Lands of Red and Gold, Act II
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- Start date
Lands of Red and Gold #91: Answers for Gunya
Lands of Red and Gold #91: Answers for Gunya
“It is the cause, and not the death, that makes the martyr.”
- Tjewarra (“strong heart”), Atjuntja activist
* * *
From a letter that arrived in London on 29 April 1649:
To His Majesty Charles the Second, King of England, France, Scotland and Ireland, Defender of the Faith, from your brother Gunya Yadji, Regent of the Never-Born God, Sovereign of Durigal, King of Wyelangta, Wyelidja, Wyenambul and Wyeyangeree [1]: May the days of your reign be long and prosperous. May you know good fortune and pleasant company through all the days of your life.
Word has come to me from your servants who are permitted trade with Durigal. They speak of the church that you lead, as the supreme worldly representative of your Divine, that you choose the bishops that guide your church in your stead, and that as Defender of the Faith you are the final arbiter on all decisions involving the church. They speak that much as the men of the Regency do, your church too knows the truth that the end of times will come, and that the world must be made ready for this.
I ask that you choose from among your bishops a man strong of wisdom and understanding of the royal bulwark of faith, and send him to Durigal in your stead, that he may give me more answers about your church and its conduct.
* * *
While not a pious man himself, Gunya Yadji knew that much of his royal authority stemmed from the fervent religious beliefs of his subjects. They believed in the great struggle between the good Neverborn, the god within the earth, and the evil Firstborn, the Lord of Night, the treacherous deity in the sky. The Regent drew his authority, even his usual royal title, from that religious claim.
In most circumstances, these beliefs strengthened the authority of the royal family. Unfortunately, they came with a significant drawback: a large number of often-turbulent priests. Priests were both indispensable and infuriating to the Yadji rulers. Yadji communities were organised collectively, with a form of central planning and communal allocation of resources. The local priest-bureaucrats were the effective administrators of this system, following the broad dictates of the Regent’s policies, but coordinating all local activities. Those priests were regularly rotated between towns or communities to prevent them building up a local power base.
In the capital itself, Kirunmara [Terang], the priests were usually much more turbulent. Senior priests in Kirunmara were traditionally appointed into roles for life, and usually accumulated a great deal of power. In part, this was based on simple necessity. Coordinating the economy of the Empire required a specialised, talented corps of administrators who followed the Regent’s will. Priests were generally more reliable in this role than quarrelsome princes. But part of this was simple religious authority. Priests claimed considerable status, and were often capable of influencing a weaker Regent to follow their lead. In times of unclear succession, they could also play a considerable role in determining the next Regent.
Nowhere were these priests more turbulent than during the events of what the Yadji of the time called the Year of the Twisted Serpent; that is, their civil war of 1629-1638 [2]. The assassination of the mad Regent Boringa Yadji led to a disputed succession between Gunya Yadji and his cousin Bailgu. Bailgu had a greater reputation for piety, and was so favoured by more of the priests. Gunya had a better military reputation, and was favoured by more, (though by no means all) of the other princes.
The succession question was ultimately settled on the battlefield, where Gunya triumphed. During the war, however, he faced ongoing problems with priests who interfered with his authority over those lands he ruled, sometimes overtly, sometimes just by inaction. Being by nature disinclined to tolerate opposition, Gunya had many of the local priests killed where they defied his authority, although the senior priests in the capital were spared.
With the war won, Gunya found that his priestly problems had not been resolved. He still needed new priests to administer the empire’s planned economy. Quite simply, no alternative existed to the priest-bureaucrats for effective administration of the state. So while he had temporarily broken them during the civil war, the priests returned to power afterward. Worse, so did their discontent with his rule. Opposition was much less blatant now that he had been crowned Regent. Yet every plague, or outbreak of flood or fire, led to priestly murmurings about how the Regent had displeased the Neverborn with his lack of piety.
After trade relations with England opened in 1642, word gradually spread about the faith of the Raw Men. Details were scant at first; the English East India Company sent soldiers, not missionaries. But some people asked questions, and in time tales began to filter through to Kirunmara. Gunya Yadji heard about these tales mostly in the context of his senior priests’ dissatisfaction with them; naturally, this meant that he looked more sympathetically upon the Raw Men’s faith.
In time, war returned between Tjibarr and the Yadji Empire [3]. European mercenaries fought in that struggle, led by Prince Rupert of the Rhine. Gunya did not trouble himself to ask mercenaries about their religion; when he spoke to Prince Rupert, he had other matters on his mind, usually about stopping the prince from plundering conquered lands. But this war also brought Dutch raids onto Yadji territory, and other disputes over commerce that needed to be resolved. This meant that Gunya Yadji periodically had EIC representatives brought to Kirunmara to discuss these matters. While those representatives were present, he took the opportunity to ask occasional questions about their religion.
