Chapter IV: Part ONE: I (3)

This interval of vigorous study must have lasted about three months in all, and in spite of many hints from the Arch-priest I firmly refused to leave the precincts of the palace until I had gained the mastery of the native tongue. As to whether this attitude of close seclusion caused disappointment in the capital or annoyance among the members of the council I paid no heed, but only showed my inflexible resolution on this head. Having once succeeded completely in my design, I made every effort to draw from Hiridia all conceivable information about the land and people I had been called upon to rule, my questions ranging over the whole field of possible inquiry. I certainly did in this way contrive to amass a certain amount of valuable knowledge, although I was by no means satisfied with all the answers and explanations I received. For, if it was plain that the Arch-priest and his colleagues were averse to supplying the required details, it was equally plain that poor Hiridia with all the good intentions possible was excessively ignorant of his own surroundings; for instance, he could tell me next to nothing of the mode of life, the general conditions and the interior affairs of any class of the realm save that of the nobility to which he himself belonged. As to the hierarchy, on which subject I plied him with the greatest tact, I had to conclude that, whilst regarding the ruling caste with unmeasured awe and respect, he was at the same time in nowise intimate with any of that elusive body, though its members were drawn solely from his own class and were in some cases his own relations. Thus was I compelled to build my edifice of knowledge and discovery of bricks without straw, so that often I was fain to lose my temper in my fruitless endeavours to attain the truth; happily, however, my patience and perseverance triumphed over my natural exasperation. Daily I made careful notes in English on my parchment, altering or adding to these notes from time to time, as further inquiry or observation served to throw more light on the main subject of my study. And it always amused me to observe the look of profound admiration, even of alarm, wherewith Hiridia used to regard the cabalistic scrolls I daily annotated on my table, which stood in the long gallery facing the sea. At the same time I grew to learn that my tutor's reverence was mingled with an intense feeling of loyalty and devotion to myself, so that I instinctively knew that his life would be willingly risked in my service, should any evil chance arise. Thus my reputation of semi-divinity in this instance certainly carried some advantages with it! As to the Arch-priest, who always insisted on speaking in Latin to me, I did not indeed look for the same unwavering fidelity as I found in Hiridia, yet with that curious extra sixth sense of mine, that is never at fault, I knew he was pleased with my painstaking efforts, and that he was for the present at least very much my sincere friend and champion.

* * * * *

I think I had better at this point in my narrative offer a brief description of the average day that I spend, so as to afford the reader some notion of my duties, my pleasures and my occupations--that is, of course, after I had succeeded in mastering the language of my kingdom. The course of time being reckoned in Meleager after the old Italian mode of counting the twenty-four hours from the uprising of the sun, at the first streak of dawn watchers in the temple proclaim the new-born day, by firing a piece of ordnance. This is succeeded by loud trumpet calls in the barracks of the soldiery, and the whole city awakens. Every one leaps from bed, and kneeling repeats the following short prayer to the Sun:

"O Sun, mighty King, Father of Lights, I bless thee and thank thee for another day! It is Thou alone that canst gladden our hearts, warm our homes, nourish our crops, sweeten our grass, ripen our fruits. By Thy Light alone Thy servants can live and adore Thee. Blessed be Thy Face once more appearing!"

This simple formula is the universal morning prayer on Meleager, whose inhabitants are true sun-worshippers, in the sense that they attribute all good and all gifts to the sun's visible power and majesty that are daily revealed to them. As for myself, however, being deemed the Child of the Sun, I do not consider it incumbent on me to indulge in this matutinal act of worship, though each dawn I wake to see my servant lying prostrate on the floor with face turned reverently towards the east. The act of prayer performed, he approaches my couch with a goblet filled with some sort of mineral water of a slightly bitter flavour, that is invariably swallowed before arising. I then have a rather perfunctory bath in an adjoining room, submitting myself to a rapid ablution with water slightly perfumed with verbena, a scent that is reserved exclusively for the royal use. I dress in the manner previously described, and am then ready for my breakfast, which is usually set out in the open gallery that is already flooded by the warm early sunlight. My repast consists of coffee (which is extensively cultivated here), together with thick cream, a manchet of fine white bread, and a platter heaped with superb fruit. I leisurely enjoy these dainties and then (what on my first acquaintance afforded me equal pleasure and surprise) I proceed to smoke a cigar, or large cigarette, consisting of coarse granular tobacco rolled in maize leaf, like the type of cigarette affected by the natives of Brazil. For tobacco is largely grown here, and its leaves are put to many uses, including this last-mentioned agreeable purpose.

