Through the Eye of the Needle: A Romance

by William Dean Howells

  IV

  You must not think, Dolly, from anything I have been telling you that theAltrurians are ever harsh. Sometimes they cannot realize how thingsreally are with us, and how what seems grotesque and hideous to themseems charming and beautiful, or at least _chic_, to us. But they arewonderfully quick to see when they have hurt you the least, and in thelittle sacrifices I have made of my wardrobe to the cause of generalknowledge there has not been the least urgence from them. When I now lookat the things I used to wear, where they have been finally placed in theethnological department of the Museum, along with the Esquiman kyaksand the Thlinkeet totems, they seem like things I wore in someprehistoric age--

  "When wild in woods the noble savage ran."

  Now, am I being unkind? Well, you mustn't mind me, Dolly. You must justsay, "She _has_ got it bad," and go on and learn as much about Altruriaas you can from me. Some of the things were hard to get used to, and atfirst seemed quite impossible. For one thing, there was the matter ofservice, which is dishonorable with us, and honorable with theAltrurians: I was a long time getting to understand that, though I knewit perfectly well from hearing my husband talk about it in New York. Ibelieve he once came pretty near offending you by asking why you did notdo your own work, or something like that; he has confessed as much, and Icould not wonder at you in your conditions. Why, when we first went tothe guest-house, and the pretty young girls who brought in lunch sat downat table to eat it with us, I felt the indignation making me hot allover. You know how democratic I am, and I did not mind those great,splendid boat-girls hugging and kissing me, but I instinctively drew theline at cooks and waitresses. In New York, you know, I always tried to bekind to my servants, but as for letting one of them sit down in mypresence, much less sit down at table with me, I never dreamed of such athing in my most democratic moments. Luckily I drew the line subjectivelyhere, and later I found that these young ladies were daughters of some ofthe most distinguished men and women on the continent, though you mustnot understand distinction as giving any sort of social primacy; thatsort of thing is not allowed in Altruria. They had drawn lots with thegirls in the Regionic school here, and were proud of having won the honorof waiting on us. Of course, I needn't say they were what we would havefelt to be ladies anywhere, and their manners were exquisite, even toleaving us alone together as soon as we had finished luncheon. The mealitself was something I shall always remember for its delicious cooking ofthe different kinds of mushrooms which took the place of meat, and thewonderful salads, and the temperate and tropical fruits which we had fordessert.

  They had to talk mostly with my husband, of course, and when they didtalk to me it was through him. They were very intelligent about ourworld, much more than we are about Altruria, though, of course, it was bydeduction from premises rather than specific information, and they wantedto ask a thousand questions; but they saw the joke of it, and laughedwith us when Aristides put them off with a promise that if they wouldhave a public meeting appointed we would appear and answer all thequestions anybody could think of; we were not going to waste our answerson them the first day. He wanted them to let us go out and help wash thedishes, but they would not hear of it. I confess I was rather glad ofthat, for it seemed a lower depth to which I could not descend, evenafter eating with them. But they invited us out to look at the kitchen,after they had got it in order a little, and when we joined them there,whom should I see but my own dear old mother, with an apron up to herchin, wiping the glass and watching carefully through her dear oldspectacles that she got everything bright! You know she was of a simplerday than ours, and when she was young she used to do her own work, andshe and my father always washed the dishes together after they hadcompany. I merely said, "_Well_, mother!" and she laughed and colored,and said she guessed she should like it in Altruria, for it took her backto the America she used to know.

  I must mention things as they come into my head, and not in anyregular order; there are too many of them. One thing is that I didnot notice till afterwards that we had had no meat that first day atluncheon--the mushrooms were so delicious, and you know I never was muchof a meat-eater. It was not till we began to make our present tour of theRegionic capitals, where Aristides has had to repeat his account ofAmerican civilization until I am sick as well as ashamed of America, thatI first felt a kind of famine which I kept myself from recognizing aslong as I could. Then I had to own to myself, long before I owned it tohim, that I was hungry for _meat_--for roast, for broiled, for fried, forhashed. I did not actually tell him, but he found it out, and I could notdeny it, though I felt such an ogre in it. He was terribly grieved, andblamed himself for not having thought of it, and wished he had got somecanned meats from the trader before she left the port. He was really indespair, for nobody since the old capitalistic times had thought ofkilling sheep or cattle for food; they have them for wool and milk andbutter; and of course when I looked at them in the fields it did seemrather formidable. You are so used to seeing them in the butchers' shops,ready for the range, that you never think of what they have to _gothrough_ before that. But at last I managed to gasp out, one day, "If Icould only have a chicken!" and he seemed to think that it could bemanaged. I don't know how he made interest with the authorities, or howthe authorities prevailed on a farmer to part with one of his preciouspullets; but the thing was done somehow, and two of the farmer's childrenbrought it to us at one of the guest-houses where we were staying, andthen fled howling. That was bad enough, but what followed was worse. Iwent another day on mushrooms before I had the heart to say chicken againand suggest that Aristides should get it killed and dressed. The poorfellow did try, I believe, but we had to fall back upon ourselves for themurderous deed, and--Did you ever see a chicken have its head cut off,and how hideously it behaves? It made us both wish we were dead; and thesacrifice of that one pullet was quite enough for me. We buried the poorthing under the flowers of the guest-house garden, and I went back tomy mushrooms after a visit of contrition to the farmer and many attemptsto bring his children to forgiveness. After all, the Altrurian mushroomsare wonderfully nourishing, and they are in such variety that, what withother succulent vegetables and the endless range of fruits and nuts, onedoes not wish for meat--meat that one has killed one's self!