This degradation takes on every shape of misery and shame. Crime of every kind breeds in it—disease, despair, and death! Is it inseparable from human existence—must excellence in humanity be only for the few?
London has for Misery its Charities—for Crime its vast Stone prisons. The latter are more accessible, and, for the offences of mere poverty, quite as desirable. Pauperism detests the alms-house—it hates subordination; and will, sometimes, starve before it seeks the bread of scornful wealth. Extreme indigence hardens—softness is turned to stone—human instinct feels wronged. "I wish work and pay, not idleness and pauper-bread." The cruel thing with the poor is, that atfirst, there is not debasement. Work is sought—but, continued inability to find work and honest bread, leads in the bad demon—which loves not, cares not, feels not—renders inhuman.
In walking the streets one feels the cold nature of the English Barbarians—one sees its exhibition everywhere. It is intensified by Caste divisions: there is no real sympathy. An Englishman shows in the streets, and in all public places, the indifference of a brute. Nothing moves him, nothing makes him laugh, smile, or give any sign of emotion. In sports, nominally sportive, there is nothing of gaiety—only with the Low-Castes very coarse and rough brutishness; and with the Upper a repulsive cynicism. This mood gives to the life of the streets no pleasing animation—only, at best, mere animal movement, as if each beast was intent upon his own particular hunger. At the Play there is no show of genuine enjoyment—and the dance (somebody said to me once) might be a dance of Death, so far as any lively pleasure appears.
TheHansom Cab—of which there are thousands—is a singular and characteristic thing. It is a vehicle of two wheels, drawn by one horse, and carries two passengers. The Barbarians, intent upon gain, allow the driver to urge his horse at speed through the crowded streets, giving no other warning thanhi-hi! Everybody must look outat his own peril; for life and limb are unimportant compared with speed in business. One would not credit this—but as I have been nearly run over by these drivers more than once, not hearing thehi-hi! I can vouch for the existence of these privileged vehicles. The use of them is based upon the same rule, which allows of so many other things, to us inhuman or unjust—to say—that 'the convenience of trade' is paramount to trifling risks of life, limb, or soundness of abstract morality.
Another public chariot for passengers is theOmnibus. These are very numerous on the great thoroughfares. It is drawn by two horses, and will hold twelve or more inside and fourteen outside, upon the top. These are licensed by the law, and convey people a long distance for a small sum. The name is from the Roman, and means a bus (kiss) for all—a ridiculous term for which I can give no explanation, unless, as women and men ride in them promiscuously, some of the sly and coarse humour of the Barbarians may be meant. I refer, however, to the carriage, to give an illustration of street life, and of the English bearishness [che-liftze]. I have seen women and children waiting at a corner in the mud and rain, for the'Bus, and when it has stopped, I have seen men rudely elbow themselves to the frontand enter upon the unoccupied seats, leaving the women to the inclemency of winter, or to the rain and sleet. And these not theRoughs, but gentlemen. This, too, one would scarcely believe, if one did not see.
Thepolice[ki-ti] of London is noted for its stupidity; its members are the perpetualbutt[la-phe] of farces and plays in the Theatres. Yet the liberty and the good name of the citizens are at their mercy. If a stranger be hustled and mobbed, it will be well for him to get out of the affair without any call for the police, for if one of these should come up, he will be as likely to pounce upon the innocent and injured as upon the wrong-doer. And he likes to make hisarrestappear guilty before the magistrate—heis not mistaken. In selecting policemen, rather strength of body than any moral or mental qualification is looked for. And the theory seems to be that one cannot afford to pay for intelligent men, where merely the liberty and good name of the individual is concerned. Here again, "better that the particular person should suffer than that too much money should be paid;" especially as the Police are not likely to behardupon the upper-Castes. To these they can be conveniently deaf, dumb, and blind.
One wonders, looking along the interminable extent of mean streets, to see the endless shops. It looks as if everybody had something to sell; and where the buyers can be who knows? You may watch some of these places for hours, and you will not see a soul enter or depart. Look in, and very likely some old man or woman is drowsing away, if in summer time, behind apaltry litter of old stuffs, the whole not worth a year's living; or, if in winter, half-perishing with cold, waiting for customers who never come. And these waifs [dri-tze] of a forgotten trade linger on, in old age, eating hungrily the husks of former traffic, which new ways have destroyed. London is an enormous shop with a West End of dwellings; these, however, not by any means shopless. It is a marvel. Thousands and thousands of mean shops, yet supporting the tens of thousands which live by them. One asks how any fair profit can do this. You will see a display of rusty goods, of tawdry ornaments, of dirty books, of mere rubbish; and if you venture inside you will hurry out again. The creatures inside are as unattractive as the wares. Do you believe these are places of honest dealing?
But in what are called respectable tradesmen's houses, profits must be little short of plunder—the business is so small. Yet the English Barbarians, of certain classes, seem to take to this mode of living upon the community with a hawk-like keenness. The difference between the price of an article of food, whether bought first hands, or after it has passed through these intermediaries, is a difference as of one-half to the whole—that is, the price is doubled!
These petty tradesmen glean their livings from the poor, who cannot help themselves; but, in truth, the common feeling is on all hands, "Let us plunder, and be plundered." It is merely a question of securing a good share.
London, therefore, not wanting in a certain air ofgreatness in some parts, really expresses very clearly the traits of the English Barbarians. It is gloomy, morose, huckstering, repulsive. Huge it is, like the English barbaric power; but incoherent, uninformed, unlovely, without the beauty of refinement.
Still, in the purpose of the Sovereign Lord, one may guess the use of this great centre of barbaric influence—it is to beat down the distant and worse tribes beyond the great seas. As one sort of predatory creature devours another, so these Barbarians destroy worse types of men than themselves, and prepare the way for human advancement. Whether, however, they shall themselves ever emerge into a noble life, is a curious inquiry.
TheWest Endis that part where the High-Castes reside when in the Metropolis. It is the seat of Palaces, of Courts, of better built streets, and of the best Parks and ornamental grounds. Here the Theatres and revelries are; the great dinners, the Routs, the Dances, and the stir of High life. Here, in the Parks, the grand dames air themselves, their poodles, and servants. Here, on horseback, they astonish onlookers by the display of figure, and, on foot, by a show of head-dress and draperies, and bright eyes and fashionable forms. Luxury, idleness, show, frivolity, mock the wretchedness which despairs and dies, or robs and cheats in not distant back slums [gna-zti]. Still, along these costly rows of equipages and richly-attired women and men, on whose persons may be single gems which would give bread to thousands, one looks in vain for what would give a human and pleasing touch. If yousee a lovely face, it might as well be at a funeral. The whole spectacle is cold and lifeless; the horses only have animation, and they are kept down to the tamest possible step. The world cannot show finer animals, nor wealthier owners, nor more luxurious idlers, nor more unattractive human beings. Joy is unknown, and any touch of natural sentiment, along the long line of devotees of wearisome Time-killers, may be looked for in vain.
