THE RELIGION AND GOVERNMENT OF THE SHEVIRI.

The government of the Sheviri, to which nation Realmah belonged, was an exceedingly curious one. It rested with four chiefs, who were named from the four points of the compass: the chief of the East, the chief of the West, the chief of the North, and the chief of the South. In any ceremonial the chief of the East had the first place. Each chief ruled over that quarter of the city which corresponded geographically with his title. The name of the city was Abibah. There were councils consisting of men of high rank attached to each of the four chiefs: there was also a council of four hundred which was partly nominated by the chiefs, and partly chosen by election from among the people. This council met only on very great occasions.

The criminal laws were very severe, as is generally the case in nations of imperfect civilization; and the punishment of death was almost always inflicted by strangulation.

There was one very singular custom. If a man had been injured by another in the way of slander, or petty theft, or calumny, and this was proved before one of the judges, who were always members of the council of one of the four chiefs, it was allowed to the injured man, or to one of his immediate family, to build a little hut close to the dwelling-place of the injurer, where he abode day and night, watched his enemy’s incomings and outgoings, and on seeing him perpetually repeated the sentence of the judge. For instance, if a man of the name of Adolmah had spoken falsely, and slandered his neighbour, Barru; the injured man, Barru, having built his hut close to the dwelling-place of Adolmah, when he saw Adolmah come in, or go out, would utter the words, “Adolmah is a liar and a slanderer: so says the righteous judge, my lord Corah, of the council of the East.”

It was found by experience that no man could long endure this persecution; and Adolmah was sure to make reparation to Barru to get rid of his hateful presence, which was like an embodied conscience sitting for ever at his gate.

The religion of the Sheviri was simple. They believed in a Supreme Being unapproachable by gifts or offerings, and whose name even was to be rarely mentioned; but there were other gods, some malign and some benignant, to whom sacrifices were to be made on special occasions.

There were five lesser gods and goddesses.

First, Rotondarāh, the god of thunder and of storms.

Secondly, Paravi, the goddess of fertility, answering to the Ceres of the ancients.

Then Kalatavēe, a very noxious divinity, who was the promoter of all accidents, disasters, and illnesses. Death, however, was not in his power: he could only maim, and infect, and blight. Many were the prayers and oblations made to him by anxious mothers.

Then Koomrah-Kamah (literally the heaper together of shells), the god of riches. The men of Abibah prayed to him very frequently, and very sincerely--men who paid very little attention even to Kalatavēe: for what are accidents and diseases when put in comparison with the loss or gain of wealth; and who would not be rich and diseased rather than poor, healthy, and despised? At least thus thought the Sheviri; but then they were, as some think, poor ignorant barbarians, living at an age of the world when the principles of wisdom had not been fully worked out by mankind.

Then Blastessa-Kooli, the goddess who ruled the affections, answering somewhat to Venus, only being more general in her domination, for she influenced all forms and phases of love. She was not a divinity to whom much attention was paid by the Sheviri, for they were not wise enough, as it appears to me, to see that upon her influence the greatest part of domestic felicity depends. Now we know that even without such a comparatively small adjunct as politeness love will often altogether fly away. In those rude times, however, the altar of Blastessa-Kooli has been known to be without a single garland for two days.

In addition to the gods and goddesses whom the Sheviri worshiped, there were nymphs who played a most important part in the affairs of the Sheviri. Each man supposed himself to be protected by a nymph, who watched over him from birth to death, and to whom every thought of his mind, every aspiration of his heart, and every one of his actions, was a matter of the deepest interest. It was a rule of high politeness that when any man in the city of Abibah seemed to be absorbed in thought he was not to be interrupted in any way; for, said the bystanders to themselves, “He is communing with his nymph, and she is giving him heavenly advice; therefore be silent.”

Of the greater gods, some were benignant, and some malevolent; but the nymphs were altogether friendly to mankind. Each man of the Sheviri was a Numa, having a superior being who was more devoted to him than Egeria was to the Roman monarch. One great merit of these nymphs was, that they required no altars and no sacrifices; and nothing would have shocked a citizen of Abibah more than to suggest that he could win his nymph by gifts and promises. For was she not his,--a Being bound up with his being, and, indeed, more devoted to his welfare than his own erring and unwise self?

