Besides these academies, there are preparatory gymnasiums, where great pains are taken to discover the bent of the young, that they may be brought up in that science to which they are best fitted. While I was at the seminary of Keba, the bishop had four sons there, preparing for a military course; four others, whose father was a counsellor, were learning mechanical arts, and two maidens were studying navigation. The rank and sex of the scholars are entirely overlooked, in their regard to fitness and propriety.
He who challenges another to fight, loses forever his right to use weapons, and is condemned to live under guardianship, as one who cannot curb his passions or temper his judgment. I observed that the names of parties who go to law, are kept secret from the judge, he not being an inhabitant of the place where the trial is carried on. The object of this singular law is to prevent all partiality and bribery on the part of the judge, by withholding from him all knowledge of the influence or property of the litigants.
Justice is executed without regard to persons. The king, indeed, is not required to appear in court, but after death, his memory is put to the bar of public opinion, and his life is vindicated or condemned through the peoples' advocates. This trial takes place before the Senate, and judgment is freely pronounced according to the weight of the evidence. A herald proclaims the decision, which is inscribed on the king's monument. The words used in these trials are: Praiseworthy,—good,—not bad,—moderate,—tolerable. Sentence must be pronounced by one of these words.
The Potuans give the following reason for this custom. The living king cannot be brought to justice without causing rebellion. As long as he lives, the people owe to him blind obedience and constant reverence. But when the king is dead, the bond between them is dissolved, and, his memory belonging to them, they are bound to justify it as his virtues and vices principally affected themselves.
The Potuanic annals show that for centuries only one king has received the last degree of judgment—tolerable—or, in their tongue: Rip-fac-si. This was King Mikleta. Although the Potuans are well versed in arms, and defend themselves bravely, when attacked, they never make war on others.
But this king excited by a miserable desire to extend the borders of his empire, entered into an offensive war with his neighbors, and subdued many of them.
The Potuans gained, indeed, in power and wealth, but they suffered more from the loss of friendship and the increase of fear and envy in the conquered. The honorable regard for justice and equity, to which they had hitherto owed their prosperity and supremacy, began from that time to fade. On the death of Mikleta, however, the people recovered from their folly, and showed their regret for it, while at the same time they regained the good will of their neighbors, by putting a blot upon the memory of their ruler.
But, to return to myself. I took but little pleasure in associating with my companions, a set of absurd trees, who constantly ridiculed me for my quick perception.