with derision. “How great your anxiety for me!” she exclaimed, her eye flashing with scorn.
“I am moved to the heart. Consider me overcome with the evidence of your love and devotion.
“Use no oily hypocrisy with me, noble sirs!” she added contemptuously. “Tell me, like men, that you are afraid for yourselves, for your own positions, for your own lives. You petition me for aid to suppress the revolutionists, the radicals, the protesters against your own rapacity. You would have me bypass normal civil rights and throw the dissidents into prison, take their lives, stop their tongues, torture them, confiscate their property. Go to, fools! When national wrongs begin to boil in a caldron of injustice and hatred, it is rank folly to clamp the lid upon it. Let the steam escape. When men talk, they lose energy to act. Let their tongues wag; let their pens write. Suppress them, and the steam blows off the lid.”
She passed on to other proposals, vetoing some, granting others. The Senator Toliti, a well-meaning, if narrow-minded, man, complained that the people were no longer reverent. The majority failed to attend the services in the temples, and ignored public holidays honoring the gods. Obscene epigrams had been written on their very statues. “Let the iron hand of the law descend upon this licentious people, and force them into godly worship,” he said solemnly.
Salustra shook her head wearily, “We will make Atlantis virtuous in spite of herself, eh? I’ll wager Jupia’s shadow is behind thee, Toliti; perhaps even her gold jingles in thy purse at this moment. If Atlantis does not worship her gods, is it the fault of the people or the interpreters—the priests who say do as I preach, not as I do?”
Because of the appalling increase of crime, one Noble proposed more rigid punishments.
Salustra was silent for some time before she spoke. “Why not look for the cause before attempting drastic treatment? Law is held in disrespect. Why? Our courts are slow, unwieldy. Punishment is uncertain. Immunity from justice is a matter of money and influence. Find out, my lords, what is polluting the bloodstream of Atlantis, and you will not have to worry about the increase of crime. Is it undesirable aliens, unjust laws, poverty? Is it overpopulation, congested cities, a trend away from honest labor, a too artificial and sophisticated life? Is crime the passionate protest of the adventurous human animal against the miserable drabness of his existence? Or is it unemployment, the multiplication of the inferior, with no wit for anything but theft and skulduggery? Find out, my lords. I shall hold you responsible for a prompt report.”
In the face of this sardonic inventory, the great hall was silent. The representatives were all too well aware of these ingredients in Atlantis’ decay. During the lull Salustra spoke to Mahius in an aside for several moments. Finally, she came forward a few steps, tall, commanding, vibrant. From her manner, all realized that she had something of importance to communicate.
“Noble sirs, I will recount what would have saved Atlantis. The wealth of the nation should not have been concentrated in the cities but spread over the country. Men’s bodies and spirits should not have been exploited for the sake of amassing fortunes for the aristocratic few. We should have allowed no religion to pollute the air with superstition. We should have prevented the propagation of the unfit, allowing only the superior to procreate. But we didn’t do all this and we have failed!”
The Assembly regarded her with uneasy astonishment.
She raised her hand eloquently. “The hour of reckoning is upon us. Do you know, my lords, that Signar of Althrustri is now approaching Lamora with a great fleet?”
Had the walls of the Hall of Law fallen upon them, the Assembly could have displayed no greater consternation. Voices, shrill, incoherent, merged in a babble of speculation. Where were the legions and the fleet?
“I am moved to the heart. Consider me overcome with the evidence of your love and devotion.
“Use no oily hypocrisy with me, noble sirs!” she added contemptuously. “Tell me, like men, that you are afraid for yourselves, for your own positions, for your own lives. You petition me for aid to suppress the revolutionists, the radicals, the protesters against your own rapacity. You would have me bypass normal civil rights and throw the dissidents into prison, take their lives, stop their tongues, torture them, confiscate their property. Go to, fools! When national wrongs begin to boil in a caldron of injustice and hatred, it is rank folly to clamp the lid upon it. Let the steam escape. When men talk, they lose energy to act. Let their tongues wag; let their pens write. Suppress them, and the steam blows off the lid.”
She passed on to other proposals, vetoing some, granting others. The Senator Toliti, a well-meaning, if narrow-minded, man, complained that the people were no longer reverent. The majority failed to attend the services in the temples, and ignored public holidays honoring the gods. Obscene epigrams had been written on their very statues. “Let the iron hand of the law descend upon this licentious people, and force them into godly worship,” he said solemnly.
Salustra shook her head wearily, “We will make Atlantis virtuous in spite of herself, eh? I’ll wager Jupia’s shadow is behind thee, Toliti; perhaps even her gold jingles in thy purse at this moment. If Atlantis does not worship her gods, is it the fault of the people or the interpreters—the priests who say do as I preach, not as I do?”
Because of the appalling increase of crime, one Noble proposed more rigid punishments.
Salustra was silent for some time before she spoke. “Why not look for the cause before attempting drastic treatment? Law is held in disrespect. Why? Our courts are slow, unwieldy. Punishment is uncertain. Immunity from justice is a matter of money and influence. Find out, my lords, what is polluting the bloodstream of Atlantis, and you will not have to worry about the increase of crime. Is it undesirable aliens, unjust laws, poverty? Is it overpopulation, congested cities, a trend away from honest labor, a too artificial and sophisticated life? Is crime the passionate protest of the adventurous human animal against the miserable drabness of his existence? Or is it unemployment, the multiplication of the inferior, with no wit for anything but theft and skulduggery? Find out, my lords. I shall hold you responsible for a prompt report.”
In the face of this sardonic inventory, the great hall was silent. The representatives were all too well aware of these ingredients in Atlantis’ decay. During the lull Salustra spoke to Mahius in an aside for several moments. Finally, she came forward a few steps, tall, commanding, vibrant. From her manner, all realized that she had something of importance to communicate.
“Noble sirs, I will recount what would have saved Atlantis. The wealth of the nation should not have been concentrated in the cities but spread over the country. Men’s bodies and spirits should not have been exploited for the sake of amassing fortunes for the aristocratic few. We should have allowed no religion to pollute the air with superstition. We should have prevented the propagation of the unfit, allowing only the superior to procreate. But we didn’t do all this and we have failed!”
The Assembly regarded her with uneasy astonishment.
She raised her hand eloquently. “The hour of reckoning is upon us. Do you know, my lords, that Signar of Althrustri is now approaching Lamora with a great fleet?”
Had the walls of the Hall of Law fallen upon them, the Assembly could have displayed no greater consternation. Voices, shrill, incoherent, merged in a babble of speculation. Where were the legions and the fleet?
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