Chapter I

Long before this period the women of England had become celebrated for their mental attainments, splendid physique, and exceeding beauty; but chiefest of all was the lovely and accomplished Mercia.

Owing to her superior attainments in natural science, but especially that branch dealing with astronomy she was appointed the position of Astronomer Royal to the Emperor, Albert Felicitas, Supreme Ruler of the Teutonic Empire.

Mercia was acknowledged by all to be as beautiful as she was talented; and the fame of her learning and genius was known throughout the Empire.

She was now thirty years of age, being still in the first bloom of womanhood; for woman was not fully developed until she attained the age of twenty-five, as the term of human life was augmented.

Man commonly reached his anticipated century of years; and it was no extraordinary occurrence to see a hoary-haired veteran of one hundred and twenty-five years surrounded by five or six generations of descendants who had assembled to do him honour on his birthday.

In former times Mercia would have been considered too tall for the ideal of womanly beauty, for she was five feet, ten inches, in height. Indeed, many women attained six feet in these days, but as they were perfectly proportioned, and graceful in movement, their great height gave no idea of awkwardness. Mercia’s form was perfectly moulded, her limbs reminding the beholder of some chaste sculpture of the ancient Greeks, for her flowing robes partially disclosed their contour. Beneath the close-fitting sleeves of her tunic might be seen the fully developed muscles of her arms, which were exquisitely shaped; the firm wrist was small and round, the fore arm tapering upwards until the well-developed muscle of the upper arm was reached. This was not unduly prominent, but was softened and rounded beneath the clear skin, which, creamy white on the inner side, disclosed a faint pink shade on the outer, denoting the presence of perfect health. Her hands were moderately small, but perfect in shape; the fingers were long and tapered, with deep, filbert-shaped nails; indicating the intellectual cast of mind. The palm was tinged with a shell pink, while the back was of transparent, pearly whiteness, and fine as softest satin.

She was not brilliantly fair in complexion, but her skin was beautifully clear; and the soft roses that tinted her oval cheeks paled, or deepened with her varying emotions.

Her beautiful star-like eyes were of an indefinable shade, being neither deep blue, nor brown decidedly. In the sunlight they beamed with a tint borrowed from the deep azure of the heavens just before sunset, in the shade they appeared a lovely, unfathomable brown.

Her nut-brown hair was long, fine, and silky, showing the mental temperament by its delicate texture. The head was fairly large, but well-shaped. The forehead, the seat of intellect, was high, broad, and full. Her eyebrows were well-arched, and curved in fair proportion; but the space between the eyes was great, indicating very considerable development of the perceptive faculties.

It needed no brain specialist to discover at the first glance that Mercia was born to her profession, for her powers of observation and reflection were mapped upon her brow.

Her long brown hair was arranged in glossy coils at the back of the head, in ancient classic style, showing its perfect contour; while the curls near the forehead fluttering like flossy silk, and shimmering in the sun with a golden tint, softened the height of her broad and lofty brow.

Her breadth of chest indicated also that the physical part of her training had reached the fullest perfection. The open collar of her tunic partially disclosed her neck, Juno-shaped, and fine as cream-white satin.

In working hours she dressed in tunic, and trousers, made of dark, fine cloth, while her evening, or reception toilette was composed of flowing robes of bright, soft silk, which hung in graceful folds from her shapely bust, and down her well-formed limbs.

In her was seen personified modesty itself—not that of mere ignorance and shyness—but the modesty born of nobility of mind, wisdom, and purity.

Mercia was devoted to her profession; and so great was her enthusiasm that for fully six months in each year she made her observations of the heavens all night long, snatching only an hour or two in the daytime for sleep.

She had discovered with the aid of the powerful instrument that Geometrus, her chief assistant astronomer had invented, the existence of a number of new planets which revolved around one of the principal suns, hitherto unknown. The largest of these planets she named MERCIA, after herself; to its sun she gave the title of GEOMETRUS, in honour of the man she secretly loved, but dared not own it, not even to herself.

It was a law, or rather, a regulation which was strictly enforced that no Astronomer to the Emperor might marry. When a candidate for the post, which was deemed as honourable as that of prime minister, was successful, he was aware of the conditions his acceptance entailed. He was required to take a solemn oath to give up all thought of love, or matrimony, and devote the whole of his time, thought, and talent to the fulfilment of his duties, and the furtherance of the science of Astronomy, generally.