Whilst I am enjoying my fragrant cigarette, Hiridia invariably appears, bringing me the news of the day, and thus conversing we soon stroll into the gardens that are still fresh and gleaming with the dew. As I stand about six feet three inches, and perhaps a trifle more, and my tutor is of the average Meleagrian height of five foot five inches, I used at first to find our walks on the terrace rendered unsatisfactory by reason of our disparity in stature. To remedy this, I have caused a low platform of stone to be constructed the whole of its length some ten inches above the ground, and along this erection Hiridia now walks beside me so that we can chat at a convenient level. I thought the Arch-priest rather inclined to boggle at this suggestion, but I contrived to carry my point all the same.

At the third hour of the day begins my work. First of all I hold an audience, which is attended by the Arch-priest and some other members of the hierarchy, whereat various matters of state concerning the needs of the community, or the colonies, or the troops are broached and discussed. An hour or more is generally exhausted in this business, and by the fourth hour or a little later I issue from the palace with a military escort and shadowed by the umbrella of state to the judgment hall of the people, which is situated in the city itself. (Or rather, to be quite explicit, I visit thus the two courts of the northern and southern quarters of Tamarida on alternate mornings.) Here I take my seat on a dais, and dispense justice and advice to all and sundry in a fashion that constantly reminds me of the multitudinous duties of a London stipendiary magistrate, though the conditions of the two cases are happily very diverse. My suppliants are drawn almost wholly from the lowest estate of the realm, and sometimes the points submitted to my judgment are of the most trivial character. But I sit and listen with all the patience I can command, and then announce my verdict with all the care and circumspection whereof I am capable. It is pathetic to observe the intense faith my people have in my decisions; a suitor who has lost his plea may perhaps feel disappointment, but he is obviously fully resigned to my judgment, and accepts my award as absolutely just and final. In short, the popular confidence in my wisdom and sense of equity is unbounded, as the large and ever-increasing roll of my daily petitioners can testify.

At noon a discharge of cannon, such as one still hears in the large Italian cities at midday, resounds through the air, and the business of the court is hurried to a conclusion. Everyone now retires to dine and sleep, for at least two hours' space of rest is allotted to the whole community. I return to the palace with my escort, quite ready for my midday meal, which usually consists of eggs, fish, bread and fruit, with plenty of the rough red or white Meleagrian wine, that is both palatable and wholesome. To this repast I am in the habit of inviting various members of the nobility, and I always find these small informal parties far preferable to the rather dreary public supper of the Court, which takes place each evening soon after sundown. After eating, I sometimes play at chess (which is a very popular game here) with one of my invited friends, whilst my other guests amuse themselves as best they may; or at other times I listen to tales or poems recited by such as aspire to become distinguished in this department of Meleagrian social life. About the ninth or tenth hour I walk in the gardens, and after that I change my clothes so as to enjoy a vigorous game of hand-ball, which usually lasts till dusk. After my exercise follows the bath, a lengthy but delightful daily experience, for after the usual sweating and course of rubbing in the heated chambers, one can plunge into a deep basin of cool water. This pool also contains a cascade of artificial construction that one shoots, in the manner employed by some of the islanders of the South Seas, the bather being hurled over the falling volume of water into another deep pool below. By swimming rapidly for a few strokes beneath the surface one emerges farther on in the calm clear water of a large natural basin that is fringed with ferns and verdure. A rapid stream flowing down from the mountain-tops above through a precipitous channel has at some time or other been cleverly utilised in the construction of this cataract and lower pool, which have been incorporated in these bathing arrangements for the palace. Afterwards, I rest a while before dressing, when I proceed at my own convenience to the large banqueting hall, though not before a salvo of trumpets has given the signal that the workaday phase of Meleagrian daily life is ended. All toil save that of domestic service now ceases, and the whole city of Tamarida willingly resigns itself to rest and recreation until the morrow's dawn. At the evening meal eaten in public I remain but a short time, and then retire to my own apartments, whither I summon, if so disposed, such persons as I feel inclined to honour with an interview. Often however I sit or pace alone for hours in the darkened or moonlit solitude of my loggia, meditating on my strange fate and concocting plans for my future course of conduct.

Such is the outline of my average day, but this programme is often varied. In the first place, every seventh day being a public day of thanks-giving and rest from labour, I have to attend the necessary ceremonies in the temple instead of holding my informal court in the city. On these days, too, I usually ride afield with some of my courtiers, generally to go hunting into the wild mountainous region behind the temple, where the keen air and the wide views over sea and land seem to freshen my body and my spirits. Occasionally I pay a visit on horseback to the seat of some hospitable nobleman, whence we return late at night. At other times I honour some country village with my presence, much to the delight and surprise of its inhabitants. There are no books, as I have already explained, so that in reality my life is necessarily compounded of action and meditation, which on the whole has not hitherto caused me weariness or disgust. Whether or no I shall always rest thus contented with this monotonous routine of splendour and duty is a disagreeable and anxious question that I try, with only moderate success, to thrust into the background of my thoughts.