This strange notion greatly favoured politeness and respect in the social intercourse of the Sheviri. The stupidest man in the community might, especially in matters that concerned himself, be speaking and acting with a wisdom not his own, and therefore demand the most implicit respect and attention from the greatest and the wisest personages. This belief threw around each man the halo of a present divinity. The poor women were not so favoured; and, whether in consideration of their more divine faculties, of their sharper wit, or of their comparative insignificance in human affairs, were left to the unassisted guidance of whatever measure of intellect they were supposed by nature to possess. This is, however, no new thing in religion. Men, having the larger power of imagination, and therefore being the chief inventors of false religions, are not likely to indulge in any religious fancies, which do not assure to them their masculine predominance.

The name of the whole body of nymphs was Akairah-Douli (the soothers of thought): the name for each attendant nymph was Amala.

What seems to have been rather a weak point about these gracious beings is, that they were always more ready to be present and to assist their votaries in cloudy than in sunny weather; and, indeed, the Shevirian word for cloud (_amalasti_) is but a variation of the word “amala” or nymph. But men’s imaginations generally have some thoroughly earthly touch about them. However, such as they were in men’s minds, these nymphs played a great part both as regards individuals, and as regards the state, in the city of Abibah, and throughout the adjacent country subject to the Sheviri.

The laws of marriage which prevailed amongst the Sheviri were very peculiar. For instance, as regards the marriage of the princely families, their young men were compelled to take three wives, lest there should be default of issue in those families. One of these wives was to be taken from among the family. She was chosen by the head of the family, and was called the Varnah-Varee, which means the cousin-wife; the second was taken from the great body of the common people, and was called the Ainah-Varee, which means the alphabet-wife. I do not exactly understand how this choice was regulated; but I believe that it depended upon the number drawn out of a vase by the fortunate maiden, corresponding with the number of letters in the man’s name, or being some multiple by four of that number.[3] The third wife was chosen by the young man himself, and was called Marah-Varee, which means the love-wife.

Footnote 3:

For example, Realmah consisting of seven letters, whoever drew the first number 7 or 28 was to be the Ainah to Realmah.

Antiquaries have divided the ages during which these towns on the waters flourished, into three periods: the stone age, the bronze age, and the iron age.

Mundane affairs, however, have not always happened as the antiquaries have pictured them. In Abibah, for example, had it been submerged that night, there would have been found in after ages many bronze ornaments and implements; but in reality the nation had not got beyond the stone period.

The truth is, that in the town of Abibah the stone period had reached its highest development. At the same time the bronze-period was also very far advanced in some parts of the world, for the bronze ornaments and implements in Abibah were of the highest quality and beauty. These bronze articles had been gained in commerce with distant tribes; and it was in consequence of the known superiority of these distant tribes, that the chiefs of Abibah were entertaining a proposition brought to them from a neighbouring tribe, by the ambassador whom Realmah so much mistrusted.

The iron period, too, had commenced, and was flourishing in other regions, as will be seen in the course of this narrative. It may be mentioned that flints were not the only stones out of which the implements used by the Sheviri were made, for some of their best workmanship was executed in nephrite, or jade, or even in obsidian. There must have been commerce even in that remote age, for some of the inhabitants of Abibah possessed ornaments made of Baltic amber.

The pottery at Abibah showed that the potter’s wheel was in constant use among them; and they had spindle-whorls of earthenware, which proves that the art of weaving had made some progress amongst them.

Their buildings were of the kind which has been called Pfahlbauten, or pile-buildings, in which the groundwork for the city consisted of platforms supported on innumerable piles, as distinguished from those in which the support consisted not of piles only, but of masses of mud and stones with layers of horizontal stakes, resembling the Irish “crannoges.” The distance of the bottom of the lake from the platform of the city was about fifteen feet. It is a remarkable fact that, amongst such a community, boat-building was an art very little developed. Probably all their skill as artisans was devoted to the building of their houses. They found fish in abundance in the shallows of the lake: there was, therefore, not much inducement for them to put out upon its deep waters. One general remark I may here make, which will require to be very deeply considered by the hearers of this history: it is, that we must be very careful not to confuse under one general head all stages of civilization that were different from our own. The common use of the word “savages” has misled modern men very much as regards the estimation in which they should hold their ancestors. The word “savage” cannot be applied with justice to a people who knew the arts of baking, of carpentering, of pottery, of weaving, and in some respects of government; who had indeed established polities which lasted in some way or other for long generations.

