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diff --git a/43543-8.txt b/43543-8.txt deleted file mode 100644 index ca1816b..0000000 --- a/43543-8.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,10533 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg EBook of Adventures in the Moon, and Other Worlds, by -John Russell Russell - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with -almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or -re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included -with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org - - -Title: Adventures in the Moon, and Other Worlds - -Author: John Russell Russell - -Release Date: August 23, 2013 [EBook #43543] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ADVENTURES IN THE MOON *** - - - - -Produced by Chris Curnow, John Welch and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - ADVENTURES - - IN - - THE MOON, - - &c. - - - LONDON: - Printed by A. SPOTTISWOODE, - New-Street-Square. - - - ADVENTURES - - IN - - THE MOON, - - AND - - OTHER WORLDS. - - - LONDON: - PRINTED FOR - LONGMAN, REES, ORME, BROWN, GREEN, & LONGMAN, - PATERNOSTER-ROW. - 1836. - - - - -CONTENTS. - - - Page - - A JOURNEY TO THE MOON 3 - - MAHOMET AND THE SPIDER. (A Dialogue.) 149 - - A LETTER FROM POSTERITY TO THE PRESENT AGE 179 - - ANSWER FROM THE PRESENT AGE TO POSTERITY 193 - - THE SLEEPER AND THE SPIRIT. (A Dialogue.) 211 - - A DISPUTE BETWEEN THE MIND AND THE BODY 243 - - ALCIBIADES 293 - - TRUTH RELEASED 325 - A Letter from Thrasicles of Miletus to Rhodius of - Athens. - - THE TWO EVIL SPIRITS. - Dialogue I. 373 - Dialogue II. 386 - - THE JUDGMENT OF MAHOMET 419 - - - - -A JOURNEY TO THE MOON. - - - Ove mirabilmente era ridutto - Ciò che si perde o per nostro difetto, - O per colpa di tempo o di fortna. - Ciò che si perde qui là si raguna.--Ariosto. - -Je vous parle d'une des plus agréables foliès de l'Arioste, et je suis -sûr que vous serez bien aise de la savoir.--Fontenelle. - -Amongst inquisitive persons there has always been a wish to know -something about the moon, its surface, its inhabitants, and their -manners; and several philosophers, to satisfy this curiosity, have, with -much sagacity, construed its spots into mountains, volcanoes, and other -commodities which a world is supposed to want. But these travels must be -considered very imperfect; for by visiting a country through a -telescope, but little is to be known of its people, their manner of -living, their literature, their arts, or opinions. Accordingly, while -that was the only way of travelling, we knew little more of the moon -than that there was one. - -Amongst the other speculations on this subject, many ingenious men -exercised themselves in guessing what service the moon has to discharge -for the earth, since it was generally agreed impossible that our -satellite should revolve round us merely for its own advantage, though -it might perhaps in some measure be consulting its private ends; and it -was most commonly supposed to be transacting our business and its own at -the same time. - -First, then, it was supposed that the moon had been ordained with its -mountains, valleys, and volcanoes, that it might give us light in the -absence of the sun; and this was declared a powerful argument for the -bounty of Providence, which did not forget us even in the night, when -all other beings are asleep. But it was objected, that according to -this, reasoning Providence is bountiful only during a part of the month; -and that any argument in favour of Providence ought to last through the -whole year. - -To pass over all these uncertainties, I must remind my readers that our -moon was at length proved to be the receptacle of every thing lost upon -earth. This truth was the discovery of a great philosopher, and has -nothing in it of theory or conjecture, but was attained by experiment -and the strictest rules of induction. The knowledge of this must very -much increase the interest with which we look at the moon; since every -person has some loss to lament, and may gaze upon that heavenly body -with a certainty that it contains what has been dear to him. - -I had often wished that we could procure admission into the moon, in -order to regain what had once belonged to us, and had amused myself with -imagining the eager search that would take place; but without having the -least suspicion that this could ever be really effected, since the want -of air, and other conveniencies, is sufficient to discourage most -travellers; besides which, the having no ground to tread upon must -increase the difficulty of the journey. It cannot, therefore, be -wondered, that in former times only one journey to the moon was known to -have been accomplished, which is that related by Ariosto. But nothing -seems too difficult for modern science; and it is well known that, by a -most ingenious invention, we have lately been enabled to walk up into -our satellite with safety. As I, amongst others, have accomplished this -journey, I shall give a short narrative of my adventures, for the -amusement of those who have been deterred by the distance from -travelling in person. - -The nature of this invention is so well known, that I need give no -description of the journey. I saw great numbers travelling on the same -expedition; some being led by curiosity, but most by a hope of -retrieving the several losses that they had met with during life. I -inquired of many, what prizes they hoped to recover. Some decayed -people were going up in search of the health which they had once -enjoyed; a woman with a melancholy look told me she had undertaken this -journey with the hope of recovering her husband's good humour, which he -had totally lost, to her great discomfort. There was a lady who refused -to tell the motive of her journey, but it was whispered that she went to -look for her character. Many old people were going to regain their -youth. There seemed a great uncertainty as to the success of all these -projects; for, first, it might be very difficult to find the lost -advantages, and if they were found, none knew whether they could be used -a second time: all, however, had great hopes; and I saw two or three -men, who appeared incurably old, and were nevertheless convinced that, -as soon as they arrived in the moon, they should revoke their wrinkles, -and find some contrivance for not having lived the last fifty years. - -As I approached the moon, I enjoyed the splendour of the sight. Its -mountains far surpass ours in size; and in the shape of the surface -there is a greatness not to be found in the noblest parts of our earth. -I landed in the moon upon a plain, where I found grass and trees, the -particular nature of which I shall not describe, as this short narrative -is not intended to include botany and natural history--subjects which I -leave to those who travelled into our satellite for the express purpose -of studying them. I wish that my forbearance in this instance may be -imitated by some of the more confined travellers on this earth, who, in -the description of a country, thinking that no circumstance or -production must be omitted, are very apt to give information on subjects -of which they are profoundly ignorant. A traveller, who, in his own -country, has not skill to distinguish one herb from another, is a sudden -botanist on the other side of the globe, lest the book he is writing -should be incomplete. Many of them involve themselves in shells, -minerals, and other intricacies, on which they would not hazard a -conjecture at home. He who is silent on any subject, leaves his -knowledge in doubt; whereas, if he speaks, there can no longer be a -question. Upon many productions of the moon, therefore, I shall avoid -the indiscretion of being learned. - -When I landed there, my attention was first engaged by a singular change -in my sensations, through an increase of strength and activity. I had -known that this change must take place, and had expected some amusement -by observing it in my fellow travellers. As the weight of a body depends -not on its own mass alone, but also on the force of attraction in the -globe where it is placed, and as this attraction is in proportion to the -mass of the globe, a man who goes out of our earth into the moon, which -is much smaller, finds a great diminution of his weight. Still his -muscular strength remains the same, so that he gains a great advantage -in vigour and activity, and at the same time has a sensation of -lightness not to be described. Though prepared for this, I could not -immediately accommodate myself to the change. There was a small ditch in -my way, and thinking to step over it, I sprung as far as a deer could -leap. Nor could I at first regulate the effort of my muscles in walking, -but every step was a great bound; and until I had had some experience, I -was not able to walk with any moderation. - -While I was endeavouring to discipline my movements, I was amused by the -astonishment of my fellow travellers, who knew not the cause of their -own gambols, and were exhibiting great feats of activity when they -intended to be perfectly sedate. A number of persons were seen bounding -about like balls of Indian rubber. Some of them laughed, and others were -terrified at their sudden want of substance. A large man, who in his own -world had also been heavy, came bounding towards me with great -consternation in his face: I seized him in one hand, raised him from the -earth, and twirled him round my head with as much ease as a woman finds -in tossing a young child; at which his terror and astonishment were -redoubled. I endeavoured to make him understand why we were suddenly so -active and so strong; but gravitation was a new study to him, for he had -never had so frivolous a curiosity as to inquire the reason why he had -always remained on the earth in preference to flying away from it, and -accordingly I could not succeed in making his frolics intelligible. I -perceived he did not believe me, when I told him, that before we reached -the moon I had foreseen what gambols we should execute at our first -arrival. - -As I was determined to travel alone, I soon left my companions, -endeavouring not to jump about. After a short practice in walking I -attained a tolerable steadiness; and as my journey was to be on foot, I -found great advantage in the reduction of my weight, for I soon was able -to move along with wonderful speed, and scarcely ever was weary. The -sense of lightness was so singular, that it was impossible to make -others imagine what I felt. Not only had my whole body acquired a new -ease in moving, but every limb had a strange alacrity, and I could not -raise my hand without being surprised by its readiness. It seemed as if -I had been newly released from fetters. - -I found in myself another strange alteration, which I attributed to the -same cause. I arrived in the moon early in the morning, and left it in -the evening of the same day: this is a fortnight of our time; for as the -moon turns only once on its axis during a revolution round the earth, it -has only one day and night during our month. In this long day or -fortnight I never slept, and felt not the slightest desire for sleep. I -conclude that the relief from weight prevented the perpetual want of -restoration which we here labour under. - -Each country on our earth has a separate district in the moon, to which -its lost things repair; and these territories are divided from each -other by high and difficult mountains. Every thing which takes flight -from the earth has a strange intelligence, which guides it to its own -country in the moon. I had landed on the English domain, and now walked -along in expectation of meeting with some of the lost advantages of my -own world. My chief motive for this journey had been curiosity, -accompanied perhaps by that desire which makes so many travellers,--the -desire of having been where others have not. But besides these -inducements, I had entertained a design of bringing back some of my past -pleasures, if I should be able to find them, and if they were in a -condition to bear removal. Amongst the things that I had to regret, was -a considerable portion of time, which I had not used with all the -frugality that I now could wish. I was, therefore, in hope that this -commodity, though perhaps of no very great value, would appear to me in -the moon, and that I might find means of carrying it back. But I was -apprehensive that I might find it without knowing what it was; for I -could not imagine how time would appear to the eye, nor by what art it -could be laid by and preserved. - -As I walked along, being now quite alone, I heard a voice near me, and -turned towards it in the hope of being informed which way to betake -myself in order to find some of the curiosities that I was in search of. -When I reached the spot whence this voice proceeded, to my astonishment -I saw not a human being near, though the talking continued close to me. -I listened, and soon discovered that what I heard was the advice of a -father to his son against gambling; and then I concluded that it had -repaired to the moon as having been lost. In this admonition I -recognised the voice of an old friend of mine, whose son had devoted -himself with great energy to the gaming table. The aged voice spoke with -much earnestness and wisdom, showing clearly the consequences of play to -the fortune, the disposition, and the character. The lecture had arrived -in the moon with the proper tone, the pauses, and the emphasis; so that -I could distinguish every shake of the head, and every blow of the -withered hand upon the table. The old gentleman omitted no efficacious -topic; it seemed impossible to stop a bad practice more eloquently; and -I wondered how this insurmountable advice could have failed. I listened -to all its arguments, its infamy, distress, and ruin; but finding at the -conclusion that it began again without respite, and proceeded in the -same words as before, I walked out of hearing, sufficiently advised -against play. - -I may here mention, that before I left the moon I met with the very -young man who had undergone this eloquence; the purpose of his journey -being to search for the money that he had distributed in his vocation. I -told him that I knew the place where he might find what had been lost by -his indiscretion. He eagerly inquired where his treasure was kept, and I -directed him to the spot whence this noble admonition proceeded. - -"What!" said he; "is all that I have lost collected there?" - -"Yes," I answered; "every argument, every word is preserved." - -"Arguments, and words!" he exclaimed; "I am looking for money." - -I then explained to him that the lost treasure, which I had found, was -the advice of his father; and I urged him to repair to the spot, and be -fortified against future losses. He was angry with me for disappointing -him; said he did not think the advice likely to be more efficacious in -the moon than it had been upon earth; besides which, his father was -still alive, so that he could have advice fresh from his lips whenever -he was in need of it, for the old man was so munificent as never to -refuse him a supply in any difficulty. - -"He is old now," said the son; "but the faculty of advising commonly -remains in full vigour when all others have decayed." - -This meeting with the advised son occurred, as I have said, at a later -period of my travels. I was now in retreat from the father's lecture, -and had just walked beyond its reach, when a confused noise came towards -me, which at first I could by no means interpret, for a solemn -declamatory tone, and a shrill railing voice, seemed to be united in it. -As the sound approached me, I heard what I should have thought a sermon, -had not some angry and profane expressions been inserted in it. As it -went slowly along, I accompanied it, and by a little attention was able -to understand this singular combination; for in the solemn part of the -clamour I remembered the voice of a celebrated preacher, whom I had -often listened to. It appeared that one of his sermons, not being the -cause of much virtue on the earth, and accordingly discharged, had taken -refuge in the moon, where, while it was floating about in the air, and -preaching with great solemnity, it had unfortunately been entangled in -the invective of a fish-woman, which no doubt had been lost by the -fortitude of her antagonist. Thus these two pieces of eloquence, having -by some means been involved in each other, continued with equal -vehemence, and without the least chance of one being silenced by the -other. I was scandalised to hear the solemn words interrupted by such -abominable phrases, and waved my hat about the place in hope of -separating the two harangues; but they were so confused together, that -though I drove them about by disturbing the air, my efforts to -disengage them were vain, and I was obliged to leave a fine moral -discourse loaded with these vile execrations. - -The divine and his associate the fish-woman were no sooner out of -hearing than I walked into a long story, which was telling itself with -great pomp and emphasis. I listened, and heard some passages, where I -was sure that an explanatory finger had been stretched out. I could not, -however, discover the purport of the narrative, which seemed to be -wholly destitute of all the three particulars required by Aristotle,--a -beginning, a middle, and an end; but it had this excellence, that it -might have been undertaken at any period of it without disadvantage. I -afterwards found that the tellers of long stories provide the moon with -a great abundance of sound. I now heard other attempts at conversation, -and amongst them many of the small enterprises which are called puns. - -But now, from a different quarter, a sudden wind sprung up, which was -encumbered with a great variety of sounds, and I was quite overwhelmed -with the clamour. First it blew sermons for a short time, and doctrines -of every sect flew past me. This hurricane of divinity was succeeded by -speeches in parliament: I was entertained by a declamatory breeze on the -grievances of Ireland; then came a zealous wind in defence of the Church -of England, and afterwards a prolix gale on free trade. I was at first -amused by the novelty of all this piety, anger, learning, and eloquence -in the air; but when it was no longer new, I found the clamour -intolerable; and it is certainly a discouragement to those who would -visit the moon, that any breeze which rises may preach and declaim so -immoderately. - -I may here mention that all sounds from the earth are at first allotted -to separate districts in the moon. There is the region of puns, that of -speeches, of sermons, and of every other fruitless noise. To each kind -of noise a valley is assigned; the surface of the moon being very much -varied, and the valleys very deep. Each sound, upon its first arrival, -repairs of its own accord to the valley which is its proper habitation; -but when the wind is violent, and happens to blow through one of these -valleys, it sweeps away many of the sounds, and scatters them over the -moon. Thus the most unsuitable alliances are formed of the different -sounds, and the precepts of religion are often enforced by oaths; for a -violent gale having passed through the residence of sermons, and carried -many discourses away with it, may blow them through the valley where the -Billingsgate rhetoric is preserved, by which means an unusual energy is -added to those pious compositions: and many other sounds equally averse -to each other are in this manner united. But when the air becomes calm, -each by degrees returns to its own habitation; and no doubt the sermon, -which I had vainly endeavoured to set free from the scurrilous abuse -annexed to it, would in time escape from its intemperate colleague by -its own efforts, and go home to the other divines. The eloquent wind, in -which I have said that I was involved, by degrees became less copious, -and at last quite silent. - -I now saw a young woman running towards me in pursuit of something which -rolled along in the wind. As she approached, I perceived that it bore -the figure of a heart; and the lady I knew to be one who had lately been -very much dejected on account of a hopeless passion. She had come to the -moon to recover her lost heart, and was just about to possess herself of -it when the wind had snatched it away, and she pursued it with all the -speed she could exert. I should explain, that things do not ascend into -the moon in the same substantial form that they bear upon earth: this -heart was a mere shadow or ghost, and so light as to be blown about by -every breath of air. I placed myself in the way, and endeavoured to -catch it; but it bounded past me, and the poor girl continued the chase. - -Another young lady, who had once sung extremely well was come in search -of her voice, which she had lost by an illness. She had heard it at a -distance singing an Italian song with great taste, and hastened to the -spot in hope that she might inhale it; but a wind springing up had -swept it along singing as it flew, and in despair she heard her own -sweet notes dying away in the distance. - -I now saw a well-known English statesman, who had come here in search of -his integrity, which he had lost in the service of his country. Without -it he had found himself quite disabled in the pursuit of his designs, -being no longer eloquent in parliament or dexterous in council. - -Soon after this I met a very beautiful woman, but extremely pale, with -whom I was acquainted. She told me that she was endeavouring to find her -complexion, which she had lost very early in life, and never ceased to -regret. Her countenance was so attractive that I could not forbear -offering to assist her in the search, though I told her that I knew not -where the lost complexions were kept; for being very lately arrived in -the moon, I was not yet conversant with its geography. She said that no -farther search was necessary, for she was convinced that she had -discovered her complexion, though she had not been able to regain -possession of it; but perhaps I by a little vigour might succeed. It had -been seized, she said, and was now worn, by a young man, in whose face -she had detected it; for she instantly recognised her own bloom though -after a separation of some years; besides which, it evidently did not -fit the face of the usurper. I inquired where the young man was to be -found; and as the lady knew what road he had taken, we followed at our -utmost speed and soon overtook him. He was a young man of effeminate -appearance, and studied dress. It was plain at first sight that the -beautiful bloom, which he wore, had no natural affinity with his -features; for he had not been able to make it adhere to them with any -exactness, but in several places it was separate from the skin. I -observed him endeavouring by delicate touches to contrive a better -alliance; but with all these inducements he could not detain it with any -confidence, nor reconcile it to his cheeks, and he seemed every moment -apprehensive lest it should drop. - -I asked him very courteously, whether he was quite sure that he had his -own complexion on. He answered "Yes," with some indignation; upon which -I endeavoured to convince him of his mistake, representing that in some -places there was a separation between his complexion and his skin, and -that he would never bring them to unite in any security. But as he did -not seem disposed to relinquish his prize, I approached him on pretence -of examining his face more closely, and grasped him by the chin; when -the disputed complexion slipped off with the greatest ease, and I -presented it to the lady, who applied it to her face, where it instantly -fitted itself on, and seemed to be quite at home. I could not forbear -smiling at the sallow cheeks of the young man, who had been thus -despoiled. He remonstrated very angrily against the violence done to his -face, and persisted in claiming what he called his property. I desired -him to observe that the complexion was so settled and established in the -lady's face, as to make a removal impossible, which was a proof that he -must have been mistaken when he believed it to be his. I told him I was -convinced that his own complexion, when he had it, was of equal beauty -with this; and no doubt, by a diligent search, might be found, being -certainly in the moon, since by his cheeks he had evidently lost it. He -was not to be satisfied; but still insisted, that even if this -complexion had originally been produced in the lady's face, yet by -coming to the moon it had been forfeited, and became the lawful prize of -any person who could seize it. I remarked, that it was now useless to -dispute against the lady's right to wear her complexion, since it was -immoveably fixed; and therefore, if he were determined to wear no other -bloom, his only expedient was to wait till it should again arrive in the -moon, and endeavour to gain possession of it a second time. He turned -away with great resentment; and the lady, being now perfectly beautiful, -took leave of me with many acknowledgments of the service I had done -her. I afterwards met this young man again with a fine florid bloom, to -which I believe he had no right, for he turned away his head as he -passed me. - -After restoring this lady to her beauty, I walked on to seek new -adventures, and had not proceeded far before I saw a large building, -which I approached, and the doors being open I walked in. The building -consisted of one vast room, the walls of which were covered with -shelves, containing a vast multitude of small bottles with their corks -tied down as if to confine some liquor that was ready to escape. In the -room I found some persons, who gave me an explanation of what I saw. - -These bottles contained the lost spirits of those, who for some -melancholy reason, or without reason, had, from being cheerful, become -unhappy. The bottles appeared to be filled, not with any liquor, but -with a sort of vapour, which was constantly in very active motion. Each -bottle had a label, inscribe with the name of the person from whom its -contents had escaped, to which was added the misfortune that had caused -this loss of cheerfulness. - -I found a great amusement in walking round the shelves and reading these -little narratives, by which I discovered the concealed sorrows of -several of my acquaintance, who had become pensive without any apparent -pretext, and exercised in vain the penetration of their friends. By far -the greater number of these bottles were female. Many ladies had been -deprived of their mirth by disappointed affection, some by unhappy -marriages, others by the want of children, and several by wanting -nothing. Some labels had blank spaces where the calamity ought to have -been recorded; these blanks, I learned, were the histories of those -whose vivacity had dropped off them without any real cause, and only -because it was not of a durable kind. - -The reading of these bottles alone might be a sufficient inducement to -visit the moon, with those persons who excel in providing their friends -with motives, and in explaining every thing in the look or manner, which -is abstruse; for here, in a few minutes, such discoveries are made, as -must be unattainable by mere inquiry and sagacity; and I think that -amongst all the incentives to curiosity and study, there is nothing that -so much provokes research as a mysterious melancholy in one who -seemingly has every title to mirth. - -It appeared to me that many of the owners of these bottled spirits had -become unhappy on very slight provocation. Some of the reasons assigned, -I thought hardly sufficient to justify a frown of a day's duration; part -of these afflictions ought rather, in my opinion, to have been received -as advantages; others seemed altogether fanciful, and it was manifest -that the sufferer had become unfortunate merely by the force of a lively -imagination. Amongst these bottles I observed some that were empty, and -inquiring the reason, I was told that they had contained the mirth of -persons who, after a certain period of melancholy, had regained their -happiness by fortitude, philosophy, religion, a change of wind, or some -other consolation; for whenever a person, whose mirth has been under -this confinement, is ready to be cheerful again, and wants his spirits -back, they make so great an effort to escape from the bottle as to force -out the cork, and immediately they return into the possession of their -owner, performing the journey in a few minutes. When this liberation is -effected, the attendants who manage the bottles inscribe on the label -the length of time that the spirits had remained in prison; and the -empty bottle is still left to receive them again, should they be -banished from their owner a second time. This often occurs by the -vicissitudes incident to many tempers, in which the being happy to-day -affords no security for happiness to-morrow. By these inscriptions, I -found that the spirits of some people are engaged in perpetual journeys -between the earth and the moon. - -Upon one of the empty bottles I saw the name of a friend of mine, who -had been in great affliction from the loss of his wife. I was surprised -to read on the inscription that his spirits had driven out the cork, and -returned to him at an early period of his sorrow, since which time I had -seen him in profound melancholy; and it then appeared evident that he -was to be unhappy much longer. I thought there must be an error in the -date, but was informed that these bottles are infallible; that they -estimate sorrow by the heart, and not by the countenance; and that as -soon as a secret disposition to mirth returns, they certainly release -the cork, though the face should remain inconsolable. It appeared, -therefore, that though my friend had been so plausibly grieved, the -bottle knew he was fit to receive its contents, and I had merely wanted -penetration to detect his clandestine cheerfulness. I rejoiced in the -discovery, having never thought that the being melancholy is so great a -duty or public good as is sometimes believed. I entertained myself here -in detecting the real duration of sorrow in some others for the death of -friends, and I saw with pleasure how soon a resignation to the will of -Heaven had sometimes taken place after the most grievous loss. Some had -begun to submit on the day after the funeral; others had wept with so -much despatch that, the death having occurred in the morning, and their -spirits being immediately sent to the bottle, they had wanted them again -in the evening of the same day. - -The bottles being arranged in order according to the time when each was -filled, I could easily find any cases of affliction which had come -within my own knowledge; and I discovered that, in several instances, I -had wasted much friendly compassion upon people so speedy in submission -as to attain a Christian serenity of mind long before others had ceased -to be distressed for them,--a lasting melancholy having been -apprehended from the skilful gloom which was preserved. - -There were many people engaged, like myself, in examining these bottles; -and amongst them I found a pretty woman of my acquaintance, who had once -been remarkable for vivacity, but had suddenly fallen into a pensive -dejection, for which she could give no reason, except that assigned in -Shakspeare,--that she was sad because she was not merry. Feeling -severely the want of her former mirth, she had travelled to the moon in -quest of it, where, being directed to this building, she had discovered -the bottle containing her own spirits, and I found her considering by -what expedient she could transfer them to herself. She had intended to -carry away the bottle, and meditate some contrivance at her leisure; but -they were all fixed immoveably in the shelves, so that whatever plan -should be tried it could only be practised on the spot. She consulted me -in her difficulty; and remembering the invention described by Ariosto, I -advised her, when the cork should be removed, to hold her head over the -bottle, and endeavour to inhale the vapour which should issue forth. She -stood ready, and I cut the string which confined the cork; when it -instantly flew out with a loud report, and a roar of laughter rushed -after it: this was the imprisoned merriment escaping, and it lasted as -long as the vapour continued to come forth. The lady applied herself to -it as if to a smelling-bottle as long as this violent evaporation -lasted. When the bottle had ceased to laugh she raised her head, and I -immediately saw that my invention had succeeded; her eyes had regained -their mirth, and her mouth its beautiful smile. She walked away in great -delight at finding herself happy again. - -There were many other people in the room who, having found the bottles -belonging to themselves, were in perplexity about the means of -recovering the contents; and now, having observed the success of my -contrivance, they began to practise it upon themselves, so that very -soon I heard corks flying and bottles laughing on every side. The first -restoration of lost mirth had a violent effect upon most of the -patients, and raising their heads at the end of the operation they burst -into a vehement fit of laughter; some danced about very zealously, and -performed other exploits. But this frantic delight sunk gradually, and -in a few minutes was turned into a steady and reasonable cheerfulness. -The first senseless joy from these bottles very much resembled the wild -behaviour from nitrous oxide, popularly called laughing gas, which he -who inhales commonly has recourse to a violent career of laughter, -without being able to assign any just grounds of merriment. - -Those who have seen this common experiment, may conceive exactly the -extravagances acted in consequence of these bottles. - -The most ridiculous frolics were exhibited by an old woman, who, having -found the bottle containing the spirits of her youth, applied herself to -it in order to be young again. Immediately the features of seventy were -animated by the mirth of sixteen, the old woman was intoxicated by her -new feelings, laughed immoderately, danced, and sung, with many other -achievements, which greatly disturbed her daughter, who accompanied her, -and endeavoured in vain to control this aged vivacity. - -I took notice of a lady with a very grave countenance, who was making a -most diligent search amongst the bottles of that time, from which she -dated the absence of her own cheerfulness, but still she was unable to -find one bearing her name. I heard another lady, her companion, -endeavouring to persuade her that she had always been as phlegmatic as -she was then, and not at any part of her life able to furnish the -contents of a bottle, so that it was vain to search for vivacity which -was neither there nor in any other place. The solemn lady, however, was -resolved to be lively, and not finding any mirth that she could justly -claim, she prepared to invade the bottle of some other person, which, -she said, would do no injury; for the person whom she should despoil -might take her bottle in exchange, since it was undoubtedly there, -though at that moment she could not find it. Accordingly she released -the cork of a bottle which, by the explosion, seemed to have been very -well provided with merriment, and she inhaled it all to the concluding -laugh; but raising her head after this instigation, she remained as -sedate as before, and found to her great disappointment that she could -not be lively with the spirits of another person. I afterwards saw the -same theft committed by others, and in every case it proved that the -bottled spirits were ineffectual in any person except the owner. This -might perhaps have been foretold, as we frequently see persons who have -no vivacity of their own, endeavour, without success, to borrow it from -others, though not out of a bottle. I speak of the emulation of those -who, being solemn by birth, attempt vivacity by a strict execution of -those gestures, looks, and sayings which they have observed to be the -practice of lively persons, and with all their study can never contrive -that those gestures, looks, and sayings shall be received as life and -spirit, though in certain people they pass without dispute. - -I saw an unfortunate lady in great distress: she had been endeavouring -to practise my contrivance upon the bottle which preserved her spirits; -but by being too slow to intercept them as they hastened out, and then -by holding her head in a wrong place she had suffered the whole mirth -to escape, and it flew laughing through a window as if in derision of -her. The poor girl stood at the window in despair to hear herself -laughing at a distance, being now condemned to hopeless dejection for -the rest of her life. I had, however, the satisfaction of restoring many -to a cheerful mind; and it was a great amusement to see the melancholy -faces of