VI

Not a day passes here but that I lament my crass ignorance of even the elementary principles of astronomy. In my school-days I was never taught the use of the celestial globe, though my young brains were burdened with the problems and theorems of Euclid, with Greek enclitics and other scholastic lumber, dear to the dry-as-dust soul of the English pedagogue. Such books dealing with the heavens as I chanced to read in later life failed to leave an abiding impression on my adult mind, with the result that now I can only bewail uselessly the gaps in my early education. I mention this defect for a special reason--namely, to crave allowance for the tentative character and amateurish account of the features of my planet, which I want to present to the reader.

From such calculations as I have made for myself and by myself I believe the planet of Meleager to be insignificant in comparison with the Earth. Possibly I may be mistaken in stating that its whole surface is barely equal to the area of Australia, yet that is my opinion. Its climate is subtropical in the central zone, gradually tapering to temperate and cold towards its poles. Roughly speaking, the "Regio Solis," the spreading peninsula that forms the main portion of the kingdom of the Child of the Sun, possesses the climate of Egypt or Mexico. Its summers are long and warm, though never disagreeably torrid; its winter is of brief duration and normally wet rather than cold, snow rarely falling near the coast. The changes of spring and autumn are little marked, so that the whole course of the year seems to consist of an extended warm season followed by a spell of wet and cold. Southward of the Region of the Sun there extends an apparently trackless ocean, on whose waters, I am told, there is no land visible save a few barren islets and rocky reefs. But then exploration for exploration's sake is wholly alien to the Meleagrian outlook, and I much doubt whether the light sailing vessels of the fishermen (who alone tempt these southern seas) have penetrated very far in this direction, especially in face of the storms that are apt to arise without warning in this quarter and are consequently much dreaded by mariners. The ensuing little sketch map according to Mercator's projection, though very rough and imperfect, may perhaps afford the reader some idea of the lands and seas of Meleager, as I conceive them to exist.

It will be observed that the capital lies, presumably of intention, exactly on the line of the Equator and that it faces due east; whilst Zapyro, the second city of the realm, is also situated in the same latitude but looking towards the west. The whole coast-line of the Regio Solis is much indented, and it forms a pendent peninsula to the large partially unexplored region to the north, which I always speak of as Barbaria, though it is commonly known merely as the North Land. Of the size of the main kingdom I am uncertain; at times I conceive it to be as large as Great Britain, at other times I think it can be hardly more extensive than Ireland. The centre of the kingdom is largely covered by mountain ranges and elevated plateaux. None of these mountains however are of any great height, with the sole exception of a tall isolated rocky peak in the promontory north of Tamarida, from which it is clearly visible. This conspicuous cloven peak I have named Mount Crystal on account of its shining crags, but it is known to the Meleagrians as the Altar of the Sun, and it is obviously invested in popular belief with many mystical attributes. Below the summit, which at a mere guess I should say was about seven thousand of our feet above sea-level, I can clearly distinguish a group of buildings on a narrow ledge to eastward; and Hiridia has told me that these belong to a temple of peculiar sanctity which none save the priests and their trusted servants are ever permitted to enter, or even to approach. Naturally I often speculate as to the uses of this lofty and jealously guarded shrine, and I have come to the conclusion that here are preserved the paraphernalia necessary to the due working of the details of The Secret. Be that as it may, the solitary mountain and its mysterious temple form a prominent feature in all the eastern portion of the kingdom.

All round the coast the soil is intensely fertile, and produces food in abundance for the whole population, which is nowhere very dense save in the two large cities. These two are in fact the only towns of any size in the whole peninsula, with the exception of Fúfani, situated at the head of a broad inlet of the southern coast. These southern shores are mostly rocky with huge beetling cliffs that recall the iron-bound shores of Capri and Cornwall. Against this natural barrier the raging billows in vain hurl themselves, and as I have stood watching the storm-vexed waters from these heights, I have often been reminded of the sounding seas and foam-flecked waves I once delighted to gaze upon from the heads of Sydney harbour that oppose the whole fury of the Pacific. The northern coasts of the Region of the Sun are less romantic, and in many places the coastal zone is marked by long stretches of sand with marshes behind them. Everywhere the vegetation both of cultivated and of wild growth exhibits a close resemblance to and an evident affinity with the flora of the Earth. In fact, there appear such endless points of similarity between the natural features of Meleager and of the Earth that I have often found it difficult to realise I was not living in some hitherto undiscovered corner of my native sphere. Appreciating the vast depths of my own ignorance in all matters scientific, I declare with trepidation yet with a firm sense of conviction that the geological history and development of the two planets must have been practically identical.