Gunya’s religious questions did not, in fact, usually touch on matters of doctrine. In truth, those concerned him very little. He asked rather more about how the Church of England was administered, and its interactions with the monarchy. The cultural gap meant that Gunya did not fully appreciate much of what he was told, and the message he heard was often not one which the Christians to whom he spoke would have wanted him to conclude.
Gunya heard, and approved, of how Henry VIII had broken with Rome and created a new church when the Pope refused to sanction his view of faith. He heard how in earlier times no less a figure than the head of the Church of England (or so he understood it), the Archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas à Becket, had been murdered on the orders of the king. Gunya also heard how the King of England was Defender of the Faith, and he personally appointed all of the bishops of the Church of England; in contrast to Gunya’s own religion, where in practice most religious appointments were carried out by the senior priests.
When he heard enough of these matters, Gunya decided to invite the English king to send a senior bishop to Kirunmara, so that he might hear for himself more about these matters of faith.
* * *
Extracts from the personal correspondence of William Sancroft, a Cambridge Fellow chosen to be among the clerical party sent to support Dr Ralph Brownrigg, Bishop of Exeter, on his mission to Durigal.
From a letter to the Dean of St. Paul’s, after receiving word that his name was being considered among those for inclusion in the party to Aururia:
“I have lately offered up to God the first fruits of that calling which I intend: and if, through your prayers and God’s blessing on my endeavours, I may become an instrument in any measure fitted to bear his name before his people, abroad in the Land of Gold or any most obscure corner of the world, or before his people in England, it shall be my joy and the crown of my rejoicing in the Lord. I am persuaded that for this end I was sent into the world; and therefore, if God lends me life and abilities, I shall be willing to spend myself and be spent upon the work.
If it not be done, I pray, Sir, think not of me before you determine, for that nobody knows of it, I weigh not; for I desire more a thousand times to approve myself to God and my own conscience than to all the world beside.”
*
From a letter from Mr Sancroft to his father, inquiring after his previous letter’s request for approval of his accepting a commission to Aururia:
“Sir,
I wrote to you by Rogers concerning a business of some moment. I doubt not that you have received my letter, and I expect every hour an answer. But having heard now something more concerning it, I thought it my duty to impart it. Mr. Boucher had before given me some intimations of the nature of the place, which I now understand more fully by a letter from himself. ’Tis a rich merchant in London, a friend of his, that would send his son over beyond sea; and Mr. B. hath recounted a tale of a land abundant in gold but deprived of God, ripe to be called to Christendom: a copy of this letter I enclose.
“I was this morning with my Lord of Exeter, and acquainted him with it, who hath enjoined me to attend upon him in the country. I shall have his counsel and direction, and, which is more, his prayers; I have already a promise from him often reiterated, that, if it can be in his power to do me a kindness, he will not forget me...”
*
From a letter to Dr Holdsworth, Bishop of Bath and Wells, expressing his frustration with his own and others’ conduct in Aururia:
“Much honoured sir,
I have formerly troubled you with my desires, and they met acceptance from you. I hope I may now take leave to sigh out my griefs before you, and pour my sorrow into your bosom. You have not thought good, as yet, to give a check to my former impertinencies, and so I dare be confident, your goodness will be a sanctuary for this offence too, which yet, if it must be called so, is no other than an offence of love, or if that be too bold a word, of deepest regard and respect to you.
I live now in a realm in which to speak freely is dangerous, imó nec gemere tuto licet; faces are scanned, and looks are construed, and gestures are made to confess something which may undo the actor; and though the proclamation in this distant realm may be of the name liberty, as the heathens understand it, yet within there is nothing but perfect slavery, worse than Russian.
Woe worth a heart then oppressed with grief in such a conjuncture of time as this. Fears and complaints, you know, are the only kindly and gentle evaporations of burthened spirits, and if we must be bereaved of this sad comfort too, what else is left to us but either to whisper our griefs to one another, or else to sit down and sink under the burthen of them.
I live in times that have, of late, been fatal in abating of heads: the proud Yadji monarch honours the sanctity of those brought with my lord of Exeter, but beheads at a blow other Englishmen who have given offence; my lord’s conduct to those under sanctity brings not beheading at a blow, but ’tis an experiment in the mastery of cruelty. Harsh affliction and punitive correction of error marks greater station amongst these heathens, and a small matter shall prevail in cruelty when it is marked by the Yadji and reported to my lord. Nor need we voluntarily act beyond our station, for to mark his own station is required of my lord to better bring the heathen monarch into the Lord’s fold; to refuse his conduct could be to thwart the hand of God.
I can at least look up through this mist and see the hand of my God holding the scourge that lashes, and with this thought I am able to silence all of the mutinies of boisterous passions, and to charm them into perfect calm. Sir, you will pardon this disjointed piece, it is the production of a disquieted mind, and no wonder if the child resembles its parent; my sorrow, as yet, breaks forth only in abrupt sighs and broken sobs.”
* * *
To Ralph Brownrigg, Bishop of Exeter, the invitation to the heathen Land of Gold offered what seemed a divine opportunity. Here was the chance to create a new Constantine, the prospect of a top-down conversion that would bring Christianity to an entire realm of heathens. Most of the clerics he brought with him to Aururia were of similar mind.