When I first walked about the streets, I found myself the victim of Barbarian insolence. My dress attracted rude notice, and I soon adopted the common garb. This, however, only partially removed observation—for my features were different. However, a longer use accustomed me to rudeness, and enabled me to let it pass unnoticed. One part of the town, particularly, appeared to be infested with women, who accosted me and insisted upon walking with me. I could not for some time understand this; but since, I have been informed. The neighbourhood of the Theatres—in fact, many parts of the West End—are the haunts of these poor creatures, many of whom seem to be but little more than children. On one occasion a well-dressed young girl, as I was leaving the Play, smilingly spoke to me, and asked the time! I took out my watch, which was worn in my fob, and holding it up to the gaslight to see the hour, it was snatched from my hand. I merely caught sight of a person vanishing round a corner. The girl exclaimed, "What a pity," and put her hand gently on my arm. I, however, moved away quickly; but all trace of watch and robber was gone, andthe young woman too! This would not happen to me now. I did not then know of the state of things in thecentre of Christendom! Of course I was robbed on several occasions, and in many ways, and shortly found that I must look upon everybody as a rascal, as the English do.
But perhaps there is nothing in London so exasperating as theLodging-house keeper. This is a creature not unknown to other regions, but reserved for its most perfect and exquisite finish for the Metropolis of the World (as the English like to call London).
This being starves you, freezes you, cheats you, waits upon you, steals from you, lies to you, flatters you, and backbites you; reads your private papers, has keys for all your boxes and drawers, and a complete inventory of all your effects. She chooses from your handkerchiefs, smoothes her hair with your brushes, scents it with your perfumes, "makes herself beautiful" at your toilet. She examines your boots, and finds a pair which you "will never miss," for herJames. She brushes your trowsers, and takes care of any loose change. She waits at your table, counts the oranges, and thinks she will try one.
When you ask for thatpie, she has given it to the dog—"I thought you were done with it, Sir." She cracks a window pane, and charges it to you in the bill. She eats your bread, drinks your beer,tastesyour wine; and charges you a shilling for a pinch of salt. She demands pay for coals you have not burned, and for gas you have not used. She gives you sheets that are worn out, and makes you pay the price of new when you stick yourtoes through them. She demands thewashfor coverings which you have not soiled, and fortidysthat were never tidy. She has a lot of cracked cheap glasses and crockery, which she makes you pay "for cracking, Sir"—as she has already made others many times before. In truth, these are invaluable to her—"she get new ones, not she"! (as she says to her drudge of all work).
You pay for clean table-linen and towels weekly (and weakly)—but if you ask for a fresh table-cloth, "I have a friend to dine"—you get it, and a charge for itextra. If you intimate that youcouldnot have had "so much butter"—you are reminded that you are speaking to a lady, who has been accustomed to havegentlemenin her rooms!
You sleep on "hobbles," and are blotched in a curious manner. You hint to the servant that you have seensomethingas well as felt; but "nothing of that sort was ever in my house." At last, when you find it quite impossible to satisfy the ever-increasing rapacity, you "think you will leave." You are very forcibly reminded that you are bound to "a month's notice, Sir." And, happy to get off any way, this you waive and pay for. Nor do you flinch when, on exhibiting the final account, "my lady" has recorded a list of casualties, very startling:—
You glance at the foot, pay it. You think all is done. But "my lady" expects a "slight gratuity, Sir; not for myself, of course, but for Nancy!" I should add that this harpy is a devotee, and is as punctual at prayers as at prey!
One, however, soon finds a change of place is no change of fate. The pickings and stealings may take a little different form, but the result is the same. The only thing is, to get for your money cleanliness and comfort; estimate the whole cost, and consider the plunder a part of it—for you will not escape. TheLodging Houseis only typical. All are preyed upon and prey upon. It is the rule of barbaric life, andCastemakes it inevitable. The low think it no robbery to get a share of the plunder enjoyed by the rich. There is, in the general state of things, a rough instinct of justice in it—only innocent people also suffer.
If you live in one of the huge buildings called Hotels, you are no better off. Here, every mouthful is counted; you cannot breathe (so to say) without paying for it. If a waiter look at you, he will expect agratuity[ti-tin].
After you have paid everything which an experienced and greedy ingenuity can think of, as you are about to leave, the servants will obsequiously open and stand at doors, hold and brush your hat (alreadybrushedbare), catch up some trifle, and generally get in your way, toforce gratuities out of your good-nature. If you, at length, reach the vehicle called for you, before you can open the door of it, up will start, as from the ground, a miserable creature, who intercepts your motion, adroitly opening the door for you, and then, when you are seated, stands staring directly into your face, with his hand still on the door-handle, awaiting a gratuity. You have buttoned up your coat, your gloves are on, it is cold; but you cannot refuse the demand.
You are finally off; you arrive at your new quarters. Before you can wink, up starts a first cousin [tw-in-ti] of him who has just stared at you, who, in his turn, seizes hold of the door-handle, and shows in every motion that he has seized you too, at least to the extent ofsixpence. You step out; he touches his hair (he has no hat); you try not to see him; but impossible—the pennies must come.
But why attempt to delineate these endless methods of prey. The poor wretches who live by these miserable shifts are innumerable and everywhere. One does not begrudge thepennies, but detests the nuisance, and the debasement which it demonstrates.
London is an undesirable place of residence, unless for the rich, and to them only for a few months in the year. But it is full of objects of study to him who cares to know anything of barbaric life, or who wishes to investigate the records and literature of the Western tribes.
All great cities are much alike; it is the different aspect of human life which is the noticeable thing. Unless, on the whole, a great city exhibits humanity in a pleasing condition, it is a failure, however rich it maybe. London, which was described one hundred and fifty years ago as a "Province of Houses," certainly contains an immense population bare of attractive features. No doubt much must be put down to climate and fuel. The former is foggy, cold, dark, and disheartening for the larger part of the year; and the latter, by its foul gas [ptrut] and smoke, makes the fog and cloudy air so obscure as to give an unearthly gloom. The poor feel not only the gnawing of hunger but the nipping frost, unrelieved by any smiles in earth or sky. The mud of the streets is like a nasty grease, and one walks or crosses the ways in terror of befoulment. The clothes and the face are exposed not only to this, but also to the defiling smoke which drops a steady drizzle [kri-tze] of black atoms upon everything.