Not far from Zapyro begins the long isthmus that connects the warm subtropical Region of the Sun with the great half-explored territory of the north, or Barbaria. This large tract of land is said to widen out to northward, but very little is known of its interior, which at no great distance from the coast-line is blocked by a long chain of tall mountains, many of whose rugged peaks are covered with eternal snow. Large lakes and swamps are commonly reported to lie beyond these ranges, but in reality next to nothing is known of the country sheltered behind this great natural barrier. As I have already stated, the average Meleagrian has no taste for pioneering enterprise, so he remains quite satisfied with the tales of more intrepid hunters who have penetrated thus far and speak vaguely of a barren soil, of dismal morasses and of uncouth aborigines whose manners are fully as repellent as is the aspect of the lands they inhabit. Equally the coasts of Barbaria have been little examined, except those of the Great Northern Bay and the stretch of shore running north-west of Zapyro. All this coast-line is however sprinkled with stray colonies of South Meleagrians, some of these settlements being of a permanent character, whilst others are merely occupied as temporary bases for fishing or hunting. There are also a few colonies inland to the south of the mountains, but though the whole of this district is inhabited, no systematic occupation of this warmer portion of Barbaria has ever been attempted. The colonists for the most part consist of emigrants belonging to the people, but not a few of the nobles own estates whereon they breed cattle and sheep, or utilise for growing large timber. Some marble and stone quarries are likewise worked, but all these mercantile projects are evidently carried on in a distinctly haphazard style. All the permanent inhabitants of this region are subjects of my kingdom, yet they are not all of pure blood, but must in the remote past have intermingled with the original stock of this territory, who may perhaps have belonged to the same race as the yellow-skinned prognathous tribesmen who still dwell in the unexplored and unannexed portions of Barbaria beyond the mountains. In any case, these natives of South Barbaria are fine, strong-featured people, though easily distinguishable from those of the Region of the Sun. Many men of this district travel southward to enlist as soldiers, for which their more hardy physique admirably suits them, or else to offer themselves as indentured labourers and servants for a term of years. Two members of the hierarchy are charged specially with the interests of this class of temporary immigrant, and, so far as I could ascertain, they are always treated with fairness and consideration, though they are somewhat despised by the ruling populace of the south.

I have been informed that in times past these South Barbarians have actually attempted to invade the Region of the Sun, and in proof of this tradition I noted that the isthmus near Zapyro is fortified by a military wall running across its whole breadth from sea to sea. These old fortifications are solidly built, and are still kept in admirable repair, whilst one of the regiments is always quartered here in permanent barracks. There seems however, at the present time, to be little fear or probability of a repetition of any such incursion in spite of the constant guard maintained on the isthmus.

Of the capital I have already spoken, and of its picturesque situation on the hillsides sloping to the waters of the broad deep harbour whose circular form hints at a remote volcanic origin. Owing to the absence of towers and lofty buildings the whole town wears an Oriental aspect, for the Meleagrian style of architecture strongly inclines to colonnades, low domes and flat roofs. The streets are dark and narrow, a perfect labyrinth of paved lanes, but they are kept scrupulously clean by means of an excellent system of scavenging, whilst the copious use of disinfectant liquids renders them wholesome, so that Tamarida is remarkably free from disease in all forms. The houses own little external ornament, and being all white-washed recall the Arab quarters of Algiers and Tunis. This similarity is increased by the nature of their internal arrangements, which contain courtyards, or _patios_, open to the sky, these spaces in the case of the richer citizens being embellished with fountains and flower-beds. A happy combination of the dwellings of the classical world as still visible at Rome or Pompeii and the architecture of Islam may best describe the type of home prevailing in Tamarida and elsewhere throughout the kingdom. The houses of the poor are smaller and less elegant, but are of the same character as those of their wealthier neighbours. There is an abundant public supply of water for each house, with fountains in every garden and open space. The instinct of family life in the two upper classes is very strong, so that it is not easy for strangers to penetrate into these compact, secluded homes, where usually only near relatives are admitted except on the occasion of a wedding or a feast. Indeed, the family itself in upper-class life offers a tiny _imperium in imperio_ throughout the country, and this attitude of aloofness is encouraged by the hierarchy, who prefer to see all domestic suits and quarrels settled within the walls of the family mansion rather than in the court held daily in public.