many as they entered this room, and the happy countenances with -which they left it after exhilarating themselves in this manner. - -Having entertained myself here some time, I departed, and continued my -wandering journey. It was not long before I came to another building -which I entered, and found it full of bottles like the last. These -contain the hopes, which have never been fulfilled, and to the eye they -appear to hold a clear transparent liquor. Upon each bottle is the name -of the person to whom it belongs, together with a short account of the -hopes within, and the circumstances in which they were entertained. At -the first glance on the outside of the bottles, I saw coronets, mitres, -riches, and other amusements, in great abundance, which made me think, -that if, as we often hear asserted, hope is the most agreeable -employment of the mind, it is with great injustice that we complain of -the misery of life. According to the same doctrine, we ought to rejoice -that so few of the advantages within sight are attainable, because what -is once gained can no longer be hoped for, and the chief delight from -it, therefore, must be lost. The happiness of every man ought to be -estimated, not by the number of his successes, but by the multitude of -his hopes; and whatever seeming adversity he may have laboured under, -yet if nature has provided him with an alacrity in hoping, he must be -declared a prosperous man. For some, the most unfortunate in their -undertakings, yet have through life been succeeding in prospect, and -thus been fully recompensed for actual disappointment. The office of -this passion is to make men equal in happiness, since every advantage -obtained must take away a hope. - -Seeing on one of these bottles the primacy of England, as the hope -contained in it, I looked for the name in some curiosity, to know who -had aspired so high, expecting it to be some celebrated divine. The name -was that of a clergyman, who had passed his whole life on a curacy of a -hundred pounds a year. He had died at the age of seventy-six, and no -doubt his age, poverty, and infirmities had been greatly relieved by the -expectation of being primate. The office of prime minister had for many -years been the hope of a man, who had been known to speak in parliament -twice, on one of which occasions he was manifestly applauded. To be the -greatest of English poets, was hoped for by a young man, on no other -provocation than the having written some verses in a newspaper. A -family of two fine boys and four beautiful girls, was the secure hope of -a lady who had been married at the age of forty-six. - -I found here many hopes so fantastical, and having so little regard for -possibility, that they made me think less incredible a certain wish, -recorded by Rabelais, which I had before thought a high strain of -imagination. The projector of this wish desired that, a certain church -being filled with needles from the floor to the roof, he might be in -possession of as many ducats as would be required to fill all the bags, -which could be sewn with these needles, till every one of them had lost -either its point or its eye. This computation of a livelihood, hardly -exceeds in boldness some of the designs which I observed here. - -I saw an old man reading the bottle which contained his own past hopes; -he laughed heartily at their extravagance, declaring that to have -fulfilled them all he must have lived a thousand years, and that many of -them could not have been accomplished unless all mankind had been in a -confederacy to complete his schemes. Some bottles contained a vast -number of hopes, the owner having had so much fertility in hoping; other -persons seemed to have had no room for more than one hope at a time. I -amused myself with pursuing the hopes of a man from youth to age, and -observing the variation in the different stages of life. Some of the -young hopes diverted me; a girl of sixteen had been entirely occupied -with the hope that the outline of her nose might improve before she grew -up. Another young lady of the same age had been equally busy with the -hope of her hair becoming darker. - -Seeing my own name on a bottle I read my early hopes, which however I do -not intend to divulge. I was surprised by the extravagance and absurdity -of them; for till that moment I had imagined myself a rational man, and -I could not conceive how such projects had ever been let into my brain. - -I observed another old man studying his bottle and recapitulating the -brilliant hopes of his youth. He lamented that he was no longer capable -of transacting such visions, and declared he would try to recover the -faculty of hope by drinking the contents of the bottle. Accordingly, -having obtained a glass, he drew the cork and poured out the liquor, -which sparkled like champagne, and he drank it hastily, seeming to think -that the escape of every bubble was the loss of a hope. He finished the -draught, which was about a pint, and was immediately thrown into the -most violent transports. All the hopes of his life took possession of -him at once, and he fancied himself about to perform some mighty -exploit, though unable to conjecture what it was to be. His words, -looks, and gestures were wild and incoherent; and if two friends by whom -he was accompanied had not taken him into custody, he would probably -have attempted some dangerous enterprise. They forced him out of the -room, and I afterwards heard that it was several hours before his -delirium abated; and even when he had recovered his composure of mind he -remained subject to occasional visions, and from time to time is still -elevated by chimerical fancies. - -It occurred to me that, although the whole bottle of hope swallowed at -once produced madness, yet perhaps a small quantity at a time might be -drunk with benefit and encouragement in the decline of life; and I -resolved to take my bottle with me for cheerfulness in old age, the -bottles of hope not being fastened to the shelves like those containing -lost spirits, which I have mentioned before. On one occasion since, -having been a little dispirited, I drank a very small quantity of my -hopes diluted with water, and found a very agreeable elevation of mind -from it. - -One caution, however, is to be observed, which I learned from the -example of an old gentleman, who had brought his bottle of hopes from -the moon, and had recourse to it after it had stood undisturbed for some -time. By standing still the several hopes had been separated from each -other, so that he had poured out a single hope from the top, and drunk -that alone. It appeared that the hopes were arranged according to their -weight, and not according to the order in which they had entered the -bottle; that which he drank first, therefore, happened to be one of his -early youth. It was a hope that he might obtain favour with a certain -married woman of great beauty, and, according to the most received -opinion, by no means inaccessible; but, after he had prosecuted his plot -for three years without an approach to success, he discreetly resolved -to abandon it, and accordingly the hope flew up into its bottle. This -hope, being now swallowed from the top, possessed him again with all its -former vehemence. It had been perfectly suitable to the time of life -when he had first entertained it, but agreed very ill with his present -venerable appearance. - -The same lady was no longer in sight, but he was acquainted with another -of as much beauty and ambiguity, every age being furnished with such -enterprises, and to her he immediately had recourse through the -inspiration of his bottle, soliciting her by every known artifice, to -the great amusement of many observers, and the surprise of his friends; -for before this he had always conformed himself to the lapse of time, -and never pretended to an indiscretion above his years. This hope -continued to molest him for three weeks, during which he was -indefatigable; but the effects of the draught having then passed away, -he discovered the fallacy, and was in great confusion at what he had -been doing. He told me that if he was to commit such absurdities through -his bottle, he should prefer despair and dejection. I advised him to -shake his bottle thoroughly, so as to confound all the hopes together -before he poured out a draught, whence I conceived that he would not be -instigated to any single project, but obtain only a general -encouragement. This he practises with great success, repeating his -draught from time to time; after each dose, he is possessed with a -conviction of some speedy good fortune, though he can gain no insight -into the particular nature of it, and he is thus quite fortified against -the melancholy of old age. It is true that to drink for hope and -prosperity is not a new invention; but the complacency obtained in the -manner I describe has the advantage of not being followed by any of -those injuries which attend the peace of mind from a common bottle. - -Leaving the House of Hopes, and pursuing my travels, I met with an old -gentleman, who told me he had come to the moon in search of the time -that he had lost during his life; "for," said he, "if I could recover -all the hours that I have mis-applied, I should be a young man again." - -"But," said I, "is it not probable, that if these hours had to be -employed again, they would be engaged in the very same occupations which -have brought them to the moon before?" - -"No," he answered, "I believe there are some old men who lament their -loss of time only because it is a loss of pleasure; but I rejoice in -having freed myself from my errors. I lately undertook a complete -reformation of my habits, and succeeded. I wish to regain my time, only -that I might pass it all in the virtue which I now enjoy; for, alas! I -have discovered the pleasure of virtue so late, that I cannot expect -much time for the practice of it." - -I walked on with this old man till we came to a building, which, -according to the information of one whom we met, contained "lost vices." -Inquiring what was meant by that expression, I was told that in this -building are preserved all the profligate habits, which have been -unwillingly relinquished by those, whom old age alone can reform, and -who never part with an infirmity till they lose the faculty of being -frail. - -We entered the building; and found, as before described, a large room -with innumerable shelves, on which the bad habits are kept by a singular -contrivance. The vices of every man are contained in a little -instrument, exactly resembling in appearance and use that ingenious toy -called a kaleidoscope. On each of these instruments is inscribed the -name of the libertine who has filled it. On one of them I observed the -name of a man with whose past life and character I am acquainted. He -once accepted very frankly of all the blessings offered him by -Providence, but now lives in the strict practice of every virtue which -decrepitude enforces. I took his kaleidoscope from the shelf; and -looking into it, saw him carousing at a table with some companions, -according to the morals of a former time, when the worship of Bacchus -was more diligently prosecuted than it is now. I knew his person, though -in this scene he was a young man. His colleagues I had never seen, for I -believe he had buried them all by his example. Their figures in this -vision were very small, but quite perfect, and all their looks and -gestures faithfully exhibited; no sounds were heard, though much clamour -was intimated. I could perceive that songs were sung, and stories told, -with all the usual literature of such meetings. While I was entertained -by seeing this company drink in miniature, I accidentally gave the -kaleidoscope a turn, upon which the scene vanished in an instant, and -another adventure appeared, the same man being still the hero. He was -now soliciting a beautiful girl with great energy; and, from her -reluctance and alarm, I supposed it to be the first interview. He seemed -to make no progress while I held the kaleidoscope still; but I gave it a -slight turn, which advanced his suit considerably, and a great part of -her austerity was now omitted; whence I found that I must continue to -turn the instrument, in order to bring his addresses to a conclusion. I -therefore turned it round very gradually, not to lose any stage of the -transaction, according to the injunction of Ovid:-- - - Non est properanda voluptas, - At sensim longâ prolicienda morâ. - -When this exploit was ended, another took its place; and I found that by -still turning the kaleidoscope, I might bring all the debaucheries of -this old man in succession before me. But my curiosity did not last -through many years of his life, which was crowded with incidents. - -I lamented that Le Sage and Smollett had not had access to these -kaleidoscopes for inspiration. If there is now any writer who believes -himself their descendant, he could not employ his time more profitably -than in a journey to the moon, in order to consult these little -instruments, from which he may derive a fertility of adventures that he -cannot possibly gain by observation of real life. The readers too of -such novels, as well as the authors, may find here the best of -libraries: for, by a few turns of a kaleidoscope, they will pass through -a greater variety of adventures than by turning over a hundred pages; -and no mortal pen can relate an enterprise with as much spirit and -fidelity as one of these kaleidoscopes. I had recourse to several of -them, and gained much useful information. - -While I was engaged in this study of biography, I perceived the old man -with whom I had entered the room very intent on the same employment. I -walked up to him, and saw his own name on the kaleidoscope into which -he was looking. This surprised me; for he had spoken of his past vices -with so much contrition, that I imagined he would have chosen to avoid -these apparitions of them, instead of wilfully distressing himself with -the sight. I supposed, therefore, that he must be reviewing his life for -the benefit of reproach and mortification; but when I looked into his -face, expecting to see it full of horror, I observed his eye glistening -with delight at the remembrance of his pleasures. He examined them one -after another, pausing at each, and turning the kaleidoscope with the -slowest caution, so as not to hurry the enjoyment, nor pass over any -material circumstance; and while he made these confessions, there was a -voluptuous joy in his face, very ill suited to his venerable appearance. -I found that these visions of the past have a singular power over the -owner of the kaleidoscope, reviving his former thoughts and sensations, -and imparting at the moment a fancied vigour. - -"I see," said I, "that you have returned to the amusements of your -youth. You have here the means of retrieving your lost time." - -"How so?" he inquired. - -"Why," I answered, "you have only to take back with you this little -instrument, and then you can be a young man in your arm-chair whenever -you please. The actual performance of these things would require an -effort inconvenient to you; but, having this kaleidoscope, you may -enjoy any vice you wish, with no other labour than shutting one eye." - -"That is true," said he; "it will be a great comfort to me in my old -age." - -"But," I asked, "will it not interfere with the strict temperance and -virtue which you are to practise for the rest of your life?" - -"Not at all," answered he, "because none of the consequences of vice -will follow these repetitions; I can do no harm by looking into this -little thing. I may carouse with the friends of my youth in this -kaleidoscope, and awake the next morning without a pain in my head. The -wine that was drunk forty years ago will now furnish a very innocent -debauch; or, if I choose to prosecute a design against a village beauty, -I can accomplish the plot here, and no woman on earth will lose her -peace of mind by my success. I have full confidence in my reformation, I -have thoroughly reclaimed myself from actual vice; but I know not why I -should be so austere as to refuse my old age the comfort of these -recollections, in which I find a remarkable charm." So speaking, he put -his kaleidoscope into his pocket, and walked away to practise -temperance. - -I saw several other old men here, each of whom had found his own -kaleidoscope, and was repeating the vices of his youth with great -satisfaction. Under this inspiration, their venerable countenances were -disfigured with a most unbecoming look of enjoyment. Every one of them -carried away his instrument for the support of his declining age. It is -probable that all these old men, like the one mentioned before, had for -some time past been admiring their own temperance, and extolling -themselves for a complete victory over the bad passions of their youth, -having become abstemious by means of seventy years, and attained a habit -of refraining from all those vices which require bodily strength. Men -act alike towards their vices and their friends, no one will confess -himself forsaken by either. A man who finds himself avoided and -discountenanced by one whose acquaintance is advantageous to him, -assures himself first that the friendship is irrecoverable, and then -begins to devise retaliation, endeavours to exceed the neglect with -which the other treats him, and disputes his claim to the first -coolness. Thus an old man, when his pleasures abandon him, pretends to -priority; and being convinced by fair trial that a bad habit is -irrevocably lost, he firmly demands that he and his vice shall part. -This forbearance from what we cannot do resembles what is sometimes -called resignation in a dying man, who, having tried in vain every -expedient for remaining alive, begins to prefer death, descants on the -disadvantage of being a man, and earnestly endeavours to justify his -choice. - -I cannot here avoid a reflection on the hard lot of virtue in being so -commonly the successor of vice. When the house being torn to pieces by -the riots of vice is abandoned as no longer habitable, with the -foundations undermined, the roof fallen in, the furniture destroyed, and -the walls tottering, it is made over to virtue, and she is desired to -take possession of the ruin, and make herself comfortable for life. - -Not far from the house of lost vices is a building, which contains lost -virtues, and I entered it as soon as I had left the other. These virtues -are not preserved in the same manner as the vices, but turned into a -liquid, and kept in bottles. On each bottle is declared what virtues are -within, together with the period of life or particular occasion that had -caused the loss. The good qualities lost by age appeared to be chiefly -benevolence and generosity, from which inconveniences men had been -released at very different times, some being qualified for avarice and -ill-nature much sooner than others. As I have lately made some remarks -on the indecorous regret of certain old men at the decay of their vices, -I must now do justice to their patience under the loss of virtue. Old -men have been known to shed tears on finding themselves unable to be -riotous; but I believe none have ever wept at failing to do a generous -action: and however culpable may be their discontent at missing their -pleasures, they amply atone for it by a perfect resignation under the -decay of liberality, and by giving up without a sigh the whole pleasure -of doing good. Covetousness has been appropriated to old men from the -earliest times; and when a man has nothing left except vigour in saving -money, and joy in keeping it from others, it would be a great cruelty to -forbid him the exercise of those qualities. - -I here observed a young man seeking some particular bottle very -earnestly, which having found, he took possession of it with great joy. -It contained certain virtues, which had once been in the mind of his -father, and had dropped out as he proceeded through life. The father, -though very old, persisted in remaining alive, without considering how -much pain his son suffered by this usurpation. Amongst other virtues -which had failed him in his latter years, his generosity had quite -decayed; and his son had very dutifully undertaken a journey to the moon -in hope of recovering it. Having gained the bottle, he intended to -contrive that the old man should insensibly drink this generosity with -his tea, taking care to be present himself, that he might intercept any -bounty which might be the consequence of the draught. - -I have since heard the success of this stratagem. The young man's -sister, who commanded the tea table, was easily engaged in the plot; and -having supplied her tea with a portion of this medicine from the moon, -she was very urgent in recommending it as composed with uncommon art, -and exactly agreeing with her father's judgment. It had an instant -effect; and the old man, with a sudden look of beneficence, having -descanted for a short time on his own declining years, and his inability -to enjoy wealth, declared he would make over to his son a considerable -portion of his estate, and desired him to send for an attorney on the -following morning that the gift, might be legal and secure. But when -morning arrived, and the young man was punctually proceeding to execute -the order, his father suddenly revoked it, having been cleared from -these fumes of generosity in his sleep. Some expedient, therefore, was -to be devised for making the father's gift irrevocable before his -benevolence should have time to escape. - -The teapot was again corrupted, and an excuse contrived for a visit of -an attorney while the medicine was in full vigour. Thus the desired deed -was accomplished; and the father, at the return of his avarice, found -himself strangely dispossessed of his property by his own consent. - -Amongst the virtues lost by advance in life, I saw a great quantity of -pity and sensibility. Grief for the misfortunes of others is one of -those follies that seldom fail to be cured by age, being the benefit of -experience, which, amongst other lessons, demonstrates the absurdity of -claiming a share in the afflictions of another man. - -I here became melancholy by seeing how ready our best qualities are to -slip out of our minds; and I soon, therefore, left the building and -entered another, where I found a vast room containing what at first -appeared to me a collection of statues: but I was informed that what I -saw was the female beauty that has been lost by time, sickness, or other -calamities to which it is liable. These statues, therefore, are merely -bloom and outline without any substance. In the walls of the room there -are as many niches as can be inserted from the bottom to the top, in -each of which stands one of these beautiful outlines, and a multitude of -others placed on pedestals are distributed over the whole room. They are -beautiful from posture as well as shape, being adjusted in every -graceful variety of attitude and purpose; and it may easily be supposed -that this room far surpasses any gallery of statues in our world. - -As soon as I was in the midst of these beauties, I began to think myself -guilty of an unfair examination, and of inquiring into secrets which -were not designed for me; but seeing no displeasure or retirement in the -lovely forms as I looked at them, I was emboldened to continue my -studies. - -These beautiful figures are in appearance real women, being perfect both -in shape and colour; and, indeed, they seemed to have every female -excellence, except the being alive. I had a great curiosity to know how -these beings would affect the touch; and, being now on terms of -familiarity with them, I approached one, which looked the most -indulgent of those round me, and ventured to lay my hand upon her: but -never was man more disappointed in such an enterprise; for I could -scarcely feel any thing; and though I proceeded to the most resolute -pressure, my solicitations were quite ineffectual:-- - - "Frustra comprensa manus effugit imago." - -The surface yielded, and when I removed my hand immediately regained its -shape. I raised the whole figure from the ground, and could perceive no -weight. I placed a hand on each side of the body, and squeezed it quite -flat without the least resistance; and when it was loosed, it recovered -itself in a moment. Putting my finger on the nose, I pushed it into the -face quite out of sight, and it was restored as soon as my finger was -taken away. I proceeded so far in disfiguring the lady as to hold her -concealed between my two hands, and compressed into a little ball, -which, when released, shot out into a beautiful woman, who had sustained -no injury by the confinement. - -I observed that some of these statues were mutilated, wanting arms, -legs, or other appendages to the human figure. This I understood to -happen when the lady retains a part of her beauty. Thus, if her arms -have not lost their perfection, while all the rest has undergone some -decay, a figure of her appears in the moon without arms, which however -are added as soon as she has relinquished them. I saw a nose resting on -a pedestal by itself, the beauty of its outline having been destroyed by -an accident, while the owner was otherwise uninjured. In another place -was some beautiful dark hair, being the spoils of a fever. But the most -common of these particular beauties separate from the rest was the -complexion, which seemed to have frequently preceded all other -endowments in its journey to the moon. Each of these fragments had a -pedestal, upon which was engraved the name of the lady, as amongst -ancient statues we see a beard or a foot, and are told it is Phocion. - -I was pleased to see the restoration of beauty to a young woman who had -lost it by the small-pox. She had found her former face, which was a -mere surface like a mask; and applying it to her features, perceived -that it adjusted itself, and adhered to them without needing any care or -contrivance. I saw some depredations committed by women, who never -having been able to acquiesce in their own features would not lose this -opportunity of obtaining others: and I was amused by the incoherent -faces which they constructed; for whenever a feature was appropriated to -a strange face, it evidently dissented from all the other parts of it. -There was a girl, who never having regarded her nose with approbation, -was earnestly engaged in fixing to it a new outline that she had found; -but at first sight this nose was not at all to the purpose. She was -adjusting it by a small mirror, and I heard her expressing her fears -that it never would be made to co-operate with her chin. Another woman, -endowed with long sallow features, had obtained possession of a -beautiful complexion off a small face, and without any regard to the -disproportion had pressed it down upon her boundless features, whence it -projected and had a very ridiculous appearance. However, she walked -away, seeming very well pleased with her new bloom. - -When I had left this building and was wandering on for new adventures, I -heard a confused sound, which I supposed to proceed from a valley the -receptacle of some particular kind of eloquence or noise. I soon arrived -at the place, and found it to be the valley containing lost advice, -whence had escaped the father's counsel against gambling, which I had -heard on my first arrival in the moon. - -In this valley innumerable voices were striving to hinder various kinds -of imprudence; and I wondered how it happens that with so much good -advice in the world there is also so much folly. When I compared the -excellent precepts which I heard all round me with the actions of men, I -could not avoid considering why it is that we are so much wiser for our -friends than for ourselves; why, in our own case, we are liable to be -misled by every temptation, and usually pursue the most agreeable -course instead of the wisest, while in any other person's case we find -ourselves inspired with invincible resolution, can resist the strongest -temptations and make the greatest sacrifices. From this reflection I -determined that were I to receive a commission to alter and reform the -human race, I would contrive that, instead of being obliged to act for -ourselves, we should all act for each other, by which invention there -would be no such thing as vice or imprudence in the world. - -While these admonitions reiterated themselves all round me, I admired -the generosity with which all men are ready to give away advice; and it -appeared to me that if, as some have said, this is the chief office of -friendship, the fidelity of mankind is not to be disputed, since I never -knew an instance of one who would withhold a largess of this kind from a -friend who needed it. - -I found here exhortations pronounced in all the several capacities in -which men are qualified to impede others with advice. The counsel of -parents was transacted in one place, that of friends in another; here -the advice of husbands proceeded, and there of wives. I also heard -guardians and tutors imparting discretion to those under their charge. -There was besides much exhortation in a feeble voice from those who have -no right from consanguinity, but are advisers by old age; it being a -well known law of nature that when the faculties of a man are decayed -through time so as to be of no use to himself, they become available to -others. Besides these, I heard many of those universal advisers, whose -vocation it is that nothing indiscreet be done by any of their -acquaintance. In short, there are assembled in this place the words of -all who have any kind of title to provide other people with prudence. - -I listened for some time to these rejected counsels in the hope of -discovering by what fault they had failed to persuade, and thinking they -might possibly show what relation the adviser ought to bear to the -sufferer in order to prevail. But I could draw no conclusions from what -I heard. The generality of advisers succeed so far as to make their -friend angry, but not to make him wise; and it is observable that the -advised person, who can find any pretext for being incensed against his -counsellor, always thinks it a valid reason for refusing to do what is -recommended. The skill, therefore, must be to avoid all grounds of -offence. But then occurs another difficulty; for he who can find no -reasonable cause of displeasure either in the advice given, or in its -coming from the particular person who offers it, is still more -exasperated at finding himself without the means of anger. I think it -may be remarked, that the most judicious advice is the most apt to be -resented; for we are displeased with counsel only when we are conscious -that it ought to be followed; when we are convinced that it is mistaken, -we commonly receive it with proper gratitude, because we can neglect it -without self-reproach. The interpretation we put upon good advice is, -that our friend, in order to show his own wisdom, has made us -dissatisfied with ourselves. - -From what I heard, therefore, I could not judge what relation an adviser -ought to stand in towards the person advised in order to obviate this -anger, which is always ready. If it be a man who by situation has some -right and authority to advise, the dictation is intolerable; and if he -has no such right, his impertinent interference is not to be borne. - -Nor could I learn any thing as to the manner in which advice ought to be -bestowed; for I heard voices in this place advising in every possible -variety of style, and by their being here I knew they had failed to -persuade. - -Some advisers tried to make men wise by reproach, others applied -entreaty, and a third class taught by alternately railing and -beseeching. One voice conveyed prudence by a hint, another by resolute -frankness; some pretended great alarm, which made silence impossible; -and I thought that not the least plausible were the confident advisers, -who had not a doubt that what they enjoined would be done: for I knew by -experience that to refuse advice, offered confidently, and confront the -surprise of the giver, requires great firmness. There was here, also, -much of that counsel which enforces an action by showing that nothing -else can possibly be done; and yet it appeared that the ingenuity of the -advised person had found another way. I heard intermitting advice,--that -which revives at stated times, and much, too, of the incessant counsel -which never wants renewal. - -This fruitless wisdom, therefore, having been offered in all the -different figures of advice, I found it impossible to conclude any thing -concerning the manner, or tone of voice, the looks or nods most -conducing to prudence. But perhaps an habitual adviser may not think the -inquiry important, since his purpose is usually gained though his -counsel should not be followed, and he succeeds in proving himself a -wise man though he fails to make his friend one. - -The general failure of advice is usually imputed to the obstinacy of -those who receive it, but from what I heard in this place I was inclined -to think that the person who gives it is as often in fault. Most of -those whose counsel was here collected did not seem to have considered -what advice would most benefit their friend, but what would best evince -their own prudence, sagacity, or other virtue which they had to -demonstrate; and they appeared very eager to have it concluded, that -what they desired another to do they would practise themselves if the -case were their own. Thus, there are men of courage, who, if their -friend has had a quarrel, will with great intrepidity advise him to -fight a duel; and he must be shot that they may show their spirit. In -this multitude of voices, I heard one in a resolute tone giving counsel -to a friend, who was labouring under that domestic affliction called the -tooth-ache, which the adviser very courageously exhorted him to relieve -by extraction, giving many hints of what he would do himself if a tooth -of his gave him similar provocation. It is a great advantage that in all -exigencies requiring a painful remedy there is always some man who thus -freely undertakes to furnish resolution while his friend undergoes the -pain. - -This valley contains, also, much of that advice which I think the most -discreet in all emergencies, and the least likely to be proved -erroneous, which is, to recommend some expedient for which the -opportunity is past. A prudent adviser, consulted in hurry and danger, -will always endeavour, first, to discover something which ought to have -been done before, and which cannot be done now. Accordingly, in this -valley I heard many faithful counsellors dissuading their friends from -something past, and teaching them how to have prevented yesterday some -misfortune which has happened to-day. - -Having left this valley of advice, I entered a very large building not -far from it, which I was told was a library. It consists of one room, -containing all the books which are lost upon earth. The hapless volumes -resort to this room as soon as they cease to be read; some had come up -on the day of their publication, others had lived below a whole year, -and the immortality of many had been cut off in a month. - -My eye was caught by some shelves, on which were ranged a vast multitude -of books, all bound alike, and on approaching them, I saw that on the -back of each was the title "Similes." When I found that these volumes -comprised all the fruitless similes of English literature, I did not -wonder at the number of them. - -I here found an Englishman of my acquaintance conversing with an -Italian, who had applied to him for an explanation of this great -assembly of similes. "I am conversant," said he, "with the old writers -of your country, but have not much studied the moderns: now it seems to -me that all the similes of your best writers collected together would -scarcely fill one of these volumes. Your recent authors must greatly -excel them in imagination, if they have produced such a library of -similes." - -"Undoubtedly," said the Englishman, "there is a great poverty of these -beauties in our old writers. Similes have now invaded all our -literature, both prose and verse, and make a part of every thing we -speak or write." - -"I have looked into one of these volumes," said the Italian, "and some -of the similes appear to me difficult of application. A poet is here -describing a greyhound in chase of a hare, and, in order to increase the -speed of the dog, he compares it to Westminster Abbey." - -"And how," said the other, "does he effect a likeness?" - -"That," he answered, "is what I cannot arrive at. I have read it over -many times, but cannot discover what he would wish the resemblance to -be." - -"That is a true modern simile," said the Englishman. "In the similes of -the old writers, a natural resemblance is instantly apparent between the -two things compared. Now the moderns are of opinion that when two