The reality, alas, proved to be far from their expectations. Gunya Yadji met with the Bishop personally, at least, and in what Gunya at least believed was a sign of great clemency, refrained from ordering the execution of another priest who tried to speak directly to the Regent. The Bishop tried to speak of Christ’s sacrifice for all men, of the Gospel that carried his words, and of other articles of the Christian creed. He tried to show Gunya the Bible and the Book of Common Prayer. Gunya listened politely, but his questions in answer were much more about bishops, appointments, and church hierarchies than the words of the Lord.
The Bishop persisted in his efforts, of course. He endeavoured to understand the Yadji mindset, seeking insights from his interpreters, and holding conversations with Yadji priests. He quickly realised the punitive Yadji approach to any social misdemeanours – which could often have fatal results if a higher-status Yadji felt offended. He gave an explanation to Gunya that he wanted to punish all transgressors personally, and Gunya gave appropriate instructions to his subjects to refer all grievances to the Bishop, and never take personal action. The Bishop adopted this approach to spare the lives of his fellow clerics, but to his disappointment many of them perceived him as having ‘gone native’ when he punished them on behalf of the offended Yadji.
Despite all the Bishop’s careful efforts, he could not induce Gunya to anything resembling conversion. For Gunya’s motivations were, in fact, much more pragmatic than the English clerics realised. He knew that any conversion could cause immense difficulties amongst his subjects, if not carried out correctly. For all of his apparent politeness when listening, Gunya quickly reached the conclusion that his most worthwhile endeavour would be to reform the Yadji religious hierarchy along English lines.
Gunya did allow some scope for a Christian presence in the Yadji Empire. He permitted a translation to be made of the Bible and the Book of Common Prayer. He allowed the permanent establishment of a small Church of England mission in Kirunmara, to advise the Regent and the royal family on spiritual matters. He forbade this mission from proselytising in the Empire, but sanctioned the English to practice Christianity within their own trading outposts. The Bishop and his fellow clerics thought this was a sign of genuine religious interest, when in truth Gunya simply wanted to keep options available if he ever decided to give more active support to Christianity.
From Gunya’s perspective, however, the more promising outcome from the English clerical visit was his fuller understanding of their church structure. He proclaimed a major restructure of the Yadji priestly hierarchy. The core of this reform was the abolition of most senior priestly offices within Kirunmara itself, save only a handful of roles concerned with broad administrative planning and public religious rituals.
In their place, he established a new priestly rank, conveniently called bittop. Each bittop was responsible for a region of the Empire, and would oversee all of the planning and administrative functions for the communities within their regions. Thus, the centralised planning of the Yadji Empire was partially devolved into regional bittops, with only a much-streamlined central planning group kept within Kirunmara itself. Crucially, these bittops, and the four artbittops of the four provinces, were directly appointed by the monarch. In common with other regional priests, and unlike the previous senior priests of Kirunmara, the bittops were also rotated between regions every three to four years to prevent them building up any regional power base.
This reform was implemented over 1653-1658. It had scarcely been in place for two years before it faced the challenges of managing the Great Death.
* * *
Djargominda: “Sire, I protest. I cannot be removed from my office and turned into a wandering Bittop. Your predecessor appointed me First Watcher of the Dreams [a senior priestly role]. This post has always been held for life.”
Gunya Yadji: “If you wish, that will become true.”
* * *
[1] The rendition of the Yadji titles into English in this letter caused some translation difficulties, partly because the titles were not closely equivalent, but mostly because the translation was being done by a Yadji scribe translating terms into Nangu for a Nangu-speaking Englishman to then render into English. (Learning the Junditmara language was not usually attempted by Raw Men, because it was easy to make mistakes and a sword through the stomach often offends.)
The actual word translated “sovereign” – Pidjupuk – would be more accurately rendered as “emperor”. However, in this era European monarchs reserved the term emperor for those who claimed it based on Roman origin, principally the Holy Roman Emperor, the Tsar of Russia, and the Ottoman Emperors. The translators used the more ambiguous word sovereign to avoid implying that the English monarch was inferior to the Yadji monarch.
The various land-related titles were also rendered somewhat inaccurately. The actual Yadji title is Pidjupuk nyu Durigal: Emperor of the Land of the Five Directions (Durigal). The Yadji divide their Land into four provinces: the Red Country (Wyelangta), the Lake Country (Wyelidja), the Golden Country (Wyenambul) and the White Country (Wyeyangeree) – see post #16. These are simply regions, with no separate kingly title for them. The Yadji scribe who translated the letter apparently used these terms to be seen as equivalent to what they understood as Charles II being king of several different lands – they had no concept of personal union, or that the King of France was simply a dormant claim.
[2] The Yadji use a form of the Gunnagal calendar, with years starting at the southern hemisphere’s autumn equinox. The years themselves are named for the ruling Regent. Without a named Regent, therefore, they had to choose another name for the years of the civil war. They called it the Year of the Twisted Serpent, and it turned out to be longer than the average year.