Zapyro, which traditionally claims to be considered the ancient metropolis of the realm, is only about half the size of Tamarida. Its streets, though equally clean and well tended, are less animated; its market is smaller; its houses and gardens are all on a less ambitious scale; and this remark especially applies to the Temple of the Setting Sun which crowns a large rock behind the town. This sacred building, whose former ruinous condition I have lately sought to improve and have thereby acquired considerable merit in the eyes of the Zapyriotes, cannot compare in size and splendour with the magnificent fane at Tamarida. Only four members of the hierarchy reside here, and though the services connected with the hour of sunset are impressive, they are not comparable with those held in the great Temple of Tamarida. My own residence here consists of a block of buildings of moderate size, but then I only spend one month in Zapyro itself, my arrival being greeted with most flattering rejoicing on the part of the Zapyriotes, who also exhibit much despondency at the time of my departure. One peculiarity of this city is worth recording; and that is the circumstance that, unlike Tamarida, it possesses a civil governor who may not belong to the priestly caste: a fiercely cherished honour that is believed to derive from very remote ages, when royalty resided here permanently. A leading member of the nobility is always chosen from his peers for this much-coveted distinction, which also includes the right to inhabit a portion of the rather exiguous palace at Zapyro, and the duty of holding the daily court of judgment in the absence of the King. The hierarchy is said to view these privileges with disfavour, but has hitherto hesitated to abolish the office in face of the pride and jealousy the Zapyriotes display in their retention of what is after all only a slight infringement of their universal powers of rule.

With regard to the third town, Fúfani, I gather it to be a place of recent growth. It is a large rambling unattractive seaport built on the marshy flats at the head of the Gulf of Fúfani. Its population consists entirely of families of the mercantile class and the populace who are engaged in the maritime trade of the southern ocean. The growth of Fúfani was, I understand, very rapid, so that the sudden realisation of this unauthorised collection of large numbers of citizens caused much misgiving amongst the senators at Tamarida, who took measures to scatter the community thus formed against their wishes. In this aim however the hierarchy was unsuccessful, largely, it is rumoured, owing to the sympathy of the reigning king, who found in the question of Fúfani a convenient occasion for pitting his authority against that of the priesthood. Failing to induce the inhabitants of this new-sprung town to disperse themselves throughout the neighbouring districts, the priests now came to consider it the lesser of two evils to recognise Fúfani as a city, and accordingly erected a Temple of the Sun at this spot and nominated three priests to reside there. This measure has brought the people of Fúfani, who must evidently have shown some fierce spirit of opposition, if not of flat rebellion against the government, directly under the arm of the hierarchy, whose rule here is strengthened by a garrison of soldiers. I cannot help thinking it must have been my predecessor who thus encouraged the spirit of revolt, not wholly without success, at Fúfani, with the ultimate result that he "ceased to reign," as his fate is euphemistically described to me. I have so often longed to discover what is the end of undesirable or obnoxious monarchs; are they secretly murdered, I wonder, or are they confined in that sinister temple on Mount Crystal or some other retreat? Or are they merely deprived of the benefits of the Fountain of Rejuvenation, and so allowed to fall to decrepitude and old age, and finally death? What would I not give for some true guiding details of these concealed tragedies, of these unequal struggles between palace and temple! On the only occasion I have visited Fúfani I could not detect any overt sign of disaffection among the populace, though I did not fail to note the sour looks of the priests accompanying me, as we rode through the rather squalid streets of the straggling featureless town, so different in its natural setting from Tamarida or Zapyro. There is no royal residence in Fúfani, and my visit hither was undertaken from the country seat of a neighbouring nobleman, who spoke of the town and its people with contemptuous dislike.

Before bringing this meagre and feeble sketch of Meleager to a close, and before proceeding to enlarge on the more interesting subject of the Meleagrians themselves, one final point of some importance occurs to my mind. This is the matter of their coinage, or rather medium of exchange. Although barter on an extensive scale and in a very sensible manner is largely utilised amongst merchants, and wages are frequently paid in kind, a system of coinage is in general use, the currency being limited to three coins. These are the golden "bezant," rather larger than our own half-sovereign; the silver "platera," about the size of a two-franc piece; and the bronze "denar," a little bigger than a penny. Each coin bears on its face the device of the sun, and on its reverse a raised lozenge in the case of the bezant, a square of the platera, and a circle of the denar, which marks can be distinguished in the dark. As the golden bezant is worth ten silver plateras, and each silver platera again is worth ten bronze denars, a simple system of decimal coinage may be said to prevail.

