that "Life is just one damn thing after another," so widely accepted as voicing a general opinion. I thought of our pathetic virtues of courage, cheerfulness, pa- tience—all so ridiculously wasted in facing troubles which need not be there at all.
Ellador saw human life as a thing in the making, with human beings as the makers. We have always seemed to regard it as an affliction—or blessing— bestowed upon us by some exterior force. Studying, seeing, understanding, with her, I grew in- sensibly to adopt her point of view, her scale of measurements, and her eager and limitless interest. So when we did set forth on on our round-the-world trip to my home, we were both fairly well equipped for the rapid survey which was all we planned for.
Chapter 3
A Journey of Inspection
IT WAS fortunate for Ellador's large purposes that her fat little bag of jewels contained more wealth than I had at first under- stood, and that there were some jewel-hungry millionaires left in the world. In India we found native princes who were as much athirst for rubies and emeralds as ever were their hoard- ing ancestors, and who had comfortable piles of ancient gold wherewith to pay for them. We were easily able to fill snug belts with universally acceptable gold pieces, and to establish credit to carry us wherever there were banks.
