SUB-TITLE (III): POLICIES SEEKING JUSTIFICATION IN NECESSITIES FOR FREE SOCIAL RIVALRIES, INCLUDING THE COMPETITIVE PURSUIT OF A LIVELIHOOD INTRODUCTORY (A. Physical Force, as the Direct Method in Social Rivalries.) ... 818. THE MABINOGION. (1300. Transl. Guest, ed. R. Williams; Dent ed. 1906, p. 49.) Manawyddan, the Son of Llyr, came at length to Dyved, and a feast was prepared for them against their coming to Narberth, which Rhiannon and Kicva had provided. Then began Manawyddan and Rhiannon to sit and talk together. . . . Thus they passed the first year pleasantly, and the second; but at the last they began to be weary. "Verily," said Manawyddan, "we must not bide thus. Let us go into Lloegyr, and seek some craft whereby we may gain our support." So they went into Lloegyr, and came as far as Hereford. And they betook themselves to making saddles. And Manawyddan began to make housings, and he gilded and colored them with blue enamel, in the manner that he had seen it done by Llasar Llaesgywydd. And he made the blue enamel as it was made by the other man. And therefore is it still called Calch Lasar (blue enamel), because Llasar Llaesgywydd had wrought it. And as long as that workmanship could be had of Manawyddan, neither saddle nor housing was bought of a saddler throughout all Hereford; till at length every one of the saddlers perceived that they were losing much of their gain, and that no man bought of them but him who could not get what he sought from Manawyddan. Then they assembled together, and agreed to slay him and his companions. Now they received warning of this, and took counsel whether they should leave the city. "By Heaven," said Pryderi, "it is not my counsel that we should quit the town, but that we should slay these boors." "Not so," said Manawyddan, "for, if we fight with them, we shall have evil fame, and shall be put in prison. It were better for us to go to another town to maintain ourselves." So they four went to another city. "What craft shall we take?" said Pryderi. "We will make shields," said Manawyddan. “Do we know anything about that craft?" said Pryderi. "We will try," answered he. There they began to make shields, and fashioned them after the shape of the good shields they had seen; and they enameled them, as they had done the saddles. And they prospered in that place, so that not a shield was asked for in the whole town but such as was had of them. Rapid, therefore, was their work, and numberless were the shields they made. But at last they were marked by the craftsmen, who came together in haste, and their fellow-townsmen with them, and agreed that they should seek to slay them. But they received warning, and heard how the men had resolved on their destruction. "Pryderi," said Manawyddan, "these men desire to slay us." "Let us not endure this from these boors, but let us rather fall upon them and slay them." "Not so," he answered: "Caswallawn and his men will hear of it, and we shall be undone. Let us go to another town." So to another town they went. "What craft shall we take?" said Manawyddan. "Whatsoever thou wilt that we know," said Pryderi. "Not so," he replied, "but let us take to making shoes, for there is not courage enough among cord wainers either to fight with us or to molest us." "I know nothing thereof," said Pryderi. "But I know,” answered Manawyddan; “and I will teach thee to stitch. We will not attempt to dress the leather, but we will buy it readydressed and will make the shoes from it." So he began by buying the best cordwal that could be had in the town, and none other would he buy except the leather for the soles; and he associated himself with the best goldsmith in the town, and caused him to make clasps for the shoes, and to gild the clasps, and he marked how it was done until he learnt the method. And therefore was he called one of the three makers of Gold Shoes; and, when they could be had from him, not a shoe nor hose was bought of any of the cordwainers in the town. But, when the cordwainers perceived that their gains were failing (for, as Manawyddan shaped the work, so Pryderi stitched it), they came together and took counsel, and agreed that they would slay them. "Pryderi," said Manawyddan, "these men are minded to slay us." "Wherefore should we bear this from the boorish thieves?" said Pryderi. "Rather let us slay them all." "Not so," said Manawyddan, "we will not slay them, neither will we remain in Lloegyr any longer. Let us set forth to Dyved, and go to see it." So they journeyed along until they came to Dyved, and they went forward to Narberth. And there they kindled fire, and supported themselves by hunting. . . . "Truly, lady," said Manawyddan, "it is not fitting for us to stay here, we have lost our dogs, and we cannot get food. Let us go into Lloegyr: it is easiest for us to find support there." "Gladly, lord," said she, "we will do so." And they set forth together to Lloegyr. "Lord," said she, "what craft wilt thou follow? Take up one that is seemly." "None other will I take," answered he, "save that of making shoes, as I did formerly." "Lord," said she, "such a craft becomes not a man so nobly born as thou.” "By that, however, will I abide," said he. So he began his craft, and he made all his work of the finest leather he could get in the town, and, as he had done at the other place, he caused gilded clasps to be made for the shoes. And, except himself, all the cordwainers in the town were idle and without work. For, as long as they could be had from him, neither shoes nor hose were bought elsewhere. And thus they tarried there a year, until the cordwainers became envious, and took counsel concerning him. And he had warning thereof, and it was told him how the cordwainers had agreed together to slay him. "Lord," said Kicva, "wherefore should this be borne from these boors?" "Nay," said he, "we will go back unto Dyved." So towards Dyved they set forth. 