VII

Having described some of the natural features of Meleager, I now propose very shortly to speak of the various functionaries and classes of the realm. These may be divided into (1) the King; (2) the Hierarchy; (3) the Nobility; (4) the Mercantile class; (5) the Populace; and (6) Indentured servants or slaves.

As the King is the first official in the state, as well as its resident incarnated deity, I shall begin by speaking of my own powers and their many limitations. I have already explained the extraordinary genesis of the King of Meleager, how he is a native of the Earth, and is consequently on his arrival here utterly ignorant of the laws, traditions, polity and ideals of his new kingdom. At the end of five years I may add it is astonishing to reflect how terribly ignorant of all these matters I still remain, not through any fault of mine, but owing to the fixed intention of my practical masters, the hierarchy, to keep me in the dark concerning many affairs of importance in the realm for which they have themselves deliberately chosen me as monarch. The Arch-priest, whom I infinitely prefer to any of his colleagues, can be a perfect Sphinx of the most provoking silence at times, although, to do him justice, he does occasionally impart information, which is invariably accurate and useful for my real guidance, whereas I cannot trust any statements made me by other members of the college. What I glean from Hiridia is of some general service certainly, but from the political standpoint it is valueless. This is not surprising, seeing that education, in the restricted meaning of that term, is practically confined to the members of the hierarchy; still, from the social side Hiridia has proved of great assistance to me in my relations with the nobles and other estates of the realm.

The King here, even making full allowance for the peculiar bonds wherein he is tied and bound to the hierarchy, wields considerable powers. He is, as I have already shown, the judge of the people in their courts, and to them his decisions are final and undisputed. The belief and devotion of the populace are therefore wholly concentrated in their resident King, who appears to them--and who can marvel at it?--as the authentic Child of the Sun, whose father they daily worship and praise for the light whereby they live, for the food they eat, and for the warmth they enjoy. I can easily understand the strong temptation that has driven one, and probably more, of my predecessors to utilise the undoubted credulity and loyalty of the populace in a struggle against the repressive influence of the ruling caste, and I can also, for I am fair-minded, perceive the reasonableness of the continual panic that animates the hierarchy with regard to the relations existing between an alleged semi-divine monarch and a blindly adoring multitude. Any prospective understanding or union between these two forces of King and people is a constant source of jealousy and alarm to the priesthood, who are ever on the watch to prevent and stifle such intrigue should it arise. Yet, on the other hand, if once the King were goaded by indiscreet espionage or by harsh interference into revolt against official tutelage, then a personal appeal by the outraged Child of the Sun to his faithful people might very possibly result in the overthrow within a few hours of the whole fabric of government that it has taken so many centuries to rear. The open policy of the senators therefore must not tend to thwart or irritate the King; it must merely keep the sharpest outlook without awakening his suspicions; yet it must always be ready to guard against any sudden plot or combination between an ambitious King and a subservient populace. On the contrary, there must exist a mutual but unspoken compact between the monarch and the priesthood, in which the former should clearly and willingly realise his complete dependence on the latter, and submit in all things with a good grace. He is to be _particeps fraudis_, a sharer in the Great Imposture with its contrivers, and if he is content to play this rôle, well and good; but if he elects to kick against this tacit arrangement, the situation thus created must prove equally dangerous both to King and hierarchy, and in such a crisis the priesthood never mean the King to triumph, no matter what measures they may be reduced to take in order to preserve their ascendency. For my own part I have done my utmost to make the priesthood realise that I comprehend and agree in and respect this silent bargain. Some of the councillors are however too suspicious and nervous by nature to appraise my attitude at its true value; and though I am on fairly friendly terms with the majority of my masters, there are certain members of the council whose evident hostility I can never hope to disarm.

From the deliberations in the council chamber in the Temple of the Sun I am invariably excluded, yet no measure within the realm is essayed without my knowledge, the Arch-priest acting as intermediary in all such cases. I am always permitted, and even encouraged, to work with the hierarchy, but I could never work against them, even if I would. The peculiar relations between our two sets of authority must necessarily always be most precarious and delicate, and call for the utmost exercise of patience, restraint and self-effacement on my part. Fortunately, so long as it is realised on both sides that our mutual powers are intermingled and interdependent, there is little fear of a collision such as either party would naturally seek to avoid in its own interests.