Poor shivering creatures—men, women, and children—are at street crossings and other places, incessantly sweeping away so much of the mud as may enable pedestrians to pass with less weight of nastiness to boots or skirts. These, often very old, or lame, or half-starved and ragged, piteously expect a penny. I have often watched the little girl or boy, or old tottering man, and seen the hurrying passers, on and on, the stream ceaseless, yet have rarely seen a single penny given. I have sometimes put in my outside pocket some copper coins to have at hand; and when I have given to one of these sweepers, the thanking look was well worth the petty trouble; it also showed clearly that the gift was not too common. How these victims of poverty live, where they cover their misery from the wintry cold, I cannot guess. I used to notice one veryold and almost imbecile who swept at a place where I crossed frequently. He would stand motionless under a thick, scrubby tree which stood just at the corner of the streets, clinging to its shelter, slight as it was, for protection from wind and rain, and barely touching his head with his finger with a bow when people passed. Occasionally, slowly, and with limbs stiff and back hardly bent to toil, grubbing across the way with his muddy broom, but never giving other sign of vitality. I missed his silent figure one day; another wretch had stepped into his heritage, [qua-ti] and stood beneath the scrubby tree—the old, silent, patient sufferer had found a pauper's grave at last.
Akin to these (indeed cousins-german) are the old creatures who sit at street corners, or by the way-sides, selling trifles, which nobody buys. Through the long, cold days, huddled into a heap, and looking like a pile of rags with a red face a-top, motionless, will one of these sit, bleering and winking with rheumy eyes at the juiceless fruit, or handful of nuts, or ancient cakes, or nasty sweets, displayed upon her little board. If by chance you happen to curiously turn your eyes upon this strange object, some start of vitality appears, but vanishes as you pass on. Who buys, who eats; what can possibly come of this strange traffic? Yet you will see these human things, day after day, sitting, one would think, despairingly, awaiting the buyers who never come. How fine a thing it would be for the idle rich, who like a new sensation, to go about the streets, accompanied by a servant, and buy of these patient crones [ko-tse] a good part of their daily store!
When I first walked about the great places of the city, I was surprised to see very many miserable men punished (as I supposed) by theCangue. They had suspended to their necks two boards, one in front and one behind. Upon these were curious devices. Horses, women, great fires burning, ships blowing up, and the like. Perpetually walking to and fro, just to the measured distance, and never once sitting down, never once speaking, nor being spoken to, these creatures, thus accoutred, walked dismally right in the garbage of the gutters. No one, by any chance, ever noticed them, nor by any chance did they ever do other than, with slow and limping gait, keep up the march of doleful dismalness! For long I puzzled over these ragged apparitions; after many moons I found that they were merely stalking advertisements! [muun-shi].
I might give many other illustrations of life in London, differing from what is known to us. The human dregs are truly dreadful. Their haunts are indescribable. Many settle upon the oozy and slimy river bank, when the tide is out, seeking anything which perchance may have been washed up. Wading in a filth which covers the feet and befouls the whole tattered creature, this being, nicknamedmud-lark[pho-ul-sti], becomes an outcast to all decency. Others prowl about the ash-heaps, and sift and pick over any heaps of rubbish, carefully gathering from garbage, bones, rags, anything which can give the merest pittance. It must be certain that human degradation can go no deeper when to debasing and starving poverty is added drunkenness, loathsome brutality, violence, and crime.
Possibly the greatest city of the Barbarians is not worse than the worst of some portions of a great city with us; nor should I refer emphatically to the wretchedness of London were it not for the boastful ignorance manifested by Barbarian writers and literati. These always speak of the prëeminence of English civilization—of the grand and humanizing influence of their true religion—of the wealth, the liberty, and the happiness of the people! No other tribe is so humane, so just, so brave, so wise, so free, so prosperous, so contented and happy!
In the face of these declarations, which are to be met with on all sides, London is a marvel! Nor London only, other cities are more marvellous; one wonders what the standard must be, by which is tested this boasted prëeminence. If byotherWestern Barbarian life, and compared to that, truly superior, then what must be the condition at large of the Western tribes?
There is a nuisance common enough with us about the streets; and in London it takes every shape. I mean street music. Besides the troops, which infest public places, startling you with a crashing outburst of noise from many brass instruments, there are mendicants, of all ages and both sexes. The halt, the blind, come singing in the most doleful manner, unaccompanied; and others making the night hideous with squeaking wind-pipes, or noisy things of some sort. After annoying you for a long time, one of these will perhaps boldly knock at your door, and demand a gratuity. Some of these creatures blacken themselves, and appear in the courts and squares singing and playingnot too decently. Some poor woman, with babes in a kind of basket pushed along on wheels, will try to gain sympathy and pennies by screaming out some woful strain which nobody comprehends, and which grates upon the ear like rasping iron. Sometimes a miserable wretch, shivering with cold, will stand before the bright, warm doors of a drinking place, and sing his feeble note of woe. The most dreadful objects will be those horribly deformed, who, crooked and distorted out of human shape contrive to get along in some strange device of wagon, pushed by their own stumps of hands or feet. Generally these affect to play upon something, no matter what, and drag on an existence too wretched to think of.
But why dwell upon these lowest strata of human existence. It shows out on all hands. Among the gilded idlers of the West End, on the very porticoes of grand Temples. Luxury and pride drive, with mien unconscious of human want and woe; unconscious of "the common lot" awaiting all; almost over the very bodies of these to whom life is so deep a darkness.
London in its sparkling splendours laughs and makes merry. Within its great Parks, in the summer months, musical birds make the air melodious, and flowering shrubs, and fine trees and verdure, give beauty and rest to thousands of the poor—but not to the lowest. These slink away into the fouler haunts, or spread themselves over the green country, seeking new sources of pitiful gain! In the mid-summer the best of London looks almost cheerful; and a sky more pure, and a sun-light which, though not brilliant,issoft and warm, renderlife tolerable to the poor. For the rich and idle, they go out of the City and leave it, as they say,empty—for those who remain arenobodies[cham-tsi]. Yes, the millions left to toil are nothing. Still, the magnificence of the High-Caste flowers immediately upon that toiling mass—fromitgrows all the spreading splendour which regards it not. The glowing flame cares nothing for the black coal; nor is the money soiled which passes through the hands of despised indigence. London gay and brilliant, glows and glitters upon its dung-heap—as a luminous vapour flashes and flits over a putrescent carcass.
