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"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:— (Mental notes:—)
Towel-horse broken always broken.
Chair-back ditto ditto.
Door-plate cracked ditto.
Table-cover stained old.
Carpet ditto old, worthless.
Walls injured by boxes old, knocks. Candlestick broken servant.
Postages, and servant for letters (paid).
Blacking, salt, and pepper (omitted and always charged).
Wash of coverings, toilets, and counterpanes.
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. The Lodging House is
only typical. All are preyed upon and prey upon. It is the rule of barbaric life, and Caste makes 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 a gratuity[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 (already brushed bare), catch up some trifle, and generally get in your way, to force 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 of sixpence. 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 the pennies, 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 may be. 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 halfstarved 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 very old 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 the Cangue. 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, nicknamed mud-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 by otherWestern 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 playing not 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 midsummer the best of London looks almost cheerful; and a sky more pure, and a sun-light which, though not brilliant, is soft and warm, render life 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 are nobodies [cham-tsi]. Yes, the millions left to toil are nothing. Still, the magnificence of the High-Caste flowers immediately upon that toiling mass—from it grows 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 its own cause. Great populations do not herd together without shocking inequalities of condition; yet, the reflection will arise, Is not the boast of 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 good Christian to shun it as a place of horror; but, to my pagan wisdom, 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 one object 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 thegoodofthedoer—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 overlook theHeathenathome.
CHAPTER XIV.
SOME GENERAL OBSERVATIONS.
IT is the business of a wise man (as our illustrious Confutzi and Menzi say) to seek the conditions of 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 call laws. 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 laws which 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 the West. 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, one may demand the axe, and the otheronly 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 his growth fortuitous 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 issimply true, and can be no other. Human forms of 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 grow deformed, 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 singular positionofwomen. 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 said a disgust—to one unaccustomed to it.
The position of women, as it affects thefamily, no doubt has an allpervading influence—if that position be wrong, we have, at once, a grand source of evil.
How far the great Superstition, super-imposed upon the olden Idolatry (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 Jewish Jah is not unlike the Odin of 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, a Sacrifice by Jah made to himself to appease himself! A character, in fine, not strong enough for these fierce tribes.
We have the government and the family resting 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 be any rule upon which either securely reposes. In the East, the rule is as clear, and as clearly recognized, and as undoubtedly obeyed, as anyrule can be. The existence of the Sovereign Lord is not more certainly admitted, and his authority not more implicitly submitted to. This is the rule of OBEDIENCE.
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 say nothing; for if he do it will be recorded and may go to his 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 a theory of 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. In this 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 out their theory; and finally the accused is discharged and the witnesses also, the whole disgraceful proceeding being a blunder, in which innocent
people have been punished as criminal, and the Criminal has escaped! 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 no rationalhypothesis of innocence. Yet, with the very blood and property of the murdered perhaps upon him, surprised, redhanded in the very act, he will be treated as if he were merely suspect; 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 arise somehow, not as to the guilt, but as to some parts of the case as imaginedto be!
Thus, theoriesof guilt are to be established when the fact is patent, if one will simply look at the proofs immediately at hand!
In this case just supposed, too, there is no trial at all of the man so 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, how the 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 this sham Court 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-four petty 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 the JURY, 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 artificial trial to which they are about to be put, as well as the accused. However, the business of these twelve is notto look directly at the man and at the clear evidence against him which might be within even their competency—but they are sworn upon the SacredWritings andby Jah(under severe penalties) to try the accused according to the Law and the evidence. Now, the Lawyers and the Judge determine as to the law, and the twelve men must obey them as to that—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 the Case as presented and offered to them, however absurd much of it may be— and, finally, after all, they are not to take this Evidence (as it is called) to judge it for themselves—no, they must take it under the direction of theJudge. They are sworn totry according to the Law and the evidence; but evidence means legal evidence! and the Judge (aided by the Lawyers) directs the twelve men as to what is evidence. 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 from the common boast of this excellent Jury-mode of trial, I wished to see with my own mind.
