Farther account of Okalbia—The Field of Roses—Curious superstition concerning that flower—The pleasures of smell traced to association, by a Glonglim philosopher.

Though I felt some reluctance to abuse the patience of this polite and intelligent magistrate, I could not help making some inquiry about the jurisprudence of his country, and first, what was their system of punishment.

"We have no capital punishment," says he; "for, from all we learn, it is not more efficacious in preventing crime, than other punishments which are milder; and we prefer making the example to offenders a lasting one. But we endeavour to prevent offences, not so much by punishment as by education; and the few crimes committed among us, bring certain censure on those who have the early instruction of the criminal. Murders are very rare with us; thefts and robbery perhaps still more so. Our ordinary disputes about property, are commonly settled by arbitration, where, as well as in court, each party is permitted to state his case, to examine what witnesses and to ask what questions he pleases."

"You do not," said I, "examine witnesses who are interested?"

"Why not? The judges even examine the parties themselves."

I then told him that the smallest direct interest in the issue of the controversy, disqualified a witness with us, from the strong bias it created to misrepresent facts, and even to misconceive them.

He replied with a smile,—"It seems to me that your extreme fear of hearing falsehood, must often prevent you from ascertaining the truth. It is true, that wherever the interest of a witness is involved, it has an immediate tendency to make him misstate facts: but so would personal ill-will—so would his sympathies—so would any strong feeling. What, then, is your course in these cases?"

I told him that these objections applied to the credibility, and not to the competency, of witnesses, which distinctions of the lawyers I endeavoured to explain to him.

"Then I think you often exclude a witness who is under a small bias, and admit another who is under a great one. You allow a man to give testimony in a case in which the fortune or character of his father, brother or child is involved, but reject him in a case in which he is not interested to the amount of a greater sum than he would give to the first beggar he met. Is it not so?"

"That, indeed, may be the operation of the rule. But cases of such flagrant inconsistency are very rare; and this rule, like every other, must be tried by its general, and not its partial effects."

"True; but your rule must at least be a troublesome one, and give rise to a great many nice distinctions, that make it difficult in the application. All laws are sufficiently exposed to this evil, and we do not wish unnecessarily to increase it. We have, therefore, adopted the plan of allowing either party to ask any question of any witness he pleases, and leave it to the judges to estimate the circumstances which may bias the witness. We, in short, pursue the same course in investigating facts in court that we pursue out of it, when no one forms a judgment until he has first heard what the parties and their friends say on the subject."

On my return home, I repeated this conversation to a lawyer of my acquaintance, who told me that such a rule of evidence might do for the people in the moon, but it certainly would not suit us. I leave the matter to be settled by more competent heads than mine, and return to my narrative.

I farther learnt from this intelligent magistrate, that the territory of the Happy Valley, or Okalbia, is divided into forty-two counties, and each county into ten districts. In each district are three magistrates, who are appointed by the legislature. Causes of small value are decided by the magistrates of the district; those of greater importance, by the county courts, composed of all the magistrates of the ten districts; a few by the court of last court, consisting of seven judges. The legislature consists of two houses, of which the members are elected annually, three from each county for one branch, and one member for the other. No qualification of property is required either to vote, or to be eligible to either house of the legislature, as they believe that the natural influence of property is sufficient, without adding to that influence by law; and that the moral effects of education among them, together with a few provisions in their constitution, are quite sufficient to guard against any improper combination of those who have small property. Besides, there are no odious privileges exclusively possessed by particular classes of men, to excite the envy or resentment of the other classes, and induce them to act in concert.

"Have you, then, no parties?" said I.

"Oh yes; we are not without our political parties and disputes; and we sometimes wrangle about very small matters—such as, what amount of labour shall be bestowed on the public roads—the best modes of conducting our schools and colleges—the comparative merits of the candidates for office, or the policy of some proposed change in the laws. Man is made, you know, of very combustible materials, and may be kindled as effectually by a spark falling at the right time, in the right place, as when within reach of a great conflagration."

The women appeared here to be under few restraints. I understood that they were taught, like our sex, all the speculative branches of knowledge, but that they were more especially instructed, by professed teachers, in cookery, needlework, and every sort of domestic economy; as were the young men in the occupations which require strength and exposure. They have a variety of public schools, and some houses for public festivals, but no public hospitals or almshouses whatever, the few cases of private distress or misfortune being left for relief to the merits of the sufferer and the compassion of individuals.

After passing a week among this singular and fortunate people, whom we every where found equally amiable, intelligent, and hospitable, we returned to Alamatua in the same way that we had come; that is, in a light car, drawn by four large mastiffs. When we had recovered from the fatigues of the journey, and I had carefully committed to paper all that I had learnt of the Okalbians, the Brahmin and I took a walk towards a part of the suburbs which I had not yet seen, and where some of the literati of his acquaintance resided. The sun appeared to be not more than two hours high (though, in fact, it was more than fifty); the sky was without a cloud, and a fresh breeze from the mountains contributed to make it like one of the most delightful summer evenings of a temperate climate.

We carelessly rambled along, enjoying the balmy freshness of the air, the picturesque scenery of the neighbouring mountains, the beauty or fragrance of some vegetable productions, and the oddity of others, until, having passed through a thick wood, we came to an extensive plain, which was covered with rose-bushes. The queen of flowers here appeared under every variety of colour, size, and species—red, white, black, and yellow—budding, full-blown, and half-blown;—some with thorns, and some without; some odourless, and others exhaling their unrivalled perfume with an overpowering sweetness. I was about to pluck one of these flowers, (of which I have always been particularly fond,) when a man, whom I had not previously observed, stepping up behind me, seized my arm, and asked me if I knew what I was doing. He told us that the roses of this field, which is called Gulgal, were deemed sacred, and were not allowed to be gathered without the special permission of the priests, under a heavy penalty; and that he was one of those whose duty it was to prevent the violation of the law, and to bring the offenders to punishment.