Perhaps one should not be too critical, nor expect other than these inconsistencies in humanity. Misery will be largely itsowncause. Great populations do not herd together without shocking inequalities of condition; yet, the reflection will arise, Is not theboastof refinement and civilization too much for patience—would not humility be better? The boast means self-content—humility would mean a steady work for improvement. One sees not, nor really cares to see; the other sees and feels, and wishes to remove what gives a sense of humiliation and of pain.
Splendid London may disregard the blackness of the East End (as the poorest quarter is called), and think itself a goodChristianto shun it as a place of horror; but, to mypaganwisdom, it seems indispensable to devote that money and energy to the civilization of the English Barbarians, which is now sent to "the benighted heathen." These, no doubt, have the poor and the degraded, the black spots of moral imbecility; nor would oneobject to any really benevolent enterprise, though not too rational. But the missionary [kan-te] spirit rises so distinctly from an ignorant self-sufficiency and blindness, a merely superstitious notion of a thing to be done as any rite or ceremony is to be done—for the good of the doer—that it is impossible to have much respect for it. Then, too, the whole thing shapes into a machine, by the working of which men are to live and get honours and places. If a truly grand benevolence moved the people, it would be impossible to overlookthe Heathen at home.
CHAPTER XIV.
SOME GENERAL OBSERVATIONS.
Itis the business of a wise man (as our illustriousConfutziandMenzisay) to seek theconditionsof the visible forms of things—whether the things be those which we see, or only those which take form in the mind. The conditions are what the Barbarians calllaws. We see that the use of a certain earth will enrich some soils, and impoverish others; we examine into the cause; we try to discover the conditions which make this difference. We know that, generally and broadly, the elements are the same, but they are differently combined. The Western Barbarians are of the same race with ourselves—inherently the general nature is the same. What difference of combination of similar elements has produced results so dissimilar?
In the mighty East, where civilization goes back into the most distant and dim antiquity,the lawswhich underlie organized governments and customs, and which give form and life to communities, are very different, and sometimes antagonistic. It is certain, therefore, that man, really the same everywhere, has, in the course of ages, evolved from his own and surrounding nature very different forms of social life in the East and in theWest. Man and nature radically the same, have, in different conditions, grown and put forth very dissimilar shapes of growth. The tree and the fruit are rooted in similar soil, have grown in similar air, sun, and rain. Even the trees are not wholly unlike, nor the fruit; yet, most unlike, when duly considered; and, when regarded with a view to usefulness and to perpetuation,onemay demand the axe, and theotheronly the nice pruning-knife [quin-tse]. But a difference so great implies a different seed-germ—not necessarily; for, from the same germ, one may have a bitter, even a poisonous fruit, which finer culture can make sweet and healthful.
If we assume, then, the same germ, whence so great diversity? In my poor mind, when, among the Barbarians, sad and bewildered by the disorder, confusion, and complexity, this question tediously presented itself—"Is man a creature of chance—is there no perfect rule?" I would say, "Is hisgrowthfortuitous like plants, beginning with similar germs and yet dissimilar—so, growing according to the hidden differences and the differing circumstances? Is there no common standard—no fixed measure—no absolute truth?" But, in my poor thought, I also said, "The Sovereign Lord lives in his children, and moral truth (divine illumination) must be.It is simply true, and can be no other. Humanformsof social being must be measured by it; and, however complexed and confused,are so measured, and will not long exist if radically inconsistent. Yet these forms may be bad without being wholly rootless, and growdeformed, strange, and noxious."
In looking upon the disorderly and complex features of Barbarian life, two things prominently strike my poor mind. One is,a restless activity, accompanied with love of personal distinction and admiration of strength. The other, is the singularposition of women. To the former, may be charged the selfish greed, the callous indifference, the delight in forays and plunder.
To the latter, that aspect of dissolute disorder, that curious complexity of ideas and principles, which render the whole Barbarian Society a marvel—I liked to have saida disgust—to one unaccustomed to it.
The position of women, as it affectsthe family, no doubt has an all-pervading influence—if that position be wrong, we have, at once, a grand source of evil.
How far thegreat Superstition, super-imposed upon theoldenIdolatry (dark and cruel) may have deepened the shades of Barbaric nature, and strengthened its old admiration of force and rapine, may be only surmised. Certain it is that the JewishJahis not unlike theOdinof these tribes; and (as I have said) the gentle Christ-god, himself a Jew worshipper of Jah, has been received only as subordinate; in fact, aSacrificebyJahmade to himself to appease himself! A character, in fine, notstrong enoughfor these fierce tribes.
We have thegovernment and the familyresting upon a different basis in the West from what they rest upon in the East. In the West, it is difficult to say if there beany ruleupon which either securely reposes. In the East, theruleis as clear, and as clearly recognized, and as undoubtedlyobeyed, asanyrule can be. The existence of the Sovereign Lord is not more certainlyadmitted, and his authority not more implicitly submitted to. This is the rule ofObedience.
But aside from principles which control comprehensive forms, like the Family and Government, there are secondary growths, usages (perhaps not referable to any marked rule), which have had powerful influence. For instance, the mode of trying persons suspected of Crime, appears to my poor mind to be very fantastic and irrational. The Barbarians, however, boast of the superiority of their way over all other tribes, ancient or modern.
When a crime has been committed, and some one, suspected, has been arrested, he is brought before a Judge, whose duty it is to see if there be good reasons for the arrest. The very first thing, we should think, would be to ask the accused to give any explanation he may wish. Not at all; he is told to saynothing; for if he do it will be recorded and may go tohis hurt. How to his hurt unless he be guilty? How it may be that the accused could, at once, explain everything—but no—the officers who have made the arrest wish to work out atheoryof their own; and the Judge, listening to these officers, who are uneducated, rude, and often at work for a large prize, commits the accused to prison to be tried over again, really, at a future day, by some other Judge. Meantime everybody who, upon the theory of the officers, is imagined to know anything, is ordered to give security that they will appear at the next trial, and say what they know. And if a witness cannot give this security (frequently the case with the poor), he is also thrust into prison. Inthis manner persons, who have been so unfortunate as to be fixed upon by these ignorant officers, are treated like the accused, and put to great inconvenience and sometimes suffering, either in themselves, or their families, or affairs. This goes on—the next trial is postponed, delay after delay, whilst the officers are working outtheir theory; and finally the accused is discharged and the witnesses also, the whole disgraceful proceeding being ablunder, in which innocent people have been punished ascriminal, and theCriminalhasescaped! A natural and simple examination of the accused, when first brought before the Judge, would have saved all this loss, suffering, and shame! Such an absurdity can only be to the advantage of the guilty!