[3] That is, the war variously called the Great Unpleasantness, Windi Bidwadjari (Bidwadjari’s War), the Musket War, the Fever War, or Prince Rupert’s War (1645-1650).
* * *
Thoughts?
“It is the cause, and not the death, that makes the martyr.”
- Tjewarra (“strong heart”), Atjuntja activist
* * *
From a letter that arrived in London on 29 April 1649:
To His Majesty Charles the Second, King of England, France, Scotland and Ireland, Defender of the Faith, from your brother Gunya Yadji, Regent of the Never-Born God, Sovereign of Durigal, King of Wyelangta, Wyelidja, Wyenambul and Wyeyangeree [1]: May the days of your reign be long and prosperous. May you know good fortune and pleasant company through all the days of your life.
Word has come to me from your servants who are permitted trade with Durigal. They speak of the church that you lead, as the supreme worldly representative of your Divine, that you choose the bishops that guide your church in your stead, and that as Defender of the Faith you are the final arbiter on all decisions involving the church. They speak that much as the men of the Regency do, your church too knows the truth that the end of times will come, and that the world must be made ready for this.
I ask that you choose from among your bishops a man strong of wisdom and understanding of the royal bulwark of faith, and send him to Durigal in your stead, that he may give me more answers about your church and its conduct.
* * *
While not a pious man himself, Gunya Yadji knew that much of his royal authority stemmed from the fervent religious beliefs of his subjects. They believed in the great struggle between the good Neverborn, the god within the earth, and the evil Firstborn, the Lord of Night, the treacherous deity in the sky. The Regent drew his authority, even his usual royal title, from that religious claim.
In most circumstances, these beliefs strengthened the authority of the royal family. Unfortunately, they came with a significant drawback: a large number of often-turbulent priests. Priests were both indispensable and infuriating to the Yadji rulers. Yadji communities were organised collectively, with a form of central planning and communal allocation of resources. The local priest-bureaucrats were the effective administrators of this system, following the broad dictates of the Regent’s policies, but coordinating all local activities. Those priests were regularly rotated between towns or communities to prevent them building up a local power base.
In the capital itself, Kirunmara [Terang], the priests were usually much more turbulent. Senior priests in Kirunmara were traditionally appointed into roles for life, and usually accumulated a great deal of power. In part, this was based on simple necessity. Coordinating the economy of the Empire required a specialised, talented corps of administrators who followed the Regent’s will. Priests were generally more reliable in this role than quarrelsome princes. But part of this was simple religious authority. Priests claimed considerable status, and were often capable of influencing a weaker Regent to follow their lead. In times of unclear succession, they could also play a considerable role in determining the next Regent.
Nowhere were these priests more turbulent than during the events of what the Yadji of the time called the Year of the Twisted Serpent; that is, their civil war of 1629-1638 [2]. The assassination of the mad Regent Boringa Yadji led to a disputed succession between Gunya Yadji and his cousin Bailgu. Bailgu had a greater reputation for piety, and was so favoured by more of the priests. Gunya had a better military reputation, and was favoured by more, (though by no means all) of the other princes.
The succession question was ultimately settled on the battlefield, where Gunya triumphed. During the war, however, he faced ongoing problems with priests who interfered with his authority over those lands he ruled, sometimes overtly, sometimes just by inaction. Being by nature disinclined to tolerate opposition, Gunya had many of the local priests killed where they defied his authority, although the senior priests in the capital were spared.
With the war won, Gunya found that his priestly problems had not been resolved. He still needed new priests to administer the empire’s planned economy. Quite simply, no alternative existed to the priest-bureaucrats for effective administration of the state. So while he had temporarily broken them during the civil war, the priests returned to power afterward. Worse, so did their discontent with his rule. Opposition was much less blatant now that he had been crowned Regent. Yet every plague, or outbreak of flood or fire, led to priestly murmurings about how the Regent had displeased the Neverborn with his lack of piety.
After trade relations with England opened in 1642, word gradually spread about the faith of the Raw Men. Details were scant at first; the English East India Company sent soldiers, not missionaries. But some people asked questions, and in time tales began to filter through to Kirunmara. Gunya Yadji heard about these tales mostly in the context of his senior priests’ dissatisfaction with them; naturally, this meant that he looked more sympathetically upon the Raw Men’s faith.
In time, war returned between Tjibarr and the Yadji Empire [3]. European mercenaries fought in that struggle, led by Prince Rupert of the Rhine. Gunya did not trouble himself to ask mercenaries about their religion; when he spoke to Prince Rupert, he had other matters on his mind, usually about stopping the prince from plundering conquered lands. But this war also brought Dutch raids onto Yadji territory, and other disputes over commerce that needed to be resolved. This meant that Gunya Yadji periodically had EIC representatives brought to Kirunmara to discuss these matters. While those representatives were present, he took the opportunity to ask occasional questions about their religion.