Astronomy, and Meteorology were considered by the nation such important branches of natural science, requiring in their pursuit so much self-denial that it was deemed an absolute necessity that whoever filled this important post should not be trammelled by the entanglements of love, nor ties of wedlock. For it was considered the uxoriousness of an affectionate husband, or wife, would while away the hours which otherwise would have been devoted to his, or her duties, these entailing long and severe rounds of night watchings.

It is true Mercia possessed the power to give up her post and marry; but to break the solemn oath she had given her Sovereign and country, to her pure and honourable mind appeared monstrous. Besides, such a course would have been attended with serious consequences, for to a certainty almost, Geometrus would be requested to resign his position, and thus both would lose, not only lucrative and honourable appointments, but employment which each enthusiastically loved for its own sake.

Geometrus was a tall, well-formed man of about thirty-five years; he stood in his soft leather shoes, which were formed exactly to the shape of the foot, at least six feet, two inches.

His complexion was somewhat similar to that of Mercia, for his hair and whiskers were of a bright brown; his eyes were dark and deep set: his nose was large and straight, but that was the prevailing characteristic of this time; for the nose being indicative of character, developed greatly, keeping pace with the growth of brain-power of which it is the sign, and outward index.

The mouth was firm, the lips being compressed, while the chin was prominent and broad.

In his face the brain specialist could easily read his character, and judge correctly his special turn of mind.

Although he possessed, to some extent, the same powers of observation, reflection, and calculation as Mercia, still, his most prominent faculty was mechanics. In consequence of the excellent training he had received at the public schools of Astronomy, the bent of his genius was turned in this direction.

For this reason he made an admirable assistant to the Chief Astronomer, in so much, that he was always constructing wonderful instruments set with peculiarly formed lenses of his own invention, by means of which Mercia prosecuted with greater success her astronomical observations.

In truth, the two were made for each other; not only as co-workers, but also in disposition; for where there was a tendency towards an excess of fiery energy on the one side, it was met with the calm serenity of strict discipline on the other.

Mercia was of calm and even temperament, being wonderfully patient and enduring: the sweetness of her disposition was seldom ruffled, even under the most trying circumstances. Although mild in manner, and in speech, nevertheless she was by no means apathetic or easy going, for her life was one constant round of industry.

This rare combination of calmness and energy had been transmitted to her by her mother, a lady of great learning and talent, who filled the appointment of Chief Inspector of Public Schools under Government.

This lady realising fully the immense responsibility she was about to undertake when becoming a mother, took all the precautions, both physical and mental, to ensure having for her offspring as perfect a human being as was possible to obtain.

The effect of this _régime_ on the part of the mother, benefited herself equally as her offspring; for when the hour of accouchement arrived the pains of child-birth were so light, and every muscle and organ of her body in such perfect condition, that in the space of a week she was fully restored and able to resume her social, household, or professional duties, as if nothing had happened.

There was no suckling of infants in these days, except by the very lowest orders; women having by degrees lost that property for some considerable time. As far back as the close of the nineteenth century this power had commenced to fail them.

Either through weakness engendered by much child-bearing, or the demands of society upon the time of the women belonging to the upper and middle classes, the habit of artificial suckling was resorted to, and eventually adopted by all classes about that period, with the result that in course of time Nature altogether refused to give any supply; for she ever accommodates herself to the conditions under which she is placed.

Thus it came to pass that the mother was equally free as the father in the matter of nursing, if she elected so to be; all the same, the child was still most carefully and skilfully tended.

The post of nurse was only filled by fully-trained, certificated women, who thoroughly understood the management of children, and who were competent to take them through any sickness without a doctor’s assistance.

By this time the English language had gained considerably by the introduction of words from all nations, who on their side returned the compliment by making it a speciality in their public schools, for English was the commercial language of the whole world.

But it became more than a commercial language to the Germans, for they dropping their own tongue with its uncouth gutturals, adopted the English, which was essentially their own, cultivated and enlarged, and made more musical.

Moreover another change was effected.