A man may be caught under circumstances of guilt so certain that there is norationalhypothesis of innocence. Yet, with the very blood and property of the murdered perhaps upon him, surprised, red-handed in the very act, he will be treated as if he were merelysuspect;will be cautioned to say nothing; will have every chance and opportunity to escape by reason of the unaccountable mode of procedure. For he is still innocent. Such is the hypothesis; and disregarding the obvious and simple way of asking for an explanation consistent with innocence (when guilt would be doubly manifest), the other ridiculous hypothesis is maintained, if possible, and the whole community and many innocent people are afflicted and tortured with the most minute and painful investigations (having perhaps no sort of relation to the matter), to see if some doubt may not arisesomehow, not as to the guilt, but as to some parts of the case asimaginedto be!
Thus,theoriesof guilt are to be established when the fact ispatent, if one will simply look at the proofs immediately at hand!
In this case just supposed, too, there is no trial at all of themanso clearly seen to be guilty. Twelve men are convened by a sort of inferior Judge, first to see how the dead man came to be dead—it is certain as anything can well be! Yet this kind of Court must go through the long, tedious, and painful inquiry,howthe man died. Witnesses are dragged from home, from their pursuits, ruined may be; the whole community horrified, and the twelve men kept from home and business, and shocked by the most disgusting examinations of the dead! This whole process seems rather designed to give fees and business to the petty Judge and officers who compose this singular tribunal.
But when thisshamCourt has got through, the accused meantime, and the witnesses, are still awaiting the real inquiry, which may be put off for many weeks.
When, after tedious delays,twenty-fourpetty judges, assisted by an officer, having made up their minds to formally charge the accused with the crime, he is brought before a Judge, who is now for the first time to really try the man, another curious thing occurs. The Judge is not trusted alone to proceed—he must have twelve little Judges, and several Lawyers, to assist him. The little judges are theJury, not selected for knowledge nor excellency, but any twelve men who can be readily got. Generally they are very poor represervatives of even the average wisdom and morality. They know nothing of law, nor of the Court, nor are they in the least competent to undergo the complex, tedious, and artificialtrialto which they are about to be put, as well as the accused. However, the business of these twelve isnotto look directly at the man and at the clear evidence against him—which might be within even their competency—but they are sworn upon theSacred Writings and by Jah(under severe penalties) to try the accused accordingto the Law and the evidence. Now, the Lawyers and the Judge determine as to the law, and the twelve men must obey them as tothat—the twelve, however, are to determine as to the evidence. This means—they are to see and hear the witnesses, examine the objects of proof (which may take many days); keep all the statements, conflicting, confused, or other; hear all that the Lawyers may say; watch the demeanour of the witnesses, and of the accused—and they must take theCaseas presented and offered to them, however absurd much of it may be—and, finally, after all, they are not to takethis Evidence(as it is called) to judge it forthemselves—no, they must take itunder the direction of the Judge. They are swornto tryaccording to the Law and the evidence; butevidencemeanslegalevidence! and the Judge (aided by the Lawyers) directs the twelve men as to what isevidence. Under these conditions, one may judge as to the usefulness of this Jury—unless as a contrivance for the torturing of the innocent and the clearing of the guilty!
I was present and examined this matter—for fromthe common boast of this excellent Jury-mode oftrial, I wished to see with my own mind.
At length, the twelve men being confined, so thattheycannot escape, in a sort of box; the Judge and the Lawyers being in their places, attired in the absurd wigs and black gowns [phe-ty-kos] (somebody once whispered in my ear, black-guards) [kon-di-to-ri]; the accused is ordered to stand up. The charge of murder is read;—confused by so much barbarous jargon, that no one but the Judge and the Lawyers understand it—in fact, oftentimes do not understand it—and the criminal often escapes trial because theproperjargon has not been used. Thismixed tongueis the only one allowed in these trials, and must be taken from the fountain of Wisdom (as the Law book is called containing it). The speech is uncertain, only known to the Lawyers; and a mistake spoils the whole charge. Well, after more or less wrangling among the Lawyers, the charge finally stands. I must explain; there aretwo sidesof Lawyers—one (hired to do so), byevery meansin its power tries to get the accused discharged, and is helped to do this by all the machinery of the trial—the other merely watches the proceedings, and sees that they are not too absolutely controlled by the other side. The latter, also, open and state the matter, and conduct it; but neither side works simply to obtain the truth. On the side of the accused, if guilty, the truth isnotwanted; and, on the other side, there is no interest in the matter which greatly moves. But the interest for the accused may be not merely to gratify, in some cases, powerful relatives, but to obtain as largea sumof money as theLawyers can get—which, where life is at stake, may be all the accused has now, or may, if discharged, acquire. In fact, in cases of robbery, the Lawyers for the accused may have received their compensation from the very plunder!
The accused says to the charge eitherGuiltyorNot Guilty! This is a mere form. Then the names of the twelve men are called over, to see that none have got away—for it is a hateful and disgusting business often, wherein theyinstinctivelyfeel they really have no function—and yet enforced upon them, often to their actual great loss and suffering.
How the scene fairly opens. The twelve little judges in their box; the big one sitting aloft, with pig-tail-ear-flapper wig; the Lawyers in pig-tail wigs and gowns; the officers of the Court; the witnesses, cowering and afraid; the accused in his high, strong cage (or box); and the spectators, friends, relatives, associates of the witnesses and of the accused—women and men—crowding in the dark corners of the Hall of trial.
The Lawyers call and examine the witnesses. These are not permitted to tell the truth in their own way at all. They are sworn upon theSacred Writings, upon pain of penalties of the Law, and the dreadful fear of the awful Jah and Hell,to speak the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth! Now, the truth which they are to speak must be thatsortof truth which the Lawyers and the Judge determine upon to hear—not by any meansthattruth which the witness, in his simplicity, is about to utter! Here, then, an honest and conscientious witness is likely to be at once bewildered;but a callous, self-possessed one, who does not intend to say one word more than he can help, finds himself doing exactly what the Lawyers and the Court understand by the oath—that is, to speakforthe one side or the other;not for truth!