It is almost unknown, but it is not less a fact, that great judges of literature (the scornful Voltaire being one amongst them) have pronounced that the third great epic poem of the world was written by a man who dwelt amongst what is called a savage people, and who has depicted in vivid colours their valour in war, the great ideas they had of religion, and the extraordinary splendour of their eloquence, of which he has preserved the record.[4] The language of these so-called savages was often in the highest degree refined. And so it was among the people I am describing. They had two words for the verb “to be:” one meaning constant being, the other a temporary state of being. For instance, if one of them said, _stea varug_, “I am ill,” it meant, “I am ill of a temporary ailment;” if, however, he said _kamaya varug_, it meant, “I am ill of a permanent disease.” They had also two sets of words for sister and brother, so that if, without seeing the person or recognising the voice, you heard the words, “She is my sister,” you knew if it was a man that was speaking, because a man’s sister was represented by a different word from that of a woman’s sister. But perhaps the greatest refinement of all that was known in the languages that have perished of so-called savages, was that they had a way of expressing the result of conjoint but not unanimous opinion. For example, if a chieftain came forth to the people, and said, “It is our opinion that the war should be prosecuted with vigour,” the words used might convey, without any explanation, that it was the conclusion come to by a majority of the council, and not the unanimous opinion of its members.

Footnote 4:

The Araucana.

Such, as above described, were some of the most salient points connected with the religion, the laws, the manners, the customs, and the language of the Sheviri. Descriptions of this kind do but faintly reproduce the life of a people. Perhaps there is no greater effort than to reproduce a faithful and vivid picture of past men,--of their ways of life, and their habitations. How hard it is even to imagine what the lives of our immediate forefathers were like! But the difficulty is enhanced tenfold when the mode of life to be reproduced before us is that of a people who have left no records, and whose ways are only dimly to be described by antiquarians searching, in the mud brought up from the bottom of lakes, for any relics that may enable them to form some conjecture about these sunken cities and forgotten generations of mankind.

[During Mr. Milverton’s narrative it was curious to watch the expression on Sir John Ellesmere’s countenance. It was profoundly attentive; but, at the same time, he had a bewildered look, and he did not make a single observation.]

_Sir Arthur._ I think the story promises to be most interesting. There is a very happy choice of subject, which I wonder has not been seized upon by some one else. You may know how interesting it was, for Sir John Ellesmere did not interrupt once: did not even take any advantage of the bargain he had made. The story, therefore, must be a very good one.

_Ellesmere._ I deny the inference. I was dazed, if you like. I felt out of my element. I know nothing of these fishy, half-under-water people.

Yes, the choice of subject is very skilful--that is, on the narrator’s behalf. If you say anything about the manners and customs of these people, Milverton would answer you with all his superior knowledge of wretched details. If you were to comment about the main current of the story, he knows for certain all about it: his nymph has told him. How, my dear fellow, do you invent all this?

_Milverton._ I do not invent, as you call it: I see how the things happened. I can hardly describe to you how distinctly the whole story arises before my mind: I do not invent; I merely describe.

_Ellesmere._ Oh yes, he evolves out of the depths of his self-consciousness, as the Germans would say, all he tells us. I do not see that it is made out to be more true on that account.

_Lady Ellesmere._ I don’t quite like the part about the three wives.

_Ellesmere._ That is the only part I am quite sure I do like. With this odd number one might always get a majority of one’s wives on one’s side. 3, 5, 7, 9, 11, are the numbers I shall aim at in another planet; and I mean always to have a majority on my side.

_Mauleverer._ I daresay it is all true. It is evident that men were as wretched then as they are now--the same low intrigues, jealousies, hatreds, and malice. So far the story seems to me perfectly consistent.

_Ellesmere._ Yes: so far indeed I am with you. Modern inventions have done but little, as I always maintain. Boring has become a fine art; and, somehow or other, in our highly civilized communities, it is so contrived that one never has a moment’s peace. You teach the people to write! What is the consequence? Innumerable letters of the most detestable description:--

“Sir, I have not the pleasure of knowing you, but from your general benevolence of character----”

_Cranmer._ Is that how the letters begin to you, Sir John?