The ancient and primitive style was reverted to in the matter of the personal pronoun; for the substitution of the plural ‘you’ for its singular ‘thou’ was considered ungrammatical, and therefore its use was deemed improper to continue.

This departure was imitated by the French who had been the original authors of the anomaly in the early centuries. However, among the lower orders, and in the fireside parlance the plural number was frequently retained.

At this period the Emperor Albert Felicitas reigned most peacefully over the Teutonic Empire. He possessed a palace in each capital, dividing his time among his various kingdoms with strict impartiality: not that it mattered much where he resided, as the means of locomotion had arrived at such perfection that a few hours’ journey sufficed to bring him to any part of his European Empire.

He wintered in Berlin in order to take advantage of the fine frosts, and enjoy the exercise of sleighing. He summered in romantic Norway and Sweden; utilising the early spring months in travelling through his Eastern and African Empires alternately, and spent the beautiful autumn in England.

In his European dominions each country retained its House of Parliament, which possessed powers to make laws dealing with domestic politics only; these being afterwards sanctioned by the Emperor and his Cabinet. This was formed of four ministers of each nationality, who were elected by their country every seven years.

But a cloud was hanging over the fair horizon of this happy Empire; a deep dispute had been growing for upwards of a century between India and her rulers, formerly the British, but now the Teutonic Empire.

Western civilisation, or rather Western ideas, and education had brought the natives of the Eastern Empire to such a degree of culture and enlightenment that the subjugated ones realised that they had become the equal of their masters long before the dawn of the twenty-first century.

In point of fact, the close of the nineteenth century saw India supplied, not only with elementary schools, but ‘High Schools,’ and colleges of the first order, where the subjects taught met every want. They consisted of civil engineering, mathematics, experimental physics, mining, metallurgy, chemistry, architecture, forestry, farming, veterinary surgery, &c. In the College of Science, Poona, at this period all the foregoing subjects were taken. There was a farm of 150 acres in connection with this college which had been transferred by Government to the Agricultural Department; there were also a veterinary hospital where lectures were delivered; mechanical, physical and chemical laboratories, workshops, and foundries. A more complete arrangement for the training of young India could not have been devised. Here students of various nationalities, but chiefly Hindoos, studied and worked with the greatest enthusiasm.

Thus for a considerable period the natives had been availing themselves of the means of education afforded them so benevolently by the English Government, whose motto was ‘Educate your subjects and they will better obey you;’ whereas it should have been—‘Educate your servants and you make them your equals;’ for knowledge gives power, or to define it more accurately in this case, knowledge gave insight, and discovered to its votaries the glories and delights of an enlightened liberty.

Notwithstanding the hindrances caused by religious superstitions they made excellent progress; gradually emerging from the shackles of their ancient beliefs which acted as chains to keep them in the slavery of ignorance, they eventually became almost the equal of their rulers in manufactures, art, science, and literature.

Under these conditions they had become a powerful people, and consequently were greatly dissatisfied with their position of dependence.

There had long been a growing feeling of dislike to the government of their country being consigned to the charge of a mere representative of the Teutonic Empire.

They considered that the time had arrived that such a vast and important Empire as theirs should be ruled by one supreme monarch, whose Court would suitably represent their country’s wealth, power, and intelligence.

Once in the enjoyment of a Monarchical Government, tempered by the restrictions of a Constitutional, they felt they would be no longer handicapped as they had hitherto found themselves, for native gentlemen who had benefited their country to a marked degree, as well as men of acknowledged ability and genius, had, with rare exceptions, no titled honours conferred upon them as tokens of recognition of their worth. This omission they assigned to the jealousy of their rulers, coupled with their overweening opinion of Western superiority.

Thus to this very sensitive people it became a crying calamity that they had no Court of their own wherein they could create dukes, lords, and baronets _ad lib._ and set up a nobility and monarchy on their own account; on the same lines of government favoured by their Teutonic rulers.

Although India was universal in its desire for ‘Home Government,’ nevertheless, there were two great political parties in the country; one was conservative and desired a Monarchical, the other preferred a democratic or Republican form of government.

Of course the Press was the expression of these opinions, which the English and Germans eagerly perused, so that whenever a petition arrived at the Teutonic Court praying for freedom these opposing opinions were brought forward as an excuse for refusing their request.