Gunya’s religious questions did not, in fact, usually touch on matters of doctrine. In truth, those concerned him very little. He asked rather more about how the Church of England was administered, and its interactions with the monarchy. The cultural gap meant that Gunya did not fully appreciate much of what he was told, and the message he heard was often not one which the Christians to whom he spoke would have wanted him to conclude.
Gunya heard, and approved, of how Henry VIII had broken with Rome and created a new church when the Pope refused to sanction his view of faith. He heard how in earlier times no less a figure than the head of the Church of England (or so he understood it), the Archbishop of Canterbury, Thomas à Becket, had been murdered on the orders of the king. Gunya also heard how the King of England was Defender of the Faith, and he personally appointed all of the bishops of the Church of England; in contrast to Gunya’s own religion, where in practice most religious appointments were carried out by the senior priests.
When he heard enough of these matters, Gunya decided to invite the English king to send a senior bishop to Kirunmara, so that he might hear for himself more about these matters of faith.
* * *
Extracts from the personal correspondence of William Sancroft, a Cambridge Fellow chosen to be among the clerical party sent to support Dr Ralph Brownrigg, Bishop of Exeter, on his mission to Durigal.
From a letter to the Dean of St. Paul’s, after receiving word that his name was being considered among those for inclusion in the party to Aururia:
“I have lately offered up to God the first fruits of that calling which I intend: and if, through your prayers and God’s blessing on my endeavours, I may become an instrument in any measure fitted to bear his name before his people, abroad in the Land of Gold or any most obscure corner of the world, or before his people in England, it shall be my joy and the crown of my rejoicing in the Lord. I am persuaded that for this end I was sent into the world; and therefore, if God lends me life and abilities, I shall be willing to spend myself and be spent upon the work.
If it not be done, I pray, Sir, think not of me before you determine, for that nobody knows of it, I weigh not; for I desire more a thousand times to approve myself to God and my own conscience than to all the world beside.”
*
From a letter from Mr Sancroft to his father, inquiring after his previous letter’s request for approval of his accepting a commission to Aururia:
“Sir,
I wrote to you by Rogers concerning a business of some moment. I doubt not that you have received my letter, and I expect every hour an answer. But having heard now something more concerning it, I thought it my duty to impart it. Mr. Boucher had before given me some intimations of the nature of the place, which I now understand more fully by a letter from himself. ’Tis a rich merchant in London, a friend of his, that would send his son over beyond sea; and Mr. B. hath recounted a tale of a land abundant in gold but deprived of God, ripe to be called to Christendom: a copy of this letter I enclose.
“I was this morning with my Lord of Exeter, and acquainted him with it, who hath enjoined me to attend upon him in the country. I shall have his counsel and direction, and, which is more, his prayers; I have already a promise from him often reiterated, that, if it can be in his power to do me a kindness, he will not forget me...”
*
From a letter to Dr Holdsworth, Bishop of Bath and Wells, expressing his frustration with his own and others’ conduct in Aururia:
“Much honoured sir,
I have formerly troubled you with my desires, and they met acceptance from you. I hope I may now take leave to sigh out my griefs before you, and pour my sorrow into your bosom. You have not thought good, as yet, to give a check to my former impertinencies, and so I dare be confident, your goodness will be a sanctuary for this offence too, which yet, if it must be called so, is no other than an offence of love, or if that be too bold a word, of deepest regard and respect to you.
I live now in a realm in which to speak freely is dangerous, imó nec gemere tuto licet; faces are scanned, and looks are construed, and gestures are made to confess something which may undo the actor; and though the proclamation in this distant realm may be of the name liberty, as the heathens understand it, yet within there is nothing but perfect slavery, worse than Russian.
Woe worth a heart then oppressed with grief in such a conjuncture of time as this. Fears and complaints, you know, are the only kindly and gentle evaporations of burthened spirits, and if we must be bereaved of this sad comfort too, what else is left to us but either to whisper our griefs to one another, or else to sit down and sink under the burthen of them.
I live in times that have, of late, been fatal in abating of heads: the proud Yadji monarch honours the sanctity of those brought with my lord of Exeter, but beheads at a blow other Englishmen who have given offence; my lord’s conduct to those under sanctity brings not beheading at a blow, but ’tis an experiment in the mastery of cruelty. Harsh affliction and punitive correction of error marks greater station amongst these heathens, and a small matter shall prevail in cruelty when it is marked by the Yadji and reported to my lord. Nor need we voluntarily act beyond our station, for to mark his own station is required of my lord to better bring the heathen monarch into the Lord’s fold; to refuse his conduct could be to thwart the hand of God.
I can at least look up through this mist and see the hand of my God holding the scourge that lashes, and with this thought I am able to silence all of the mutinies of boisterous passions, and to charm them into perfect calm. Sir, you will pardon this disjointed piece, it is the production of a disquieted mind, and no wonder if the child resembles its parent; my sorrow, as yet, breaks forth only in abrupt sighs and broken sobs.”