things -are in themselves similar, there is no invention shown in comparing -them, but that the imagination and ingenuity of a writer are proved by -his bringing together two objects obstinately unlike, and forcing them -into a comparison in spite of all resistance. Therefore, as no two -things could easily be more different than a greyhound in pursuit of a -hare and Westminster Abbey, the poet, with a great deal of invention, -has coupled them together, by which he thinks that he has very much -accelerated his greyhound." - -The Italian, turning round, saw another row of shelves, equally -extensive, covered with books, upon the backs of which he read -"Description." - -"Your modern writers," said he "must excel those of former times in -description, as much as in similes." - -"Yes," answered his informer: "description is another beauty in which -the old writers were very barren and defective. By universal consent, -this is now the noblest way of writing; and those authors who are -conversant only with the reason, and the passions are proved, by -incontestable arguments, to be far inferior to those who treat of -mountains, woods, and water. Modern literature, therefore, is overrun -with trees, and diversified with hill and valley, far beyond the bleak -writings of former ages. Nor are these landscapes confined to poetry. It -is impossible that even a novel should succeed without several -well-wooded chapters, and indeed there is scarcely any subject too -austere to admit this kind of beauty: the most abstruse reasoning may be -rendered more clear by a well-written grove or mountain. Any young man, -therefore, who resolves to be a poet, instead of applying himself to -books, and filling his mind with the thoughts of others, has recourse -for his education to rocks and woods, which, in modern language, are -called nature, and from these he derives all his knowledge and poetical -spirit. Indeed, he has only to roam amongst mountains, and write down -the verses which they dictate. Some of our best modern poems were -entirely composed at the instigation of wood and water, and without any -assistance from books." - -One division of this library is filled with novels, and the Italian -expressed his astonishment at the number of them. "You do not consider," -said the Englishman, "how many people read novels: they are the books -from which our young men and women derive the chief part of their -instruction. These works come out every spring with the butterflies, are -quite as numerous, and live about the same length of time. There are -several kinds of romance: the most abundant species, I think, is that in -which the events of modern life are related with so much fidelity that -in every page men and women do exactly what we see them doing elsewhere. -The author is at great pains to make a true representation of society; -and therefore, that he may not exceed nature, he takes care that in all -his dialogues there shall be no more than that limited portion of wit -and amusement which is usually found in conversation. - -There is an admirable expedient frequently practised in romances of this -kind. The author introduces into his narrative some of the newest -incidents of society, relates them with the utmost exactness as they -really happened, and describes the characters, circumstances, and -persons of those engaged in them. You may easily imagine the noble -exercise of mind with which readers are thus provided in recognising -the adventures of the last year; you may conceive the pleasure with -which they adjust the book to the real event,--how they explain the -agreement to those who are not in the secret; how they praise the author -for so artfully describing persons they know, even to the colour of -their hair. This copying of real life is carried to its utmost -perfection by some writers, who introduce not only the events and -characters, but the names also with a slight disturbance of the letters, -contriving, with wonderful skill, that the last syllable of the name -shall take precedence, or by some other invention displacing the several -parts of it, so that discerning persons may have an opportunity of -rectifying the letters and restoring the name to its true sound. It -would surprise you to see the sagacity with which all these mysteries -are explained in a few days after the book has appeared. - -Another kind of romance is the history of some imaginary person, who is -to charm the reader by the most abominable crimes. The author frees him -from every restraint of morality, honour, integrity, and kindness. This -monster is always in some plot, and is of so peculiar a disposition that -he has no pleasure in success except with the ruin and misery of others. -Murder is merely the trifling of his leisure; he merits death in every -page, but with great dexterity always evades the law. By these -perfections he is very acceptable to all women he approaches, and they -are sacrificed to him one after another in a deplorable manner. He is -commonly a wanderer, and infests many parts of the globe; but at last, -having arrived at the end of the third volume, he either dies in a -distraction of mind from his crimes, or is rewarded with the hand of a -beautiful woman, and leads an exemplary life ever afterwards. Few novels -succeed better than those with a monster. The historical novel is -another kind. In this composition the endeavour of the author is to show -us the true genius and character of the remarkable persons who lived at -the time of which he writes: thus, if it be recorded of a great man, -that he wore a hat with three feathers, you may be sure that he will -wear a hat with three feathers in the novel. The author dresses him with -a strict adherence to truth, and does not venture to omit a single -button of history, or to introduce so much as a bit of lace that is -fabulous; every ornament he wears is attested by writers of acknowledged -veracity; even his shoe-buckles are facts. Sir Walter Scott having -acquired great fame by historical romances, which represent the thoughts -and designs of uncommon men, has instigated others to embroil themselves -in the same undertaking; but since the thoughts and designs of great men -are not amongst their studies, their discernment being limited to that -part of the human character which is called the dress, they have -contented themselves with narratives of hats, cloaks, and other parts -of apparel, in which their success cannot be disputed." - -"I observe," said the Italian, "that each of these novels consists of -three volumes. Is that one of the modern laws of writing?" - -"Yes," answered the Englishman: "it is a new discovery; and now a writer -of novels produces three volumes as punctually as a pigeon lays two -eggs. This is a great hardship to the lovers, who are delighted with -each other in the first chapter, and might accomplish their union in a -few pages, if they were not maliciously undermined by the author, who -involves them in difficulties which cost him infinite thought and study, -and thus are they obliged to pass through the three volumes with -perpetual disappointment and vexation. I am not able to give any reason -for this modern law, that every novel should be divided into three, any -more than I can account for the ancient decree that comedies should -consist of five acts; but it is well known that any romance in more or -fewer volumes than three would be instantly rejected by the booksellers, -who have a peculiar sagacity in judging what circumstances will gain a -good reception for a new book. Thus the author of the 'Tale of a Tub' -informs us, that a bookseller, to whom he first offered that work, -assured him it could not possibly succeed unless in the following year -there should be a scarcity of turnips." - -At this moment I was startled by a quarto volume which flew close to my -head; it had just arrived from the earth, and coming in at the window -flew two or three times round the room like a bird, as if looking for a -place to light upon; it then perched on a shelf of quartos, and pressed -itself into a vacant space. On examining these quartos I found them to -be books of travels; the one which had just flown in had arrived quite -new, and full of fresh intelligence. - -From this multitude of travels the Italian took occasion to admire the -adventurous spirit of Englishmen, who wander about the world to increase -our knowledge of it, and make a book. "These large and numerous works," -said he, "must contain abundant information on the laws, customs, and -natures of men." - -"There are travellers," answered the other, "from whom such knowledge is -to be derived; but these works being found in the moon, we may -conjecture that the authors of them have not been conversant with any -such abstruse studies. Many of our recent travellers go out to explore -countries in which there are no laws, customs, or men to be found; they -undergo great hardships, and at their return the knowledge they impart -to us is, that in one place they were hot, in another cold, and in a -third hungry." - -When I had listened for some time to this conversation, I took a cursory -survey of the several divisions in which the library is arranged, and -found it to contain a great variety of works in every kind of -literature. There is a collection of divinity sufficient to perplex the -reason of all the inhabitants of Europe. The poets occupy a very large -space; the names of some I had never heard before. The political -writers, too, stretch over a great territory; there is a whole library -of those small undertakings called pamphlets, which redress all abuses, -and extricate the country out of every distress. - -A large extent of shelves is covered with the lives of men written by -themselves: this is a kind of literature much increased in modern times. -It was formerly the custom of celebrated men to let posterity decide -whether their actions were worthy of remembrance; but it is now the -undoubted right of every one to determine this matter for himself. Our -ancestors erroneously believed that praise was a good which every man -must owe to the kindness of others, and could not confer upon himself: -we have detected this mistake amongst many others committed by our -forefathers, and it is now well known that men labour under no such -natural disability as was supposed, but that any one can extol himself -with much greater ease, confidence, and zeal, than any other person. -Through this discovery we abound with lives written without the least -envy or detraction. Johnson says, "Who does not wish that the author of -the 'Iliad' had gratified succeeding ages with a little knowledge of -himself?" Accordingly, the moderns resolve to avoid this culpable -silence of Homer, by freely imparting to the world all their -undertakings, hopes, and fears,--all that they have done, and all that -they have failed to do. Every man now imitates Julius Cæsar, and relates -his own exploits. Very little renown is enough to justify a life, and -indeed many have been written without any such instigation at all; for -if a man has only tried to be famous, the story of his disappointment -cannot fail to be instructive. - -It is also a great discovery of modern times, that a man may publish his -own adventures during his life. Formerly, it was thought decorous to die -before the divulging of any private particulars; but, by the new -invention, a man is able to combine the glory from memoirs with the -advantage of being alive. It is now justly thought that a person famous -by writing, or any other stratagem, would betray a culpable indifference -to the impatience of mankind, if he delayed till his death all -satisfaction of the general curiosity concerning his private habits; and -there is hardly a writer of plays or romances so regardless of the world -as to keep it in suspense with respect to the hours when he is used to -write, the books that he reads, and the places where he dines. - -I looked over the shelves of biography, and amongst all the authors of -their own praises, I could hardly find one name that I had heard before. -This gave me occasion to consider that memoirs are not so effectual a -provision against the being forgotten as they are usually thought; and I -could not help comparing the precaution of these writers with the device -of Panurge in Rabelais, who, being at sea in a storm, and the ship -expected to sink, could think of no rescue except making his will; for -anxiety had not left him sagacity to discern that all the benefactions -he might record must be drowned with him. So those writers, who are just -about to be overwhelmed in oblivion, betake themselves with all the -foresight of Panurge, to inform posterity of their virtues, forgetting -that this intelligence must be included in the destruction. - -Happening to look through the window of the library, I saw a great -flight of new books approaching. They came in, and flew up and down in -search of places. There were works of every size: the quartos soared -backwards and forwards like swans, and the duodecimos fluttered about in -the manner of sparrows. Being endued with a sagacity to find their own -places, they all settled themselves in the class of books to which they -belonged; the several volumes of a work remained together, and one -followed another in a line, like wild geese; volume the first taking the -lead, and so in succession. I saw a history consisting of fourteen -octavos, which made a splendid flight; and it was amusing to see them -wind round the room, still preserving their order, and then light one by -one upon a shelf. - -My curiosity was excited by a thin book, which, having just flown in, -hovered about unable to find a resting place, and seemed to be in great -distress. It had first approached the district of religious writings, -and, finding room, was just preparing to light when the surly volumes -closed themselves together with one accord, and refused to admit the new -comer amongst them. It attempted several different openings on these -shelves, but still found the same want of hospitality, and wherever it -appeared the divines shut up their ranks. It then flew round the room in -great trouble, and I observed that as it passed the political pamphlets -they opened of their own accord and offered it an asylum, but it turned -away in disdain, and again made trial of the clergy; these inexorable -octavos still refused, and it fluttered about appearing to be almost -exhausted. I endeavoured to catch it, but it was too active to be -entrapped. I then took aim at it with another book, and was so dexterous -as to bring it down stunned and crippled by the blow. I found it to be a -bishop's "Charge," which, instead of enforcing the topics that belong -to that sort of exhortation, was almost entirely a political treatise. -The religious writings, therefore, had not acknowledged it as divinity, -but the pamphlets had supposed it to be one of themselves. I thought -that this "Charge" was justly excluded from the religious shelves, and -that it had no right to look with contempt upon the political writings, -the language of which it had thought proper to assume. I therefore -pushed it in amongst the pamphlets, though it flapped violently and made -great efforts to escape. - -As I left the library I observed two men, who were likewise quitting it, -each of them having a roll of parchment in his hand, about which they -were engaged in a violent controversy. I found that they had come up to -the moon in search of the British Constitution, which they agreed had -long ago been lost. Each fancied that he had found it, and vehemently -asserted that what he carried was the real constitution, and the -parchment of the other a fiction. One of them triumphantly pointed to -the date, asking whether that was not the time when the constitution -flourished. The other denied that there had been any constitution in -being at that time, and asserted that his own date was the true one. -Neither of them would give up the pretensions of his parchment, and they -parted in some anger, each of them being convinced that he had the -British constitution under his arm. - -I next entered a valley containing the consolation which has been -lavished in vain upon those stubborn people who will not cease to be -unhappy at the desire of a friend. A great multitude of exhortations -were proceeding here in every tone and cadence of sympathy. I heard the -several topics of comfort under all earthly evils, so that any -unfortunate man, who comes to this valley, may find the particular -harangue suited to his case, and thus be reasoned out of his calamity. - -Every saying to be cheerful by is here repeated without intermission, -and the folly of being grieved under any affliction is so forcibly -represented, that he who listens might wonder for what reason men are -ever so perverse as to be miserable. - -One person was desired to be easy, because he could not possibly have -prevented his misfortune; another was told that he had no right to -mourn, because his calamity might have been easily avoided. One -comforter represented that, notwithstanding what had been taken away, -the world was still full of happiness; while another declared that every -thing in the world being utterly worthless, it was ridiculous that any -man should imagine he had sustained a loss. Many were desired to console -themselves with the advantage of others being in the same adversity. I -also heard it urged, that Providence was certainly the best qualified -to conduct the affairs of the world, and that we had no right to -remonstrate, even by our tears, against what he might choose to do. One -comforter would have cured all grief by affirming that we are altogether -governed by imagination, and that the being either happy or miserable is -a mere act of fancy. Some were very peremptory in their consolation, and -inveighed against the grief of their friend as the most reprehensible of -errors. Another consolation, of which I heard many specimens, was, that -adversity is beneficial, and that there is nothing so much to a man's -advantage as the being in affliction. To be grieved, therefore, was said -to be altogether erroneous; and the reasonable deportment under all -troubles was to rejoice. It was also declared that an admirable remedy -against affliction is to consider that there has been sorrow from the -beginning of the world; for how can men be troubled by something which -has been from the beginning of the world? - -By listening to these several ways of dissuading a man from having been -unfortunate, I was confirmed in an opinion which I had formed before, -that nature, fearing lest fortune should not be careful enough to -provide us with calamities for our good, has annexed consolation to -every disaster as an additional evil. It is said in a comedy of Molière, -that no sick man ought to consult a physician unless he be sure that his -constitution is strong enough to bear not only the disease but the -remedies also; and perhaps it would be a caution equally proper that no -man in distress should have recourse to a comforter unless confident -that he has patience to undergo consolation as well as his calamity. - -Leaving these remedies against adversity, I wandered on, and hearing a -confused noise at a distance, walked towards it in expectation of -another instructive valley. I was soon met by a man who was walking in a -great hurry away from this sound, and I inquired of him what it was. - -"Are you a married man?" said he; "if so, I advise you to fly from those -murmurs; for in that valley are collected the noises of all the wives -that have scolded since our first parents. The first I heard was the -eloquence of my own excellent partner, which put me to flight, as it has -often done before." - -Notwithstanding the warning given me by this fugitive husband, I boldly -approached the scene of domestic oratory; and as I drew near I heard -female reprimands uttered in every variety of English phrase, ancient -and modern, whence I learned that this species of rhetoric has been -cultivated in our island from the earliest times, and continued to -flourish without interruption through every change of the language. -These invectives having arrived in the moon, it was plain that they had -all been lost upon the inaccessible husbands, and I could not help -admiring the firmness of men. - -I was amused by observing the different styles of eloquence; there were -several florid scolds, who declaimed with great copiousness, while -others railed in a brief and forcible manner. Some spoke in a style of -earnest remonstrance, many abandoned themselves to invective, and not -the least powerful were those who conveyed censure in a sneer. In short, -here might be studied all those varieties of reproof by which certain -wives are accustomed to enforce domestic peace. - -It was easy to distinguish the different ranks of life to which these -connubial noises belonged; for some of them expressed a well-bred -displeasure in good English, while others were so disguised by a -provincial dialect that I was unable to interpret them. From the great -variety of accent I concluded that every county in England was scolding -here. - -Soon after I had left this valley, I saw at a little distance from me a -gentleman of my acquaintance, who with a stick was distributing some -very vigorous blows in the air, as if defending himself from a swarm of -bees, yet I could see no enemy against which all these efforts were -directed. As I approached him, I heard an angry voice, very loud and -voluble; and I then discovered his difficulty. He had been in the valley -which I have last mentioned, where was a considerable quantity of his -own wife's rhetoric, which, as soon as he approached it, had recognised -him by a strange instinct, and swarming round his head, had assailed him -with great fury. He instantly quitted the valley, hoping to leave this -attendant behind, but it adhered to him with wonderful fidelity wherever -he went, and he was now vainly endeavouring to drive it away with a -stick, which instrument, whatever power it may sometimes have had to -silence a similar clamour, was applied to this reproof without the least -mitigation. I endeavoured to assist him in repelling it by disturbance -of the air, but all we could do was to cut some of the words through the -middle, and thus cause a little hesitation in the harangue. I could not -forbear smiling to hear the lady's voice, which I knew very well, -uttering a groundless invective upon domestic matters of very little -importance. The husband perceiving my inclination to mirth, was much -troubled that I should be a witness of the discipline he was undergoing. -He said something about every family being liable to misunderstandings, -and as the voice then entered upon a very private topic he walked -hastily away, and carried his reproaches out of my hearing. I afterwards -heard that he could not free himself from his incumbrance as long as he -remained in the moon; but when he left it, the oratory could follow him -no farther, and returned to its valley. I have been told that several -other husbands who entered this valley were assailed in the same -manner, and afterwards walked about the moon surrounded by these -reprimands. - -As I walked along, my attention was caught by a humming sound at a -distance, which, as I was told, proceeded from the valley of lost -sermons, whence an accidental wind had dispersed those discourses which -had already assailed me in another part of the moon. I advanced into the -valley, and stood surrounded by the uproar of divinity which filled it. - -Notwithstanding the vast multitude of voices preaching in defiance of -each other, I had no difficulty in distinguishing the words of each, but -could single out any one that I chose to listen to. In all these valleys -the same peculiarity is observable, that any voice can be heard without -confusion, and separately from the rest. - -The sermons in this place are divided according to their persuasion; the -Church of England having its own district, and each body of Dissenters -being limited to one place. The sects are sometimes confounded together -by the wind, but when it is calm again they are all speedily reclaimed. -Here are collected all the fruitless English sermons, that is, all which -have failed to effect either of the two great ends of preaching,--the -virtue of the hearers, and the preferment of the clergyman. - -I heard much Christian anger uttered with great sincerity. Some of these -compositions had more the sound of political speeches delivered to a -body of electors than of discourses written for morality; and I imagined -they must have been enrolled in the sermons by mistake. - -Most of the sermons aiming at a reformation of manners which I here -listened to were, as it seemed to me, guilty of wanton calumny in -describing the vices of mankind; for they agreed that not one virtuous -man could be discovered on the earth by the most diligent search. Had -these preachers been any thing more than sound, I should certainly have -remonstrated with some of them against traducing us to the moon with so -much zeal. - -This comprehensive invective has long been the established practice of -the pulpit, and many specimens of it are found in our oldest divines. -Indeed, it seems to be a common opinion, that no writing could be an -authentic sermon unless it contained at least one bold assertion--that -the whole world is abandoned to vice. But notwithstanding the authority -of an established practice, if it were my function to make men good from -the pulpit, I should certainly dispense with this rule, whatever -uneasiness I might feel at the sacrifice of an old custom. To affirm the -universal prevalence of vice, appears to me a most preposterous method -of recommending virtue. The clergyman, in order to discourage those who -are inclined to frailty, informs them that, although they gratify every -bad inclination, they will always be countenanced by the similar conduct -of all other men. Instead of engaging the influence of example on his -own side, he exerts himself to make vice more pleasing by the attraction -which there is in the practice of others. Our preachers in this might -take a hint from our political orators, who, wishing to discredit any -particular opinions, always represent them as embraced by a very small -party. The most ignorant declaimer on politics has never endeavoured to -make converts to his principles by affirming that there is not another -man in the country who entertains them: yet by this argument virtue is -enjoined from the pulpit, though against all common methods of -persuasion; and I can hardly conceive, that when men are reasoned with -from a small enclosed place, called a pulpit, they are to be moved by -arguments exactly opposite to those which affect them from any other -spot. I think, therefore, a preacher would furnish his hearers with a -more natural inducement to virtue if, instead of labouring to convince -them that by a dissolute life they will merely conform to established -custom, he endeavoured to show that vicious practices will connect them -with a small condemned party. - -And, besides the attraction of example, these invectives against all -mankind afford another discouragement to those who would practise -morality; for he who learns from a sermon that there is not a good man -in the world, must conclude goodness to be impracticable. Not having, -therefore, the vanity to suppose that he can accomplish what no man -living has succeeded in, and having heard that no man has been able to -be virtuous, he infers, that he may spare himself the trouble and -vexation of trying. - -The sermons to which I was now listening, after having affirmed an -universal depravity, proceeded to lament the uselessness of preaching, -and to wonder how men could contrive their vicious enjoyments in -defiance of so many sermons. Amongst all the reproaches with which a -clergyman assails his congregation, there is none more frequent than -imputing to them that he does not preach with any success; and he always -concludes, without scruple, that the blame of not listening effectually -must accrue to them. - -It is observable, that the mind and the body, being committed for safety -to two different artists, and many satirical observations being made -against the success and utility of both, there is this difference in the -two cases,--that all reflections on the art of medicine are directed -against the physician by other people; while the satire concerning the -efficacy of preaching is applied by the clergyman himself to his -congregation. The preacher reproaches men with not becoming virtuous by -his sermons; but a patient would think a physician very unreasonable, -who should upbraid him with remaining ill in contempt of medicine. A -sick man, who finds no health in the remedies prescribed, thinks himself -entitled to call in question the skill of his physician: yet I believe -there is no example of a profligate man complaining to his clergyman of -not having been reclaimed. Now, I would propose it as a question to be -considered, whether the preacher can justly claim this peculiar -advantage of having his patients supposed incurable, because he has -failed to cure them; whether he has in all cases a right to complain of -having been heard without amendment of life, and should not rather -share, at least, with his hearers the blame of their not being reformed? - -Not that I would enforce against the clergy that rigorous computation of -service which Lucian recommends against the philosophers who had to -furnish men with virtue in his time. He relates, that a philosopher -demanding payment from a young man who had attended his lectures, the -guardian of this pupil interposed, and accused the philosopher of not -having fulfilled the contract; "for," said he, "you engaged to supply -this young man with morality; and it is but a few days since he basely -corrupted a young woman in our neighbourhood. How, then, can you have -the confidence to require payment for goodness which he has never -received from you?" Lucian advises that this exaction of the morals, -before they be paid for, should be generally practised against the -providers of virtue. I wonder the expedient has not occurred to those -modern statesmen who have discovered that our prosperity depends upon -our obtaining doctrine from the clergy at the lowest possible price; for -I think nothing could so effectually impoverish them as that all under -their charge should insist upon having virtue before they paid for it: -so that any one accosted by the collector of tithe should, in surprise, -plead such an immunity as this:--"By what right can the clergyman demand -payment for morals which he has not given me? Was I not intoxicated last -night? Did I not beat my wife yesterday? Have not I taught my children -to steal?" - -When I had satisfied myself with the Valley of Sermons, and was -proceeding in my travels, I met with a gentleman who formerly acquired -considerable renown by some poems which were much read and admired. He -told me, in confidence, that he was in search of his poetical fame, -which he had unaccountably lost without any demerit of his own. When his -works were first published, he said, they had been universally admitted -as authentic poetry; yet they were now generally exploded, though every -word had remained in the situation where he had first placed it. He had -for some time connived at the decay of his reputation, but at length -felt himself so obsolete, that he had no longer the confidence to walk -into a room as a poet, but had relapsed into an ordinary man. - -I endeavoured to comfort him by observing, that the same fate had -happened even to the illustrious dead: Pope was once in high esteem, but -is now by no means a poet according to the most received doctrine. The -greatest man has genius only on permission; and how long even Homer and -Virgil may remain poets, depends upon the indulgence of those writers -who furnish us with taste and admiration. - -The neglected poet, however, thought that the loss of fame by others was -but little advantage to himself. He said, that Pope, being dead, was not -embarrassed about the behaviour to be assumed in a decay of reputation; -and he seemed to think that he ought at least to have been read as long -as he lived, that he might have escaped this perplexity. He said he -could have borne the want of success if from the beginning men had -committed the injustice of not reading him; but obscurity after fame was -so irksome, that he knew not what to do. To evince the outrage he had -suffered, he began to enlarge upon his forgotten works, and to argue in -favour of their being poetry, in which I knew not how to help him. I -was, indeed, innocent of having ceased to read his poems, for I had -never attained to any farther knowledge of them than the names. -However, I acquiesced in his praises as plausibly as I could. - -He said his downfal gave him additional regret, because he had written -his own life, which he had expected to be as much read and esteemed as -that of either Alfieri or Goldoni; but he now should not have the -confidence to publish it. When it was written, the world had evinced a -great curiosity concerning him; and now nobody asked a question about -the way in which he passed his time. I expressed my sense of the -injustice committed by the world in having no curiosity about him. - -He told me he had learned that a building within sight contained the -lost renown of Englishmen, who from greatness had fallen into the -adversity that he now suffered; and he had some hope of recovering his -fame there. We advanced, and entered this building, which is very -similar to that described before, as containing the cheerfulness of -dejected persons. In a large room we saw great numbers of phials, which, -we were told, preserve the fame that has left men before their death. As -they are all arranged according to chronology, my companion, by a search -into that period when his reception had become less certainly that of a -poet, discovered the phial that bore his name. He took it into his hand, -and held it up to the light; but, although it was of transparent glass, -nothing could be seen within. But now it occurred to him, that he had -not recovered his fame by acquiring this phial. He knew not what -measures to take, and was at a loss to conceive how the phial could -contribute to the general reading of his works. - -I advised him to remove the stopper, and apply his nose, to receive any -virtue that might ensue. This he did; when immediately his eyes began to -sparkle, and he told me that the perfume he enjoyed was the greatest -pleasure he had ever felt. He then held the phial to me: but I could -perceive nothing, this renown being no pleasure to any but the owner. He -exulted as much as a young author during the sale of his first book, and -seemed to think himself suddenly restored to his honours; repeating -several times, "I am a poet again!" I hinted to him, that the -consequences of this phial must be fallacious, and expressed a doubt -whether it were possible to become a poet through the nose, as he now -believed himself to have done; since it was hardly to be supposed that, -because he had found an agreeable perfume, men would read his poems with -new eagerness. He took no notice of what I said, but exclaimed, "The -tenth edition is wanted! the press cannot work fast enough! the public -must have patience!" I perceived that the phial had made him delirious; -but, concluding that its suggestions would soon cease, I let him enjoy -his greatness without any farther interruption. He walked away; and I -know not how long it was before he was undeceived. - -I now took a farther survey of the room. Each phial had a label -recording the name of the person whose renown it contained, the means by -which he had become famous, and the cause of his losing reputation, with -some other particulars. They are divided into the different classes of -writing, oratory, and other contrivances for being great. I first -examined the authors, who led me into speculations on the instability of -a writer's fame, and on the causes by which a work full of genius last -year has now no merit, and that without any apparent change, except that -twelve months have elapsed. - -On the labels of these phials I read the several artifices practised by -authors for renown. The device of some had been obscurity, which had -charmed those judges who think a passage of no value if it can be read -without delay, and ascribe the greatest genius to him who can obstruct -his reader the most frequently, and oppose to him the greatest number of -impassable phrases. - -Another way to greatness recorded here is, the combining together of -words the most repugnant to each other. I saw the name of a man who had -eminently practised this deception, and obtained by it a great renown -for a few weeks. In every page of his writings, those words which might -have been supposed irreconcileable were found