Consider the position of a witness, perhaps a timid woman, or an inexperienced person, never before called upon to take theawful oath, never before in such a place! Confronted, made to stand up,thrustwithout respect, sometimes rudely and with positive disrespect; treated, in fact, as if a party to the crime, though perfectly ignorant of anything excepting of some chancelinkrequired in thetheoryof the charge—thrust forward into the gaze of the Judge, of the whole assembly. Every eye is fastened upon the trembling witness. She is ordered in a rough tone to hold up her hand, to take theoath,to kiss the Sacred Writings! What with the crowd, the novel and painful position, by this time the poor woman, when asked a question, can scarcely speak. The old, half-deaf Judge, turns his awful be-wigged head to her, raises his ear-flapper and says, "Speak louder, witness; I can't hear you." An officer bawls out, "Silence!" and, not unlikely, the poor witness fairly collapses, faints, and she is allowed to be seated.
The Lawyers examine the witnesses, and if one begins to say something very damaging, if possible, will interrupt him; or, by and by, will insinuate some vile charge against him, to destroy his character with the hearers—not that there be any truth in the insinuation, but merely to effect the purpose of a vileminionpaid to defend, perhaps, a notorious offender!
Thus thetrialproceeds; every effort is made on the side of the accused (which is the active side) to mislead, to confuse, to bewilder. The Law, read from big books, is constantly referred to, now to stop a witness in what he is about to say; now to get somethingalreadysaid scratched off from the minds of the twelve men; and now to take the opinion of the Judges as to whether this or that should, or should not, be heard by the Jury.
All these things go on day after day, not at all because there is any doubt as to the guilt of the accused, but because by these confused and interminable proceedings, the Lawyers who act for him expect to get him discharged—and discharged, declared by the twelve men to benot guilty! This is the great point; for, if this occur, it does not matter at all that the accused himself confess to the crime,on no accountcan he ever be arrested again for the offence! "But how, when the proofs of guilt are present and so certain, can the Lawyers expect to get the twelve men to go against their very senses?" To answer this is to show the nature of the Jury system very plainly.
When all the wranglings and speeches and Law-readings of the Lawyers have at last ended; when the Judge—who has in the course of the trial already loaded the twelve with all sorts of instructions as to what they are to keep in mind aslegalevidence, and what they are to leave out of mind—has made a long and confused speech (often interrupted by the Lawyers) recapitulating those parts of the conflicting mass of evidence which, andonlywhich,isevidence, and hastold them the manner in which this evidence must be applied to the charge; has finally told them that the crime charged must be the precisecrimelaid down in the Law-books by thatname, and none other; and that having found beyond all doubt that that crime, upon thelegalevidence, has been committed, then hasthe accused committed the crimeso defined, and so proved? To be certain of this, the accused must not only be found to have done it, but he must have known that he was doing it—that is, he must have been sound in mind. And if in any of these particulars there be any doubt, the accused must be acquitted; and further, every one of the twelve must agree—if anyonewithhold his assent, then the prisoner cannot be declared to be guilty!
With all these clear and simple directions (!) as to how they are to use their minds, an officer leads the twelve into a strong-room, and fastens them in! to consider theirverdict(as it is called). Not to consider simply and directly upon the plain evidence of their senses, and according to reason ordinarily used, but to considertheir Verdict—a technical, artificial affair, made by the Lawyers, and only fit fortheirminds—if eventheycould do anything satisfactory to an honest man with it!
The twelve are locked in and guarded by an officer; deprived of food, of rest, of any recreation; perhaps already exhausted from the hair-splitting [di-do-tzi] and intricate directions and proceedings. They areSwornto give their verdict according to theLaw(first) and theEvidence(second). The evidence, however, beingall law. Then, too, they are to say eitherGuilty, ornot guilty; and no more.
Now, the Lawyer's expectation may become verified. There is no sort of doubt in any of the twelve that the accused is a horrid wretch, and that he is guilty. But one man has got hold of an idea, based upon something said by the Judge, or perhaps only the suggestion of his own mind; and think of the vanity, the stupidity, the dishonesty, the mere indifference, the obstinacy, the excessive timidity, the weakness, which is likely to be in each of the twelve; one man has gothisopinion—it is a matter of conscience. The one man is sufficient. Nothing can move him. Hour after hour passes. Night comes on—hunger knocks at the stomach; home is wanted; business is exacting; illness oppresses some, lassitude and sheer exhaustion overpower others—the one persists, only more obstinate by opposition—"The man no doubt is guilty, but I doubt if he be guilty according to law!"
They cannot agree upon a verdict. The Judge and everybody else long since have gone totheirhomes and pleasures.They(the twelve) cannot escape unless they agree. To be sure, they may report to the Judge late on the next day that they cannot agree—only, however, to receive new directions (!), and be sent back again and kept till they shall agree!
Human nature gives way. The one, strong and resolute, overpowers the eleven—or, rather, there have been only a part who would not have given over long ago. The fine maxim of English law—"It is better that a thousand guilty escape than that one innocent suffer"—turns the scale. There is adoubt—or something which looks like it—"let the accused have the benefit of it!"
Now, in this scene, I am taking it for granted that the twelve are really not dishonest—not one of them. But supposeoneis, in secret, the determined friend of the accused!
Thus, the Verdict of the Jury (not the direct and honest opinion of twelve men in a rational and ordinary use of their minds) is recorded in the Court—Not guilty. And a murderer is at once discharged; perhaps escorted with applause from the place by associates of his evil courses. Restored to the community which doubts not his guilt, and which has been horrified, agitated, and oppressed by its frightful details! It will be noticed how admirably everything, in this system, works to procure the escape of the guilty; but it must not be overlooked that it falls with crushing weight upon theinnocent. Simple and direct inquiry would generally clear him at once. But no—thetheoryin the minds of the officers is, that thisinnocencyis a fraud; and the whole machinery works just as irrationally as before; because, the clear evidences of innocency are disregarded—the prisoner's guilt is unreasonably assumed (contrary to the reverse legal maxim)by the officers; and the whole crushing blow of this assumed guilt falls upon the innocent. He is thrust into prison; torn from family, friends, human sympathy; his actual trial is put off week after week, aye, month after month, whilst the officers hunt for what does not exist outside of their imaginations; and, finally, from sheer shame, the poor victim is discharged before anactual trial—discharged, it may be ruined and for ever tainted with the foul and unjust suspicion. Or, perhaps, finallytried, escapes after a long, tedious and confused scene; where the officers, anxious to convict one whomtheyhave so long assumed to be guilty, contrive to throw just enough of suspicion upon the victim to render his life ever after insupportable! However, he finally goes at large—ruined by enormous expenses, health shattered by confinement in prison, andtaintedin character. The victim of an absurd system—for the verdict is, for him, irrational and cruel. If, in the other case,not guiltydid not mean what the words imply—so, in this, the Jury give a no more meaningVerdict. No expression of any actual opinion. No sympathy, no regret; nothing to reinstate the unfortunate victim of official stolidity and conceit.Nothingwhatever; not so much as any compensation for loss of time and money. Meantime, during this pursuit of the innocent, the real criminal has got safely away.