The Brahmin, having diverted himself a while with my surprise and disappointment, then informed me, that the rose had ever been regarded in Morosofia, as the symbol of female purity, delicacy, and sweetness; which notion had grown into a popular superstition, that whenever a marriage is consummated on the earth, one of these flowers springs up in the moon; and that in colour, shape, size, or other property, it is a fit type of the individual whose change of state is thus commemorated.

"What, father," said I, "could have given rise to so strange an opinion?"

"I know not," said he; "but I have heard it thus explained:—That the roses generally spring up, as well as blow, in the course of their long nights, during which the earth's resplendent disc is the most conspicuous object in the heavens; which two facts stand, in the opinion of the multitude, in the relation of cause and effect. Attributing, then, the symbolical character of the rose to its tutelary planet, they regard the earth in the same light as the ancients did the chaste Diana, and believe that she plants this her favourite flower in the moon, whenever she loses a votary. The priesthood encourage this superstition, as they have grafted on it some mystical rites, which add to their power and profit, and which one of our Pundits thinks has a great resemblance to the Eleusinian mysteries. There is, however, my dear Atterley, little satisfaction in tracing the origin of vulgar superstitions. They grow up like a strange plant in a forest, without our being able to tell how the seed found its way there. It is generally believed in the east, that the moon, at particular periods of her revolution round the earth, has a great influence in causing rain; though every one must see, that, notwithstanding such influence must be the same in every part of the earth, it is invariably fair in one place, at the very time that it is rainy in another. Nay, we may safely aver that there is not a day, nor an hour, in the year, in which it is not dry and rainy, cloudy and clear, windy and calm, in hundreds of places at once."

I told the Brahmin that the same opinion prevailed in my country. That the vulgar also believe the moon, according to its age, to have particular effects on the flesh of slaughtered animals; and that all sailors distinguish between a wet and a dry day, according to the position of the crescent.

We then inquired of the warden of this flowery plain, if he had ever remarked any difference in the number of roses which sprung up in a given period of time. He said he thought they were more numerous about five and twenty or thirty years ago, than he had ever seen them before or since. With that exception, he said, the number appeared to be nearly the same every year.

The Brahmin happening to be in one of those pleasant moods which are occasionally experienced by amiable tempers, even when under the pressure of sorrow and age, now amused himself in pointing out the flowers which probably represented the different nations of the earth; and when he saw any one remarkably small, pale and delicate, he insisted that it belonged to his own country; which point, however, I, not yielding to him in nationality, warmly contested. I would here remark, that as the rose is called gul in the Persian language and the ancient Sanscrit, the name of this field furnished another argument in support of the Brahmin's hypothesis of the origin of the moon.

While thus oblivious of the past, and reckless of the future, we were enjoying the present moment in this badinage, and I was extolling the odour of the rose, as beyond every other grateful to the olfactory nerves of man, a lively, flippant little personage came up, and accosted the Brahmin with the familiarity of an acquaintance. My companion immediately introduced me to him, and at the same time gave me to understand that this was the great Reffei, one of the most distinguished literati of the country. Although his eye was remarkably piercing, I perceived in it somewhat of the wildness which always characterizes a Glonglim. He was evidently impatient for discussion; and having informed himself of the subject of my rhapsody when he joined our party, he vehemently exclaimed,—"I am surprised at your falling in with that popular prejudice; while it is easy to show, that but for some feeling of love, or pity, or admiration, with which the rose happens to be associated—some past pleasure which it brings to your recollection, or some future pleasure which it suggests,—any other flower would be equally sweet. You see the rose a very beautiful flower; and you have been accustomed, whenever you saw and felt its beauty, to perceive, at the same time, a certain odour. The beauty and the odour thus become associated in your mind, and the smell brings along with it the pleasure you feel in looking at it. But the chief part of the gratification you receive from smelling a rose, arises from some past scene of delight of which it reminds you; as, of the days of your innocence and childhood, when you ran about the garden—or when you were decorated with nosegays—or danced round a may-pole, (this is rather a free translation)—or presented a bunch of flowers to some little favourite." He said a great deal more on the subject, and spoke so prettily and ingeniously, as almost to make a convert of me; when, on bringing my nose once more to the flower, I found in it the same exquisite fragrance as ever.

"Why do we like," he continued, "the smell of a beef-steak, or of a cup of tea, except for the pleasure we receive from their taste?"

I mentioned, as an exception to his theory, the codfish, which is esteemed a very savoury dish by my countrymen, but which no one ever regarded as very fragrant. But he repelled my objection by an ingenious hypothesis, grounded on certain physiological facts, to show that this supposed disagreeable smell was also the effect of some early associations. I then mentioned to him assafoetida, the odour of which I believed was universally odious. He immediately replied, that we are always accustomed to associate with this drug, the disagreeable ideas of sickness, female weakness, hysterics, affectation, &c. Unable to continue the argument, I felt myself vanquished. I again stooped to the flower, and as I inhaled its perfume, "Surely," said I to myself, "this rose would be sweet if I were to lose my memory altogether:" but recollecting the great Reffei's argument, I mentally added thanks to divine philosophy, which always corrects our natural prejudices.