side by side, to the -great admiration of the public. These unusual alliances, as being -imagination, were very successful; and it was thought that none but an -extraordinary man could have brought together words which offered so -much resistance. But these words having remained in conjunction for a -few weeks, the wonder ceased, and it began to be thought that, with an -ample collection from diligent study of a dictionary, this style would -not be so difficult as at first had been imagined. From observing the -several stratagems for greatness, I concluded, that the most efficacious -expedient is surprise. The author who can so perplex his readers, that -they know not what to think, is sure of renown. And, not only in -writing, but all other kinds of imposition, he who can devise some -project for giving men a surprise, will be a celebrated person, until -they are recovered from it. This, indeed, soon happens, for men will not -remain astonished; and, as soon as their wonder has ceased, they always -impute fraud to the author of their amazement, and despise him -accordingly. But still they cannot take from him the advantage of having -once been famous, which sometimes is sufficient for peace of mind; since -ambitious men differ much in their wants; and although some, like my -friend the poet, cannot live in comfort without constant supplies of -applause, yet others, by having once been gazed at for a month, are -cheerful and serene till death. - -I saw here the names of many authors who were once famous by a -contrivance which has often been practised with great success: it is not -in the power of a single man, but requires a confederacy. This stratagem -is no more than a secret agreement amongst certain writers to extol each -other; every one in this league, therefore, continues to affirm that the -others are great men, till the world can no longer avoid believing it. -Sometimes a man performs this office for himself, and endeavours to be a -great author on his own assertion: but it is far safer to depend on the -word of an accomplice. While one, in such a combination, is eagerly -prosecuting the plot by encomiums on the rest, he seems merely to be -acting with great candour towards his competitors for fame; and the -world admires the generous spirit in which these men of genius live -together. This invention is exactly described by Horace:-- - - "Discedo Alcæus puncto illius, ille meo quis? - Quis nisi Callimachus? Si plus adposcere visus - Fit Mimnermus, et optivo cognomine crescit." - -In this room, also, I found some who had been illustrious by another -kind of conspiracy--the founding of mysterious sects in poetry. For this -purpose, a few writers enter into a league, and agree upon a style (if -so it can be called) in which, to prevent criticism, they take care that -there shall be no meaning. The art is to give their words such a sound, -that the reader shall be persuaded they signify something remarkable, -though he cannot reach it; and that he shall always seem just about to -understand what he reads, without ever quite arriving at the sense. So -great is the charm of reading in this confusion of mind, that he who has -once contracted a love of it lays aside with contempt any composition -that he can understand, and derides those who had before been received -as poets, and who, in truth, are so far from being so, that a plain man -of competent sagacity may in any passage discern their meaning without -much difficulty. It is true, that the followers of these mysterious -poets, being those who read for the sake of not understanding, are a -small body: but this is a cause of pride to the poets, as being suited -only to a few exalted minds; and any person, who complains of not -understanding what he reads, is readily answered that he is not one of -the chosen few. The readers, too, are as proud of the singularity as -their author, and assume a superiority over all men who insist on -comprehending what they read. - - ----"Illud - Quod mecum ignorat solus vult scire videri." - HORACE. - -Next to the phials which contain the lost reputation of authors are some -which hold the decayed fame of orators; those who, in their first -session of parliament, cause wonder by their eloquence; and in the -second, by their silence. I also saw the names of some orators of a -lower kind; those statesmen in the open air, who distribute strange -noises to any who will listen, and undertake to redress the hunger and -raggedness of their hearers. - -I observed on each of these phials containing the past renown of -exploded men the name of the merit with which he was once supposed to be -endowed, and under it the true quality, which had been erroneously -construed into that merit. Thus, on the phial of one of these orators to -the crowd, I read "Eloquence," as his claim to greatness; and this word, -underneath, was translated into "Impudence," which was also the -interpretation of many other excellencies; and I was surprised to find -in how many different ways a man may be great by this single endowment. -He who has not this inspiration imagines that confidence must denote the -possession of something to rely upon, and ignorantly supposes, that a -man cannot be assured of his own eloquence without a subject to speak -upon, and words to utter; while those who are endued with this great -quality lie under no such necessities, but are intrepid without any -means of confidence, except their own inward vigour and alacrity. - -I learned here, that this gift of impudence had been wit and humour, -argument, eloquence, industry, courage, zeal for the public good, and, -indeed, any other virtue convenient to the owner. However, the renown by -impudence never lasts long, which seems to be the only defect of that -attribute. - -Having examined these phials with many reflections on the perishable -nature of fame, I walked forth, and soon reached a building, which -contains the good intentions that have never been executed. There is a -vast accumulation of these virtuous endeavours; and I found amongst them -many actions so noble, that I greatly regretted they should have been -put in practice only so far as to be thought of. Some persons appeared -to have entertained only two or three of these excellent projects during -their lives; others had been incessantly occupied in schemes of future -goodness. I found a great number of resolutions to reform voluptuous -habits: many had determined to repeat a beloved vice no more after a -certain time; some deferred their abstinence till the following year; -and others declared that it should begin the next day. This contrivance, -of beginning virtue at an appointed time, seemed to have been much -practised: one man, in the month of April, had resolved that he would be -good after the first of June, retaining a license for the intervening -weeks. - -It is a precept of Lord Bacon's, that those who are endeavouring to -assume an authority over their bad habits should contrive that what they -undertake at one time be neither too easy nor too difficult; since, by -attempting too little, they make no progress, and by aiming at too -much, they fail altogether, and are discouraged. This plan seems -plausible; but I here found innumerable instances in which it had been -useless: nor from these examples was I able to form any opinion as to -what quantity of reformation is the most likely to be endured at one -time. Some confident men had been very peremptory with their faults, and -resolved to dismiss them altogether; the consequence of which was, that -these faults adhered to each other, and all remained where they were. -Others had been content to begin with prohibiting one little enjoyment -at a time, and had found the same disobedience; while others, who had -tried the moderate amendment prescribed by Lord Bacon, had succeeded no -better. - -There were several who, after the frequent failing of a resolution, had -desisted in despair, and for the rest of their lives permitted the error -to remain unmolested; but many had continued to repeat the same -unsuccessful effort, and as soon as one resolution gave way, had -supplied its place with another, exactly similar, so as to equal the -perseverance with which the spider renews his web whenever it is swept -away. - -A man, who lived principally in bed, had every day entered into a -determination to rise at six; one, whose health suffered by the -achievements of his appetite at meals, had employed the morning of every -day in a resolution to dine sparingly; a third, while he was zealously -dispersing a good fortune, had not passed a day without resolving to -commence a rigid scrutiny into his accounts, and to have a personal -acquaintance with every shilling he possessed. A man who, by an angry -temper, put both his family and himself to great inconvenience, had -undertaken from that moment to be the most peaceable man alive: this -resolution had wanted repairing several times every day. - -Men are apt to commit the error of believing, that a resolution, once -fixed in the mind, will remain there till they authorise it to leave its -post. Another mistake is, the supposing that, because a certain bad -inclination is not troublesome at the present moment, it can never -return. Some animals have a property which naturalists call hybernation -(they remain a part of every year without apparent life); and many -persons do not know that their faults are amongst the creatures which -undergo this intermission. From ignorance of this part of natural -history, they believe a vice to be dead, and exult at having destroyed -it, when it is only taking this natural rest, from which it is to have -new vigour. The bad success of these persons, who all their lives were -about to be excellent men, made me reflect on the deficiency of the -ancient and celebrated injunction, "Know thyself," which "e coelo -descendit," and was delivered and received as comprehending all wisdom -and virtue; whereas, to know our faults, and to abstain from them, are -two achievements so obviously distinct, that I wonder how they could -have been confounded. - -It has been said, that hell is paved with good intentions; by which all -efficacy seems to be denied to these unsuccessful attempts. This -judgment appears to me a little too severe; and I would allow some merit -to the good that we do in prospect. The chief praise, no doubt, must be -given to the inexorable man who is actually virtuous; but he who makes -an effort, though in vain, must, I think, be acknowledged superior to -the numbers who continue to sin with perfect resignation. Moralists -usually agree, that he who intends to do ill is culpable, though he -should not accomplish his schemes; and I think, therefore, it is but -just, that he who designs to do good, though without success, should be -allowed some portion of praise. - -Pursuing my journey, I arrived at a valley, in which I saw a crowd of -seeming men and women, dressed in fantastic habits, and walking up and -down: but one whom I there met informed me, that this was the Valley of -Lost Fashions, and that the persons I saw were only dresses which had -formerly reigned. I walked down into the valley; and then perceived that -these dresses had no person to guide and conduct them: yet they stood -upright, as if the wearers had been within, and moved about as -gracefully as they could have done under their command. The several -parts of the same suit adhered together, each occupying its proper -place; and the hat hovered over, as if supported by a head. These -dresses were of both sexes; and I saw every variety of apparel that has -inhabited England. The dresses of the different ages were mingled -together: there was the scanty and simple concealment of savage times, -and the several sorts of gorgeous and cumbersome robes formerly worn in -our country; in looking at which, I wondered how people could ever have -been induced to involve themselves in such impediments. - -I here found, not only the dresses once in fashion, but also the -gestures which have been practised in former ages; for every suit of -clothes retained the manner and behaviour to which it had been -accustomed. There were some ceremonious clothes, which were incessantly -paying homage to others, and, in particular, made very low bows to every -female dress which they met. Some moved with a solemn sedate pace, and -others were very lively. I observed several ladies' gowns that had a -great deal of vivacity. - -All these dresses conducted themselves so naturally, that I could hardly -be satisfied there was not a prompter within each. Seeing, therefore, an -embroidered petticoat, which walked in a very stately manner, I ventured -to raise it, in order to disclose whatever might be there. To this -inquiry it made no resistance; and I found that it had none of those -secrets to keep, which are usually entrusted to a petticoat. - -I observed a gold-headed cane walking up and down with a great deal of -medical dignity and learning, and above this, at about six feet from the -ground, there floated in the air a redundant wig, as being part of the -same physician. - -I was here convinced how many of the estimable qualities of human nature -are comprehended in dress and gesture; for when I saw these suits of -clothes walking about, each with its own grace and manner, I could not -avoid feeling some respect for them as human beings. When the splendid -apparel of a nobleman in Queen Elizabeth's time stalked past me with a -slow solemn step, I admired its profound reflection, and political -abilities; and I was several times inclined to laugh at the wit of a -lively coat and waistcoat. - -I think, in our estimation of those suits of clothes which discharge all -the duties of this life with propriety and applause, we do not -sufficiently acknowledge where the true merit lies. Lord Burleigh was so -sensible of the rights of dress, that in throwing off his gown, he -frequently said to it, "Lie there, Lord Treasurer," as being the real -officer of state. - -As I was walking about amongst these actors, I was suddenly startled by -a formidable oath, which was pronounced near me; and I turned round to -see which of the garments was the profane one. I found, however, that -they were not capable of such an accomplishment as swearing. Another -oath, still more copious than the first, was uttered close to me, where -there was no suit of clothes to be seen; and I then found that these -imprecations were preserved here amongst the exploded fashions. I soon -heard every variety of them uttered without anger, and, as it seemed, -merely for the purpose of adding grace or vigour to the sentiments which -they had accompanied. There were some poetical oaths, which seemed to -come from a swearer of imagination, and others very concise and simple. -Many were so obscure, that I found it impossible to discover their -meaning; while some were intelligible enough. As swearing is now a dead -language, we could not, without considerable study, become thoroughly -versed in that literature. But I think it might admit of dispute, -whether the suppression of oaths has been a wise or useful measure, -since they certainly added great facility to conversation. It is known -that, in the days of oaths, there were many who swore with much -invention, but had little ability to converse in any other style; so -that we may suppose there are persons who, by the prohibition of the -only language they can speak, are excluded from all conversation, and -must distinguish themselves by silence. Our ancestors applied oaths to a -great variety of purposes: to enforce an argument, or supply the want -of one; to evince sincerity; to ratify a sentiment; to gain time for -preparation: they used them, also, as invective, wit, fancy, repartee, -and, indeed, as the representatives of every beauty of speech; so that, -manifestly, a great loss and barrenness must have accrued to our -conversation from this supposed refinement. - -But in favour of this art, we may allege an antiquity far beyond our -ancestors, since we find specimens of it in the oldest writings. The -orators have always used it in great abundance: it was successfully -cultivated both by Demosthenes and Cicero; and it is to be observed, -that it remained in the modern oratory of England after it had been -exploded in conversation. In both Houses of Parliament, a well-timed -"Good God!" has been frequently known to have great force, and sometimes -was the chief argument that a speech contained. - -Whilst I was wandering amongst the departed garments, having escaped -from the oaths, I heard a voice near me exclaim, "Whatever is, is;" and -very soon was added, "It is impossible for the same thing to be, and not -to be." I could not conjecture whence this important intelligence came, -till I met with a person, who informed me, that the maxims which have -passed for truths amongst men, as soon as they are exploded, arrive in -the moon, and are associated with the other dismissed fashions. In what -I had just heard, I recognised the innate ideas with which philosophers -formerly stored the mind of an infant, supposing that, for our safety -through life, we are born fully instructed, that "Whatever is, is," and -provided, also, with some other truths equally useful. - -I afterwards heard many other maxims, which once were undisputed: for in -this Valley of Lost Fashions the air was filled with truths, religious, -moral, political, and physical; and, finding here so much of the -learning of our ancestors, I trembled for the fate of many things which -are now undoubtedly true amongst us: for the reason of man is certainly -as variable as his dress; and that secret power, which we call fashion, -regulates opinions, as it does skirts and collars. Different doctrines -come and go in succession, just as one form of apparel supplants -another: a particular kind of dress is dismissed, not for any demerit, -but because it has been worn for a certain time. By the same law of -variety, that which has been true for several years is therefore not -entitled to be true any longer; and as those who abandon a particular -dress can assign no reason for it, except the example of others, so, -when an opinion is universally renounced in any country, the chief part -of the nation know not why they now consider it false, nor why they -before believed it to be true. There are, indeed, some stubborn enemies -of fashion, both in dress and reason: one man prides himself on -fidelity to notions which all others have deserted, and disdains to -think any thing which was not thought a century ago; another, of the -same character, but differently manifested, continues to dress himself -with equal firmness, resists all innovation in the brim of his hat, and -never deviates in his coat or his gaiters from the example set him by -his father. - -It has been an eager study, with some writers, to trace the progress and -succession of opinions in past ages, and to explain how one prevalent -notion has been naturally derived from another; but in such speculations -there is usually this imperfection, that they stop at the present time, -instead of proceeding to deduce future opinions from the present. For it -is singular, that men who have sagacity to demonstrate that the maxims -prevalent in one age must unavoidably have followed those in the -preceding, yet from our present doctrines can derive no opinions at all -for the future; and can no more invent maxims to be entertained five -years hence, than a milliner can invent dresses to be worn at that time. - -In this assembly of the deceased fashions I found many ancient and -venerable maxims, which served our ancestors for truth; and some of -them, I thought, might have been retained amongst us with advantage, -though many had certainly been dismissed with justice. I began to think -of catching a few of these past truths which I most approved of, and -turning them out in England; but was informed that they would -immediately return to the moon. Besides the ancient truths, I found here -some which had been born and had died within my own memory, and some -which had been truths one year, and delusions the next. - -The noise of these contending opinions, each as positive as its -antagonist, each enjoying its short popularity, and thus succeeding and -undermining each other like statesmen, could not fail to make me -consider with regret how very little of real durable truth there is in -the world. However, we have this consolation, that if truth is not to be -found on the earth, its place is amply supplied by belief, which is an -excellent substitute for it. - -Belief has, indeed, many advantages over truth; it serves equally well -to stop inquiry, and satisfy the curiosity which harasses mankind; and -it may be attained without the labour and search by which truth must be -pursued; for it happens fortunately that it is as easy to believe as it -is difficult to know. He, too, who follows truth with a life of -meditation, can seldom arrive at any firm conviction, but is continually -perplexed by doubt; while the resolute believer is not disturbed in his -tenets by the slightest distrust. Besides this, the truths that we can -reach are but few, and the greatest part of nature is inaccessible to -inquiry; while the knowledge of him who believes is unlimited: he finds -nothing obscure, but is admitted into all the secrets of the universe. -This, too, must be considered, that he who, after great labour, fancies -himself possessed of a truth, may, upon further discoveries, see his -hypothesis taken from him; but the believer, who has a resolute mind, -can by no art or reasoning be deprived of his belief. It is also a great -evil of truth, that we must receive it as it is by nature, and not as we -would wish it to be. On the other hand, we have it in our power to -believe whatever we desire; and in our plans of the universe may take -care to admit nothing to our disadvantage. This flexible nature of -belief is well understood by those reasoners who, when they would refute -a doctrine, consider it sufficient if they prove it to be pernicious; -whence, without hesitation, it is to be false. For the reasons I have -assigned, my advice to all persons is, that they leave the perplexities -of truth, and resort to belief, as of much greater ease, certainty, and -serenity. - -The place I visited after the territory of fashions, was a house -preserving the female characters that have been lost. They are kept in -bottles; and upon the label of each is recorded the accident or -temptation under which the character was let go; and I found much -amusement in this enumeration of the disasters incident to the female -reputation. One character had entered the bottle by surprise, another by -perseverance; society had been fatal to some, and solitude to others; -some perished by flattery, others by argument; here I saw a character -lost by thoughtlessness, and there by contemplation. - -While I was reading the narratives of these accidents I observed a lady -whom I knew to have incurred this important loss, in search of the -bottle that contained her own reputation, which having found, she seized -it very eagerly, when immediately it dropped from her hands and was -broken. The character flowed out, resembling quicksilver in appearance, -and the lady in great anxiety endeavoured to collect it, but in vain, -for it escaped with the utmost agility whenever she touched it. - -From this house I proceeded to another, filled also with bottles, -containing the lost popularity of statesmen. I here found a well known -politician who has occupied a place in the English cabinet. He told me -in confidence that he had been sent to the moon to regain the lost -popularity of his party. It had escaped from them, he said, in a very -singular manner, and without any misconduct of theirs. He soon found the -bottle he was in search of; but these bottles being fixed to their -shelves he had contrived a plan for catching and detaining the -popularity, which he had been told would issue forth as soon as the cork -should be removed. He produced a paper bag, composed of an act of -parliament, which had been designed for endless popularity, supposing -that if he could once enclose the lost popularity of himself and his -colleagues in that bag he could carry it back without any danger of -losing it on the road. - -Just as he was about to release the prize, and with much preparation was -holding his bag ready to catch it, another statesman of a different -party entered the room, and advancing to the spot produced a bag, with -which he also stood ready to dispute the possession of this valuable -popularity. His bag also was made out of a parliamentary bill, but it -had not yet been passed, and he seemed to be confident that it would be -strong enough to secure the captive. - -But the first invader of the bottle seeing this new competitor desisted -from his undertaking, and began to remonstrate against the interference. -He said the popularity, that he was going to regain, belonged to himself -and his colleagues, and no other party could have a just claim to it; -their rivals, he added, ought to invent a popularity for themselves, and -not attempt to steal that which others had made by their own industry. -He affirmed, too, that the bag which his adversary had brought was made -of paper stolen out of his desk. - -To this the second politician answered, that the popularity in this -bottle was not the property of one party rather than another, but the -prize of any who could gain possession of it. "You and your -colleagues," said he, "have devised a convenient maxim, that whoever -obtains the good will of the public is usurping something that belongs -to you. You have bespoken for yourselves every benefit to the country -that can be thought of, and any other man who attempts to do good is -encroaching on your rights. You declare yourselves the authors of every -useful law that any man may hereafter propose; you are the sole -proprietors of the people's applause, and nobody can acquire approbation -except by defrauding you." - -In the midst of this dispute, a third statesman, armed with a bag, came -to claim the contents of the bottle. He derided the pretensions of the -other two, saying that no party could have popularity by just means -except himself and his friends, and whatever portion other men might -enjoy they must have gained by deceit. However, he was convinced that -the bags of the other two would be incapable of holding the popularity, -and that his own would succeed, for he said it was made out of some -admirable laws. I looked at his bag, and saw it was composed of blank -paper, for the laws he spoke of were yet to come, being only in his -intentions, and the paper kept vacant for them. - -After some farther dispute it seemed impossible that these claims to the -bottle should be settled by negotiation; and the only agreement that the -three statesmen could arrive at was, that the popularity being let -loose should remain in the possession of any one of the three to whom it -should be allotted by that kind of justice called a scramble, which is a -mode of arbitration very useful and decisive in adjusting many political -contests. - -The three politicians, therefore, standing watchfully with their bags, -the cork was drawn, when a loud shout of English huzzas rushed from the -bottle. This was the popularity; and the first of the three statesmen -lost no time in placing his bag over the mouth of the bottle, when it -was instantly torn into a thousand pieces by the wild shout. The second -politician had placed his bag immediately over that of his rival, to -provide for this accident; but the precious huzzas escaped through it -with the same ease as through the first, and left it a similar ruin. The -third statesman laughed triumphantly, and held out his bag with great -confidence; but not a single cry would enter it, and the whole clamour -flew through an open window, and was heard gradually becoming more -distant. The three baffled statesmen ran to the window, and listened -eagerly to the retiring uproar, imagining sometimes that it approached -them again. When at length it had quite died away, they began to dispute -in which bag it ought to have been enclosed, and continued the debate -for some time with much argument and anger. - -As I walked along, looking for new adventures, I was surprised by the -sight of a church, with a parsonage house near to it, the scene having -an appearance entirely English. I approached the house, wondering at so -exact a copy of things in my own world; but when I had come close to it, -I was still more astonished to see the house shrink suddenly, and -convert itself into the dress of a bishop, the roof dwindling to a wig, -and the walls becoming robes; at the same instant the church was -increased into a cathedral, which I recognised as the cathedral of -Worcester. While I gazed in wonder, the cathedral underwent another -change, and in a moment was that of Canterbury. Immediately afterwards -the bishop's robes raised themselves, and stood upright as vigorously as -if they had enclosed a real bishop, while the wig hung over them as if -supported by a head. The robe then stretched out its right sleeve as -being in the act of oratory. I had a great curiosity to understand this -mysterious transaction, and fortunately I met with a person who was able -to explain it. He told me that all this was merely a vision, which had -passed through the mind of one of those contemplative persons who are -usually called castle builders; that fortunate race of beings, who, if -they are left alone but a few minutes, can bring to pass whatever they -wish for. He said the moon was amply supplied with such meditations, the -name of the dreamer being always to be found upon the figure which he -had sent there. - -On learning this, I approached Canterbury Cathedral to look for the name -of the person who had built it, and I found inscribed over the door the -name of a young clergyman whom I knew. He had taken orders without -either money or interest, and did not seem likely to benefit -Christianity, otherwise than by wearing a black coat. Having, therefore, -time for meditation, he had been busy in making the only kind of -provision for himself that lay in his power. When I saw his name I could -easily interpret his vision: in the beginning of it he had been settled -in a country living, which was the church and parsonage house that had -first drawn my attention; from this, by some celebrated works on -divinity, he had been raised to the bishopric of Worcester, and thence -transferred to Canterbury with a remarkably rapid promotion. The robes -and the wig were now evidently addressing the House of Lords. In this -office the lawn sleeves performed many explanatory and convincing -gestures; and the wig supporting itself in the air, at a suitable -distance from the robes, duly executed all that significant nodding and -trembling by which such a wig usually defends the church. The dress, -indeed, had every perfection of oratory except meaning. While this -eloquence proceeded, he who had attained all this preferment was -probably wandering solitary and neglected. - -I now found that I was in the territory allotted to these castles; and -proceeding a little farther, I was surrounded by visionary sights, the -several objects changing every instant as the dream went on. In the -midst of these chimeras I observed a beautiful woman seated, and was -surprised by her not taking the least notice of any thing round her; but -on going behind her I saw a name inscribed on the back of her neck, and -so discovered that she was herself a castle. The name was that of a -young lady endued with a very homely person, who being unable to -acquiesce in the face and shape imposed upon her, had secretly provided -herself with another form more to her taste. What I now saw, therefore, -was the figure which she had appointed to personate her in her imaginary -actions. This elegant apparition was a dark beauty when I first observed -her, but soon after became suddenly fair, the lady in the course of her -dream having chosen a new complexion. She was at first in an evening -dress; but in an instant a riding habit grew over her, and she was on -horseback with a very graceful seat. Soon after she resumed the evening -dress and was dancing. - -At the same time I saw a lawyer's wig and gown, and by the eloquent -gestures of the sleeves and the forcible nods of the wig, I perceived -that it was pleading a cause. This was the apparel of a young lawyer, -which, finding no employment in court, was frequently exercised in the -imagination of the wearer. - -While I was examining these visions a sudden wind sprung up and swept -them away. Canterbury Cathedral glided along in a very majestic manner, -and the wig and gown continued to argue as far as I could see them. -Amongst the fictitious actions here, which I had time to observe, were -many pairs of young men and women engaged in very agreeable -conversation. These were the dreams of those hapless persons, who, -unable to obtain a real accomplishment of their tenderness, have -recourse to imagination, where no accident or prohibition can interrupt -their interviews. But I must here warn those who practise such -clandestine meetings, that since the road to the moon has been opened -their private meditations are no longer safe. An action only thought of -has formerly been judged secure from the most inquisitive; but now, when -all have access to the moon, where the tenderest visions are thus -exposed, it will be advisable to dream with great caution. I here saw -two or three young ladies of my acquaintance engaged in confederacies of -which the world has had no suspicion, and the apparitions bore an exact -resemblance to the ladies themselves. It is true that in one of these -chimerical scenes of tenderness two figures must concur, and, -therefore, it cannot be known which of the two has transacted the -vision; but a probable conjecture may often be formed by those who know -them. I have thought it right to give this warning to the builders of -castles, who have hitherto been secure against curiosity, and in all -their forbidden meetings have enjoyed an exemption from the common -danger of discovery. Their privilege of secrecy is now lost; and -henceforth, when they wish to retire for the customary enjoyment, they -will do well to remember that all they are to think of must be acted -also before the eyes of profane and satirical observers. - -The castles being blown away from me, I walked forward reflecting on the -happy lot of those who build castles, and are thus enabled to determine -what events shall happen to them. There are many persons so dull, that -through life they have no incidents except those which really occur; and -if an advantage, which they desire, does not actually take place, they -are quite unable to obtain the enjoyment of it. These persons cannot -conceive the life of a castle builder. He is the only man who can set -fortune at defiance, being entirely the master of his own destiny. He -does not, therefore, distribute prosperity to himself in that sparing -and imperfect manner which fortune always observes: he is subject -neither to delay nor disappointment in his undertakings; and instead of -needing the labour and perseverance which are necessary to others for -success, he can accomplish all that he wishes in walking about, in -sitting still, or at full length. The best gifts of fortune are not -comparable to his fictions; for in real life there is always something -defective to impair the happiest lot, but he who lives in vision takes -care to exclude every circumstance that could disturb his serenity. It -is to be considered, too, that an actual event can happen only once, but -in imagination the same fortunate casualty may be repeated as often as -it is wished for. It has always been a complaint that the successes of -life are followed by satiety; but an able builder of castles is never -satisfied. Those who are subservient to real occurrences are perpetually -stopped in their designs by an obstacle called impossibility, but this -is no impediment to a true visionary: he can recover a fortune which has -been squandered, recall a lost friend to life, and restore ruined health -to vigour. It is true that those who devote themselves to the pursuit of -these fancies are soon disqualified for the real affairs and successes -of life, but so great is the happiness by a proficiency in dreaming that -they can willingly relinquish all other advantages. - -I was now attracted by the loudest valley that I had yet heard, and was -told by one whom I met, that it contained the disputes of conversation, -so that I no longer wondered at the great eagerness and confusion of -voices. I soon arrived at the place, and walked into these -controversies, which are divided into separate districts according to -the subjects of them. - -I first found myself in the political disputes to which every place of -resort and conversation throughout England had contributed. Clamours