Now, this strangeJury system, boasted of as thePalladiumof Liberty by the English Barbarians, strikes my poor mind as something very cumbersome, irrational, and hurtful. The criminal class may well esteem it, for it seems exactly contrived to set the criminal at liberty, and to vex, terrify, annoy, and confuse everybody else. Witnesses themselves often fare more hardly than the actual criminal! and Society is shocked by needless and reiterated exposures of every particular of dreadful things to no rational purpose—unless to give fees to Lawyers and a host of busy officials, who live and fatten in these horrors.
One might suspect that the whole machinery was contrived by the Lawyers (calledcriminal) to effect their purpose—that is, to protect their friends and supporters; the numerous men, women, and half-grown youths swarming everywhere, and known as thecriminal class.
Another unjust custom is when a man offends a Judge, he is not at once brought before him for reproof and proper correction. No; for his disrespect he is compelled to pay afine[tsig] in money which may beggar his innocent family, or prevent his creditors from obtaining their dues; or,unableto pay, must lie in prison till itbe paid, or until released by the angry Judge. Thus making the innocent to suffer! How much better in ourFlowery Land, where disrespectful conduct is at once reprimanded and, if the disrespect be marked, punished on the spot, in the presence of the magistrate, and under his paternal direction.
These may serve to illustrate usages not readily referable to any principle. They are rooted in old customs, when general ignorance and universal poverty made the mass one, and when simplicity and directness were natural. They are retained now in an artificial and totally different state of society, for no better reason than the English Barbarians have for other abuses and enormities—they support the fungi which cling to them! And the upper classes find their interests concerned in maintaining things as they are. The lower classes, too ignorant to see, are made to believe that nothing in human Wisdom and experience excels thesevery Laws and customs! The Barbarian stolidity, too, in the well-to-do classes, supports these singular views as to the perfection of the Laws and system of administration. These classes constantly mistake thisstolidityfor solidity of character. When an evil is unmistakable, none the less, instead of removing it, they say, "Better bear those ills we have than fly to others we know not of!" (Quoting from their great Shakespeare.) But they do not stop to consider if it must necessarily follow that when one quits one ill he flies toanother. As if one with a sore finger should refuse to apply any remedy to thefingerfor fear he might thereupon find a sore upon his leg!
Perplexed with these anomalous conditions, and by the stupid conceit and selfish indifference—the callousness and greed of the English Barbarians—I have wondered if, after all, these men were not of a different kind [sty-pho]. Possibly, the Sovereign Lord and Father of men, for wise purposes, may have created different sorts of men. Animals of the same type differ in swiftness, in strength, in intelligence. The Western Barbarians, though of the same type, may be inferior to our Illustrious people in the moral and mental functions. For some purpose in Eternal Wisdom, the Almighty Lord has given them strength of body, energy, and anintellectsharp in matters of theinstinct—which refers to the needs and passions of the body—thus, calculating, ingenious in contrivance, and inordinately selfish; but has not given them a large moral faculty, nor a broad and comprehensive mind.They are, therefore, incapable of improvement beyond a limited range.
The Idolatry, and its horrible grotesqueness—the inefficacy of the good in the character of the Christ-god, to influence the least abatement in the passion for Force; the cold-blooded abuses, and the confusion of error and truth, may be thus accounted for.
This, however, suggests a continuance of the evils which have fallen uponothers. TheAll-wisesees where chastisement is due—and allows the Western Barbarians their time. The offences of the East need chastisement. The quickness, strength, and greed of the Barbarians, unchecked by moral considerations, make them the scourge of other distant peoples not possessing these qualities. The scourge is needed, otherwise it would not be permitted. There is a sufficiency of morality to prevent dissolution; and the Western tribes will no doubt fulfil their appointed task.
Still, in their present forms, rooted in alowertype of man, they must disappear; not lost, but absorbed and blended in a better and nobler race. In the East, I suspect thishighesttype has always existed. Here, from immemorial ages and ages [tang-se-yan-se] the simple worship of the Sovereign Lord, and the divine faculty in man, have found their best expression, and taken a fixed and steadfast root in Government and in Society!
I may be mistaken, and it is possible that the Western tribes may be capable of attaining to this settled order—but it must be after very long moons and thousands of moons [lir-re-ty-sin], during which they shall have overturned and reformed existing laws and customs.
I may refer shortly to some of the more striking of these, so curiously and radically different fromour notions in theCentralKingdom, and so erroneously conceived in respect of theDivine Order.First.—As to the character and worship of the Sovereign Lord of Heaven, and Father of men. Concerning the errors in regard to the true character and proper recognition of the Heavenly Lord, I need scarcely say more. There are wise barbarians who do not differ from my poor thought as to the need of an entire reformation upon this whole matter, which underlies nearly all genuine improvement in morals, in government, and in "Society."
Second.—As to Government. This must be seen to exist in the eternal order and nature of things, and not at all in anyContract[Kong-phu], "social" or other. Therefore whatever name be given to its Head,the Functionis as inviolable as is the Divinity from which it comes. If this Head, however, be incapable of properly representing the divine function, it does not therefore fail, but the nearestfit, in the established order acts. The Book of Rites and the great Council of the Illustrious, with us, see to this proper and orderly succession. No one is born to be absolutely Head—the Book of Rites and the IllustriousCalao, in our system, may see to it that the Head be fit for the due and divine order. Therefore, no one is born byright of birthto govern, nor to make, nor to administer, laws. Wisdom and knowledge only, may entitle their possessors to take rank among those to whom government and administration shall be committed; and these may be changed, degraded, exalted, and removed as they conduct themselves, and not according to anyfamily, nor hereditary distinction. Nor arePlacescreated for the aggrandisement of any, continued for the benefit of families, nor, in any case, made hereditary. Places are for the whole, and those who fill them are placed there, in trust, for the good of the whole, and must properly discharge the trust. They are never for the individual—always for the State.