‘Why ask for powers of self-government,’ they retorted, ‘when you are unable to agree upon what form it shall take? You are happier and better as you are for you know not how to govern yourselves; you are our children; we have educated you, and brought you up, as it were; why desire to leave the parental control when it is only exercised for your good?’

But the oppressed ones did not see it: they felt that they were only step-children, who were kept out of the benefits accorded the offspring of their rulers; for all posts of honour and handsome remuneration had long been taken up by the overflowings of aristocratic Germanic and English families.

Even when in positions where natives were permitted the privilege of filling alongside the Englishman, as far back as the nineteenth century and upwards, natives were not remunerated with anything approaching the same rate of income as their more favoured colleagues; although performing identical duties in the hospitals.

A reliable historian of the nineteenth century in treating this subject says:—‘One serious obstacle in the way of increasing the supply of medical men, (natives) seems to me the unfair and invidious difference made in the remuneration of native as compared with English professional men employed in our service, and the same it may be added, applies to legal, and other departments of the State. Take Delhi, for example, where the civil surgeon, a military man, is paid 1,150 rupees per month, whilst his two native assistants receive only 150 each. In Lahore the English civil surgeon gets 1,050 rupees, the native assistants 150 each. Indeed, throughout India the proportion is everywhere as seven or eight for the English, to one for the native official.’

Is it to be wondered at that the dissatisfaction felt at the ‘plums’ being everywhere reserved for the British should begin to find utterance in the native Press, and in the National Congress?

So far as the medical department is concerned it cannot possibly be urged, as it is in the legal administration, that the moral qualities which are requisite demand a greatly increased scale of remuneration for the Englishman. If the services of an English civil surgeon be worth 1,380_l._ per annum, surely those of his chief assistants, if they be of any value whatever, must be rated low at 180_l._, no matter to what nationality they belong.

This does not apply, however, to the medical colleges and schools. For example, at the Campbell Medical School and Hospital, Calcutta, the superintendent, and English surgeon-major receive 550 rupees per month; and there are eight professors and demonstrators, _all natives_, most of whom get from 300 to 350 rupees, and a number of native assistants who receive 100 to 150 rupees.

‘Can anything prove more conclusively that it is not the incapacity of the natives, but favouritism of the dominant race which awards disproportionately high salaries to the English officials?’

‘Similar inequalities existed in most of the departments of the State, which were of vital importance to the political relations of the governors and the governed.’

Such were the outspoken sentiments of an Englishman whose high attainments and wide experience of Indian administration made his utterances worthy of the deepest consideration.

Side by side with Western culture grew the desire to imitate the Western system of home government. The initiatory movement in this direction took the form of an infant ‘National Congress’ which had its birth in the year of grace 1885, at Bombay, ‘where seventy-two native gentlemen from all parts of India met together.’ There were representatives from Karachi, Surat, Poona, Calcutta, Agra, Benares, Lucknow, Lahore, Allahabad, Ahmedabad, Bombay, Madras, Tanjore, and several other important places in India. Thus was constituted the nucleus of a greater and more important organisation, which ultimately developed with the growth of Western culture, for every educated Hindoo was as well acquainted with the social and political history of Great Britain and Ireland as any Englishman could possibly be. At this first Congress ‘they spent three days in the discussion of questions affecting the interests of the native community, and in passing resolutions thereon.’ The first resolution, which was supported by gentlemen of unquestioned standing, asked for a fulfilment of the ‘promised inquiry’ into the ‘working of Indian administration, and suggested the appointment of a Royal Commission, the people of India being adequately represented thereon, and evidence taken both in India and England.’

‘An expansion of the supreme and local legislative councils by the admission of a considerable number of elected members,’ was another reform which was considered essential.

‘Indirectly,’ said the first report, ‘this Conference will form the germ of a native parliament, and if properly conducted will constitute in a few years an unanswerable reply to the assertion that India is still wholly unfit for any form of representative institutions.’

The answer to these aspirations and desires on the part of the educated natives given by the governing classes in India practically were—‘That the only government possible for India both in the interest of the British as well as of the natives, and as a protection against Russia, is a despotism.’