on -public affairs were assembled in this spot from the clubs of London, the -coffee-rooms of all the towns in the kingdom, the dinner tables of -country gentlemen, and innumerable other places where men talk for the -welfare of their country; and since every Englishman is both a statesman -and an orator, it may be imagined there is here a noble exhibition of -eloquence. I heard with some amusement these voices talking with all the -zeal of men engaged in a public duty; for most of those who are -politicians in private believe that their country cannot prosper if they -are silent. I listened to several of those who are statesmen out of -history, and in their reasonings about present events always argue two -hundred years back. I heard the dispute of two voices, which contrived -to embroil Hampden in all the transactions of the present time. There -were many other reasoners who combated on the events of former ages with -as much zeal and anger as they could have done on the laws which -concerned their own property. Indeed, few Englishmen are neutral readers -of history: almost all enrol themselves as party men in all contests -since Elizabeth, and with great fidelity adhere to their friends in -every page. A true Englishman is persuaded that his own credit depends -on the reputation of certain statesmen of past times, in whose designs -he is so deeply engaged that he must share their praise or ignominy, and -he is defending his own character when he decries their adversaries, who -must be villains before he can be an honest man. - -After listening to these historical disputes, I advanced a few steps, -and found myself in modern times, where all the late vicissitudes were -debated with much indignation. I heard animadversions on certain -politicians, in voices which by an earnest sincerity of tone betrayed -suffering for the want of office. - -I amused myself here with observing the several arts of controversy -which are practised by private disputants, and perhaps are in greatest -perfection on political subjects, such as a louder voice than the -adversary may be willing or able to arrive at; a sudden anger, which may -make him silent from fear or decency; the not hearing any thing that he -says, a resolution which must baffle the best reasoner; the beginning to -talk while he is in the crisis of his argument. I found here an -admirable expedient for making an argument unanswerable, which is to -repeat it till the adversary is tired of answering it. Another artifice, -much practised in this place, was, that when one disputant had urged -something inconvenient, the other, with great confidence, would say -something wholly foreign to the question, as if in answer, and then the -surprise and silence of the first, while he considers how this can be -applied to the subject, must be construed into a defeat. - -There are other arts, perhaps, not less victorious than these, as a -contemptuous silence, and disdaining to argue any longer; a smile of -superiority, a look of having much more to say were it worth the -trouble, a pretended yielding to the adversary, as if encouraging him to -talk, and expose his ignorance. - -Being tired of politics, I wandered through the valley, and heard -innumerable subjects debated. I here found a proof that nature leaves no -creature altogether without defence; for when she does not empower a man -to argue, she enables him to be angry. - -I had occasion to consider the extravagance of those philosophers, who -from time to time have embraced a singular project of bringing all the -world to one opinion, for I observed here how naturally our friend, by -maintaining one side of a question, provokes us to undertake the other. -And yet this wild design of making men unanimous is still entertained by -certain persons, who believe that they are appointed to think for all -the world, and that mankind have nothing to do but think after them. It -is true, they allow, that men are now stubborn; but the age of thinking -alike will arrive. - -I remarked, in this valley, that there is nothing so efficacious in -prolonging and enforcing a controversy as for men not to know what they -are disputing about. There were also many instances of another endless -way of reasoning, when two disputants agree without suspecting it, and -in different words contend vehemently for the same thing. - -I found in this valley a great number of what may be called domestic -disputes, being those contests in which some families pass all their -leisure and retirement. I listened to some of these, and greatly admired -the invention of the reasoners, and their vigilance in seizing -opportunities for a difference of opinion. I heard a lady and six -daughters debating whether a certain person had grey eyes or hazel: the -mother and two daughters contended for the hazel, while the four others -supported grey. Both sides maintained their own hypothesis with great -vehemence, dexterity, and strength of argument. Each reasoner insisted -on her own superior opportunities of information, for one had seen the -eyes most frequently, but another had viewed them in the most -advantageous light. Neither party could gain a proselyte from the other. -I heard another family disputing with equal earnestness, whether a -certain person, lately dead, had been good-natured or not. I listened -to several other controversies of the same kind, as acute, angry, and -useful, as many famous disputes amongst scholars and divines. - -Being at last quite weary of all this wrangling, I continued my journey, -and soon reached a building that contains lost experience, being the -opportunities which men have neglected of becoming wise at their own -expense. Over the door is a statue representing Experience. It is the -figure of an old man, expressing very significantly the pretence to -wisdom, from a long life, appearing to be in the act of imparting -caution, and asserting a title to know more than others, from having -lived longer. This figure reminded me of several old men whom I have -known to gain great confidence in their own opinion from a long -seclusion, supposing themselves practised in the conduct of life by a -continuance of infirmity and decay, and concluding that by an absence of -twenty years from the world they must understand it better than those -who are still conversant with it. Most old men need to be told that the -being alive is not experience, and that the longer their old age has -been, the more time they have had to forget. - -I entered the building, and found one large room of the same appearance -as I have before described, being full of bottles, which preserve the -wasted experience. Each bottle had a label giving a history of its -contents. This room made me consider how erroneous is the common -opinion concerning the efficacy of experience. It is usually said, that -we are not to be taught by what happens to others, but only by what -befalls ourselves, yet I think most who reflect on their lives must -confess that the warnings they give themselves are to little purpose. To -prove the vanity of experience, I would have any man consider how often -he has failed to effect that improvement in his own character or -conduct, which he now promises himself shall be very soon concluded. -When we have every day endeavoured not to do a thing, and have yet done -it every day for some years past, we are still convinced that to-morrow -it really will be omitted; such is the authority of experience over our -judgment. A stone, says Aristotle, being thrown up a thousand times does -not learn to ascend. In many laudable endeavours, men benefit no more by -experience than the stone, but still come back to the same place. I -think, therefore, it may be said that experience has just force enough -to make men lament that they are doing wrong, but not enough to make -them do right. - -In this room I saw many persons examining their own bottles, where they -found the follies which they had diligently repeated after learning the -bad consequences of them. They all were struck with melancholy at -finding how many occasions of becoming prudent they had neglected. -Gamblers found here the frequent losses and turns of fortune which had -warned them of ruin, and in defiance of which they had proceeded with -admirable resolution. The spendthrift was reproached with having still -forgotten the want and difficulty which many times in his life had -admonished him of the habits by which he was now a beggar. - -I read with some amusement the histories on many of these bottles. One -of them containing the wasted experience of a friend of mine, a member -of parliament, records his endeavours to be an orator. Though every -experiment has been conclusive in favour of silence, he still persists -in his design of being the first orator in the House of Commons. Next to -this bottle is one, which proves that experience has no greater force -against poetry. It belongs to the author of a yearly volume, the -reception of which every year has bid him desist from being a poet, but -has not retarded the composition for the year following. - -I observed a gentleman of my acquaintance studying attentively the label -of his own bottle, which was covered with a long narration of neglected -warnings, for he is thoroughly conversant with almost every enterprise -of imprudence. He told me that he should take possession of his bottle, -and carrying it to the earth make use of it to resist temptations; for -he had seen another man drink a small quantity out of his bottle, by -which he was immediately inspired with experience, and resolute against -all follies. My friend, therefore, intended to have recourse to his -bottle upon every urgent occasion, and so keep himself prudent as long -as its contents lasted. I have since inquired the success of his scheme, -and learned that at first, on the approach of any dangerous allurement, -he applied himself to his bottle, and by a few drops mixed with water -was quite fortified against it, having a painful remembrance and awe of -former evils. While the influence of his draught continued, he -remembered only the satiety and weariness of pleasure, with every -inconvenience and shame of his several transgressions. These visions of -prudence soon passed away, and each separate temptation required a new -draught. But when the first charm of temperance was over, another -difficulty occurred; for when an opportunity of being frail was -expected, it required as much firmness to drink from the bottle as to -resist without drinking. He still, however, continued this excellent -medicine; but took care to be austere only when there was no occasion of -enjoyment, and when any pleasure was near, he carefully abstained from -the bottle. Timing his draughts thus judiciously, he still benefits by -past experience. - -Not long after I had quitted this house, I arrived at a valley which -yielded a sound quite different from all the rest, not resembling either -the human voice or any instrument that I had ever heard. Being told -that it was the valley of Cant I did not wonder that it should give an -unintelligible noise. I entered the valley, and found myself in the -midst of these sounds, which I had been unable to interpret, and I then -discovered that they were the religious tones which have prevailed in -England since the first introduction of cant. There were no articulate -words, but only tones in every variety of zeal and devotion. - -I found here a gentleman very learned in antiquities, who was delighted -with this multitude of noises; for he said that the most eloquent and -faithful historian being unable to describe a sound, we have had no real -knowledge of the tones of different sects, though we read much about -them, but here he had found the authentic whining of every persuasion in -past times. He listened attentively, endeavouring to assign the tones to -their respective ages, which he imagined himself able to do with great -exactness, though I knew not by what rules he was guided. He declared he -should catch specimens of all these sounds, and shut them up in a box, -so as to have by him all the tones in which our ancestors have served -God, and thus supply a great defect in history. - -I did not stay long amongst these strange noises, which at different -times have served as piety, but passing further into the valley, I found -cant under another representation. I was surrounded by a vast multitude -of faces, or appearances of faces, which hovered in the air without -being allied to bodies, or any other visible support. These faces were -employed in the different contortions and grimaces which have been -thought acceptable to God by adherents of the several sects. I was not a -little amused by the violent endeavours of these faces; I saw features -let out to an immoderate length; eye-brows with wonderful skill conveyed -to a place far remote from that where nature had settled them: and eyes -most ingeniously put out of sight without the lids being shut. Some of -these artists had great advantages from nature in uncommon gifts of -ugliness, and others had by industry supplied their natural defects in -that endowment. - -Being soon satisfied with this morality I left the faces frowning for -their faith, and walking on saw a crowd of hands in the air performing -their office also in the rites of cant. Some pairs of hands appeared to -be preaching, and others praying; some were held upwards for a time, -then stretched out, probably to the conviction of all who listened; some -were clasped together with a violent effort of the muscles. - -As soon as I had walked out of the district of hands, I found the air -darkened by a flight of religious tracts, a crowd of which hovered round -me in the air. When I appeared amongst them they rushed to me and opened -themselves before my eyes that I might read them, struggling and -contending with each other for the preference. Many of these tracts had -been great travellers, and bore on the outside the names of the places -they had visited. Some of them had preached in the East Indies, others -in the West; and I felt a pride in considering how great a part of the -world we supply with cant; nor is there the least fear of our stock -being exhausted. - -In another part of the valley I found a book recording the designs of -cant, which are not yet completed. The first I cast my eye upon was a -project to suppress eating, drinking, and breathing on a Sunday, -particularly amongst tradesmen. Rabelais mentions some people whose -practice was to breakfast on yawning; but this proposed law would make -it serve for breakfast and dinner too on one day in every week. It -appeared that the authors of this design have great hopes of persuading -parliament very soon to enforce yawning on Sunday, and also of inducing -people voluntarily to devote fifty-two days of the year to that laudable -exercise, most advantageous to the public and most pleasing to heaven. - -After this valley I came to another, whence issued a great uproar, which -I found was the debates of parliament. I was soon in the midst of them, -and heard a formidable din on various subjects, together with the many -sounds of acquiescence and dissent. English orators will be pleased to -find their speeches preserved in this manner; for it may spare them the -expense and solicitation by which they must obtain a place in certain -volumes for what they have said. I observed here several renowned -senators who listened with exemplary attention to their own harangues. -The speeches are preserved by this valley more faithfully than they can -be by printing; for they are uttered without the loss of a single -hesitation, repetition, or any other beauty with which they were first -delivered. A speech, by losing these delays loses much of its length, -which is now acknowledged the chief merit of oratory, as appears by the -practice in both our houses of parliament. Cicero being asked which -oration of Demosthenes he thought the best, answered, "The longest." All -speeches are now estimated by the same rule, but our English orators far -excel the ancients in duration; and we have many who, on any important -subject, are at least two hours more eloquent than Demosthenes. In -judging of speeches by their length there is this great convenience, -that there can be no dispute about the superiority of one to another; -for when speeches were praised according to the force of reasoning, -choice of words, and other particulars once in esteem, it was impossible -from the difference of taste in men that they should agree which of two -speeches had those merits in the greatest perfection; but now the -preference between two orations can make no question, provided the clock -be carefully consulted. - -I may mention in this place a project which I have devised for greatly -improving the debates in parliament, and freeing the despatch of -business. In explaining my plan, I must confess that it is borrowed, -having been practised in the following case with great success. A -married woman once complained to a female friend of the bitter and -incessant disputes between herself and her husband, and asked advice -about the means of avoiding them. Her friend answered that she had in -her possession a certain water, of singular virtue in preventing -quarrels between married people, and she would give her a bottle of it, -with instructions for using it to that excellent purpose. Having filled -a bottle with the peaceful liquid, she presented it to her friend, -desiring that whenever her husband was beginning to be angry and -contentious, she would fill her mouth with this water, and keep it there -till he had become perfectly quiet. Soon after, the wife came back to -have the bottle replenished, and to thank her friend for the miraculous -cure and peace effected in her household, for the water had put an end -to all disputes. Now I have been informed by a great chemist that the -water of the Thames has the same wonderful property; and my contrivance -is, that every member of parliament, at the beginning of each debate, -should hold a sufficient quantity of it in his mouth, until the question -be passed. I am convinced that this practice would infinitely improve -the deliberations of our senate, by preventing the delays of business, -and the perplexing of many subjects. - -In the building which I next entered, the lost friendships of English -people are preserved. I found a large room filled with urns of a -beautiful shape, each of which contains a past friendship. On the -outside of the urn is inscribed the cause which alienated the two -friends, the duration of their kindness, with some other circumstances. -I became melancholy at surveying this great assemblage of urns, and -reflecting on the instability of friendship. When we lose our kindness -towards a friend, we commonly pass into the contrary emotion, and -entertain something like aversion towards him. Two men thus altered -cannot meet without uneasiness; and I believe most people very early in -life can name several whose presence reproaches them in this manner. - -There is often no reason to be assigned for these separations: we -formerly loved our friend without knowing why, and now his voice, his -countenance, his gestures give us offence, which is equally -inexplicable. We may be mortified that our judgment in reasoning is so -liable to vary at different times of our life; but perhaps this want of -firmness in our affections is still more lamentable. - -It is said by Swift that every man is born with a certain portion of -friendship, which he is to distribute amongst those he lives with, so -that he cannot give to one without taking from another. I think there is -some truth in this observation; and it may explain the cessation of many -friendships, which otherwise would be very mysterious. There are some -who pretend to have an unlimited stock of this commodity, and are -liberal in bestowing it upon all who approach them; but this alacrity in -loving only confirms the maxim of Swift: for the little value of the -kindness, which in this case falls to the share of each, proves that -friendship is not to be so divided. - -On many of these urns I read the causes of estrangement. Some friends -had lost their kindness for each other by being too long separate, -others by being too long together; some by having different interests, -and others by pursuing the same thing. - -Lord Bacon says that admonition is the chief office and benefit of -friendship; but I found here numberless instances of friends having been -divided for ever by too faithful an execution of this office. - -In wandering about when I had left the house of friendship I approached -a valley, which I learned was the receptacle of lost vanity, and I was -surprised to hear of such a place, because I had always thought that -this endowment is never lost, but remains with a man till his death. -Having often seen it in full vigour after the decay of strength, memory, -benevolence, and almost every faculty, I had supposed that where it once -is it must be inseparable from a human being, and consequently that it -wanted no asylum in the moon. - -I had always thought it the chief mitigation of old age, that whoever is -in that difficulty, though he should lose every other ease, can still -keep his vanity, which is certainly the principal comfort of life. - -But I found there was here a valley full of this excellent attribute -without any loss to the owners; for the vanity kept in this place is the -fruitless ostentation of those who erroneously believe themselves -admired, and are at the pains to assume a superiority which is -altogether groundless. - -When I arrived at the edge of the valley, I saw first a crowd of what I -conceived to be young men employed in very singular movements; but on -walking amongst them, I found they were only the outsides of men, or -rather apparitions. They were all dressed with exact propriety; and I -soon discovered that these shadows represented the elaborate behaviour -of that race of men who claim greatness from a superiority in moving -about. Each of these figures was engaged in executing the gestures -peculiar to it in walking along a street, in entering a room, in bowing, -and in every other momentous transaction. They went through their arts -very rapidly, so as to make a great confusion in the different duties -and situations of life. Their gestures passed from the park to the -opera, and thence to a ball-room without the least delay, the exploits -of each place being performed with wonderful despatch. Many of these -figures smiled perpetually, and some with great skill. It was a -ridiculous thing to see them bowing without any provocation, and -performing other gestures, which there was nothing to justify. - -They had no voice, but they moved their lips, and greatly excelled in -conversation so far as it is a beauty to the eye. But all the gifts -exhibited here had been lost by the dulness of mankind, the superiority -of these men being of such a nature that no one could discover the -grounds upon which they reasoned. - -I had a wish to take one of these actors a prisoner, thinking he might -be an useful warning to certain young men of my acquaintance. I -therefore seized the one of greatest pretensions, and compressed him -till he was concealed within the palms of my hands, but, notwithstanding -this restraint, I felt him endeavouring to continue his exercises. I -then suddenly let him go, when, being instantly restored to his size and -shape, he began without delay to renew the practice of his -accomplishments. Supposing, therefore, that he would not lose his energy -by a temporary confinement, I again pressed him into a small compass and -secured him in a pocket-book. When, at my return to the earth, he was -released to his right dimensions, he retained all his vigour, and still -he goes through his manoeuvres without cessation. - -When I advanced farther into this valley I found it filled with a great -variety of characters, innumerable shapes of people being engaged in a -rapid exhibition of their several kinds of vanity, all being transacted -in silence, for none of the apparitions could speak. I was amused by the -loftiness and pretence of these shadows: here and there I saw a learned -lady dictating to all round with authoritative gestures, nodding with -great erudition, and sometimes stretching out an instructive finger. -Several shapes of young men wandered about quite unable to suppress -their greatness through having spoken once in parliament. The authors, -too, are very abundant here: I remarked the appearance of a man which -seemed to labour extremely with its dignity, and I discovered that the -person whom it represented had fought a duel the day before. One figure -sat with a look of greatness, but quite immovable: this was the -ostentatious reserve of one of those men who would impose their silence -upon the world as learning and superiority, and so much mistake the -reception given them as to construe dislike into respect. This error, -indeed, is not at all uncommon: every one must know people who fancy -themselves universally esteemed only because they put a visible -constraint on every company they enter. - -When I looked at the great crowd assembled here, all believing -themselves admired, and all really despised, I could not help -considering how very little admiration there is in the world, and how -many are in pursuit of it. If we except the few solitary men of -remarkable genius, who in the vast crowd that is left obtains any real -admiration? Still the belief of being admired is what gives life all its -spirit. Mankind is in a perpetual plot to obtain applause, and yet every -one prides himself on detecting vanity, and denies to all others what he -expects from them. He who in conversation hears any thing ostentatiously -spoken remarks the vanity of it to his neighbour, who secretly imputes -to him an equal vanity for pretending to this quick discernment of a -fault. - -Being now told that I was near the valley of lost labour, I walked -towards it, expecting a very large collection of curiosities, if here -were the efforts of all those Englishmen, who have been laborious to no -purpose. The end of the valley, where I entered, was occupied by a vast -crowd of students. Innumerable shapes or apparitions of men were here -reading for future eminence, being destined to no other reward than the -remembrance of their industry. Each of them fixed his eyes on his book -with great zeal, removing them from time to time as if to enjoy a vision -of his future greatness. I could not avoid some melancholy thoughts at -seeing the pale resolute faces of these persons, who had given up their -health and pleasure for the sake of disappointment, and I considered how -much endeavour there is in the world, and how little reward. - -These shadows appeared to be of various ages, some not arrived at -manhood, and others far advanced in life, representing the different -periods at which men desist from trying to be great. Some had given up -renown as soon as they became men, others did not despair to the end of -their lives, but in their old age were still preparing to be famous in -spite of experience. He who means to be eminent usually fixes an early -time for the first appearance of his genius: the time arrives, and his -genius has not yet appeared, but this is no just cause of despair; for -he has only fallen into the common error of expecting a too hasty -success, and he gives a new allowance of time with the same confidence -as before. In the mean time he has a comfort, that early fame is often -pernicious, and his greatness will be more secure by beginning later. He -is also encouraged by the celebrated men who were unknown till long -after his age,--a reflection which has supported many a pensive -candidate for fame. These hopes and alleviations occur at certain -cheerful moments, but there are many hours when the hardship of not -being famous is bitterly felt. And despair, though often deferred, must -come at last, in which emergency consolation is to be sought in the -notorious injustice of the world, and its ignorance of merit. The -sufferer in this disaster has not mistaken his own abilities, but the -judgment of other men: he has failed, not from a deficiency of true -genius, but from the want of some dexterity, or fraudulent art, without -which genius cannot be manifested. Thus a man encourages himself in his -youthful hopes by the sagacity of the world, which insures success to -real ability, and afterwards in his despair he comforts himself by the -dulness of the world, which denies all opportunity to genius. After the -final disappointment, therefore, he is still a great man in secret, and -corrects the injustice of the world, by privately maintaining himself in -his true rank. I believe it is little suspected how many of these -concealed men of genius there are. - -Having passed through these laborious readers, I came to a company of -writers equally industrious. A crowd was here afflicted in the -composition of books never to be read. Amongst these authors, I saw two -or three of my acquaintance, whom I had never suspected of such -practices, so carefully had they concealed their infirmity, intending, -probably, to surprise the world with the sudden appearance of a great -work; but through the inexorable temper of booksellers, or some other -impediment, the surprise had never occurred. - -The sight of these unsuspected writers confirmed an opinion I have long -had, that the clandestine authors are a very numerous race. And whatever -mortification there may be in finding that what we have written is not -to be a book, yet a writer of this kind has great advantages by his -concealment; for his work, not spreading beyond himself, he is sure of -unanimous approbation, and is the only author who can securely write -without censure. Besides which, while his works are confined to his -desk, he may assign that to himself as an excuse for their not having -been read; but he who by publication has given men an opportunity of -reading him, which they have declined, has no justification. To my -friends, therefore, who must write, I recommend secrecy as the best art -to defend their works from censure, ridicule, neglect, feeble praise, -and other calamities incident to a book. - -In examining these appearances of authors, I observed that there were -some of every rank in life; many of them betrayed that they could not be -clothed without difficulty, while several seemed to belong to the -highest order of society. All gave proofs of being affected by the force -and merit of what they were writing; some appeared ready to weep for -the distress which they were causing in a romance; and others were much -diverted by their own wit. I saw two or three authors who could not -contain their laughter at every new sentence that came from their pens. -The works were of various kinds, with which all these persons were -trying to enrich the world. I looked over the shoulders of some, and saw -poems and novels, politics, history, divinity, and every other -undertaking. - -Leaving the authors, and advancing farther into the valley of lost -labour, I saw a crowd of young men, who with much energy were throwing -their bodies into many different postures. At first I could not imagine -the purpose of this peculiar diligence, but soon discovered that these -young men were in the practice of oratory, and that all the strange -attitudes I saw were for parliament. As I approached the orators, I -found they were reciting speeches to these gestures, each having a -mirror before him, to direct that part of eloquence which lies in the -arms and legs. All of them argued vehemently with their limbs, and I -lamented that so many convincing gestures should have been lost. - -After seeing many other lost labours, which it would be tiresome to -enumerate, I left the valley, and before I had gone far, observed a -pretty woman, with a disconsolate countenance, sitting to rest herself, -as it appeared, from some fruitless search. I asked whether I could -assist her in finding what she wanted, and she gladly accepted of my -aid, informing me that she was in quest of her husband's affection, -which she had unaccountably lost, two years after their marriage, and -had vainly attempted to regain. She had been told that somewhere near -the place where she now sat there was a receptacle for the lost -affection both of husbands and wives, but she had not yet succeeded in -finding it. I comforted her with observing, that a place which should -contain all the lost love of married people must be of considerable -extent, and therefore easily found. - -We walked on together, and making inquiries, were directed to a large -building where the affection which has dropped out of the bosoms of -married people is preserved in the shape of small hearts, white and -shining, like alabaster. On each is an inscription, recording the fault -of the wife or husband, by which it had been lost. On one male heart I -read "Decay of beauty," that being the wife's misconduct, by which this -heart had been estranged from her. Almost every heart alleged some -excellent reason for the ceasing of affection, such as a hasty temper, -jealousy, dulness, vivacity, scolding, growing old, the having been -married _two_ years, with many other equally good causes for the -discontinuance of domestic kindness. On some of the hearts was a blank, -and no reason assigned for the alienation, which intimated that the -affection of the husband or wife had not been extinguished by any -violence, but had gone out of itself. - -I saw a considerable number both of men and women searching for the -hearts that they desired to regain. There is no name on any of these -hearts, but all people were enabled to discover that which had once -loved them, by a very singular property in the heart; for when they took -hold of that which had formerly entertained a kindness for them, it -instantly began to beat and palpitate violently, though to the eye it -appeared common alabaster; but if it had never felt any passion for them -it remained perfectly still. - -There was an old man who seized every female heart that he met with; and -as I came up to him, I heard him mutter, "This certainly beats a -little." He then requested me to feel the heart, which he held in his -hand, and give my judgment whether there was any thing amounting to a -real palpitation while he held it. I could not perceive the least -motion, except from the trembling of his hands, which greatly mortified -him. He told me he had been married late in life to a young woman, who -had very soon become extremely cool towards him, though he had done -nothing to displease her, and always spoke to her with the greatest -kindness. I represented to him that unless he was quite sure he had once -been really possessed of her heart it was vain to search for it here; -but he declared he was confident that when he married the lady her heart -was his own, though it escaped from him in so singular a manner soon -after. He then continued to try all the hearts in his way, imagining a -palpitation in each. - -One male heart was vehemently disputed by half-a-dozen women, each of -whom pleaded a lawful claim to it, and, indeed, it actually beat -whichever of them held it, thus owning a passion for them all. One of -them was wife to this heart; but her right was contested by the others, -on the pretence that the palpitation of the heart when she touched it -was much weaker than when it was held by any of them. There were many -other hearts, both male and female, which, having been pluralists, were -disputed by many competitors, each of whom was able to produce a real -palpitation. - -I was informed that somebody had invented a method by which these hearts -might restore the lost affection; and as the wife whom I accompanied had -found the heart of her husband, I explained to her the invention, which -she has since practised with complete success. According to the -direction given her, she dissolved the heart in a certain liquid, and, -keeping it in a bottle, secretly mixed a small quantity with whatever -her husband drank. The effect was, that after the first draught he -intimated some return of kindness, which still increased as he -proceeded through the bottle; and when he had drank the whole heart he -had resumed all his former affection. - -When I had left this building, I soon arrived at another which contains -groundless fears. I entered it, and found, as in many others, a spacious -room filled with bottles, containing the apprehensions that have -troubled mankind without necessity. On studying the labels of these -bottles, I thought the fears of men little less wild and visionary than -their hopes; and it appeared to me that the worst calamities of life are -those which are never to happen. Moralists have often praised the -concealment of the future from man as a most ingenious invention against -approaching evils; but since we are so much tormented by evils that are -not coming, I think this ignorance is but an