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Odstock looked both cynical and outraged, but that young Trader appeared rather downcast. “The criminals who engage in this illegal trade will be firmly dealt with,” he continued. “Some, including Mr. Zhou, may be executed.”

Mr. Zhou looked very unhappy.

Odstock spoke, and Mr. Singapore said, “The fat barbarian asks if the Celestial Kingdom wants to sell tea.”

“The Celestial Kingdom has no need to sell anything,” said Shi-Rong, “but the goods it does sell are healthful, such as tea and the rhubarb herb, without which you will die.” He saw the two barbarians look surprised. Obviously they had not realized that he knew that their very lives depended on their getting the rhubarb. “We will allow barbarian merchants to buy these things for silver,” Shi-Rong concluded firmly. “That is all.”

Odstock and Zhou were silent. Shi-Rong turned his attention to Trader. “Ask him, if he is a scholar, why has he become a pirate,” he told Mr. Singapore.

“He says he is not a pirate. He is a merchant.”

“Well then, if he is a scholar, why is he a merchant, the lowest form of humanity?”

“He says the merchant is not the lowest form of humanity. Not in his country.”

It seemed to Shi-Rong that this young barbarian had replied hotly to his question, even defiantly, as if his own country were the equal of the Celestial Kingdom. And this when he and his fellow Fan Kuei were busy poisoning people for profit.

“We consider,” Shi-Rong said firmly, “that to be a peasant, honestly working the land, is a moral occupation. The merchant who takes the work of others and sells it for gain is clearly a person of a lower moral order, and he deserves to be despised. Tell him this.”

Mr. Singapore seemed to struggle a bit translating this, but he managed to do so. Trader said nothing.

Shi-Rong returned to the attack. “In any case, his claim not to be a pirate is false. If he is honest, why is he breaking the law and selling opium to smugglers?”

“He says he is not under Chinese law.”

“He should respect the laws of the Celestial Kingdom, both because he is here and because those laws are benevolent, just, and wise.”

While Mr. Singapore tried to convey these ideas, Shi-Rong considered. It seemed to him that Trader’s answers did not really add up. “Is he truly a scholar?” he asked skeptically.

“He says he attended the University of Oxford.”

“I do not know what that is. Ask him where his country is and how big it is.”

“He says it is an island far, far to the west, but that it possesses an empire bigger than the Celestial Kingdom.”

Shi-Rong felt a sense of disappointment. Obviously this young man was not only arrogant, but a liar. Perhaps it was a waste of time talking to him. He kept his face impassive, however, and pressed on. “Is it true that his kingdom is ruled by women?”

“He says nearly always by kings, but recently his country has a young queen.”

“And does his queen have good morals, or is she a wicked person?”

“He says she is named Queen Victoria and that she has the highest morals.”

“Then why does she permit her merchants to sell opium?”

“His queen does not think opium is bad. She takes it herself. Opium is healthful—only bad if taken to excess.”

“But that is the point,” cried Shi-Rong. “It is taken to excess. People smoke a little. Then they want more. Soon they are unable to stop. They spend all their money. They cannot work. They become like sick shadows. In the end they die. Millions of people in the Celestial Kingdom are being destroyed by this poison. How can he say it is healthful?”

“He says that each man is responsible for his actions.”

“A good ruler should protect his people. He has the same responsibility as a father to his son. Does he know anything of Confucius?”

“He has heard of Confucius.”

The barbarian was not completely ignorant, then.

“Then he will know that all men owe obedience: A son should obey his father; his father should obey the emperor. If the emperor rules wisely and justly, then this flows down through all his people. It is when the chains of proper conduct are broken that evil and chaos ensue. There are millions of people in the Celestial Kingdom. But they are all held together by obedience and right conduct, in service to the emperor, whose justice comes from the Mandate of Heaven. Therefore it is not for you or any barbarian ruler to judge what is right or wrong, but the emperor. Nothing else needs to be said.”

Shi-Rong noticed that Mr. Singapore struggled for quite a time in conveying this to Trader. But he was patient. Until this barbarian, whether he was a scholar or not, understood the basic facts of morality, there could be no basis for conversation between them.

“He says that his queen is also anointed by Heaven,” declared Mr. Singapore at last.

“In that case,” said Shi-Rong triumphantly, “I will show him the letter.” And he drew out a document and handed it to Trader. “You may explain to him that this is a draft, that you have translated into his own tongue, of the letter that Commissioner Lin is going to send to his queen.” And he watched with satisfaction as Trader took the letter and began to read.

It was a good letter. A true mandarin composition. It was reasonable. It was polite.

It pointed out that trade had carried on between their countries for centuries with peace and harmony. But recently, the trade in opium had become huge and destructive. It respectfully suggested that the Way of Heaven was the same for all countries, and that the commissioner was sure Queen Victoria would feel exactly the same about the importation of a poisonous drug into her kingdom as did the emperor. He knew that the opium came only from certain lands under her rule, and that it could not have been sold under her direction. Lin explained that the trade must cease, and asked

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