Third.—As to the family. The Family being thePrototype[mo-dsi] of Government, should show the Divine order. It must be one; not a divided, unintelligentaccident[phatsi]. It must have a clear faculty, and understand its true and vital significance—for the community is but an aggregation of families, and as these are so is the State. Then, to have disorder there is to have disorder throughout! Theremust, therefore, be in the Family, obedience to its head, order, and good conduct. If there be insubordination, disorder, immorality, disrespect, and disobedience to the natural head, then that is a disorderly family, and those who are guilty of the disobedience, disrespect, and disorder arecriminals, to be corrected, restrained, and reformed.
Woman, upon this right conception of the family, finds her proper and her honoured place. She is subordinate, but not in any humiliating sense; she is subordinate, because, in the very nature of her function as woman in the economy of nature, she cannot be otherwise—sheistimid, defenceless, dependent. She has a right to the tender care and protection of her male relatives; and she, on her part, is bound to be obedient, submissive, orderly; and, upon these, affection follows.Her children are bound to respect and to obey her, and she is bound to have a care for them, and to respect and obey her husband as the unquestioned centre of regard and authority. The father (and husband)isthe Head of the family; there is no divided nor disputed power. Uponhimrests the responsibility of due order and proper position.
From her nature and duties, the woman lives retired within her house. If she go abroad, it will be only from necessity, and then in the most quiet, modest, and unobstrusive way. She lives for her relatives, her family; not to attract the admiration of others, nor with the faintest idea that she may shineabroad—to be so charged would be to be charged asshameless. Only by this degradedclass, who are barely tolerated without the city, and under the rigid supervision of the officers of order and decorum—could such a purpose be supposed to be thought of? She dresses with neatness, according to the established order, but always with such modesty that nothing is offensive to the chastest eye. She understands the range of her activity and of her affections. It is within the circle of family and relatives. All her accomplishments are to make her home pleasing. Duties and places are settled. She lives for those to whom she belongs, and who also belong to her. Her smiles are for her husband, and for her children, and her relations. She has no thought of going abroad to shine, nor to waste the time and money which belong to her family upon strangers. She never dreams that she has anymissionwhich calls her away from her home. She has nocallto "clothe the ragged," wash other people'sdirty children, reform evil-doers, "convert theheathen," nor support "Society!" (These are some of the phrases which you will hear among the Barbarian women).
Where women have not husbands, none the less they have relatives, and their home is with them. They have a right to this home, and are bound to do their duty in it, submissively, usefully, and quietly.
If the Western Barbarians would see to it that all women, married or unmarried, were duly cared for in homes of relatives,as of right, and that they also made themselves welcome there by their usefulness and obedience, they would find an end of that agitation asto Women's Rightsexisting among them. Rights would be as indisputable as duties—and the first of these would be a quiet, modest, and rational obedience to their natural protectors, who, in turn, would be bound to respect and protect them. And if by any strange chance a woman was absolutely without relatives (a thing nearly impossible in ourFlowery Land), then the State should see to it that she had a suitable home.
The education of woman, in a well-ordered Society, is also fixed and clear. It has immediate relation to her position and her duties.
She is from the first never disturbed in the natural order. She sees her relatives always quiet, modest,obedient. She never thinks this state of things to be wrong. She perceives the manner of female life; its seclusion, its devotion to the family, its purpose, and end. There is no complexity about it, nooutsideglitter, no field for show, no seeking for excitement and display. All her duties are at home—herhappiness isthere;thereshe is to be attractive, and there she is to attract—the love and respect of her husband, the regard of her relatives, the affection and obedience of her children!
So, her education needs no straining after effect. It looks directly to her duties, to her natural function and place; and to those accomplishments, of mind and of person, which shall enable her to be happy with books, with music, and the like; and shall add to the pleasures of her home.
All these things are common-place with us—so simple as to appear trivial. Our Illustrious wives and mothers could notunderstandthe reasons for their elaboration—they have never seen the women of the Western Barbarians!
The position of women in theSocialsystem of the West, on the whole, is the most remarkable thing in it.
I have made sufficiently suggestive remarks in the progress of theseObservations; and only now have to add a word or two upon thegeneraleffect.
It gives a wonderful life, restlessness, and colour to the whole aspect of Barbarian life. Think of all the women in our Illustrious Land, at once leaving their homes, the seclusion of their orderly houses and lives, and rushing everywhere with the men, over the Land! And, not only so, dressed in splendid gaiety of colour, and adorned with gems and feathers, crowding into all places of amusement and of travel!
Nor this only, but showing themselves, in public places, with men, where paintings and sculpture, and things here only seen by men alone, are exhibited!And, often, so dressed as to cause even the man to blush!
Why, the face of social life is completely altered. Instead of gravity, dignity, and an undivided attention to the duties of daily life, everything is rendered restless, confused; there seems to be no natural order, nor scarcely natural (cultured) decorum.
But we must not be misled. Nature is too strong to be pushed aside—and with cultivation, even though imperfect, the moral instinct lives and saves. Habit, too, "is a second nature;" (as our divine Confutzi says); and what would be so overwhelming, if at once done, being usual, necessarilyhas beensubordinated to some rule—and made, at least, tolerable.
And now, in drawing theseObservationsto an end, perhaps, I may add, in respect of my poor and unworthy thoughts, that if I have said amiss, and which offends, I beg our Illustrious will pardon. To ourLiterati, exalted in wisdom, there is but little to which they may curiously look—but toour people, if any there be with whom some discontent may have been caused by too close intimacy withMissionariesin our ports; by these let my poorObservationsbe studiously pondered—that they may praise the Sovereign Lord of Heaven, who has given them to live in theCentral and Illustrious Kingdom; where a true morality and a true worship are known; and where dueORDER AND PEACE, resting upon the unchangeable Heavenly order and peace, are established!
Here, are no brutal worship of Force, and admiration of bloody plunders. Content to the due ordering ofaffairs, and with peace within, our Illustrious Realm seeks no aggrandisement, dreams of no conquests; andwishes to do nothing but good. It has no fears for its own position, nor jealousy of others. It is simply calm, strong, wise, and self-poised. It demands no more from others abroad than that it may peacefully live; andbe treated with that respect which it accords to those who practise moderation and virtue.
FINIS.
Barrett, Sons & Co., Printers, 21, Seething Lane, London, E.C.