imperfect security. - -I diverted myself in reading the terrors with which these bottles are -stored. Every gale of wind supplies them with apprehensions from those -who are at sea; and I was surprised to observe how many people there are -who, in a thunder-storm on shore, are fully convinced that the lightning -will choose their persons in preference to every other spot where it -could light. Great numbers in a trifling sickness had suffered all the -horrors of approaching death. I knew not before how many there are who -use the precaution of being always uneasy, and have so much foresight -as to lose all the comfort of life. - -One part of this room is assigned to public fears, which are contained -in large urns. These are the apprehensions which have seized a great -part of our nation from time to time. There is great variety in the -nature of them. At one time a small party of men are suddenly convinced -that all the rest of the nation are soon to be mad by agreement at the -same instant, leaving only themselves in possession of reason: every -thing they see tends to a general insanity; and by the expectation of -this event they are much harassed, as is reasonable. Sometimes those who -are earnest in religion apprehend that the people, at a stated time, are -going to disbelieve Christianity and abolish it. And sometimes the -farmers of England are seized with a belief that parliament, instigated -by a bad ministry, intends to pass a law forbidding the practices of -ploughing and sowing, to the manifest injury of agriculture. - -These epidemic fears are so frequent in England that every body must -remember a great number of them. Sometimes they seem to invade the -country of their own accord, and at other times are contrived by the -invention and industry of certain statesmen,--for one of these terrors -has often power to ruin or secure a ministry; so that the great wisdom -of state in England is a skill in prompting and regulating fears. I know -not whether there is more art or fortune in the beginning and progress -of a fear: very able men often undertake to be the authors of one -without any success; and in spite of the reasoning with which they tell -the world to be afraid, not a man will consent to feel any alarm. -Sometimes a most plausible apprehension is invented, and sent into the -world with the countenance of eminent men, and every other advantage for -its promotion, and yet it can obtain no credit, but is almost -immediately lost, while, at another time, a terror is obscurely raised, -and, although without probability, favour, or any arts of advancement, -it is instantly spread and established. - -It is vain to oppose a successful fear: a wise minister attacked by one -will enrol himself under it, and be as much terrified as any body. These -apprehensions differ much in duration, the life of some being only a few -weeks, and others lasting for many months, or even for some years. - -I have said that the public fears are kept in large urns, with this -difference from the private fears, that a bottle contains the -apprehensions of only one person, while an urn holds the terror of a -whole party, each public fear having an urn to itself. Every urn is -inscribed with the name of the fear that it preserves, and is larger or -smaller according to the numbers who have been possessed by its -contents. On one urn I read "Popery," on another, "Revolution." - -But while I was reading the names of these past disturbances, a fearful -clamour rushed into the room, sounding like the sudden shout of a vast -crowd, but incessantly repeated. I found it was a public terror newly -arrived from the earth, and the guardian of the room made haste to -secure it. He brought an urn, the size of which he had determined by his -ear, and enticed the uproar into it by a proceeding very similar to the -art which inveigles a swarm of bees into a hive. This clamour was the -repetition of a single word by thousands of voices. What the word was I -shall not disclose; for since it has very lately been a prevalent fear, -some excellent persons not yet dispossessed, on learning its departure -to the moon, would be distressed by the fatal security that has befallen -us. - -It is possible that a skilful statesman might employ these urns in his -service by letting out some terror judiciously chosen at a time -favourable to its progress. I am not able to say whether it would -prosper a second time, or return instantly to the moon, as having been -discharged, but I think the experiment worthy of being tried by any -administration that wants aid. Great care and judgment would be required -in the selection of a fear for release, lest it should turn against its -deliverers. - -I next entered a building filled with the unavailing projects of -Englishmen, and spent a short time in examining these enterprises, -which are political, moral, religious, mechanical, and chemical. The -collection has been much enriched by recent contributions. Many -excellent designs of the present age for the benefit of England and the -rest of the world are here honourably preserved. I saw numerous projects -for making morality: every virtue had some contrivance to be practised -by; and these schemes appeared very easy of execution, requiring nothing -for their success except the universal concurrence of mankind in -receiving them. - -I found here plans for dispensing with all laws, and extinguishing crime -by a general resolution of men in favour of virtue, for preventing the -birth of children by argument, for discontinuing war throughout the -world, for converting all nations to the true religion, that is, the -religion of the projector. - -Amongst all the noble schemes that I saw here, I most admired those -which were not content with the improvement of England, but designed the -good of the whole world, such as the plan last mentioned, for including -all the inhabitants of the globe in one religion. The means of effecting -so great a work were not described, but the inventor of this unanimity -was said to have devised so infallible a project, that for spreading -truth over the earth he required nothing but a steam vessel, and -undertook by a few tons of coal to convince all mankind. - -I saw many other English schemes for the welfare of distant nations, so -that not a people was to remain vicious, ignorant, or oppressed. In -examining these ample designs, I felt a secret pride in the noble spirit -of some amongst my countrymen; and it appeared to me that nothing has -been so much improved in modern times as the virtue of humanity. Men -were formerly satisfied with relieving the distresses which they saw and -heard; but there is now a large body of men in England who busy -themselves with the troubles of distant nations, and consider all -sufferings on the farther side of the globe as their own calamities. It -is well known how many persons of all ranks in England pined away under -the lashes inflicted upon the negroes in the West Indies. Others could -not be cheerful as long as Greece was under the dominion of Turkey; and -another party, who were not concerned either about Greece or the -negroes, regarded themselves as the most unfortunate of men because in -India widows sometimes burned themselves at the funerals of their -husbands. How would one of the ancient moralists admire the dismay which -has been caused in England by the conflagration of an old woman in the -East! - -It is observable that one who is thoroughly inspired with this remote -pity disdains to do a kindness in his own hemisphere, and despises that -superficial humanity which makes us supply the wants of those who are -immediately round us. He can only pity at a distance, and feels -compassion in proportion to the number of leagues that intervene between -him and the sufferer. He can see with firmness the starvation of those -who live near him, but shudders to think that a man may be hungry two -thousand miles off. Thus he claims a share in the misery of every man at -a sufficient distance: a lash inflicted on the other side of the -Atlantic makes a mark upon his back--he is flogged with the negro, -enslaved with the Greek, and burned to ashes with the Indian widow. - -I had now been wandering in our satellite almost a fortnight, according -to the earth, and almost a day according to the moon, for I arrived -there in the morning, and the day was now almost ended. I have not -related all that I saw, but selected a few of the most remarkable places -that I visited; nor have I instructed the world in what manner I -provided for my own personal comforts, according to the practice of many -travellers, who rescue every one of their meals from oblivion, and never -eat or drink without recording it. I have also omitted all mention of -the moon's inhabitants, because they are to be fully described by other -travellers. - -When I left the House of Projects, I was informed that I was very near -to the Valley of Lost Time, and I hastened towards it, that I might -observe whatever was there, before it should be dark. I descended into -the valley, and found myself surrounded by the sounds of innumerable -clocks. These sounds did not proceed from any visible mechanism, but -lived in the air like the other preserved clamours. They are the ghosts -of minutes and hours that have perished. It was remarkable that in this -confused clamour, every man knew his own time, and could distinguish the -hours he had lost when he heard them struck; yet he knew not what it was -that discovered them to him: all were alike in sound; only at the -striking of particular hours, he was seized with a conviction that he -heard his own time. - -There were many persons in the valley, and I observed that some of them -heard their own lost hours with great emotion. They turned pale, -trembled, and were overpowered by the reproach. And not only could a man -discern his own losses amongst these sounds, but knew what particular -hour or minute of his past life he was listening to, which very much -aggravated the rebuke. Men heard the striking of the very crisis which -might have saved, enriched, or advanced them. In some men the emotion -from these sounds continued a long time, others soon recovered -themselves. - -I saw two or three running about in chase of their time with a hat, as a -boy follows a butterfly. The hours were very nimble, escaping by an -irregular flight, and the pursuit was long continued in vain. At last -one of these men succeeded in the capture of a portion of time, which he -had followed with much perseverance. The chase being finished close to -me, I heard the stifled hours striking under his hat. As he had been -present in the room of lost spirits when I had shown the means of -recovering mirth from the phial containing it, he had contracted a high -opinion of my skill and invention in rendering available these regained -prizes, and he now earnestly consulted me about the means of making the -time under his hat serve the purpose which it ought to have been applied -to before. He told me he was a London tradesman, and not very -prosperous, through the misapplication of three particular days which he -now had in captivity. A few years ago he had been in pursuit of a rich -widow, from whom though he had extorted no promise, yet he had been -convinced that she was waiting only till a decorous time had elapsed -since her first husband. But this confidence ruined him: he was absent -three days with some friends; and on returning to his vocation found the -lady had so much resented his neglect of office as to supply his place -with another candidate, whom soon after she married. "Now," he -continued, "I have caught these three days, and here they are, but still -I know not how to make them answer my purpose. However, since you, sir, -could restore a lady her spirits out of a phial, perhaps you can restore -me my widow from under a hat." - -"I fear," said I, "your case is beyond my skill; for I know not how the -noise under your hat can by any artifice prevent the widow from having -been married as you remember. Whatever use you make of these sounds, I -fear you must still have misemployed the three days and lost the widow. -It appears to me, that the only way of retrieving lost time is to make -better use of what remains; I therefore advise you to make diligent -search for another rich widow, and when you have found one, remember you -are not to have a respite of three days." - -"So, then, I have come to the moon in vain," he said; "and I may as well -let these three days go again, after I have taken so much trouble to -catch them." - -"No," I answered: "a contrivance occurs to me by which, perhaps, they -may be useful." - -"What is that?" he inquired eagerly. - -"You may shut them up in a box," said I, "and always keep them by you, -to remind you of former neglect, and enforce vigilance in case of -another widow." He seemed to think this an ineffectual invention for -correcting his former mistake; however he carried away his three days -with a discontented face. - -Another man, who had stood in dismay, and quite overcome by the -striking of his lost hours, hearing what I said, declared he would try -the same expedient, and keep his misemployed time in a box for the sake -of prudence and industry in time to come; and immediately he betook -himself to the chase. - -I saw a pretty young woman in pursuit of some portion of time, which she -seemed to consider a valuable opportunity. It led her up and down at her -utmost speed: but at last, as I stood in its course, it was entangled in -the skirts of my coat; I seized it before it could escape, and presented -it to her. It was a single hour: she accepted it with joy; but I could -not prevail upon her to tell me what advantage she had lost with this -hour. This young woman, and some other persons, followed their time very -earnestly with a confused notion of benefit from it, when it should be -caught, though without any plan for applying it to a real purpose. The -truth was, that most of those who heard the striking of their own hours, -by awe and regret from the sound, were incapable of thinking accurately, -and were driven by a desire of retrieving the past they knew not how. - -Without any such reproach, it was impossible to stand in this valley, -and hear the destruction of time all round, without sorrow for the waste -of this commodity. There was a reasoning in the place not to be opposed. -I considered that time and money being the two things most earnestly -desired in our world, the ingenuity of men is chiefly exercised in -devising arts for the waste of both. It appeared to me also that amongst -all the errors in the plan of a human being, the most fatal is that the -present moment should be so much the most plausible instant of our -lives, and capable of persuading us to whatever it chooses. By universal -agreement and practice, the present time is for ease and enjoyment, the -future for abstinence, resolution, and insatiable industry; and since -the present moment is only one, while our future moments, by the -blessing of Providence, may be many, we judge that this distribution of -time is greatly to the advantage of industry and virtue, and we seem to -be treating ourselves with admirable severity, when we allot no portion -of our lives to pleasure, except the present moment; but in this -computation it is forgotten that life is made of present moments. The -bargain, however, is concluded; and pleasure exacts the observance of it -by still claiming the present moment, while industry, abstinence, and -other virtues included in the agreement, stand waiting for their turn -with helpless simplicity. - -While I was engaged in these thoughts, I first heard the striking of my -own lost hours, which impressed upon me a horror that I cannot describe. -I knew each particular hour as I heard it, and remembered the abused -opportunities which I had long before ceased to lament. I stood in the -persuasion and despair of having lived in vain, and no more thought of -inquiring into the grounds of this trouble and conviction, than we do in -an anxious dream. Suddenly I was seized with a desire of recovering what -I had thrown away: I reproached myself with wandering for amusement in -the moon, and resolved to return without delay, in order to use my -remaining hours with rigorous frugality. I instantly set out, and -travelled with great zeal, nor did I lose the impression from the sound -of my lost time till I had nearly completed the journey. - -At last, however, the illusion left me, and I was able to regard time as -the frivolous bauble which I have always considered it, except under the -deception of this valley. For however scrupulously we may turn every -moment to advantage, our most probable conclusion in every undertaking -is, that we are labouring to provide ourselves with repentance; and to -me it seems that a secure contempt of time, and an easy trifling with -that portion of it called human life, is the only adequate remedy -against the common lot of man, who, according to a celebrated author, -"is born crying, lives complaining, and dies disappointed." - -Is it not a great folly that we, who know we are immortal beings, should -always perplex ourselves about the hurry and use of time? For when we -have before us such a supply as eternity, it is surely absurd to be -sparing of hours and days. - -I regret that by this groundless consternation my travels in the moon -were so prematurely ended. I design another journey, and hope it may -produce something more worthy of being read than this imperfect -narrative. - - * * * * * - - - - -MAHOMET AND THE SPIDER. - -A DIALOGUE. - - -(_A Cave in Mount Hara._) - -MAHOMET SPEAKS. - -I begin to be very much tired of this cave, and my thoughts grow so -dull, that I have added only one line to the Koran during the last two -days. Yet here I must stay; for if I go out, and live amongst men, they -will never allow me to be a prophet; my doctrine will not be received -unless it comes out of a cave. Such is the nature of men: provided they -have not seen me for a month, and know not where I have been, they are -convinced of my intelligence with heaven, and do not consider that any -man might hide himself for a month, and so be a prophet. If they see me -write, they will not receive my words as revelation; but whatever I -compose out of their sight is unquestionably inspired. Certainly this -solitude is irksome. My only companion is that spider on the wall. I -begin to think he is the happiest of the two: it has never occurred to -him to be a prophet, and write a Koran, but he keeps his web in repair, -and eats flies, like other spiders. - -SPIDER. - -Are you already weary of your mission? - -MAHOMET. - -Great God! what do I hear? Surely it was the spider that reproved me in -a human voice! - -SPIDER. - -Yes, it was I who spoke; and my exercise of this faculty, by no means -common in a spider, may renew your diligence by showing the protection -of God. But pray recover from your alarm: in the course of your mission -you have met worse dangers than a talking spider. The truth is, though -you have seen me mending my web, and catching flies, I am, nevertheless, -far from being a spider, but one of the most important angels in heaven, -who have been sent to watch over you in this concealment. I have been -grieved to see you make so little progress for the last two days: you -have remained with your eyes fixed, and seemingly in thought, but your -meditations have not increased the Koran. - -MAHOMET. - -It is true, thou sacred angel, or spider, whichever I am to call you, -for my thoughts have been troubled by doubts. - -SPIDER. - -What have you been doubting about? - -MAHOMET. - -I was prepared to write a chapter enjoining prayer. I was going to -command all men to kneel at certain times for prosperity, obedient -children, and long life; but when I revolved the matter in my mind, I -could not help acknowledging to myself, that prayer is a very -ineffectual device, for a man may pray every hour in the day, and fail -in all his undertakings. What multitudes of prayers are offered, and how -few accomplished! With what confidence then can I bid men improve their -fortunes by prayer, when so little sagacity is required to see that -praying does not regulate events? - -Men will be apt to reason concerning the blessings they want as I -reasoned about the mountain. Having called it several times without -observing in it the least preparation for complying with my request, I -concluded that the ordinary exertion of my own legs would be a more -effectual expedient for reaching it, than any entreaties; and so a man, -who has tried to grow rich by prayer will be convinced that human -industry is far more efficacious. - -And not only is the event men pray for withheld, but the very contrary -is often sent. A man asks for an increase of wealth, and accordingly -loses what he has; he begs a long life for his son, and the boy dies on -the following day. Men might almost be tempted to pray against their -wishes, in hope of having them fulfilled. These things have stopped the -Koran. I have thought of cities broken into for desolation, while the -inhabitants pray for defence; of the merchant a sudden beggar by storms, -while he raises his hands to God for a blessing on his ships; of the -infant that dies while the mother prays it may be an honoured man; and -then, when I would have ordered all men to pray, and be safe, the pen -has dropped from my hand. Thus my thoughts concerning the goodness of -God have been disturbed: how might he increase the happiness of men by -yielding to their prayers! and his refusals seem the more obdurate, -because, as it appears to our comprehension, he might give men all they -ask without any inconvenience to himself. - -SPIDER. - -I find you are still impeded by the infirmities of an earthly mind. But -I was sent here for your inspiration, with power to show you some of the -secrets of the world; and I will now reveal to you sights that may help -to explain these difficulties. - -MAHOMET. - -To find such sights we must certainly leave this cave, which is -extremely wanting in incidents. Your stratagems against the flies are -the only events that I have observed since I have lived here. - -SPIDER. - -We shall not confine our observations to this cave, which, as you say, -is barren of adventures. - -MAHOMET. - -Then if we are to go abroad, is it advisable that you should travel in -the disguise of a spider, or will you not take a more convenient shape? - -ANGEL. - -Am I a spider now? - -MAHOMET. - -God is great! I see the beautiful form of an angel descending from the -web. How little did I imagine it was an angel that I saw spinning and -catching flies! - -ANGEL. - -We are going to leave the earth, and soar far away. Now that we are out -of the cave, take my hand, and we shall mount without an effort. We are -soon in the sky; look down, and see what a noble sight the earth is! - -MAHOMET. - -I see many different countries and tribes of men. - -ANGEL. - -Your task is to bring all those nations to the same belief? - -MAHOMET. - -I fear that will be difficult; for I never yet could induce any two of -my wives to think alike. You know that I have eleven; and in every -dispute they never fail to invent eleven opinions, of which each takes -one. - -ANGEL. - -God will give you the faculty of persuasion. You will be great while you -live, and after death still greater, being employed to govern the world. - -MAHOMET. - -I have heard before of the authority to be given me after death, and -have thought with some alarm of rising out of my grave governor of the -world; for, as I understand the office, it must require great -experience: and if without previous instruction or practice I shall be -expected to regulate day and night, summer and winter,--if the fruit, -the trees, the corn, must grow by my art,--if, at the moment I awake, I -shall be required to rain, to hail, to thunder, and to lighten in -proper places and at the right juncture,--if at sea I am to make a calm -and storm alternately, and to drown a part of those who sail with exact -judgment,--if, besides this, I am to advance and to ruin empires, to be -present at every battle, and conquer on the just side,--if, in the midst -of all this business, I must every moment be at leisure to hear the -prayers of all mankind with perfect equity,--if I must also know at -every moment what every man alive is thinking of, which I believe is one -of the functions of Heaven,--if I am at proper intervals to furnish an -earthquake and a comet, to say nothing of the moon and stars, which must -every night be kept in their places,--if, in short, every thing that -happens in the world is to be done by me, I fear that for some time -there must be great disturbance, for with my present knowledge I should -certainly be a very unskilful providence: an active colleague should be -given me at first. - -ANGEL. - -Fear not; nothing too difficult will be imposed upon you. But now look -down upon the earth. - -MAHOMET. - -We are at a great distance from it; and yet I see clearly the figures of -men, and what they are doing. - -ANGEL. - -Your eyes are strengthened for that purpose. You have now more than -mortal sight, otherwise all would be confusion. - -MAHOMET. - -I see many on their knees, of whom, perhaps, not one will obtain what he -prays for; and I see men engaging themselves in numberless undertakings: -they are all full of hope, yet how few will accomplish what they -attempt! This it is that troubles me: if God is good, why does he not -grant to every man his desire? - -ANGEL. - -You may try that way of governing the world if you please: I can give -you for the time an absolute power over the whole human race. - -MAHOMET. - -Then I grant to all human beings the accomplishment of their present -wishes. But what do I see? Every mortal upon earth has fallen down, and -seems to be dead! - -ANGEL. - -Yes; the whole human race is in a moment destroyed. This is the -accomplishment of men's wishes. - -MAHOMET. - -Did men wish to be dead? - -ANGEL. - -There was not one who was not wished dead by some other, and thus, by -your comprehensive kindness, all mankind have died together. Had not you -had a particular exemption, you would have been included in the general -fate. - -MAHOMET. - -Is it possible that such should be the hatred of men towards each other? - -ANGEL. - -It is not hatred which has caused this universal destruction. One man -has wished the death of another that he might succeed him in his riches; -another has desired the decease of a friend that he might gain -possession of his widow, being a beautiful woman. Some, indeed, wish the -destruction of their friends from pure hatred, but the chief part of -mankind would put others to death without the least anger or dislike. -You may see, however, that the wishes of men interfere a little with -each other, and that to comply with them all would not be the most -humane way of governing the world. - -MAHOMET. - -I confess my error; but how is this loss to be repaired? Will God create -a new race? - -ANGEL. - -No; I can recall these people to life. There! you see them start up, -and resume their employments, quite unconscious of having been dead. - -MAHOMET. - -And I suppose they have again begun to wish each other dead with the -same vigour as before. - -ANGEL. - -No doubt. But come, I have more to show you: we must ascend to the -threshold of heaven itself. - -MAHOMET. - -The earth has almost disappeared; we must be travelling very rapidly. - -ANGEL. - -Yes; angels never lose time in a journey; and we are now arrived at the -place where the prayers of mankind find an entrance into heaven. We are -in the midst of them, as you may hear. They are from all countries; and -you have now suddenly the gift of understanding all languages, that you -may give them audience. - -MAHOMET. - -What a clamour! I hear the names of various blessings, in different -tones of entreaty; but it is impossible to distinguish them. All mankind -seem to be praying at once. - -ANGEL. - -When a prayer is uttered upon earth, it immediately flies up to this -place, where the crowd of petitions wait to be admitted into heaven. To -avoid confusion, they are let in one by one, and each, till its turn -comes, remains here, praying incessantly, as you hear. I am going to -knock at this door, and when it is opened, we must hasten through, lest -any of the prayers should slip in with us. There, we are now within the -threshold of heaven, and can no longer hear the clamour. When I open -this other small door, the prayers will come in one after another; and -power is given to you to grant whichever you may think just. But I must -tell you, that when there is more than one prayer from different men, -concerning the same event, they come together, that you may reconcile -them as well as you can. The door is open; now listen. - -FIRST PRAYER. - -Grant, oh God, that my wife, Hafna, may bear a son. - -MAHOMET. - -This prayer, at least, is innocent, and can injure no man. - -ANGEL. - -Stay, before you comply with it, hear the next. - -SECOND PRAYER. - -Grant, oh God, that Hafna may be childless; then the wealth of her -husband will descend to my children. - -ANGEL. - -Now grant these two prayers,--let Hafna have a son, and let her be -childless. - -MAHOMET. - -It seems there is as much contention amongst the wishes of men as -amongst my wives. - -FIRST PRAYER. - -May a north wind blow over the Egean sea, that my ship may return. - -SECOND PRAYER. - -Oh, let a south wind blow steadily on the Egean sea, to bring home my -son. - -MAHOMET. - -I paused in expectation of hearing that the east and west winds also -might be useful on the Egean sea. - -ANGEL. - -Here are two prayers coming from a man and his wife. - -MAHOMET. - -Surely they will agree better. - -FIRST PRAYER. - -Oh God, may it soon please thee to take my wife into heaven, for -whithersoever I go her tongue followeth me. - -SECOND PRAYER. - -Oh God, may it please thee to conduct my husband into heaven, for upon -earth he is useless and grievous. - -MAHOMET. - -Well, this worthy pair agree exactly in their wishes for each other. - -ANGEL. - -You have placed yourself there to be prayed to, that you might correct -the severity of Providence, and you have not granted one prayer yet. - -MAHOMET. - -I have heard enough already to learn that the prayers of men must be -disappointed. - -ANGEL. - -If you begin to distrust your project of benefiting the human race by -compliance, and do not like your office of hearing prayers so well as -you expected, you shall give up the post, and I will then show you the -way in which the fate of prayers is decided. - -MAHOMET. - -I am ready to resign my power, and would rather see how the wishes of -men are disposed of by Divine Wisdom. - -ANGEL. - -I must shut the door, then, and keep the prayers out for a minute. You -must know that this is one of the duties which the angels perform, -without a visible interposition of God, though all is secretly guided by -his power and wisdom. Here is a net, which I fasten over the small door, -so that it hangs as a bag, and every prayer that enters the door must -fall into it. - -MAHOMET. - -What! can a prayer be caught in a net, like a fish? - -ANGEL. - -You shall see: open the door, and shut it again as soon as the first -prayer has passed. - -PRAYER. - -Oh God, may I obtain the command of a province. - -MAHOMET. - -What a miracle is this! I see a bird flapping in the net, and not a -prayer; yet no bird came through the door. - -ANGEL. - -Words may assume a visible form at the command of God. That bird is the -prayer, which you heard ask for the command of a province. This net has -the power of enduing a prayer with wings, and all the appearance of a -bird. - -MAHOMET. - -But what advantage is there in the change? I should have imagined the -words would interpret the man's wish more clearly than the bird. If a -man asked me for a province in good Arabic I should at least know what -he wanted, but if he only sent me a bird, I think I should hardly -understand the solicitation. - -ANGEL. - -You will see that the prayer in its present shape is better qualified to -succeed than when it was only a sound. Look into the great urn that -stands near you. - -MAHOMET. - -It is filled with little scraps of parchment. - -ANGEL. - -On each of those scraps, which appear to be parchment, is written the -name of some human being now alive, and also the name of some blessing -or advantage, such as his circumstances and the course of events may -bring within his reach. When the prayer of a man, having become a bird -by this net, gains possession of the parchment inscribed with what it -prays for and with his name, it carries the prize down to him, and he -obtains the enjoyment of his wish. I will now let out this prayer which -flutters impatiently in the net, and is eager to carry back a province -in its bill. You see it is no sooner at liberty than it soars round the -mouth of the urn by a sure instinct. It has dashed down, and is bringing -out the prize: I will catch it, that we may examine the province before -it goes. Here you see on one side is written the name of a Greek, on the -other, "A province under the Emperor." But this is not all that the -parchment is charged with: it is closely folded up, and inside are -written the consequences to this Greek of governing a province. I will -open it that we may see whether the bird is carrying him so valuable a -gift as he believes. Inside are these words, as the fate of the -governor, "Falsely accused to the Emperor of extortion; recalled, and -put to death." I fold it up again and restore it to the bird, which -seizes it eagerly, and has flown off through another opening. - -MAHOMET. - -But how is the bird to enforce execution of the parchment? - -ANGEL. - -It repairs to the man from whom it proceeded as a prayer, stands on his -head, and fixes the parchment to his forehead, where it firmly remains. -The bird then takes wing again, and soars round the man till it dies in -the air. This parchment on the forehead of a man gives him authority -over events, all obstacles yield before it, and he soon attains his -wish. The parchment adheres to him till every thing written in it has -been fulfilled, and then drops off. This governor of a province will -retain it till his death, which it is to effect. - -MAHOMET. - -But I have never seen a man with a parchment on his forehead, and a bird -flying round his head. - -ANGEL. - -These things are not subject to mortal eyes: you are now in possession -of a divine sight, which I shall take from you at your return to the -earth. But I have adjusted the net again,--let in another prayer. - -PRAYER. - -Oh God, grant that I may become emperor after the present sovereign, and -I will reign with virtue and the happiness of all. - -ANGEL. - -This is a Greek, who begs to sit on the throne of Constantinople. - -MAHOMET. - -And he promises good government as an inducement to God to elect him. If -promising were a sufficient title to success, every man might claim the -empire. - -ANGEL. - -There are many suppliants, who in praying enter into certain engagements -very advantageous to heaven, but the agreement seldom is observed when -the prayer has been granted. This prayer for an empire flutters eagerly -in the net; we will let it out to search the urn. - -MAHOMET. - -It soars round and round, and looks disappointed. - -ANGEL. - -There is no parchment belonging to it in the urn, which its instinct has -discovered. It will soon die, its embassy being finished. - -MAHOMET. - -It has suddenly vanished as it flew. - -ANGEL. - -That is the death of a prayer, it leaves no remains behind. Let in -another. - -FIRST PRAYER. - -Oh God, may I obtain the beautiful Julia in marriage. - -SECOND PRAYER. - -Let me marry Julia, oh God, or I perish. - -ANGEL. - -These are two rival prayers from Rome. The last of the suppliants -threatens to die, if God does not effect his marriage with Julia. - -MAHOMET. - -Here are two birds in the net: how shall we settle their claims to the -parchment? - -ANGEL. - -Let them both out together. - -MAHOMET. - -They are fighting over the urn. - -ANGEL. - -Yes; one will kill the other. Sometimes we have a combat of a dozen -prayers, which fight till only one is left alive, and the survivor -carries off the parchment, if there should happen to be one. - -MAHOMET. - -One of these birds has disappeared. - -ANGEL. - -It is dead, and the other has gained possession of the parchment. I will -seize him, and examine the lot, which has busied these two competitors. -It says that the successful lover is to be poisoned by his wife two -years after marriage. Now you see that those are often the happiest -whose emissary finds no prize for them in the urn. Let us hear the next -suitor. - -PRAYER. - -Oh God, restore to me my property, or who will praise thy justice upon -earth? - -MAHOMET. - -That is a very reproachful prayer. - -ANGEL. - -Yes; the Supreme Being is often required to interpose on pain of losing -all reputation for