* * *
To Ralph Brownrigg, Bishop of Exeter, the invitation to the heathen Land of Gold offered what seemed a divine opportunity. Here was the chance to create a new Constantine, the prospect of a top-down conversion that would bring Christianity to an entire realm of heathens. Most of the clerics he brought with him to Aururia were of similar mind.
The reality, alas, proved to be far from their expectations. Gunya Yadji met with the Bishop personally, at least, and in what Gunya at least believed was a sign of great clemency, refrained from ordering the execution of another priest who tried to speak directly to the Regent. The Bishop tried to speak of Christ’s sacrifice for all men, of the Gospel that carried his words, and of other articles of the Christian creed. He tried to show Gunya the Bible and the Book of Common Prayer. Gunya listened politely, but his questions in answer were much more about bishops, appointments, and church hierarchies than the words of the Lord.
The Bishop persisted in his efforts, of course. He endeavoured to understand the Yadji mindset, seeking insights from his interpreters, and holding conversations with Yadji priests. He quickly realised the punitive Yadji approach to any social misdemeanours – which could often have fatal results if a higher-status Yadji felt offended. He gave an explanation to Gunya that he wanted to punish all transgressors personally, and Gunya gave appropriate instructions to his subjects to refer all grievances to the Bishop, and never take personal action. The Bishop adopted this approach to spare the lives of his fellow clerics, but to his disappointment many of them perceived him as having ‘gone native’ when he punished them on behalf of the offended Yadji.
Despite all the Bishop’s careful efforts, he could not induce Gunya to anything resembling conversion. For Gunya’s motivations were, in fact, much more pragmatic than the English clerics realised. He knew that any conversion could cause immense difficulties amongst his subjects, if not carried out correctly. For all of his apparent politeness when listening, Gunya quickly reached the conclusion that his most worthwhile endeavour would be to reform the Yadji religious hierarchy along English lines.
Gunya did allow some scope for a Christian presence in the Yadji Empire. He permitted a translation to be made of the Bible and the Book of Common Prayer. He allowed the permanent establishment of a small Church of England mission in Kirunmara, to advise the Regent and the royal family on spiritual matters. He forbade this mission from proselytising in the Empire, but sanctioned the English to practice Christianity within their own trading outposts. The Bishop and his fellow clerics thought this was a sign of genuine religious interest, when in truth Gunya simply wanted to keep options available if he ever decided to give more active support to Christianity.
From Gunya’s perspective, however, the more promising outcome from the English clerical visit was his fuller understanding of their church structure. He proclaimed a major restructure of the Yadji priestly hierarchy. The core of this reform was the abolition of most senior priestly offices within Kirunmara itself, save only a handful of roles concerned with broad administrative planning and public religious rituals.
In their place, he established a new priestly rank, conveniently called bittop. Each bittop was responsible for a region of the Empire, and would oversee all of the planning and administrative functions for the communities within their regions. Thus, the centralised planning of the Yadji Empire was partially devolved into regional bittops, with only a much-streamlined central planning group kept within Kirunmara itself. Crucially, these bittops, and the four artbittops of the four provinces, were directly appointed by the monarch. In common with other regional priests, and unlike the previous senior priests of Kirunmara, the bittops were also rotated between regions every three to four years to prevent them building up any regional power base.
This reform was implemented over 1653-1658. It had scarcely been in place for two years before it faced the challenges of managing the Great Death.
* * *
Djargominda: “Sire, I protest. I cannot be removed from my office and turned into a wandering Bittop. Your predecessor appointed me First Watcher of the Dreams [a senior priestly role]. This post has always been held for life.”
Gunya Yadji: “If you wish, that will become true.”
* * *
[1] The rendition of the Yadji titles into English in this letter caused some translation difficulties, partly because the titles were not closely equivalent, but mostly because the translation was being done by a Yadji scribe translating terms into Nangu for a Nangu-speaking Englishman to then render into English. (Learning the Junditmara language was not usually attempted by Raw Men, because it was easy to make mistakes and a sword through the stomach often offends.)
The actual word translated “sovereign” – Pidjupuk – would be more accurately rendered as “emperor”. However, in this era European monarchs reserved the term emperor for those who claimed it based on Roman origin, principally the Holy Roman Emperor, the Tsar of Russia, and the Ottoman Emperors. The translators used the more ambiguous word sovereign to avoid implying that the English monarch was inferior to the Yadji monarch.
The various land-related titles were also rendered somewhat inaccurately. The actual Yadji title is Pidjupuk nyu Durigal: Emperor of the Land of the Five Directions (Durigal). The Yadji divide their Land into four provinces: the Red Country (Wyelangta), the Lake Country (Wyelidja), the Golden Country (Wyenambul) and the White Country (Wyeyangeree) – see post #16. These are simply regions, with no separate kingly title for them. The Yadji scribe who translated the letter apparently used these terms to be seen as equivalent to what they understood as Charles II being king of several different lands – they had no concept of personal union, or that the King of France was simply a dormant claim.