‘That any concessions to native opinion will interfere with that despotism.’

‘That the authority and domination of the officials must not be interfered with.’

‘That if such concessions are made they will only serve as an opening for further demands, the object being ultimately to overthrow the Government, and that the leading natives have that end in view.’

The prophets were correct: one hundred years later saw India with a fully fledged Parliament, enacting laws for her own government and finishing by demanding full control of Imperial politics, till finally the control of the conqueror, however mild, was sought to be banished completely.

There were those who were foolish enough to hint at extinguishing the Viceroy and all his court by means of electric lightning, but that course would have been idiotic in the extreme, for their rulers in turn could have annihilated the whole nation by the same process, so that to endeavour to settle the question by main force was simply impossible. Their grievance had by this time attained such magnitude that an immense requisition signed by millions of the inhabitants, or rather the natives, of India, was sent to the WORLD’S TRIBUNAL for consideration.

What a tumult this action put the whole world into! Thousands of books and pamphlets were issued on the subject in every country. Throughout the globe newspapers and monthly journals eagerly discussed the question in their columns, and took sides according to their trade or political relationships with the countries in dispute, for self ever predominates in the decisions of nations as in those of individuals.

Notwithstanding all this literary energy the ‘Supreme Law of Nations’ took its course. Delegates from every Government were summoned to appear on May 1 in the year 2002 to consider the secession of the Indian, from the control of the Teutonic Empire, and all the world wondered how it would end.

In due course a sub-committee was formed from the delegates with powers to choose the place in which the WORLD’S TRIBUNAL should be held. It was finally decided that Paris should be thus exalted, for this charming city still held its own in the representation of the science and art of the world.

The Chamber of Deputies for this unparalleled occasion was newly-decorated with the greatest lavishness. Exquisitely upholstered chairs, resembling thrones in their sumptuousness were provided for the occasion. The walls of the chief chamber in which the Court was to be held were beautifully decorated and made to appear like fine ivory, set in square slabs edged with gold: on each of the squares paintings of exquisite workmanship relieved the coldness of the pure cream-coloured ivory ground, while silken draperies skilfully embroidered with gold, in richest designs hung in graceful folds from windows and doorways. On the wall immediately behind the President’s chair were suspended valuable paintings, the frames of which were composed of solid gold, whose corners were set with gems of great value.

Although much was done to please the eye in this temple of luxury, nevertheless, there was naught provided to tempt the palate.

The imagination of the ministers might revel in richest surroundings, but only the plainest fare was provided in the anterooms for their entertainment.

With these regulations, we may be sure, that the matter under consideration was not drawn out unduly, for who would remain in a place where the pleasures of the table were so scantily considered? No time being lost in gastronomical or bibulous gratifications the delegates were enabled to bestow assiduous attention upon their duties, and listened carefully to the charges brought by the Easterners against their governors.

They denounced emphatically the system of vice-government which was rife with abuses, and explained that from the very commencement they regarded this foreign intrusion as a degradation to their nation. They pointed out that they were an ancient people, possessing all the prestige of ages of civilisation, who could not forget the glories of bygone centuries; for thousands of years they had been governed by their own rulers, in true Eastern magnificence; at a period so remote that their present rulers were then mere barbarians, unknown to the civilised world. With such a past as theirs; their country possessing such classic associations, standing proofs of which they had everywhere: in the perfect architecture; in their ancient literature, all of which reminded them of their former prestige and splendour. The time had arrived that they could no longer ignore the duty that lay before them, namely, to demand the restoration of their natural rights which had been filched away from them by fraud and deceit without their consent or desire. ‘Yes!’ continued the speaker, ‘every inch of our territory has been surveyed and measured by the foreign intruder, and the products of our labour taxed heavily to uphold in luxury the children of the invader.’

It was the chief minister, Sir John Punjaub, a leading Hindoo, who made this daring speech. He was a man advanced in years and full of learning, with ever so many letters after his name, indicating his membership of various scientific societies in England, Germany and India.

His countrymen adored him, for he had expended his vast wealth for their betterment, by the establishment of various philanthropic and educational institutions: but they loved him chiefest of all for his active enthusiasm in the promotion of their country’s political welfare, and his kindly and ready sympathy in private life.