equity. See how the bird pecks the net, and struggles -to reach the urn. You may observe, that each bird in behaviour and -importunity corresponds with the words of the prayer it sprung from. I -will let him out: he finds no parchment; then Providence must undergo -the imputation that has been threatened. The prayer dies in great -anger. - -But as you have now learned something of the management of these -prayers, you shall hear some petitions of a different kind. The prayers -that you have heard were all sincere, and offered with a desire of -accomplishment; but there are also hypocritical prayers, the success of -which is not wished by those who utter them; they come to this other -door. The contrivance of the bird and the urn is not practised with -them, but they are let in, and very soon perish. - -MAHOMET. - -But do men ever pray for what they do not wish to have? - -ANGEL. - -Very often; they ask what they ought to wish for. I will open the door -to a few of these pretenders; now listen. - -FIRST PRAYER. - -Oh God, grant that I may every day increase in virtue. - -SECOND PRAYER. - -Oh let strength be given me to withstand the wife of my neighbour Ali, -for she is beautiful. - -THIRD PRAYER. - -May I have resolution to abandon my intemperance in drinking. - -FOURTH PRAYER. - -May God make my enemies happy. - -MAHOMET. - -What admirable prayers! But I observe that they are pronounced with very -little importunity: a man does not pray for temperance so fervently as -for the death of his wife. - -ANGEL. - -These prayers are called virtue by those who utter them. There are many -who think that to pray for virtue is equivalent to the practice of it, -and they therefore pray to be good in preference to being so, as the -less troublesome undertaking of the two. If these devout people believed -there was any danger of their prayers being heard, they would be very -cautious of praying for virtue, but they think God is not likely to -force goodness upon them because they ask for it; they have full -confidence in their own fidelity to pleasure, and rest secure that they -can still be as voluptuous as they please, though they should pray every -hour to become austere. Thus the man whom you heard asking aid against -the wife of his neighbour Ali considers that he has not the less chance -of success in his pursuit of her by praying against it, and he hopes, -too, that his prayer may be some little atonement for the actual sin. -But I think for the present you have heard enough, and can now justify -God in listening inexorably to so many prayers. - -MAHOMET. - -But still there is a difficulty: I have seen that many prayers are -rejected, and many are fulfilled with ruin, so that I am at a loss to -discover the utility of praying at all; and it seems to me that if men -lived by their own endeavours without prayer their prosperity would not -be lessened. To what purpose or benefit, then, should I enjoin prayer in -the Koran, and how can I recommend it? If I order men to pray, and tell -them that they will be equally fortunate without it, I think they will -hardly take the trouble; and if I affirm that by prayer they may be -rich, of long life, and the parents of many children, I shall be guilty -of a great deception. - -ANGEL. - -But men must be deceived for their welfare: they must believe in the -prosperity from prayer, that there may be religion in all they do. You -talk of deception--man is born to be deceived: the child is deceived by -its parent, subjects by the king, worshippers by the priest, and all -mankind are deceived by God. Man is cheated by his senses, his -imagination, his reason: from his first hour to his last he is under -illusions, without which he would not be a man. - -MAHOMET. - -I believe it is so; then why should I scruple to assist in the -conspiracy? - -ANGEL. - -It is true that fraud and deceit are censured amongst men, and it must -be so for the intercourse of human life; but as we are now a long way -from the earth, and cannot be overheard, I may say plainly that -sincerity is a private virtue only, and that men cannot be prosperously -ruled without being deceived. - -MAHOMET. - -I am impatient to deceive them. - -ANGEL. - -I will conduct you back to your cave: at a future time you shall see -more. Take my hand, and we will descend. - -MAHOMET. - -How rapidly the earth increases in size! There is the Red Sea, that is -Mecca. - -ANGEL. - -There--you are now in your cave again, and may resume your studies; I -hope with more progress. - -MAHOMET. - -Are you going back into your web? - -ANGEL. - -No; I shall not dwindle into a spider again, but shall still watch over -you unseen, and be at hand to instruct you in any emergency of the -Koran. - -MAHOMET. - -Before you leave me, there is still one question that I would propose to -you. - -ANGEL. - -Ask what you will. - -MAHOMET. - -First, then, I inquire, whether God foresees with certainty all the -future actions of men. - -ANGEL. - -Undoubtedly he does. - -MAHOMET. - -All that men are to do, then, is already certain, being foreseen, and no -man is free to perform an action or not. Now that men should hereafter -be punished for doing what they cannot avoid is a kind of justice so -mysterious that I confess I am quite unable to see the force or -excellence of it; and all men are in trouble to understand this -difficulty. I was lately questioned about it by one of my friends, and -being without an answer, I had no expedient except to assume suddenly a -face of deep meditation, as not having heard him, and in reverence he -forbore to repeat his question. This contrivance for silencing inquirers -may once be successful, but my followers will not always receive a fit -of musing as a satisfactory explanation; and if you do not supply me -with a better answer concerning destiny, they will begin to think that -my knowledge of the matter is not very profound. I confess that I know -not how to approach the subject, and all my thoughts only convince me -how ignorant I am of it. However, I have supposed that I could not be -altogether silent on this topic in the Koran, and that if I could not -make it clearer, I must at least make it more mysterious. Accordingly, I -have written something to show that men are at liberty, and subject to -fate at the same time; and if my disciples can find any meaning in what -I have said they must have uncommon sagacity. Now by giving me an -insight into this dark subject you will greatly increase both my -knowledge and authority.--God is great! the angel has suddenly vanished, -and that just at the juncture when he was to have explained liberty and -fate. This expedient resembles mine when I had recourse to musing as an -explanation. What! is this matter unknown even to the angels? Well, I -must rest in ignorance, and look the more confident when questions are -asked. And now to the Koran again. - - * * * * * - - - - -A LETTER FROM POSTERITY TO THE PRESENT AGE. - - -I know not with what indulgence or resentment you, who are the reigning -sovereign, may receive advice from your intended successor, but since -your actions may tend to my advantage or trouble, I conceive myself -entitled to declare my opinion of your conduct. - -Though I have received many messages and injunctions from you, I have -never before attempted an answer; and indeed the Present Age has -hitherto always supposed itself secure from the reproaches of Posterity, -and has been able to boast of its benefits to future times without fear -of contradiction. You know that during your life I am confined to an -island remote from your territories, and I have till now forborne from -writing to you, because I have been told that no ship from this island -could reach you. Having, however, found at last an expedient, by which, -perhaps, a messenger may arrive at your court, I have resolved to send -you a few observations, though without any absolute certainty that you -will ever read them. - -Although the seas between us are acknowledged impassable to a ship from -my country, you have imagined them safe and easy to those which sail in -the contrary direction, and leave your dominions for my island. But in -this you are greatly mistaken; for of the innumerable ambassadors, whom -you despatch to me, a few only arrive, and from them I receive a -melancholy narrative of multitudes perishing by the rocks and other -perils of the voyage. And besides the natural toil and danger of these -seas, I learn that many of your messengers are lost by want of -preparation and skill, by ignorance of the sea, and by faulty ships. It -is said that some of your packets founder as soon as they have left the -harbour, many in the middle of the voyage, and some within sight of my -island. The ruins and fragments cast up on my shore from time to time -inform me how many expeditions you fit out for destruction. - -However, I have learned something of you from the few more skilful -adventurers who have accomplished the voyage; and as from their -information I find that you are imposing duties upon me, for which I am -not likely to have either time or inclination, I shall make a few -remarks upon these labours, which you think yourself entitled to leave -for me. - -In many particulars, I believe you only fall into that mistake, common -to every age, of expecting too much observance from your successor; but -in addition to that, you may perhaps have other errors of your own -invention. I understand that upon the most trifling event you please -yourself with considering what posterity will say about it. Now, while I -gratefully acknowledge the care you take to supply me with conversation, -I would represent to you that you can hardly expect me to decline all -enterprises and employments for the sake of having full leisure to talk -of what you have been doing. You seem to think it but reasonable, that -when you are dead I shall be occupied incessantly with considering your -exploits, and celebrating your praises; but you forget that I shall -always have my own exploits to consider, and myself to praise. It is -impossible that I should undertake in your behalf all the study and -research which you impose upon me without neglecting altogether my own -affairs, my hopes and dangers, and that only in order to make you -famous. This, I think, cannot be expected; for although men will endure -great labours for their own renown, no person has been known to forfeit -his ease, pleasure, and reputation for the fame of another. - -I am told that you expect me to understand the affairs of your reign -much better than you do yourself. I am to discover infallibly the nature -of every event, to expose the fraud of every intrigue, and to manifest -the true origin of all that now passes before your eyes. - -When there has been some mysterious transaction, in which there is guilt -and blame without any certainty of the person upon whom it ought to -fall, you desire your subjects to be under no concern, and not to -perplex themselves with conjectures, for Posterity will inquire into the -matter, and disgrace those who deserve it. Yet I should have thought you -must have better opportunities of information about what is now passing -than I am likely to command when all concerned in the event are dead. -But I believe the advantage which makes Posterity infallible is, that -none remain to contradict whatever he may choose to conclude. But before -you can be sure I shall arrive at just decisions upon all events in your -reign, you must know whether I shall be at the trouble of examining them -at all; and I cannot help suspecting that I shall be more attentive to -the most trivial occurrence which I see passing than to all the events -which were seen by you. - -I have learned, also, that you act with the most wanton caprice in -distributing honours and rewards amongst your subjects. The clamorous -become great; the good, the silent, and the useful remain obscure: and -it is said that to excuse the little pains you take in discovering and -advancing true merit, you often allege that Posterity will rectify all -your mistakes concerning the characters of men. This seems to me a -singular kind of justice; and I cannot think that a man of merit is -adequately rewarded by the hope of its being acknowledged after his -death that he ought to have been famous while he lived. But I warn you -that I shall not think myself under any obligation to adjust the claims -of your contemporaries. This is one of the most unreasonable tasks that -you impose upon me; you find it difficult to distinguish the good and -bad qualities in that multitude which is soliciting your notice, and -therefore transfer the decision to me, as if the characters of men were -most easily discerned when the means of information are lost. I am -expected not only to furnish honour for all whom you have unjustly kept -in obscurity, but also to degrade those whom you have exalted without -reason, and you seem to think that you atone sufficiently for raising so -many undeserving men when you charge Posterity to deprive them of their -honours. - -I am told that by this uncertainty in assigning honours, and this custom -of referring all kinds of merit to my decision, you have taught great -numbers of busy men, whose names can never reach my ear, to expect what -they call justice from me. When there have been two competitors for a -public honour, the unsuccessful one invokes my aid, and desires that I -will not fail to expose the arts of his adversary and to manifest his -own probity, when the truth is, that I am never to hear of the dispute, -and therefore cannot reasonably be expected to settle it. I find that I -am become the common refuge of all the unhappy men who are disappointed -in their hopes of your favour. He who was to have been an orator and -statesman, but instead of that dies unheard of in a wretched garret, -entreats me with his last breath to make him as great a man as he ought -to have been. - -But I hear that of all those who expect my praise the most numerous and -most confident are the authors. The scribbler, who has been guilty of a -tiresome volume which you have refused to read, still writes with the -same industry as at first, for he has patience, and can wait for the -applause of Posterity. He who has had the good fortune to be read and -commended by you has no reason to suppose that I shall be less pleased -by his work; and he whom you have censured or refused to read is but the -more confident of my applause from your known neglect of merit. Thus -either to fail or to succeed assures an author of favour with Posterity, -whence I must regard with despair the library that I am expected to -peruse. - -It is said that almost all your subjects are authors, so that he who has -not written a book is accused of affecting singularity; and I hear you -read the living writers with so much industry that very few complain of -being overlooked. Now I am credibly informed that there is only one -writer of your whole reign whom I am likely to study: I conceal his -name, that each may believe it to be himself, and the vigour and hope of -your authors may not be diminished. - -But I must inform all of your contemporaries who, either from their -writings or their actions, are confident of my future praise, that when -I come to the throne, a man of but moderate abilities, provided he be -alive, will engage more of my notice and conversation than the most -renowned of your dead subjects. - -But my neglect is not the only thing which these ambitious men have to -fear; the loss of their names and actions at sea being a still greater -impediment to immortal fame. Every one of your authors, as I have been -told, sends his works to sea in full confidence that they will reach my -island and be eagerly studied by me. Many even undertake to foretell my -impression and opinion from particular passages. These books, from which -I am to obtain my knowledge, usually attain the bottom of the sea almost -as soon as they set out. - -I hear that you are very punctual in transmitting to me intelligence of -all you do, and that when you are doing nothing you take care to inform -me of that also, and despatch a copious narrative of every day, whether -any thing has happened in it or not. I have already told you the fate -of these valuable communications; they are lost by the storms and rocks. -But from time to time a man is born in your dominions with a genius to -overcome all the difficulties that separate us. He is versed in the -characters and events of your reign, and also knows my disposition, what -things I wish to know, and what I should reject, and he has skill to -preserve him from being destroyed and forgotten in the seas through -which I am to be reached. Such a man from the rocks in his way gathers -the fragments of letters that you have sent by unfortunate voyagers, and -judges what intelligence is worthy to reach my island. From these rare -adventurers I obtain all the knowledge I have of your reign. - -There are, indeed, many divers in my island, who pretend to give ample -and exact information of you, but they find little belief. These -artists, by constant discipline, have extraordinary skill and patience -in remaining under water, where, as they wish me to suppose, they -discover innumerable histories from your lost ships, which they read -with great diligence beneath the waves, and then rising up write what -they have learned, and present it to me. The writers who thus look for -facts at the bottom of the sea are very apt to contradict the most -authentic intelligence that I have received from your ablest -ambassadors; but I give very little attention to their discoveries. - -As I have now explained to you how rare and imperfect is the information -that I receive of your reign, you may understand that your claim to my -incessant praise and study is not likely to be complied with. - -But whatever intelligence of your proceedings you may contrive to give -me, I cannot promise that laborious attention to them which you require; -and I think you the more unreasonable in demanding so much of my -admiration, because, as I am told, you show no such respect for your -predecessor, but are wholly occupied by your own projects. It is said -that you never speak of him without derision; and that any person who -would recall one of his maxims is ruined in your esteem, and ridiculed -by all your court as a man of an understanding too slow to go on with -the course of the seasons. Now, if you think that an Age deceased is -thus at the mercy of its successor, I cannot understand what peculiar -merit in you is to secure you from the same treatment during my reign. I -am told, that in your eyes the chief virtue of all things consists in -being new. A book just from the press has wit and spirit, which after a -short time are not to be found in it. I understand that a volume six -months old is thought to have lost all its vigour. Men, also, as books, -attain with you a sudden eminence, but soon discover that their renown -has left them with their novelty. - -If my intelligence is accurate, you estimate opinions by the same rule. -A man who would be thought to reason justly must insist upon something -which never was imagined before: in all matters relating to the -government of your dominions you disdain to think any thing that was -thought twenty years ago; and indeed I believe that by your command, the -same thing very seldom is true for two years together. And it seems that -whenever you order your subjects to do or think any thing new, you -imagine yourself conferring a great benefit on me, for instead of -regarding your various decrees as the amusements of a day, you believe -that your wildest fancies will last for ever. In all your inventions you -are dreaming for Posterity, and every absurdity you commit is for my -use. - -I find you have invented a new phrase, "the spirit of the age," said to -be of admirable use in silencing those men of immovable minds, who -obstinately retain a maxim because they remember it true at a former -time. In every dispute, as I hear, this phrase is both wit and argument; -no man is able to refute it, nor even to reason against it for a moment; -and if an intrepid disputant sometimes ventures to call its authority in -question, he acts on pain of being ridiculous for the rest of his life. - -Now, since every doctrine must wait for your permission before it can be -true, since you have assumed this right to reject every past notion, -and supply from your own stock all the wisdom that your people want, I -wish to be informed what shall prevent me from being equally absolute in -my turn. - -I advise you, then, to give up the frivolous amusement of making -discoveries for my use; I intend to make discoveries for myself, and -believe I shall follow your example in liking my own truths best, for -the sake of their author. But, while I desire you to forbear -recommending opinions to me, I would not discourage you from prosecuting -your triumph over the defenceless notions of antiquity; for a living -disputant has so great an advantage over one who is dead, that in any -controversy with your predecessor I think you cannot fail to be -victorious. Only remember, that when you are dead I shall argue against -you with the same advantage; and I know not how you can expect that, -having your example before me, I should use that advantage with -moderation. - - * * * * * - - - - -ANSWER FROM THE PRESENT AGE TO POSTERITY. - - -Your letter has reached me; and as I find that through imperfect -intelligence you have contracted a very wrong opinion of my character, I -shall endeavour to correct your mistakes. Having been told of certain -prevailing follies, you impute them all to me, and would make me the -author of all absurdities committed by my subjects. If, when you come to -the throne, you shall undertake to be the inventor of every thing that -is said and done in your dominions, you will make yourself answerable -for more follies than you will find ingenuity to defend. - -However, the distance between us may easily excuse your mistake; for -those by whom I am surrounded are very apt to give me the honour of all -the extravagant designs that become public; and, indeed, I cannot blame -their credulity, for when every scribbler calls himself "the Present -Age," and every projector affects to be acting under my orders, I can -hardly expect that my true actions shall be always distinguished. -Perhaps I might be pardoned, if, in the multitude and confusion of -exploits and opinions which are said to be mine, I were sometimes, -myself, to doubt what it is that I am really doing and thinking. I -therefore readily excuse your misconception of my character, and shall -now endeavour to give you a juster notion of me. - -First, I shall say a few words of the unfair use of my name, that you -may see the reason of my being so much misrepresented to you, and also -may be warned of the usurpation which your own name will inevitably -suffer when you occupy my place. My subjects are extremely desirous of -discovering my will, and would commonly obey my slightest commands with -perfect alacrity. There is a great emulation amongst them to be the -first in learning my sentiments upon every occasion, and imparting them -to others. But this excessive loyalty, instead of making my people -obedient to my government, only induces them to believe the numberless -impostors, who recommend their own inventions in my name, and thus, -while my subjects are committing the wildest follies in action and -opinion, they imagine themselves submitting to the wisdom of their -sovereign. - -The greatest part of these fictitious laws are propagated by those who -write, and who are almost as numerous as you represent them. My people -judge and reason by means of works, called Reviews, which are published -at certain times, each of them containing doctrines adverse to those of -its rivals. Every one of them affirms solemnly that I am its editor; -derides the pretence of all the rest to my protection, and declares me -the guardian of itself alone. Every reader pretends to know my style, -and can trace it in his own Review. The truth is, that a few of the -writers in these works have sagacity and opportunity to discover my real -sentiments, while the others publish their own fancies as my decrees. - -In addition to these Reviews certain works are published every morning -and evening, that contain a faithful history of that portion of time -which is called a day. Of all these, likewise, I am the professed -editor: each of them claims to itself my real labour, and imputes to the -others the dishonest use of my name. Each, therefore, has its sect of -believers; who are convinced that they read what has been corrected and -authorised, if not written, by me. - -There are other compositions of a singular kind in which I am often -suspected of being engaged. You must know that, in the towns of my -dominions, those who are desirous of instructing their countrymen have a -custom of writing their thoughts upon the walls in large letters, and -liberally allowing them to be read by all who pass, so that in times of -commotion every wall abounds with political wisdom, expressed in a -brief, sententious style. The walls are attentively read by crowds of -students; and many have no other education. There is a great variety in -the style and subject of these works in the open air: religious sects -are exploded, taxes are condemned, public spirit is inculcated; and -there are satirical walls, which often concur to ruin some odious -statesman by wit and ridicule. Sometimes the remarks of a wall are -answered by that on the opposite side of the street, so that those who -pass between them may see the whole controversy together. There is -hardly a town in my dominions destitute of this literature. Such is -believed to be my zeal for composition, that I am often supposed the -author of these inscriptions. Many are the persons who receive every -thing that is said upon a wall as a manifestation of "the Present Age;" -and it is confidently believed that I wander about in disguise to cover -the walls with knowledge, or at least that my emissaries write up -sentiments by my order. Thus, when any idle boy may prescribe the -opinions of the age with a piece of chalk, you cannot wonder at the -extravagant doctrines which pass for mine. - -I am made answerable for the outrages of innumerable books, which I have -never seen; for the common stratagem to obtain readers for a book is to -publish that I am the author of it. The most obscure writers endeavour -to give authority to their works by declaring that they write only what -I enjoin, although they have never been in my presence, nor obtained the -least authentic information of my thoughts. In this manner the wildest -fictions are imposed upon the country as maxims of "the Present Age." - -My indignation is often roused by the insolent confidence with which my -name is assumed. The most ignorant scribbler, who is kept alive by -nonsense, will allege that he has a commission to divulge my sentiments; -and if any person thinks fit to call in question what he is teaching, he -exclaims against the audacity of those who presume to dispute with "the -Present Age." - -You will now readily suppose, that the phrase, which you justly -ridicule, "the spirit of the age," was not invented by me, but by some -of these pretenders to my confidence, who seem to find it so useful, -forcible, and conclusive, that I think they will not soon let it fall -into disuse. It is one of those epidemic phrases, of which a few are -always in force to argue for those who cannot reason without them. There -are several such incontestible sayings now in great authority, besides -the one you have mentioned, though that I think is the most absolute. -These significant phrases, which usually are not extended beyond two or -three words, are abstracts of all knowledge and experience, and of vast -advantage in the principal business of life, which is dispute. For not -being burdensome to the mind, but easily carried about, and ready for -use on all occasions, they are far more exercised than any elaborate -reasoning, and they enable men of scanty education to be as ready, as -copious, and as positive as those of the greatest learning, so that they -have made all persons equal in argument; and thus abolished the unjust -advantage which has been enjoyed by men of ability. A treatise -plentifully supplied with these phrases is sure to have great success, -and a politician, who makes frequent use of them, cannot fail to -convince the world of his integrity. - -You have been rightly informed of the exploits achieved by that -formidable phrase, "The spirit of the age." Such is the eloquence of -those words that there is no outrage against common sense which they -cannot justify. In all the strange propositions which they are employed -to maintain, it is impossible to discover any general principle or -uniformity. In truth, this "spirit of the age" is a mere sound, which by -universal consent is allowed to be full of argument, and may be used by -any man who can speak articulately or write legibly. All which can be -understood is, that those who make frequent use of this phrase ascribe -to me an unlimited power over law, morality, custom, and reason. They -empower me to invent a new right and wrong whenever I am tired of the -old. Thus, because a ridiculous phrase has by some ingenious artist -been constructed with my name, all the absurdities which this phrase may -commit are supposed to be my decrees. - -After what I have said I hardly need tell you that in imputing to me a -corrupt taste in literature, and a neglect of every book not perfectly -new, you are still confounding me with a part of my subjects. I am -publicly reported to have read with delight innumerable works of which -not even the names have reached me; and frequently it is said, with as -much truth, that I have ordered a book to be carefully kept and -recommended to you after my death. - -I am supposed to be as absolute over literature as over law and -government; and frequent edicts are published in my name declaring what -is to be wit and sublimity for the present time. It is imagined that I -have it in my power to deprive any former writers I please of all their -beauties, and leave them utterly worthless; which seems a singular -expedient for enriching the world; and yet I am sometimes believed to -practise it. Thus not long ago a few of my subjects who write conspired -together to prevent Pope from continuing to be a poet. In this design -they made use of my authority, and affirmed that I had dismissed his -works from my library as being poetry no longer. They said that in this -I had been determined by their persuasion; for that, in an interview -which I had granted, they had brought me to their opinion; and that from -that time Pope had been no poet by unanswerable arguments. The truth is, -no such interview was granted them; and I have never ceased to read Pope -with pleasure and advantage. But this confederacy against him had some -success: the discovery that we had one poet less than we had imagined -was received with great exultation; and many persons acknowledged that -the pleasure they had hitherto supposed themselves to find in his works -was a deception, and not real pleasure. - -The greatest part of my subjects endeavour to regulate their studies by -mine; to read the books that I read, and be amused by the passages that -amuse me. A reader would be ashamed to laugh where he supposed me to -have read with gravity; and whatever entertainment a book might give -him, if he were told that I had not read it he would instantly lay it -aside. Yet this correspondence of our studies is altogether imaginary; -for these conforming readers are unable to obtain any true intelligence -of what I am doing. Thus, by my supposed example, the writings of Pope -could no longer please; for there being this emulation to follow me, and -this ready belief of whatever is reported of my studies, those who -design that former poets shall have no genius need do no more than -command in my name that the words which once were full of thought and -meaning shall henceforth mean nothing. - -I now proceed to another of your complaints against me; which, however, -every former Age has equally incurred. You accuse me of distributing -honours unjustly, of neglecting true merit, and signalising the -unworthy. In vindication of myself I beg you to consider by whom this -charge against me is advanced. You will easily believe that it proceeds -only from those who have been disappointed in their pretensions to my -favour, since the men whom I have promoted cannot reasonably be expected -to complain of their own success. Now, if, when you occupy my place, you -shall make it your practice to consult the pretender himself about his -qualifications, and advance every man who can attest his own merit, you -will certainly be surrounded by a large crowd of illustrious persons. It -would be an admirable invention for providing against a scarcity of -great men during your reign. But your ingenuity in devising employments -and honours must be greater than mine if you can find preferment for all -who are men of merit by their own conviction. - -It is known by experience that one great poet in every age is more than -nature supplies; for although certain favoured periods have had two or -three, there are long intervals of time without any. Yet I believe that -in the course of my reign there have not been fewer than twenty writers -of verse, who, in defiance of nature, have required of me that they may -be great poets; and so insatiable are they, that not one of them is -content to be less a poet than Milton. My rejection of these writers is -called a prejudice against living poets, which judgment is said to be -entirely mistaken: for Milton was once alive. Those who plead a right to -all other honours exceed equally the places to be occupied, whence you -can understand how it happens that I am so generally believed to have no -justice or sagacity in distributing rewards. - -It is true that, through the multitude of undeserving persons who assail -me, a man of real merit, if he be unknown to those who are in my -confidence, is unable to gain access to my favour without patience and -delay. But ability, with perseverance, is sure to succeed at last. -Sometimes, however, an indignant man of genius, who has obtained my -notice after many attempts, can hardly forgive me his long obscurity, -and seeks revenge by satirical reflections on my sagacity. But men of -genius are often too arbitrary in their expectations. He who is -conscious of superior endowments, but has not yet been able to manifest -them, is incensed against the world because it has made no search for -him; and he thinks that all men of sense ought to have been engaged in -inquiring into his capacity. Though if he would consider how patiently -he himself suffers the obscurity of others, having no design of -undertaking such an examination into the faculties of all unknown men, -he would hardly expect this eager inquiry to be made after himself. - -You attribute to me a perpetual pursuit of novelty: the changes you hear -of are not caused by me, but by a mischievous politician, who has great -influence in my dominions; and you will be surprised to learn that this -pernicious statesman is my prime minister, but he is far too powerful to -be dismissed. His name is Fashion: he is the author of innumerable -projects and chimeras; and such is his authority that whatever he -recommends is instantly received by my whole people. He was originally a -tailor, and renowned for the beauty and reception of his inventions in -that art; from which success he aspired to affairs of state, and was -attended still by the same greatness. In government, in literature, in -morals, he is now supreme; and, indeed, I believe there is nothing -exempt from his corruptions except mathematics. - -Though he is remarkable for inconstancy, and for perpetually revoking -what he has just introduced, yet he always persuades my people that the -present scheme or custom will last for ever, and every fancy that he -promulgates is embraced as a wise and durable invention. By some -singular art he can make my subjects esteem or despise whatever he -pleases. In all his plots he makes use of my name, and seems to enforce -nothing by his own authority; indeed his skill consists in not passing -for the author of his own inventions. So far am I from being able to -dismiss him, that his aid is absolutely necessary to the accomplishment -of all my undertakings. I depend upon him for my popularity; and -whenever I design a new law, my first step is to obtain his concurrence. -At my death you will find your dominions in the power of this person; -and will soon have such experience of his art as to despair of -discarding him from your service; for notwithstanding his great age I do -not conceive it possible that I should survive him. - -I disclaim the folly you impute to me of pretending to be the author of -every useful