_Ellesmere._ Yes, Mr. Cranmer. “From your general benevolence of character, I know you will not consider it intrusive if I venture to lay the following circumstances before you, and to ask for your assistance and advice.” Then comes some difficulty which it would take you an hour or two to write justly about, and the man, though he has said he is intrusive, does not think that he is so. I wish, sir, any one of these people would only ask himself the grave question, “Am I the only intrusive person in the world? Is it likely that my letter is the only one of the same character that will reach Sir John Ellesmere to-morrow?” If he did give a good answer to that question, he might perhaps omit to write his letter, or put it in the fire if he had written it; and Sir John Ellesmere would be a happier man.

Will any one of you be good enough to explain to me how rapid locomotion has increased the felicity of the world? For I cannot see it.

You observe that beetle there. He is making for the corner of this summer-house, and will arrive here some time in the course of the afternoon. When he does arrive, he will only be an ungainly, top-heavy creature, not of the first order of intelligence, and much given, as naturalists tell me, to strong drinks.

Now this beetle has wings; and he might take it into his stupid head to fly from the gravel-walk to the corner of the summer-house, and might do so in two seconds; but when he did arrive, I suppose he would still be the same kind of creature--ungainly, top-heavy, and too much given to strong drinks--prone, therefore, to lie upon his back in a very helpless and foolish manner. I leave you, gentlemen and ladies, to make the application for yourselves.

_Milverton._ How can you talk in that perverse way, Ellesmere? Do you mean to maintain that our modern inventions have not, upon the whole, been beneficial to mankind? Do you mean to say that having a city lighted with gas is not a great advantage? Do you mean to maintain that painless operations are not a huge solace to mankind? Do you mean to say that we have not improved in judicial matters--that, for instance, having got rid of torture, as a test of truth, is not an immense advance in the history of mankind? Do you mean to argue that there is not much greater liberty in religious matters than there ever was?

_Ellesmere._ These things you call progress are not all loss, certainly. However, you cannot say that government has so much improved.

_Cranmer._ I deny that.

_Milverton._ I admit that despotic governments are just as bad as ever. Thousands and tens of thousands of victims are still sacrificed to some dynastic idea.

_Sir Arthur._ In constitutional governments there is hardly such a thing as government at all. Nothing is done without such endless discussion; and what is done generally comes too late.

_Ellesmere._ There speaks out the old Tory.

_Milverton._ No, no: we are not so bad as that, Sir Arthur. Of course there is great difficulty in reconciling perfect personal freedom with governmental action. But recollect that what is gained in constitutional government, after all this talk, that you so much disapprove of, is gained by the people for themselves for ever, and does not depend upon one man, or one set of men, but becomes a permanent improvement for mankind.

_Mauleverer_ (sarcastically). Yes: the poor are so well housed, so well fed, so carefully instructed, they are so much better off than these fishy people, as Ellesmere calls them, that one must rejoice in the glorious triumphs of civilization.

_Milverton._ I wish any one of your grumblers could go back for a week to the state of things which existed in England in the fourteenth, fifteenth, sixteenth, and seventeenth centuries. I think you would soon summon modern civilization back again, and admit that we had made great progress, even in the well-being of the lowest classes.

_Sir Arthur._ I am not so sure of that.

_Milverton._ I am sure. I have a firm belief that the general improvement might be measured, by the relation that the cholera of the present day bears to the plague, or the black-death, or the sweating sickness of former days.

_Ellesmere._ Now, how can he know this? It is all simple assertion.

_Mrs. Milverton._ And so, Sir John, is your statement.

_Ellesmere._ Yes: of course your husband is always perfectly right. You would be one of the three wives, I see, Mrs. Milverton, and would always vote for your husband.

Your knowledge of the common people (let us see, what did he say?--in the fourteenth, fifteenth, and sixteenth centuries) is so complete, Mrs. Milverton, that it enables you to give a final judgment in the matter.

_Lady Ellesmere._ Don’t be so rude, Sir John. We women know, by intuition, a great many things which you men only arrive at by study.

_Ellesmere._ It is well that you have some way of getting at knowledge different from that of study, for I do not see, after you are once married, you do much of that, any one of you.

_Milverton._ To go back to the question of government,--that is a question which has always had profound interest for me. That saying of the Duke of Wellington, “How is the king’s government to be carried on?” is perpetually in my mind.

Now, if you want to know what are the difficulties of government, I will, to the best of my ability, inform you; and I do really believe I have some experience in this matter: so, too, has Sir Arthur: and I will abide by his corrections in what I am saying.

I think, to put the matter briefly and frankly, that there is not sufficient intellect brought to bear upon the affairs of government. From my earliest years I was very much struck with that admirable work of Henry Taylor’s, the “Statesman;” and I have always found that practical conversancy--to use one of his favourite words--with government has led me to think more and more highly of his views.

