THE KING PROVIDES AGAINST FAMINE: HIS COUNCILLORS.

Realmah’s first care upon coming to the throne was to provide against the famine which threatened the inhabitants of Abibah. In his mode of doing this, he struck, as it were, the key-note of the policy he was about to pursue throughout his reign. He determined to persuade the Phelatahs to supply him with provisions. He accordingly addressed a letter to their chiefs.

It may surprise the reader to hear that there was any mode of communication amongst the dwellers in the Lake cities which can be likened to the writing of a letter.

The Peruvians kept their records by means of the _quippus_, which was a tassel composed of threads of different colours, having knots in them at different lengths in the threads.

The inhabitants of the Lake cities had adopted a similar system, only that they used shells instead of threads; and the differences of form and colour of the shells corresponded with the differences of interval in the knotted lengths and of the colours of the threads in the Peruvian _quippus_. This seems a very rude and difficult mode of writing, but practice made it easy; and those who were much practised in it, could read and write with comparative facility.

Realmah’s letter to the chiefs of the Phelatahs was as follows:--

“_Your eldest brother, I, Realmah, the King of the Sheviri, by Londardo with the four feathers, to the great Lords and Dividers of Bread of the Phelatahs, send greeting, and desire for them health, honour, wealth, and quails._

[The four feathers were the insignia of an ambassador; and quails meant abundance, alluding to the immense flocks of those birds which, at certain times of the year, passed over those regions of the earth, and furnished the inhabitants with food for many days.]

“_The koopha,[22] when set free, forgets the hardship of its captivity, and remembers only the kindness that it received when it was in its cage. The great king’s heart is larger and more loving than that of the little koopha._

Footnote 22:

Ring dove.

“_What he did, whom you would wish to love as a friend, let it be as a bad dream, not to be thought over in the good daytime, for he did it mistakenly._

“_For both, the same moon above; for both, the same waters beneath; the same day for both, when the almond trees, blossoming with joy, tell that summer has come back again: why should the Phelatahs and the Sheviri shoot arrows at each other? They should sing the same song on the same day to the dear summer when she returns to them._

“_The wild bulls may stamp their forefeet as if to the sound of the mithral,[23] but if one moves out of the line, coming forward or drawing backward, all is lost, and the little young lions in their dens have much food._

Footnote 23:

A musical instrument resembling the flute.

“_The men of the North are as a lion, and the young lions are many._

“_Paravi[24] has been good to the Phelatahs, but has hidden her face from the Sheviri, and would not behold them. The good goddess makes things uneven so that good men may make them even again, for she is always wise and loving._

Footnote 24:

The goddess of fertility.

“_The young maidens of Abibah droop like the lilies when the stars drink up the dew before the morning, and there is no rain. The mothers in Abibah almost wish that their children were dead, for they have no food to give them._

“_What need I say more? The generous do not love to have many words said to them. It is I who have written this._

“_I, Realmah, the King._”

We may smile at this extraordinary production, but there is something touching and tender, and not without dignity, in the way in which these poor people expressed their thoughts. It was a point of high diplomatic politeness not to say anything directly, but in tropes and similes, with proverbs and with fables; in fact, to write always allusively, but so that the allusions should be understood by any intelligent person cognizant of the facts.

This missive was entrusted to Londardo, who, without delay, was to proceed to Abinamanche.

His secret instructions were, to put himself into communication with Koorali, who was friendly to Realmah; to proclaim everywhere that the government had been thrust upon Realmah; that the King’s main object was to unite all the people of the South against the threatened invasion of the North; and, if he found great difficulty in obtaining the main object of his mission, to declare very plainly that the Sheviri would come and take the food they wanted, and that desperate men were desperate enemies to deal with.

The above commands were given in full council to Londardo. There was, however, another instruction, most secret, given by the King alone. It was to the effect that Londardo might delicately ridicule the King, showing by shrugs of the shoulder and smiles, and dubious words uttered only to a few of the Phelatahs, very confidentially (“It will spread enough,” said Realmah), that he, Londardo, thought their new King almost a maniac on the subject of his fears of the men of the North. “Possess them with that idea,” said the subtle Realmah, “convince them that I mean to be an ally, and not an enemy, and so we may prevent their fighting us now--now, when my people are hunger-stricken, and my power is not confirmed.” Londardo succeeded in his mission, and thus the first difficulty in Realmah’s reign was overcome.

Londardo was one of Realmah’s chief councillors; and, before proceeding to enumerate the principal events of the reign, it will be well to give an account of these men. They were selected by the King from the four councils that had been attached to the four chiefs who had ruled over the town.