Except for the short ceremony observed on the morning of each weekly feast-day, the King rarely visits the temple. Twice a year however, at the seasons of mid-summer and mid-winter, prior to the great public acts of worship before the crystal altar, I am subjected to a lengthy course of manipulation, followed by a dipping in the Fountain of Rejuvenation. In spite of the invigorating after-effects of this treatment, I confess I detest these two occasions most cordially, and their approach always fills my heart with intense bitterness at the thought of the humiliation that awaits me; nor can I shake off my feeling of chagrin for many days afterwards. Yet never a hint is uttered in my presence as to my dependence on the will of the hierarchy, nor has the Arch-priest ever alluded even in our most confidential talks to the intricacies of our unique relationship. To bear and forbear has therefore been the guiding note of my reign so far, and I earnestly hope that by following a similar course of conduct in the future I may contrive to continue thus on the throne of Meleager, for despite its many limitations and objections I am tolerably happy in my present situation. I have frankly accepted my anomalous position from the first, and as time progresses I find my perilous curiosity to peer behind the veil of The Secret grow less persistent and irksome.

I hope I have now explained with some degree of clarity the exact nature of the tie binding myself to the College of Seventy. The worst feature of my own position--and perhaps the worst also from the point of view of the hierarchy--is the haunting sense of uncertainty, or rather the knowledge that I myself, my aims, my motives and my deeds are continually under discussion by this mysterious band of priestly potentates, with whom I am really unable to get into touch and to whom I cannot explain satisfactorily any matters that may arouse their distrust or suspicion. I often wish the members, at least of the outer circle, of the council would decide to take me into their complete confidence, so that we could all open our hearts freely to one another. I feel sure in such an event all cause of misunderstanding on their part would be speedily removed, whilst a greater feeling of security would result to themselves from this open alliance. But I know only too well that at present any such arrangement is utterly impossible, so I have to abide in the same uncomfortable and strained position which has already, I have every reason to believe, proved too onerous and exasperating for more than one of my fore-runners on the throne of Meleager.

With the nobility my part is naturally a far less difficult one to play. In the eyes of my courtiers, and of the many leading nobles who have access to my personal society, I am regarded not merely in theory but in very deed as a semi-divine creature, and am treated with the requisite degree of honour. But so natural and well bred are the manners of the Meleagrian aristocracy that this intense deference never sinks to fawning, nor becomes personally inconvenient, so that I can associate on terms of easy familiarity with many of them. With their private affairs I have no great concern, seeing how strong is the patriarchal rule in each family; but sometimes as a last resort my opinion is invited, especially by the younger nobles, and such advice as I deign to supply is invariably regarded as the acme of wisdom and is promptly acted on.

With the commercial class I am brought much less into contact, so that I have smaller opportunity of observing its members. From time to time, however, I take pleasure in receiving accounts of travel by land and sea from some of the more intrepid merchant adventurers who sail the southern ocean, or penetrate the bleak hinterland of Barbaria. I have also acquired some merit in their eyes by making an expedition to the Barbarian coast, and visiting some of the settlements whence timber, furs and fish are exported to the south. The Arch-priest has never expressed any opposition to this display of interest on my part, and he certainly encouraged my voyage to Barbaria; but I know well some members of the College of Seventy at the time objected to my proposed tour of inspection of the northern colonies. Their arguments, no doubt voiced in the council chamber, must however have been over-ruled, for my expedition was permitted.

By the third estate, as also by the large mass of indentured slaves or servants, I am of course adored, worshipped and regarded as a Divine Incarnation. My appearance in the judgment hall calls forth diurnal blessings on my head, and persons of this class seek to kiss the hem of my robe in passing, or even manœuvre so that my shadow may fall upon them, much as the sick and decrepit of antique Asia Minor sought a blessing in the shadows of the early Apostles. I need not pursue this matter, for I have already made clear elsewhere the whole-hearted loyalty of the populace towards their King.

Apart from this deep attachment to my person of the commonalty of the kingdom, I possess too a certain amount of real power in the household of the palace and in the regiments of horse and foot that form my personal guards. All these wear my royal colour of blue in their livery or uniform, together with my badge of the sun in splendour. I can therefore well imagine the consequent jealousy and alarm of some members of the hierarchy being aroused by such an exhibition of potential strength, and I feel pretty sure of the presence of a number of spies both among my domestics and in the ranks of the military, who are constantly on the watch lest I should show any sign of pushing my advantage by these means. As such never has been, is not and never will be my intention, these official eavesdroppers can have nothing but what is reassuring to report to their employers. Nevertheless, the thought of this particular form of distrust is not pleasant, and it looms large among the various trials and disadvantages I have to endure in my exalted office.