819. NICCOLO MACHIAVELLI. Discourses on the First Ten Books of Titus Livius. (1519. Book III, Ch. XXX. Writings, transl. Detmold, 1882, Vol. II, p. 396.) A citizen who desires to employ his authority in a republic for some public good must first of all suppress all feeling of envy. . . . Envy may be extinguished in two ways: 1. Either by some extraordinary and difficult occasion, when every one fears his own destruction and therefore lays aside all ambition and eagerly obeys any one whom he supposes capable of averting the danger by his virtues and talents. Such was the case with Camillus, who, having given so many proofs of his eminent merit, was three times made Dictator; and having always administered this high office for the public good and without any selfish views, other men did not fear his greatness and did not deem it discreditable to acknowledge their own inferiority to a man of such distinguished worth and reputation. The observation of Titus Livius upon this circumstance was therefore very just. 2. The other way of destroying envy is, when either violence or a natural death carries off those of your rivals who, on seeing you acquire such reputation and greatness, cannot patiently bear your being more distinguished than themselves. If men of this kind live in a corrupt city, where education has not been able to infuse any spirit of good into their minds, it is impossible that they should be restrained by any chance, but they would be willing rather to see their country ruined than not to attain their purpose or not to satisfy their perverse natures. To overcome such envy and evil passions, there is no other remedy but the death of those who harbor them. And, when fortune is so propitious to a virtuous man as to deliver him from such rivals by their natural death, he becomes glorious without violence, and may then display his virtues to their full extent without hindrance and without offense to anybody. But, when he has not such good fortune, he must strive nevertheless by all possible means to overcome this difficulty, and relieve himself of such rivals before attempting any enterprise. And whoever reads the Bible attentively will find that Moses, for the purpose of insuring the observance of his laws and institutions, was obliged to have a great many persons put to death who opposed his designs under the instigation of no other feelings than those of envy and jealousy. Brother Girolamo Savonarola fully understood the necessity of this course, which was recognized also by Pietro Soderini, Gonfalonier of Florence. Savonarola, however, could not put it into practice for want of power and authority. . . . Both these men came to their ruin, which was caused by their lack of knowledge or power to crush envy. (B. Social Influence, as the Indirect Method in Social Rivalries.) 820. ROBERT LOUIS STEVENSON. The Beach of Falesá. (Ch. II.) [The narrator is a trader who has just set up business on the island.] . . . I was hard at it both these days getting my trade in order and taking stock of what Vigours had left, . . . to fix up that store regular Sydney style. A fine show I made of it; and the third morning, when I had lit my pipe and stood in the doorway and looked in, and turned and looked far up the mountain and saw the cocoanuts waving over the village green, and saw the island dandies and réckoned up the yards of print they wanted for their kilts and dresses, I felt as if I was in the right place to make a fortune, and go home again and start a public house. . . . But the day passed and the devil any one looked near me, and from all I knew of natives in other islands I thought this strange.. When the day went, and no business came at all, I began to get downhearted; and, about three in the afternoon, I went out for a stroll to cheer me up.. ... By Monday night I got it clearly in my head I must be tabooed. A new store to stand open two days in a village and not a man or woman come to see the trade, was past believing. "Uma," said I [to my native bride], "I think I'm tabooed." "I think so," said she. I thought awhile whether I should ask her more, but it's a bad idea to set natives up with any notion of consulting them, so I went to Case. It was dark, and he was sitting alone, as he did mostly, smoking on the stairs. "Case," said I, "here's a queer thing. I'm tabooed." "Well," said he, "what have you been doing?" "That's what I want to find out," said I. "Oh, you can't be," said he: "it ain't possible. However, I'll tell you what I'll do. Just to put your mind at rest, I'll go round and find out for sure. . . . Case laughed, took a lantern from the ... store, and set out into the village. He was gone perhaps a quarter of an hour, and he looked mighty serious when he came back. "Well," said he, clapping down the lantern on the veranda steps, "I would never have believed it." "I am tabooed, then?" I cried. "Something of the sort," said he. "It's the worst thing of the kind I've heard of yet. But I'll stand by you, Wiltshire, man to man. You come round here to-morrow about nine, and we'll have it out with the chiefs." The chiefs awaited us in one of their big oval houses, which was marked out to us from a long way off by the crowd about the eaves. . . . I rapped my speech out pretty big. Then Case translated it,- -or made believe to, rather, and the first chief replied, and then a second, and a third, all in the man. same style,-easy and genteel, but solemn underneath. ... “Well, is that all?" I asked, when a pause came. "Come along," says he, mopping his face; "I'll tell you outside." "Do you mean that they won't take the taboo off?" I cried. "It's something queer," said he. "I'll tell you outside. Better come away." "I won't take it at their hands," cried I. "I ain't that kind of a You don't find me turn my back on a parcel of Kanakas." "You'd better," said Case. "There's a thing I'm thinking of," said I. . . . “You haven't been much about with me. I notice you've never been inside my house. Own up now; you had heard of this before?" "It's a fact I haven't been,” said