At length, the twelve men being confined, so that they cannot 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 the proper jargon has not been used. This mixedtongueis 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 are two sidesof Lawyers—one (hired to do so), by everymeans in 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 is not wanted; 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 large a sum of money as the Lawyers 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 either Guilty or NotGuilty! 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 they instinctively feel 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 pigtail 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 the SacredWritings, upon pain of penalties of the Law, and the dreadful fear of the awful Jah and Hell, tospeakthetruth,thewhole truth, and nothing but the truth! Now, the truth which they are to speak must be that sort of truth which the Lawyers and the Judge determine upon to hear—not by any means that truth 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 speak for the one side or the other; notfortruth!
Consider the position of a witness, perhaps a timid woman, or an inexperienced person, never before called upon to take the awful oath, never before in such a place! Confronted, made to stand up, thrust without 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 chance link required in the theoryof 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 the oath, 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 vile minionpaid to defend, perhaps, a notorious offender!
Thus the trial proceeds; 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 something already said 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 be notguilty! 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 account can 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 as legal evidence, 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, and onlywhich, isevidence, and
has told them the manner in which this evidence must be applied to the charge; has finally told them that the crime charged must be the precise crime laid down in the Law-books by that name, and none other; and that having found beyond all doubt that that crime, upon the legal evidence, has been committed, then has the accused committed the crime so 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 any onewithhold 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 their verdict (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 consider theirVerdict —a technical, artificial affair, made by the Lawyers, and only fit for theirminds—if even theycould 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 are Sworn to give their verdict according to the Law (first) and the Evidence(second). The evidence, however, being alllaw. Then, too, they are to say either Guilty, or notguilty; 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 got hisopinion—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 to their homes 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 betterthatathousandguiltyescapethanthatoneinnocentsuffer"— turns the scale. There is a doubt—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 suppose oneis, 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 the innocent. Simple and direct inquiry would generally clear him at once. But no —the theory in the minds of the officers is, that this innocency is 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 an actual trial discharged, it may be ruined and for ever tainted with the foul and unjust suspicion. Or, perhaps, finally tried, escapes after a long, tedious and confused scene; where the officers, anxious to convict one whom theyhave 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, and taintedin character. The victim of an absurd system—for the verdict is, for him, irrational and cruel. If, in the other case, notguilty did not mean what the words imply—so, in this, the Jury give a no more meaning Verdict. No expression of any actual opinion. No sympathy, no regret; nothing to reinstate the unfortunate victim of official stolidity and conceit. Nothing whatever; 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 strange Jury system, boasted of as the Palladium of 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 (called criminal) 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 the criminal 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 a fine [tsig] in money which may beggar his innocent family, or prevent his creditors from obtaining their dues; or, unable to pay, must lie in prison till it be paid, or until released by the angry Judge. Thus making the innocent to suffer! How much better in our FloweryLand, 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—theysupport the fungiwhichcling tothem! 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 these very 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 this stolidity for 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 to another. As if one with a sore finger should refuse to apply any remedy to the finger for 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 an intellect sharp in matters of the instinct—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. Theyare, therefore,incapable of improvementbeyondalimitedrange.
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 upon others. The All-wise sees 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 a lowertype of man, they must disappear; not lost, but absorbed and blended in a better and nobler race. In the East, I suspect this highest type 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 from our notions in the Central Kingdom, and so erroneously conceived in respect of the DIVINE 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 any Contract [Kong-phu], "social" or other. Therefore whatever name be given to its Head, theFunctionis 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 nearest fit, 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 Illustrious Calao, in our system, may see to it that the Head be fit for the due and divine order. Therefore, no one is born by rightofbirth to 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 any family, nor hereditary distinction. Nor are Places created 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 the Prototype [mo-dsi] of Government, should show the Divine order. It must be one; not a divided, unintelligent accident [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! There must, 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 are criminals, 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—she is timid, 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) is the Head of the family; there is no divided nor disputed power. Upon himrests 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 shine abroad—to be so charged would be to be charged as shameless. Only by this degraded class, who are barely tolerated without the city, and under the rigid supervision of