VIII

Undoubtedly the most important feature in the whole body politic of Meleager is the ruling caste of the priests. I have at different times described these personages as a hierarchy of priests, as a college of senators, as a Council of Seventy, as a committee of councillors; but in reality none of these titles exactly expresses the nature or powers of this small executive clique selected from the nobility. The form, moreover, under which they are universally saluted or addressed in Meleager is simply "Arxattra," which signifies "Master." I had therefore better open with an account of the choice and composition of this body, whose sole check consists in the King whom they themselves call into being and can presumably dispose of in certain events. The priesthood (to use a convenient though inexact term) consists of never more than seventy-seven members nor less than seventy, and these are recruited solely from the aristocracy. The admission to this body is by election of the whole, and the candidates for this honour are confined to a number of probationers of the seminary that is situated within the precincts of the Temple of the Sun. These probationers are jealously excluded from all outside social intercourse, and are carefully educated for at least five years with the object in view by members of the council itself. No one under the age of thirty-five may be admitted for election, and it is usual, though not essential, for the candidate to be a bachelor or a widower. On his election, the successful candidate quits his college and retires to the Temple of the Sun, where apartments exist for every member of the council. This severe regulation as to age and family ties is obviously intended to preserve the conservative traditions of the hierarchy, for the human mind naturally is inclined to hark back affectionately to the conditions prevailing in youth and to prefer such to any later standard of morals and administration. At the same time the many services and duties to be performed by the junior councillors require the election of active and able-bodied members, for though the Temple of the Sun is the headquarters and official home of these councillors, yet many of them are in constant peregrination throughout the kingdom. Four priests reside at Zapyro; three at Fúfani; two are said to be in residence within the forbidden temple on Mount Crystal. All have their proper spheres of work assigned to them, and membership of this all-powerful council, far from being the sinecure I once conceived it, entails an immense amount of exertion, both mental and physical.

From the moment of his election there is an amplitude of employment for the new-comer. Thus of the junior councillors four hold the onerous posts of registrars of all births and deaths throughout the realm, their business in this capacity taking them far afield, for the whole system of Meleagrian registration is closely bound up with its public policy and edicts. Two more are concerned with the shipping and fishing industries; two with the control and inspection of the colonies in Barbaria; two are entrusted with the interests of the many indentured labourers; two or more act as commissioners of forest lands; at least four are charged with the important and troublesome duties as regards public sanitation and hygiene; and so on till every public department falls under the direct supervision of the nominees of this Council of Seventy and more. Such a shuffling and allocation of public offices may seem arbitrary and detestable to the windy demagogues of our twentieth-century civilisation; but I can assure my readers, as the result of my most careful and unbiased observation, the practical effect on the well-being of the community at large far exceeds any vaunted results that ever I saw or heard of in any democratic community on Earth. Nor do I marvel; for jobbery, sentimentalism, waste, financial dabbling, denominational intrigue, family influence are all necessarily absent from the workings of a council that is composed only of highly trained persons of gentle birth who, having resigned all the domestic and material interests of life, have no private or monetary ends to consider, but act solely for the benefit of the state, which they have chosen voluntarily to serve after a long preliminary course of special education.

Whenever a member of the council dies, or through failure of health is placed on an honorary footing, the vacant place is quickly filled. The last elected member of the hierarchy summons the chosen probationer and leads him to the council chamber where his brother members are assembled. Here he kneels, whilst a homily on the nature of the high honour conferred on him and the vast sum of confidence reposed in him, is read aloud by the Arch-priest, who acts as president. Impressive rites follow, for nothing is omitted to prove to the new member the terrible fate that awaits any councillor who may be found guilty of any disloyalty, or of even breathing a hint of The Secret, which he is now empowered to learn. What is the fate reserved for any indiscreet or treacherous councillor I cannot say; but I fancy breaches of confidence in the council itself must have been as rare in the past annals of Meleager as was the crime of Marino Faliero in those of the old Venetian republic, whose constitution, by the way, has evidently been carefully digested by the hierarchy. The oath of implicit obedience and of absolute silence having been administered, the new member is then led forward to have his crimson cloak and tunic removed and replaced by the voluminous white robes of his new order. He next receives the formal congratulations of all his colleagues, and is then made fully acquainted with the nature of The Secret, though I myself have a pretty shrewd notion his mind has already been cautiously prepared beforehand for its reception, so that he in fact possesses something more than a mere inkling of the impending revelation, which is announced with due solemnity. Here however the new member's information ceases, so that he possesses exactly the same limited amount of knowledge of The Secret as do I myself. Whether the new councillor will eventually arrive at a position of such trust and reputation as to be invited to enter the interior ring of the council, time alone can show. And it is of this paramount inner force within the council that I now wish to speak.