It was said of him that never in his life had he turned away from a tale of woe; ‘Better,’ he would say, ‘give ten times to the unworthy, than once turn a deaf ear to the needy.’

The struggling youth who found the world too much for him in his first start in life would take heart of hope and whisper to himself—‘I will go to Sir John, he will tell me what to do, and how I am to gain my goal: he sends no one away, he gives comfort and information; and if need be, funds to the honest worker who seeks his aid.’

Thus like the god of day, this dear old man imparted life and joy, and blessings wherever his influence reached, and the people in return reverenced and loved him greatly.

In the Eastern St. Stephen’s he held the position of Prime Minister, and as a matter of course, upon him devolved the duty of stating the case of the Indian Empire before the WORLD’S TRIBUNAL.

He spoke in English of the purest diction, and pronunciation as perfect as that of a polished Englishman; his great experience as a politician, his gift of eloquence and his profound wisdom, all combined to make him a unique interpreter of the feeling of India at this vitally important crisis.

The delegates listened in wrapt attention to every argument brought forward, giving assiduous attention to their duties throughout, and making notes of every point of any importance, on either side, all being done without the smallest loss of time. The result of such industry was that in fourteen days the whole of the evidence was gone through, after which the members of the Tribunal made their speeches, expressing their opinions upon the various points of the case in a clear and succinct manner.

This refraining from flowery oratory proved a capital saver of time, and brought the matter to a close much earlier than if all had disported themselves in high-flown rhetoric, or windy word-making.

By this time the expression of language had attained such perfection; or rather, the gift of eloquence had become so general that almost everybody was able to express himself in well-chosen language with little or no preparation.

The result of this tongue-culture was a disfavour towards unnecessarily drawn out speeches. Indeed, the rule adopted mostly by legislative and other assemblies was timed speeches, generally from thirty to sixty minutes’ duration; but very rarely was this latter period taken except in cases of extraordinary importance.

It would astonish a nineteenth-century parliamentarian if he could have heard a thirty minutes’ speech at this time. Every sentence uttered expressed a thought; not a superfluous word was used throughout; yet every idea was enunciated fully and perfectly, for it was concentrated thought projected in concentrated language.

For several previous generations this power of _précis_ had been put in general practice. Both parents and teachers making it a point to impress upon children the vulgarity of verbosity; both in writing and speaking an artistic method was inculcated that expressed every shade of thought in the least possible number of words.

Each day’s proceedings at the World’s Tribunal was known in every country upon the same day. In a couple of hours from the close of the chamber, the speeches appeared word for word, in the leading newspapers of every country, including the most distant parts of Africa.

Although eagerly perused by all, the contents were exceptionally interesting to India. Millions of dark eyes daily scanned the pages that brought them hope and fear alternately.

At length the day arrived upon which the decision was to be formally announced—it was the twenty-eighth from the commencement. Alas, the bright hopes of this gentle people were cruelly blasted, for the verdict of the Great Tribunal was against them.

At first overwhelmed with disappointment they were perfectly paralysed. A deep, dead silence reigned amidst that vast concourse of people while it was being read out to them; for both high and low had assembled in immense crowds in some open space of each great city of India. This was followed by a sudden and furious anger that burst from the heart of the multitude and found vent in the loud cries of—‘A trial by combat! A trial by combat!’

The same day the Indian Press declared that the decision was unjust to a degree, nay, iniquitous; and the people of India should refuse to accept it. Immediately America took up the strain and declared she had never approved of it, but having been in the minority when put to the vote their opinion had gone for nothing.

Then Russia had another word to say in the matter, and encouraged America, until eventually it was conceded that India should be accorded the benefit of the final test, and the great question decided by personal prowess.

To this arrangement the Teutonic Empire made no objection, for the natural confidence and conceit of the English caused them to regard with disdain an engagement where physical strength gave the victory.

Thus the most primitive method of settling a dispute was resorted to, when the verdict of experienced politicians failed. Muscle-power was to prevail over mental even with the highly cultured people of this advanced period. The fact was, that however well-intentioned a conclave of politicians at the outset might be, there are so many influences at work, and so many international interests to consider, that to mete out justice with a Solomon-like impartiality proved more than human nature was capable of.