First there was Lariska, who was thought to be the wisest man in the kingdom. But there were great drawbacks upon his wisdom. He spun out innumerable arguments, and had always a great deal to produce for, or against, any given course of action. There was, however, this terrible defect in him--that an argument was valued according to its purely argumentative value, rather than according to the nature of the thing it touched. For example: if there were an argument which affected eighty parts of the transaction debated upon--the whole transaction being represented by the number one hundred--to Lariska that argument was not of more value, and not more to be insisted upon, than some argument which affected only one one-hundredth part of the transaction, but which was interesting and curious as an argument. In short, as the Court jester observed, Lariska never made any difference in his nets, whether for panthers or for rabbits.

Then there was Bibi. He was really a very able man; but he habitually placed the expression of his opinion under severe restraint; and his mode of declaring approval, or disapproval, was so cold, that Realmah had to study Bibi’s lightest words in order to ascertain what he really meant. Realmah used to invite Bibi frequently to his table, and was wont to talk to him upon State affairs when the strongest bowls of mead had circulated freely round the board.

Then there was Delaimah-Daree, who was a wonderful man, not only for producing arguments, but for suggesting resources. His extraordinary fertility, however, dwarfed his powers of conclusiveness; and, after an admirable speech in council, Realmah did not know how Delaimah-Daree wished any question to be settled. The lines of his thought were all parallel, and never met in a focus. As Philip van Artevelde says of the mind of some councillor--

“A mind it is Accessible to reason’s subtlest rays, And many enter there, but none converge.”

Then there was that burly old man, full of sagacity, named Brotah. He always took a common-sense view of every matter, and his counsel was often most valuable; but he was greatly influenced by personal feelings. He said what he said, because somebody else had said the other thing. You had therefore to abstract from his advice the personality of it, before you could tell whether it was either good or bad. It was to be observed of Brotah that he delighted at being in a minority.

Then there was Lavoura, a refined and delicate-minded man, who always suggested indirect and sometimes sinister ways. You were never to meet the matter in hand directly; but you were to do, or say, something quite remote from it, which was to come back in some wonderful manner upon the question at issue. Had Realmah known the principle of the boomerang, he would have called Lavoura his boomerang councillor. Realmah himself was a little too much inclined at times to adopt Lavoura’s advice--not seeing that this is not the right way for a great king to govern.

Then there was Delemnah--a bluff, coarse, sensible man, who never was for adopting a roundabout way, or even a delicate way of doing anything, but believed in brute force, and almost worshipped it. He and Lavoura generally spoke against one another in council.

Then there was Marespi. He did not indulge in many opinions of his own; but, after a matter had been much debated by others, he had the keenest perception of how the votes would go, and was fond of being on the winning side. He was immensely guided by what was said out of doors of any measure of the Government; and a tumult in the street was a thing that quite ruled his views of policy.

Then there was Londardo. He was a man with a large noble mask of a face, with very bright black eyes, who indulged in obstreperous laughter, and had a habit of rubbing his hands together in a boisterous manner that expressed the continual joy and fun that was bubbling up in him. He was a very sensible person, and absolutely invaluable as a peace-maker. In the pleasantest manner he could tell two councillors, who were about to quarrel, that they were two fools; and he would even get up from the council-table, and shake them, contriving with exquisite tact, perhaps, to make a remark that should tend to conciliate the opponents, such as, “You are the last two men who should ever disagree, for did I not hear him say of you the other day, that you were one of the best of men, and one of the cleverest of us all? Now do not be fools. We have not time for folly; and if we disagree amongst ourselves, how are the people to be governed?” He was the man who proposed that refreshments should always be brought in when there was a council, and would contrive that the eating time should arrive very opportunely. He was of great service to the King, performing that part of rude conciliation which it would have been quite undignified for Realmah himself to undertake.

In the higher circles of the Sheviri there were always stories current about Londardo. It was told of him that, when debates at the council were dull, he would absolutely have the audacity to go to sleep; but that, somehow or other, when he woke up, it always seemed as if he knew all about what was going on. There was a story, too, of how, at a council in the first year of Realmah’s reign, when the King had made some subtle proposal, Londardo had observed, “Well, you are the craftiest young chief that ever sat upon a throne; but do not be so over-clever; for, after all, kings should be plain, blunt sort of fellows--something like me, only with better manners.”

Also, on a memorable occasion, when there was great division in the council, and when a tumult of discord arose amongst the councillors, Londardo got up, and placed his broad back against the door, saying, “Now I do not care a snail’s shell how the thing goes. One way is as good as another, and the arguments for and against anything are always about equal; but one way you must go, and you do not pass through this door till you are all of one mind as to which way that shall be. Right or wrong, decide something; and stick to it.” And they did decide something; and did stick to it.