The truth is, the public offices in this kingdom are undermanned as regards “Indoors Statesmen,” as he calls them. Reform has gone too far in the way of retrenchment.

_Ellesmere._ Oh! oh!

_Milverton._ Yes, it has; in the way of retrenchment, as regards providing intelligent officers for the public service.

Ministers are worked to death by their double functions--parliamentary and official.

Law officers, and all the other lawyers connected with Government, are also terribly overworked.

The permanent officials of the highest class, upon whom Government for the most part depend, are likewise greatly overworked by the mere routine of their offices; which work, I must confess, has not been diminished by the increased power of reading and writing, to which Ellesmere (I thought he was a Liberal) has so great an objection.

_Ellesmere._ An elaborate sneer at me! If I had but admired the story of Realmah, the sagacity of Sir John Ellesmere would have been much applauded by the story-teller.

_Milverton._ I am not judging by my prejudices as an author; and I will not be diverted from the main subject.

I have no doubt millions a year might be saved to this country by an increase of the intellectual power of the official staff. The least instance of injudicious management on the part of the War Office or the Admiralty--a tax unwisely retained, or unskilfully imposed--an error as regards the currency--will produce more outlay than would be expended in twenty years by such an improvement of the intellectual force of the public offices as I contemplate.

If I were despotic--if I enjoyed a mental despotism--the first thing I would persuade the people to do, would be to increase the intellectual power of Government. I have no fear of bureaucracy. We are too free to be led by any set of official men, however clever.

Then, again, look how the House of Commons is overworked. Consider the vast amount of private business thrown upon it, and how some of the best members are necessarily absorbed in the management of that business. Consider what an imperfect thing our modern legislation is: so much so, that an Act of Parliament is often, at first, utterly unworkable. I despair, however, of bringing men round to my opinion upon these matters, for I know that it requires to have been behind the scenes for many years before a man would thoroughly appreciate the views which I venture to put forward.

_Ellesmere._ I suppose this fishy government was perfect, for Milverton has had it all his own way there.

_Milverton._ No; it was not perfect. No doubt it was the best thing they could invent for the time; but I think you will find that Realmah, if he ever gets to power, will make a great improvement in the government of the Lake City.

_Ellesmere._ What I do admire in authors, and what gives one so much respect for them, is that their heroes always partake so much of their own character. One knows, from the beginning, that Realmah will do exactly what Milverton would have done; which gives one so much confidence as to Milverton’s sublime insight into the doings of these past times.

_Mrs. Milverton._ Why should people be so very different now to what they were then? Is there not a family likeness amongst all great statesmen?

_Ellesmere._ Yes, Mrs. Milverton, they are all men penetrated by some idea, which they think a great one, and that the course of nations ought to be shaped according to that idea. Count Bismarck is no doubt a great statesman in your eyes.

_Mrs. Milverton._ No man is a great statesman in my eyes, Sir John, who needlessly promotes war.

_Sir Arthur._ I am by no means sure, Mrs. Milverton, that your censure will apply to the great Count.

_Ellesmere._ You will see, Mrs. Milverton, what Realmah will do. You may depend upon it that all his fine sayings and doings will only lead to war. Is he not an interfering young fellow, who I foresee will endeavour to impress upon the great council his own juvenile ideas--probably most preposterous? I wish I had been a member of that council: I would have made that young man know his proper place.

_Sir Arthur._ It is a great comfort to think that the conduct of this story does not depend upon Sir John Ellesmere. I can only say that I look forward to the coming chapter with the greatest possible interest; and I do hope, Milverton, that you are ready, and that we shall have another reading to-morrow.

_Milverton._ You shall. I do not despair yet of making Ellesmere a firm believer in Realmah’s valour and sagacity, which I know to have been unrivalled at that period of the world’s history.

_Mauleverer._ To-morrow, then, we meet in the summer-house at the same hour.

The company then separated; but not before Ellesmere had said to Milverton, “You inventive scoundrel; I believe your nymph to be an utter impostor. However, to-morrow I am not going to be so silent as I was to-day. I believe it was understood that my liberty of interruption was accumulative: to-morrow, therefore, I have a right to interrupt you four times; each time with a sentence of about fifteen words. A great deal of truth may be conveyed in fifteen words.”

[_Exit._