[2] The Yadji use a form of the Gunnagal calendar, with years starting at the southern hemisphere’s autumn equinox. The years themselves are named for the ruling Regent. Without a named Regent, therefore, they had to choose another name for the years of the civil war. They called it the Year of the Twisted Serpent, and it turned out to be longer than the average year.
[3] That is, the war variously called the Great Unpleasantness, Windi Bidwadjari (Bidwadjari’s War), the Musket War, the Fever War, or Prince Rupert’s War (1645-1650).
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Thoughts?
A very interesting update. Its facsinating to see the Aurian's adopt technology and social concepts from the Europeans just as the European's are taking wealth from the Aurian's themselves. I bet the inhabitants of Australia end up faring better than the Native American's or African's ITTL.
I think they'll do better in the long term because their starting positions were much better to begin with, and with less possible leeway for European colonists to have their way with them. Personally, I'm happy to see this kind of development, and that it also keeps making sense within the plausibility restrictions and overall narrative of the timeline, as already established several years ago. 
This is great. Love how the Regent is just playing the English. It's genius. The Auririans are lucky to enter the forming global system when they did, meeting European powers that are more inclined for profit than outright loot and conquest types like the Spanish a century before. Plus being hella far from Europe helps too. Wonder if the Yadji will survive as an intact state. Though it's my guess they'll become at least something like an autonomous princely state beholden to England (but who knows, England might get knocked out of the game).
Lycaon pictus
Donor
This may have unintended consequences for Gunya. I can easily see the Yadji subject peoples converting to Anglicanism as an act of rebellion against Kirunmara and its priesthood.
It depends in which aspect you're talking about.
In terms of demographics, Africans will generally fare better. Not well, but better. That's almost entirely due to disease, of course. Most Africans (with the exception of a couple of groups such as the San) are already immune to the great wave of Old World diseases which are sweeping through Aururia. Of course, TTL's Africans will still have to contend with the slave trade, and the casualties from the Aururian plagues. But on the whole, they will generally do better in terms of population.
In terms of maintaining independence, having the opportunity to develop and/or adopt new technology, and so forth... well, that's harder to say. The appalling death toll from the plagues, and the general technological advantage, gives Europeans a significant window of opportunity, if they're in a position to exploit it. On the other hand, Aururia is a hell of a long way to project power for a European state in this period, and the main colonising powers are companies that are interested in profits, not in colonising for the hell of it.
The European companies will invade directly if they think they see an opportunity - or if general chaos from the plagues creates a power vacuum that they believe they need to step into to secure their own ongoing commerce from hostile locals and/or rival Europeans. But at the very least, the prospects of European settler colonies in most of Aururia are low. The main opportunities for settler colonies are in the northern half of the continent, and those are mostly unwelcoming regions (e.g. the Kimberley and Arnhem Land) or already targets for Aururian settler colonies (i.e. north-eastern Queensland).
I think they'll do better in the long term because their starting positions were much better to begin with, and with less possible leeway for European colonists to have their way with them. Personally, I'm happy to see this kind of development, and that it also keeps making sense within the plausibility restrictions and overall narrative of the timeline, as already established several years ago.
I certainly don't intend to push for anything implausible. I started this timeline with no fixed fate in mind for the Aururian societies; I figured I would just write it and see where things end up.
Although I do have more of an idea now of where things will finish up, even then, many of the details are still undetermined. This is partly to keep my own interest up - if I knew everything in advance, writing it would be dreadfully boring - and partly to keep some flexibility in case I realise more about what's plausible or implausible.
In very general terms, even the absolute worst case for the main agricultural Aururian societies will still see their descendants be the majority, or at least plurality, in those regions. (*Tasmania and *Eyre Peninsula being possible, but very unlikely, exceptions.)
The absolute best case, well.. some Aururian societies could go quite a long way.
I did have a lot of fun writing this section, I admit.
Yes, the timing for them really worked out. Purely by coincidence, of course; I didn't plan for a particular time for European contact, I just went with the dates most likely from actual European contact with OTL Australia.
But the age of Spanish plunder and conquest has (mostly) passed, and the era of other European powers creating large direct colonial empires is mostly in the future. This is mainly the era of indirect, profit-driven, corporate colonialism. Not a nice thing to be on the receiving end of, but the alternatives were both worse.
The Yadji's fate could go either way. I've previously noted that in terms of likelihood to survive as sovereign entities until 1800, the mostly likely candidates are (more or less in order), Tjibarr, the Nuttana, the Yadji, and the Patjimunra. They do have some advantages, but on the other hand, all that gold is oh so tempting for Europeans.
And yes, just because England starts out as the colonial power/trading partner, nothing says that things will stay that way. The Dutch are out of the game for a while (the Yadji are just too hostile), but some equivalent of the OTL Anglo-French competition in India is a distinct possibility. With lesser powers such as Portugal or Bavaria being remoter possibilities.