he. "It was an oversight, and I am sorry for it, Wiltshire. But about coming now, I'll be quite plain." "You mean you won't?" I asked. "Awfully sorry, old man, but that's the size of it," says Case. "In short, you're afraid?” says I. "In short, I'm afraid," says he. "And so you turn your back and leave me to myself! is that the position?" says I. "If you like to put it nasty," says he. "I don't put it so. I say merely, I'm going to keep clear of you; or, if I don't, I'll get in danger for myself." With that we parted, and I went straight home, in a hot temper, and found Uma. . . . "And now," says I, "you belong round here, you're bound to understand this. What am I tabooed for, anyway? Or, if I ain't tabooed, what makes the folks afraid of me?" She stood and looked at me with eyes like saucers. "You no savvy?" she gasps at last. . . . Then she made a kind of obeisance, but it was the proudest kind, and threw her hands out open. “I 'shamed," she said. "I think you savvy. Case tell me you savvy, he tell me you no mind, tell me you love me too much. Taboo belong me," she said, touching herself on the bosom, as she had done upon our wedding night. "Now I go 'way, taboo he go 'way, too. Then you get much copra. You like more better, I think. Tofa, alii," says she in the native,-"Farewell, chief!" "Hold on!" I cried. "Don't be in such a hurry.” . . . Now she made sure that we were friends. A lot she told me. . . . It seems she was born in one of the Line Islands; had been only two or three years in these parts, where she had come with a white man, who was married to her mother and then died; and only the one year in Falesá. . . . They had scarce settled, when up turned a young man, Ioane, a native, and wanted to marry her. . . . It was an extraordinary match for a penniless girl and an out-islander. . . . This proposal of marriage was the start of all the trouble. . . . And then all of a sudden, about six months before my coming, Ioane backed out and left that part of the island, and from that day to this Uma and her mother had found themselves alone. None called at their house, none spoke to them on the roads. If they went to church, the other women drew their mats away and left them in a clear place by themselves. It was a regular excommunication, like what you read of in the Middle Ages; and the cause or the sense of it beyond guessing. . . . In the South Seas. (Ch. VI.) Tapu. It will be observed with surprise that some tapus are for thoroughly sensible ends. With surprise, I say, because the nature of that institution is much misunderstood in Europe. It is taken usually in the sense of a meaningless or wanton prohibition, such as that which to-day prevents women in some countries from smoking, or yesterday prevented any one in Scotland from taking a walk on Sunday. The error is no less natural than it is unjust. The Polynesians have not been trained in the bracing, practical thought of ancient Rome; with them the idea of law has not been disengaged from that of morals or propriety, so that tapu has to cover the whole field, and implies indifferently that an act is criminal, immoral, against sound public policy, unbecoming or (as we say) "not in good form." Many tapus were in consequence absurd enough, such as those which deleted words out of the language, and particularly those which related to women. . . . But the tapu is more often the instrument of wise and needful restrictions. We have seen it as the organ of paternal government. It serves besides to enforce, in the rare case of some one wishing to enforce them, rights of private property. Thus a man, weary of the coming and going of Marquesan visitors, tapus his door; . . . by the simple expedient of declaring a tapu he enforced his rights. The sanction of the tapu is superstitious; and the punishment of infraction either a wasting or a deadly sickness. A slow disease follows on the eating of tapu fish, and can only be cured with the bones of the same fish burned with the due mysteries. The cocoanut and breadfruit tapu works more swiftly. Suppose you have eaten tapu fruit at the evening meal, at night your sleep will be uneasy; in the morning, swelling and a dark discoloration will have attacked your neck, whence they spread upward to the face; and in two days, unless the cure be interjected, you must die. This cure is prepared from the rubbed leaves of the tree from which the patient stole, so that he cannot be saved without confessing to the kahuku the person whom he wronged. . . . We read in Dr. Campbell's "Poenamo" of a New Zealand girl who was foolishly told that she had eaten a tapu yam, and who instantly sickened, and died in the two days of simple terror. The period is the same as in the Marquesas; doubtless the symptoms were so, too. How singular to consider that a superstition of such sway is possibly a manufactured article, and that, even if it were not originally invented, its details have plainly been arranged by the authorities of some Polynesian Scotland Yard! 821. EDWARD GIBBON. The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire. (Ch. XV, Ch. XX.) (Smith's ed., Vol. II, p. 201, Vol. III, p. 36.) . . . It is the undoubted right of every society to exclude from its communion and benefits such among its members as reject or violate those regulations which have been established by general consent. In the exercise of this power the censures of the Christian church were chiefly directed against scandalous sinners, and particularly those who were guilty of murder, of fraud, or of incontinence; against the authors, or the followers, of any heretical opinions which had been condemned by the judgment of the episcopal order; and against those unhappy persons who, whether from choice or from compulsion, had polluted themselves after their baptism by any act of idolatrous worship. The consequences of excommunication were of a temporal as well as a spiritual nature. The Christian against whom it was pronounced was deprived of |