Then there was Llama-Mah. He was an adroit, clever man, but withal a poor creature, a thorough flatterer by nature, whose only object at a council was to discern what was the King’s opinion upon any matter, and to vote as the King would wish. Realmah, at first, could not endure this man, and was, for some time, very cold in his demeanour to him. But the allurements of flattery and of constant assent are so powerful, that, eventually, the great King was overcome by the assiduities of Llama-Mah, and began to look upon him as one of his truest friends. It was, at last, “My good Llama-Mah has said it;” or “Llama-Mah has made a very sound observation;” or “We must wait to hear what Llama-Mah will say.”

Let this not be wondered at. A life-time is so short, and life is so difficult, that we are glad to avail ourselves of the services of any human creature who is good enough, and wise enough, always to be of our opinion.

Lastly, there was Litervi, who was more of a judge than a councillor. He seemed to have no ideas of his own, and always managed to speak last, summing up carefully, and with great discrimination, what the others had counselled.

It is not to be supposed that these able men are thoroughly described in these short characters given of them, or that they acted always consistently with these characters. Sometimes Delemnah was timid. Sometimes Lavoura was brave. Sometimes Delaimah-Daree was conclusive. Sometimes Londardo was not sweet-tempered. Sometimes, but very rarely, Litervi hazarded a remark of his own. This was not altogether from inconsistency; but men know what others think of them, and how they are expected to think and act, and, as they do not like to be shut up in a character, they sometimes go in quite a contrary way to that which they know is expected of them.

Besides, there are profound inconsistencies of character. Litervi, the most cautious of men, who adored delay, was, during the twenty-four hours that preceded Realmah’s accession to the throne, the most bold and unscrupulous of councillors; and you could perceive that there was in the same man the nature of a daring conspirator, and of a timid and procrastinating judge.

It may seem surprising that so many eminent men should have been collected together in one council; but the truth is, that among semi-civilized people, as amongst boys at school, and young men at college, the right persons are almost always chosen. It is true that there were strong lines of demarcation of rank among the Sheviri, and there was no chance of any man being made a councillor who was not in the highest class; but in that class the most just and wise choice was made of men fit to counsel and to rule.[25]

Footnote 25:

The idea of a man’s wealth being any reason why he should be made a councillor would have been one impossible for the Sheviri to contemplate. They would not even have thought it a joke, but rather a suggestion made by a man about to have a fever, if any one had suggested that Pom-Pom, the richest man in Abibah, but one of the most foolish, should be made a councillor. In fact, they thought that a councillor should be a man able to give counsel. But then semi-savages are so blunt and rude, and childish in their ideas; and their ways of going on are quite different from those of civilized people.

Such were the councillors with whom Realmah undertook to govern the great kingdom of the Sheviri, which, under his government, gradually increased until it embraced an extent of country three hundred and seventy miles in length, and something like one hundred and eighty in breadth.

It was a piece of good fortune for Realmah that he was one of those men who could listen carefully to counsel of various kinds, and have the courage to abide by it, or neglect it, as it suited his great purposes.

_Ellesmere._ Well, now we have Realmah and his councillors before us, and a precious set of crafty scoundrels they are. I know this, that I should not have liked to have lived in that time, and to have been a chief possessing any territory within 300 miles’ distance from Abibah. I feel certain that I should have been absorbed by these Marespis, Llama-Mahs, and Realmahs.

I suspect we have all sat for our portraits, and that bits of us, at any rate, are to be found in the characters of these councillors. I do not, however, see any Mauleverer amongst them. Probably Realmah thought that he could do all the melancholy part of the business for himself. There is no mention made of a clerk of the council, but I suppose, when he is described, that Cranmer will sit for the portrait--a good, steady official man, with no nonsense about him, having no regard for fables or falsities of any kind, except perhaps for Potochee and her crew, because age would have rendered any institution respectable in his eyes, even that of wizardry and witchcraft.

But I must go and play a game of quoits with Tommy Jessom.

By the way, it would be a good thing in any council to have a boy. His counsel would be so direct and honest, and he would not make long speeches.

After a fearful speech by Lariska, or by that other fellow who never brought his manifold suggestions to a point, what a treat it would be to hear Tommy Jessom exclaim, “I vote we go in and lick ’em.” or, “I vote we cave in.” I do not pledge myself to explain the exact meaning of the expression “cave in;” but Tommy has taught it me: and I observe he always uses it when he is about to yield to my superior prowess.

A woman, too, would be a great acquisition to a council, as bringing an amount of common sense and steady regard for present advantage which are often wanting in a council composed of men only.

There! Have I not compensated by this speech for all the rude truths I may have uttered during my life-time about women? You may kiss my hand, Mildred and Blanche, in token of your gratitude.

Here Ellesmere held out his hand, but only received a sharp slap upon it from his wife, whereupon he went away declaiming loudly against the inveterate ingratitude of women. The others followed him, and our party was broken up for the day.