Christianity may well spread to parts of the Yadji subject peoples, though it will be over a lot of dead bodies; the Yadji have a rather direct approach to religious disagreement. It would also directly threaten the English trading relationship with the Yadji. None of this stops it happening, but it is a firm incentive for the EIC to discourage conversion attempts.
That said, even a switch to Christianity wouldn't necessarily break the Regency. Many of the Yadji subject peoples already have a different belief to their rulers. There are some Plirite peoples in the north-west parts of the Yadji realm, and other subject peoples also maintain various forms of Gunnagalic religions. The Yadji have been intermittent in their views on other faiths; sometimes the Regents actively encourage conversion (at sword-point, if necessary), while sometimes they are content to leave well enough alone. Having subject peoples convert to Christianity might be more troublesome for the Yadji, but would not itself be a death-blow.
Kaiphranos
Donor
Well, LoRaG Bavaria currently borders on Bohemia, and the seacoasts of Bohemia are well-known through the works of noted geographer W. Shakespeare, so...
(Actually, it's an interesting question--the closest coast is currently the Adriatic, but who knows how Bavaria's border may expand over the coming centuries?)Anyway, a fun update--I like the bittops and artbittops. Are there any OTL examples of European nomenclature getting adopted (or adapted) like that?
The Maori are still in contact with parts of Polynesia, having kept their maritime traditions alive (at least in part). That contact has recently been expanded, in a less than positive way (think Maori equivalents of Vikings), but it's always been around.
The Aururians didn't have any meaningful contact with Polynesians in the pre-European era. Possibly the odd individual Aururian got to live in Aotearoa and then joined a Maori expedition to Polynesia, but that would be about it. Other than that, the Nangu didn't sail that far.
TTL's Bavaria won majorly in the *Thirty Years' War, taking over most of Inner Austria, which included Trieste and some other small bits of the Adriatic coast. See the map here.
Plenty of political nomenclature being copied (prime minister, and so forth). Offhand, I can't think of any other adoptions of European religious nomenclature, but there may be some instances.
There is a Talmudic story, with Quranic reflexes, to the same effect. The people of a city is turned into monkeys for not having observed the Shabbat (OTOH, I admit that my source on this is not always entirely reliable).
At this point, I think the Tjibar is in the best position of any of the Aururian kingdoms so far. They're actually in a pretty good position to pull off something very similar to what Thailand pulled off, ie. play both the Dutch and the English off each other and set themselves up as sort of a "buffer" between the Dutch in the Atjuntja lands, and the English in the Yadji.
The Yadji I think need to invite at least one other European power, most likely the French, if the don't want the English to gain too much influence.
The Yadji I think need to invite at least one other European power, most likely the French, if the don't want the English to gain too much influence.
Great minds on multiple continents can come up with similar stories.
Tjibarr is not in quite the same position as Thailand, since they're not really between the Dutch and English zones. Well, kinda-sorta with the Dutch protectorate over the *Eyre Peninsula, but not in any major way. Still, if they are careful in how they play the game, they may well have the Dutch prepared to support them, even if the Dutch have no real major influence in Tjibarr, in exchange for simply keeping the English out.
In the longer run, if more European powers get established in other regions - on the east coast near the *Hunter Valley, say, or into the highlands via some south-east coast settlements - then Tjibarr may fit more into a Thailand analogue.
If the Yadji rulers were as politically astute as the Tjibarri, they would realise that. Unfortunately, they're not at that point yet. They think of the English as convenient, and their trade as useful, but not as an overwhelming threat. (And to be fair, the English aren't that big a threat, at the moment, though they might become so over time.)
Gunya Yadji, while cunning in other ways, isn't quite ready to grasp things like that. Maybe his (eventual) successors will be more aware, whether through natural insight or just because they begin to feel the English squeezing at them.
mojojojo
Gone Fishin'
Great minds on multiple continents can come up with similar stories.
Yeah Desmond Morris once said that people all around the world seem to be Darwinists in reverse when it come to the origins of apes and monkeys
The relationship between them and people is kind of hard to miss.
Peoples all around the world tended to come up with one of two explanations for them:
(i) People are descended from monkeys and apes; or
(ii) Apes and monkeys are descended from people.
Both of those are equally incorrect, of course, but then there you go.
Ultimate Paragon
Banned
In reality, they're our cousins.The relationship between them and people is kind of hard to miss.
Peoples all around the world tended to come up with one of two explanations for them:
(i) People are descended from monkeys and apes; or
(ii) Apes and monkeys are descended from people.
Both of those are equally incorrect, of course, but then there you go.
Quite. Although that's the sort of insight which more or less requires knowledge of evolution to start with.
Look forward to see the religious evolution of Aururia.
Keep up the good work, Jared!
Merci. More will be coming about the history of religion in Aururia, although I'd hesitate to set an exact timeframe.
On another note entirely, is there anyone who could help designing a small-scale map for an upcoming post? I plan to show one of the Pakanga raids in action, and it would help to be able to visualise it. I have a couple of pdf maps available which would help in creating a base map.
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