thing that will descend to you; and I shall now say in a -few words how far I think myself capable of really improving what was -left me by my predecessor. The most honourable of my employments is to -observe and encourage the studies of a few of my subjects, who with an -ardent patience are searching into the laws of matter, and unfolding the -universe by gradual discovery. From these labours you will obtain an -enlargement, both of arts and contemplation. - -The true method of discovery, from facts and not from imagination, had -been pursued before I came to the throne, and it has been vigorously -prosecuted under my reign and countenance. The results from it in art -and knowledge will be far the most valuable gifts that you will receive -from me. - -Experiment, having wonderfully divulged the ways of nature, was applied -to other studies--to the laws of the human understanding, and to -political speculations; and wherever it has come there has been new -light and certainty. I conclude that my chief glory must be from giving -it encouragement and progress; and its discoveries in any kind of -learning I shall transmit to you with full confidence of their utility. - -It is true that from this sort of philosophy in politics I do not expect -that general peace and wisdom through my dominions which some people -foretell, though still I promote the study, and acknowledge the truths -from it. But some of my subjects imagine, that by their researches of -this kind all public factions, violences, and disasters, will speedily -cease. They think they are effecting this tranquillity, by observing -more accurately than before the rules according to which wealth is -distributed and society conducted, and also by explaining those rules to -all mankind. Through their instructions every man is to renounce his -present emulation with those above him, and his hope of improving his -own condition by disturbance. The people are no longer to strive through -party spirit for things not really beneficial to them; politicians are -not to make parties for themselves by inventing fallacious disputes for -the people. In the room of these troubles, in which the world has -hitherto been employed, all men are to occupy and delight themselves in -viewing the peaceful operation of these newly discovered rules. Such is -to be the prosperity from modern calculation; but I confess I have -little confidence in the judgment of those who are convinced that the -world is just going to be wise. I enter into no engagement, therefore, -to leave you my dominions in any such tranquillity; and, instead of -that, I can promise only one thing,--to make your government wiser; -which is, that for your instruction my reign shall contribute its just -share of follies to those already known, and preserved under the name of -history. I am sure your efforts will not be wanting to increase the -collection. - -Through the progress of experiment, therefore, every age must now excel -that which preceded it, in all such knowledge as experiment can -discover. In that only I pretend to surpass my predecessor; but from my -undoubted superiority in such knowledge some of my subjects would assert -a pre-eminence in all other particulars. These persons seem to imagine, -that because they live in an age of experiment every fancy that enters -into their thoughts must infallibly be true, and they arrogate great -sagacity to themselves on account of discoveries made by others while -they are alive. These are the statesmen who urgently desire that every -thing should be destroyed, and made again on a different plan. - -But having said thus much against the lovers of novelty, I must observe, -that I equally disapprove of another sect, who see ruin in every -alteration. You are to understand that, for some time past, my kingdom -has been divided by a great dispute concerning the efficacy of change. -One side maintain that there can be no peace, commerce, or fertility, -under a government which is the same for six months together, and they -recommend change to the people as something that they can feed upon; -while their adversaries contend that the only virtue and benefit of a -law consists in its never being altered, and they exclaim against the -cruelty of those who would deprive the people of any inconvenience that -their ancestors submitted to. These two parties are equally excluded -from my favour. - -But, perhaps, I have now said enough to vindicate myself from your -accusations; if not, I must wait for justice till you succeed to my -place, and then your experience will soon acquit me. - - * * * * * - - - - -THE SLEEPER AND THE SPIRIT. - -A DIALOGUE. - - -SLEEPER. - -Merciful Heaven! what has happened to me? Surely I must be dead, for I -am suddenly divided into two persons: here is my mind, which thinks, and -there lies my body on that couch. I slipped out of it without knowing -how; yet it cannot be dead, for it breathes, and looks like a sleeping -man. But how happens it that I am in two parts, and that one half of me -sleeps while the other half looks at it? - -SPIRIT. - -It is no more than has happened to you very often before. - -SLEEPER. - -Who is it that speaks? Ah! it is not a being of this world: then I am -dead; may God forgive my offences. - -SPIRIT. - -You may defer your repentance to another opportunity, for you are not -dead, but merely asleep. - -SLEEPER. - -Doubtless I listen to one whom I must believe; yet this sleep appears to -me very singular. I lay down on that couch from weariness, and felt the -approach and weakness of sleep, when suddenly I found myself two -persons; and here I am talking and reasoning apart from the other -portion of me, which is asleep. According to my past observation, this -is not a common way of going to sleep. - -SPIRIT. - -You have never slept in any other way; but I will explain the mystery. -The mind of man is from a divine origin, but subject to numberless -infirmities by confinement within the body; and were it never released -during life it would become altogether worthless. To prevent this, sleep -has been contrived, which is not, as mortals suppose, a suspension of -the mind, but a separation of it from the body, and by these continual -escapes it is cleared from some of the evils which it contracts. During -this freedom, which you call sleep, the mind converses with heavenly -beings as you now do with me, and sees many things that recall it to its -purity. - -SLEEPER. - -May I venture then to ask why I do not remember to have conversed with -any heavenly being before? I have great success in sleeping, but have -enjoyed no such interviews as you describe. - -SPIRIT. - -As soon as the mind has returned into its body, which you call waking, -it forgets all these adventures, and, therefore, every time of sleeping -it is surprised at its separation as something new. At night you may see -the minds of men rising out of their bodies as they fall asleep. All -their faults remain in the body; and the minds, being free from bad -inclinations, lament to each other the several imperfections of the -bodies to which they are joined, earnestly desiring death to set them at -liberty. The minds of rival statesmen avow to each other the plots which -they are preparing, and deplore their contemptible employments. In these -conversations they are apt suddenly to disappear, being summoned back -into the body by waking; and when the night is over they all vanish. In -the day there are a few wandering minds of those, who, like you, have -been surprised by sleep through fatigue or idleness. - -SLEEPER. - -But whence proceed our dreams, if the sleeping body has no mind in it? - -SPIRIT. - -Dreams are the fancies of the mind at its first return to the body in -waking, when it has lost its separate being, and is not yet quite -settled in combination. These visions pass in a few seconds of time, -though appearing of long duration. In reality you dream only at the time -of waking. - -SLEEPER. - -Sleep must be the best part of human life; it is far better to be a pure -spirit, and converse with heavenly beings, than to be busy in the -miserable undertakings of men. Henceforth I shall obtain as much sleep -as possible. - -SPIRIT. - -But you are to forget what now passes as soon as you are in your body -again. - -SLEEPER. - -Ah! you told me so before. But now that I am free, I should wish to use -my time to advantage, and gain some knowledge, however soon I may lose -it again. - -SPIRIT. - -Your body seems effectually asleep, and not likely to want you very -soon: if you please, you can accompany me in my present employment, -which will give you some insight into the management of human life. - -SLEEPER. - -What is your employment, and what are you? For you have encouraged me to -ask questions by answering them. - -SPIRIT. - -Not long ago I was a man like yourself. Out of those who die, a few of -the most meritorious are selected to perform certain duties in the -management of mankind. I having lived virtuously was appointed, at my -death, to one of these offices; and my present employment is to prevent -men from being too happy. - -SLEEPER. - -Is that the vocation of heavenly beings? Surely they can distribute -nothing but good. - -SPIRIT. - -But there is evil in the world; whence does it come? - -SLEEPER. - -I know not; chiefly, I believe, from men themselves. - -SPIRIT. - -Thus it is that men reason. You suppose that no being higher than -yourselves can have a disposition to hurt you. Animals might use the -same argument: an ill used horse might say, "Man is a creature of divine -race, and far superior to me; he cannot, therefore, inflict pain and -mischief, and, doubtless, is not the author of the whipping and spurring -which I feel; this discipline must have another origin; perhaps I am in -some way the cause of it myself." You say, "God is the cause of all -things. There is much misery in the world, but God is not the cause of -misery." - -SLEEPER. - -Will you instruct me better in the origin of evil, and the cause of its -being inflicted on man. - -SPIRIT. - -When a misfortune befalls you, the best philosophy is to consider how it -may be removed, and not whence it came. But I have told you, that my -office here is to prevent men from being too happy. A certain number of -blessings and misfortunes is allotted to mankind, and if constant care -were not taken to enforce a just distribution, the lot of some mortals -would be composed altogether of blessings, and others would provide -themselves with nothing but miseries. Certain spirits are appointed to -correct the unequal possessions of men, and transfer happiness from -those who have too much to those who want it. This is now my -occupation. - -SLEEPER. - -I am glad to hear that you give happiness to some while you take it away -from others; that reconciles me to your office. But with all this care, -how happens it that the advantages of life are so unequally dispensed? -You do not appear to succeed very well in your endeavours to be just. - -SPIRIT. - -The inequality of happiness amongst men is not so great as you imagine. -Superiority is very short, for we speedily correct it. But you shall see -my operations. You observe that I carry a pair of scales, and two small -boxes: in the scales I weigh the lot of every person within my province, -placing his miseries in one scale, and his advantages in the other; then -if they are not evenly balanced, I take something from the heaviest -scale, or add something to the lightest. When the man has his due share -of good and bad fortune, the scales are exactly even. - -SLEEPER. - -By what contrivance can you weigh such things as blessings and -calamities? When the advantage to be weighed is ten thousand acres of -land, you must find it an unwieldy burden for so small a scale. I should -imagine, too, there would be equal difficulty in weighing a cheerful -temper, or any other quality of mind. - -SPIRIT. - -All the advantages and misfortunes of life have certain representatives, -which are easily weighed. I have a number of them in these two boxes: -one box contains the blessings which I have taken from those who had -more than their weight of happiness; the other holds the evils from -which I have eased the miserable. Open that box, which contains evil, -and examine the troubles you find in it. - -SLEEPER. - -Will they not take the opportunity to seize upon me? - -SPIRIT. - -Fear not; they are quite harmless. - -SLEEPER. - -They are nothing in appearance but little weights, such as a druggist -uses; but I see they are inscribed with the names of the calamities -which they represent; one is poverty, another sickness. You have -relieved the world from many inconveniences, but I hope you will keep -them safe in this box, and not let them out again to plague mankind. - -SPIRIT. - -I keep them to bestow upon those whose misfortunes are too light. -Sometimes I rectify the scales by taking away good, and sometimes by -adding evil, as may best suit the particular case. But come, I am -wasting time, follow me, and you shall see this weighing performed. We -will walk through this wall into the next house. - -SLEEPER. - -How wonderful! We have indeed passed through the wall, and I felt not -the least obstruction. - -SPIRIT. - -Walls are built against the body only, and cannot confine the mind. Here -is a young woman who has just attained to widowhood. Look at her head, -and you find your sight is so much altered that you can now see through -her skull into the brain. You may observe in the brain two cells, one of -which contains the weights that represent blessings, and the other those -that stand for calamities. These things are invisible to anatomists. I -can take her weights out of these cells without her perceiving it. I put -them into their respective scales. - -SLEEPER. - -The scale of misery descends. - -SPIRIT. - -Yet there are only two weights in it, and the other scale is supplied -with many blessings. The two misfortunes are the death of her husband -and the tooth-ache. She must be relieved from one of these vexations. - -SLEEPER. - -Surely the death of her husband is past remedy: I conclude you cannot -restore him to life. - -SPIRIT. - -No; but I can provide another. I have taken the dead husband out of the -scale, and you observe it is very little raised; the tooth-ache -preponderates against all these advantages. Now, I will put back the -death, and take away the tooth-ache; the scale rises, and the two are -now exactly adjusted. The tooth-ache was the heaviest calamity of the -two, and almost prevented the husband's death from being felt; but now -it is taken away, he is properly lamented. I will put this tooth-ache -into my box: it seems a victorious one, and will serve to bring some -very fortunate person to a reasonable state of uneasiness. - -SLEEPER. - -But the death of this lady's husband will every day become a less -grievance, and the balance will soon be disturbed. - -SPIRIT. - -Yes; but I shall visit her again soon, and if I find her a very happy -widow, may perhaps restore her tooth-ache. We will proceed to another -house. - -SLEEPER. - -Here is a beautiful young woman, and her countenance is so happy that I -think she must need a large supply of affliction. - -SPIRIT. - -The scales will soon decide that. - -SLEEPER. - -I was right; see how happy she is! - -SPIRIT. - -The chief weight, I think, is her beauty. I take that out of the scale, -and see how it rises! and now her misfortunes are far too heavy, though -no more than a few common troubles: her beauty is her happiness. I could -easily deprive her of that, for in my box is a bad small-pox, but that -is not my usual management. When I find one great predominant advantage, -my delight is not to take that away, but to prevent the enjoyment of it -by some importunate vexation. Now I think I cannot by any artifice more -ingeniously divert this lady from the contemplation and joy of her -beauty than by inserting in her the tooth-ache which I gained from the -widow. I therefore restore her beauty to the scale, and commit to the -other scale the pain out of the widow's jaw. The balance is exact; now -it will be a doubt whether this girl is more happy by her beauty or -miserable by her tooth-ache. That is just what human life is intended to -be. - -SLEEPER. - -I have often thought there was a law against happiness, and admired the -art with which men are prevented from being quite fortunate, but I never -had the sagacity to discover the means by which this is effected. I -cannot forbear thinking it would be more suitable to the greatness of -the Deity that this distribution of good and evil should be by a -command, and not by a pair of scales. - -SPIRIT. - -Providence is pleased to employ subordinate agents. Besides, it is only -a weakness of the human mind that makes you admire most what is done -without visible means. But I must proceed to another house. Here is a -man whose weights I lately adjusted with great difficulty, and I do not -doubt they require new regulation. - -SLEEPER. - -His cell of misfortunes is amply supplied, and his stock of blessings -consists of one: you must open your box of good in his favour. - -SPIRIT. - -Let us first weigh his present condition. Here is a ruined fortune, loss -of friends, infirm health, a faithless wife, with many other smaller -calamities. I load the scale with them, and now we shall see what -struggle the single blessing will make against them in the other scale. -It outweighs them all. - -SLEEPER. - -It must be something of extraordinary value: is it philosophy, or -religion? - -SPIRIT. - -No; this little weight is inscribed with the word "Vanity;" that is the -possession which makes him a happy man in spite of so many evils. -Whoever is sufficiently vain has no need of any other advantages. - -SLEEPER. - -But upon what grounds is he vain? He has neither fortune, friends, nor -health, and I cannot discover that he has any beauty. Is he a man of -genius, or what endowments has he to justify this pretence? - -SPIRIT. - -None at all: but you must have observed that men are not vain by force -of reasoning; a man of true authentic vanity wants no argument to -support it. And there is no happiness comparable to this: the peace of -mind from vanity far excels that from benevolence, from a clear -conscience, or any other such possession. - -SLEEPER. - -Do you mean to take part of this man's vanity away, since it is too -heavy for his present disadvantages? - -SPIRIT. - -No; we are not permitted to alter the disposition of any person, but -only to interfere with circumstances and events. I must leave this man a -preponderance of good; for if I were to empty my box of evils they would -not overcome his complacency. - -SLEEPER. - -Yet notwithstanding the happiness of this man, I do not envy him; his -enjoyment is a mere fiction. - -SPIRIT. - -So is all the happiness of man. You never can assign any reason for your -joy except that certain things affect you with certain emotions. Who is -to decide what kind of happiness is pretended, and what real? If you -resolve not to be imposed upon, and to accept of no happiness till you -are satisfied it is not a fallacy, you will pass a melancholy life. -Vanity is as valid a good as any other. But come, we must proceed. Here -is a poor clergyman who has become the father of ten children on no -better grounds than a small curacy. - -SLEEPER. - -And in addition to these troubles he is advanced in life. I hope if you -have any preferment in your box you will bestow it upon him. - -SPIRIT. - -Let us first consult the scales whether he is sufficiently provided for -already. Here are several calamities,--poverty, a wife with bad health, -the neglect of former friends, with some others. But you see he has also -a stock of blessings; I will put both into the scales: the blessings are -much the heaviest. - -SLEEPER. - -What can they be? This curate must have great sagacity in the discovery -of blessings, if he can detect any in his own condition. - -SPIRIT. - -These blessings are all of the same kind; they are all hopes. - -SLEEPER. - -Do hopes pass for real blessings? - -SPIRIT. - -Why not? You see by the scales that the happiness they impart is greater -than the misery from all these calamities. We will try the hopes singly -against the evils. I empty the scales, then I put into one the -clergyman's poverty, his heaviest grievance, and in the other scale I -place a hope of future wealth. You see the hope prevails over the -affliction: he has more pleasure in hoping to be rich than grief in -being poor. Then here is the bad health of his wife, and here a hope -that she may speedily have new strength; the hope, again, is the -heaviest. But besides these hopes of relief from particular calamities, -here are many other fictions which he is accustomed to enjoy in his -hours of leisure. Here is a hope that his third son, now a school-boy, -and designed for the bar, may be a Judge at the age of forty-two; and -this weight hopes that a certain nobleman may accidentally hear him -preach, and may be charmed by his doctrine, language, and manner, so as -to bestow upon him a rich living with an excellent house. - -SLEEPER. - -The old clergyman seems able to hope in contempt of probability. - -SPIRIT. - -That which cannot possibly happen may serve very well to hope for; a -man has no invention who must be satisfied that an event may take place -before he can hope for it. This clergyman, through his skill in hoping, -has a store of blessings in his own imagination; and whatever misfortune -occurs he can find an equivalent advantage. I have a painful disorder in -my box which I think will be urgent enough to interrupt his visions. I -will bestow it upon him: his contrivance will be to hope for a cure, but -it will give him some real substantial pangs that cannot be so reasoned -away. We will now pass on. - -SLEEPER. - -Here is a young man who looks happy. - -SPIRIT. - -Suspend your judgment till we have weighed his condition. He has both -calamities and blessings: I have put both into the scales. - -SLEEPER. - -His happiness descends: I was right. - -SPIRIT. - -Nevertheless I shall leave him without correction; for I think his -present joy will soon rectify itself by causing a speedy vexation. Here -is the weight which now carries down his scale: it is a novel which he -has lately published with general admiration. After a time he will send -forth another book; but the truth is, that he has lavished on the first -work all the thoughts that he had amassed during his life, and, -therefore, his second production will repeat the same incidents and -observations awkwardly disguised, by being expressed worse than before. -This book he will publish with great confidence; but will soon discover -that one work of an author is not admired for the merit of another, and -his happiness will be at an end. His present delight will be -sufficiently corrected by his future mortification, without any -assistance from my box. Let us go on. - -SLEEPER. - -Here is a man in a crisis of the gout; so I judge from the ornaments on -his foot, and the efforts of his face. By the twisting of his person, -and other contrivances, he seems hardly able to support the attack. -Surely you will give him some mitigation. - -SPIRIT. - -If the scales determine so. Yes, you see his troubles descend without -delay. I will take out his gout. - -SLEEPER. - -Still the scale is too low; then that is not his principal grievance, -notwithstanding all these endeavours. - -SPIRIT. - -This is the chief weight--jealousy of his wife: I have relieved the -scale from that and replaced the gout, and now you see the scales are -brought to that balance and hesitation by which human life is -represented. This man is married to a handsome woman, whose fidelity he -has perpetually been doubting from no cause except his own sagacity. His -fits of gout have been urgent, but his fits of suspicion have given him -still more pain. I have put his jealousy into my box, and being free -from that disease, he will be sufficiently cheerful under his gout. Now -come into another house. - -SLEEPER. - -Here is a young man, and if he is not a fortunate person, the eye is not -a judge of happiness; I never saw a countenance more overjoyed. And now -a beautiful woman has entered the room with a face equally happy. They -seem to be married. I fear their enjoyment requires disturbance out of -the box. - -SPIRIT. - -Yes; you see how the happy scale goes down with the husband's weights: I -will now question the wife; her transgression is as great. I believe the -suspicion, which I have just acquired from the gouty man will exactly -rectify this excess. I bestow on the husband this endowment of -jealousy, and now the scales are perfectly even; and there is this -advantage, that the husband's jealousy will disturb the wife as much as -himself, and so correct the weights of both at the same time. We may now -leave them, and advance. - -SLEEPER. - -Here is a man of my acquaintance, who has been very unfortunate in the -loss of wealth, and the death of his children, yet he has always been -cheerful. I should like to know by what art? - -SPIRIT. - -We can soon discover that. I have put the troubles you mention, with -some others, into the scale, and against them here is only one -advantage, yet it outweighs them easily. It is inscribed, "A contented -Temper." I never have so much difficulty in adjusting the balance as -when this blessing occurs. No misfortune can prevail against it. If I -deprive this man of every pretext for being cheerful, he will remain a -happy person. He has one child left; I take away the weight representing -it, and the child will soon die, but it has little effect on the scales: -almost immediately after the death he will be as much delighted as ever, -under pretence of resignation to the will of God, but in truth because -he knows not how to grieve. But I will try again to obtain redress -against him. In my box is that complaint which you call tic douleureux: -I obtained it from an old man in whose possession it had been for thirty -years; but at last, several additional calamities accruing to him, he -was able to part with this. It is a specimen of great vigour, and will -have recourse to its victim so frequently as to disturb the most -resolute cheerfulness. You see by the scales that it will contend with -this man's happy temper, though not overcome it. We must leave him some -advantage, for his disposition is incurable. - -SLEEPER. - -I have observed something that I must ask you to explain. I fancy I can -see a thread ascending from the head of this man, and going I know not -where; but it is so fine and delicate that I hardly can be sure of it. - -SPIRIT. - -You are right; most men have a thread of this kind annexed to their -heads: we call them party threads; they are much used in the government -of mankind. Follow me, and I will show you what becomes of the other -ends of these threads, for we are now near the place where they are -collected together. Here it is: you see a number of webs not unlike the -webs of a spider. Each of these webs is a party, political or -religious, for there is no difference between the two. - -SLEEPER. - -I cannot say I understand how these webs can have any thing to do with -politics or religion. - -SPIRIT. - -You may observe that innumerable threads branch off from each web, and -every one of those threads grows into a man's head, so that a multitude -of men are thus united and tied together in what is called a party. Men -are governed and controlled in a wonderful manner by these threads; for -an influence passes along them from the web like a current of -electricity. When a new party is wanted a web is woven, which -immediately darts out its threads on every side; and when any thread -approaches a man with whose understanding it has a certain affinity, it -grows into his brain and remains there, whence he becomes one of the -party. Sometimes a web decays, and the threads from it vanish, upon -which the party is at an end. No efforts of the ablest politicians can -keep men united when their web is gone, and they are no longer tied -together. Sometimes a part of the threads decay, while the web they -issue from remains entire; and when a man has thus lost his thread, and -is connected with none of the webs, he is commonly very uneasy. It -often happens, also, that two threads from different webs attach -themselves to the same man, which greatly distracts and perplexes him -till one of them is broken. - -SLEEPER. - -I see certain English words hanging in these webs, and other words -hovering in the air in a singular manner. - -SPIRIT. - -The words in the webs are all party words, and much used in controversy. -You know that every party must have a cause to contend for, but this -cause is commonly no more than a word: you must have observed that in -all countries there are certain venerable names which men defend with -great zeal. It is not long since in England the "Constitution" was the -word by which all were safe and happy, and in the cause of this word -every Englishman was bound to hazard both his fortune and his life. It -was as valuable to the poor as the rich, and he who had nothing else had -still the "Constitution." - -SLEEPER. - -But the "Constitution" was the name of a certain form of government: it -was the government, and not the name, that men defended so eagerly. - -SPIRIT. - -How could that be, when the word was applied to many different kinds of -government? For though all avowed that to the "Constitution" they owed -their whole prosperity, they never could agree what the "Constitution" -was. Some maintained it was that particular government then in being; -others denied that there was then any "Constitution," and chose some -time in history when they said it was in perfection; while others -affirmed that the true "Constitution" neither existed then nor ever had -existed, but that it was a certain state of things which had yet to take -place. Still all these politicians concurred in extolling the -"Constitution," though they differed so much as to what it was that they -were praising. Now, since they used this word to signify very different -things, much confusion in their reasoning would have been prevented had -each of them selected a different word to distinguish the kind of -government that he wished to promote, but each knew too well that the -measures he was endeavouring to advance would have had no value in the -country had they been called by any other sound than "Constitution." - -The great power of these public words that prevail at different times is -apparent in the efforts of politicians to obtain their aid; and indeed -there is no art of government more important, or requiring more -address. A statesman is ruined if he pretends to ridicule or despise a -prevailing word that molests him: his true policy is to own its virtue -and efficacy, and endeavour to win it over to his own side. When -"Reform" is the irresistible sound, a prudent minister in every thing he -does will say he is reforming. Two parties often dispute the possession -of a popular word, each asserting a title to it, and deriding the claim -of the other; and sometimes it is well known that the country will be -governed by that side which remains proprietor of the word. - -You may observe, that whenever a new party arises in a country its first -precaution is to provide itself with a word; and when the word, which -has been the head of an established party, is grown old and -unserviceable, with the greatest care and anxiety they appoint it a -successor. Many a word has covered the earth with troubles, and that -without having any force or merit, except the particular sound with -which it fills the ear. In politics and religion every man chooses a -word with which to associate himself; and many would be less -dissatisfied at losing their property or their children than at -relinquishing the word of which they are the adherents. - -SLEEPER. - -But it seems to me that these leading words have their authority only by -representing certain opinions: I think a word has no influence, except -by the good or evil that it signifies. - -SPIRIT. - -Then you are mistaken: a word may signify nothing, and yet be more -powerful than the greatest monarch upon earth. Undoubtedly, there are -men so inquisitive as to satisfy themselves whether a word means any -thing before they will be zealous in its behalf, but the generality are -capable of no such research; and I think it clear, that if none were -eager party men except those who know why they are so, the heads of a -party would find their followers reduced to a small number. During a -century and a half, the two words Whig and Tory divided England into two -sets of angry men. Now many a zealous Whig or Tory, had he been asked -whether he could explain the difference between himself and his -neighbour on the contrary side, would have thought it a very ridiculous -question, well knowing how different a sound the two words make to the -ear, and how different a figure they present to the eye, and therefore -conceiving that the distinction between Whig and Tory must be obvious to -every man who had an eye or an ear. Yet such a reasoner as this will -frequently adhere to his own word with more resolution and anger than -most of those who must know what is signified by a sound before they -will risk their fortune in its defence. - -Now, when you consider the strange authority that particular words -obtain, you must have a curiosity to know what it is that makes a sound -so powerful. For manifestly a party cannot select a word at pleasure, -and make it popular. Many attempts are made to that purpose in vain; -some ambitious word is perpetually assuming importance, but fails to -attract notice, and is forgotten. Words resemble men in this particular, -that out of all the pretenders to renown very few succeed. And, -certainly, in the words of most authority, it is impossible to discover -any intrinsic excellence. The word Whig has neither music nor dignity, -and yet numbers would have hazarded their lives and fortunes in defence -of this sound, which is as harsh as any that could have been made out of -the alphabet. - -Of those words which have attained to great eminence, many before their -advancement had served in the language as common words; some had never -engaged themselves in politics, but been altogether without importance, -when suddenly they have been promoted to be the leaders of a party. When -a word obtains this mysterious influence it seems to prevail in the air, -like a distemper, seizing men one after another, and involving them in -the same anxiety. An industrious tradesman, who has laboured hard to -keep his children alive, if he be suddenly possessed by a prevalent -word, abandons his shop, and from that moment neglects his business for -the sake of a word which he can neither roast nor boil. - -These words cause different troubles of mind: the office of some is to -provoke discontent; and when one of these takes possession of a man, -while he is enjoying every comfort of life, he instantly imagines -himself the most miserable of human beings. In this emergency, he has -first to find out what is his distress,--a discovery, which he is -commonly unable to make by his own genius; and he is, therefore, very -grateful to any person who has invention enough to supply him with -something to complain of. Other words excite hope, and a man believes -that by often using and insisting upon them he shall soon arrive at -unusual prosperity. By one powerful word of this species, a whole -country is sometimes triumphant for several months together. There are -words that cause alarm; and he who is seized by one of them is in -perpetual terror lest it should bring upon him some mischief of which he -cannot conceive the nature. - -Now you here see how all this is effected. A number of words are always -hovering about these webs, and when one of them touches a web, with -which it has an affinity, it is retained there like a fly in a cob-web. -As soon, then, as it is fixed in the web, it transmits its efficacy down -all the threads, and so takes possession of all the men annexed to that -web, with different violence, according to their several tempers. - -SLEEPER. - -I cannot forbear saying that I think the world would be much happier -without these party webs, and these deceitful words. - -SPIRIT. - -You are wrong; this power in words is not pernicious: life without its -illusions would be full of melancholy; and you cannot give them up -without some new gifts to supply their place. Besides which, if the -charm and deception of words were taken away, there would be nothing -left in the minds of the generality of men by which they could be -guided. Words cause faction and tumult, but they also effect order and -government. The webs, too, are absolutely necessary; but I have not time -to explain all the reasons why men must be divided into parties. - -I will now show you something far more wonderful than what you have seen -yet. But I see you are going to leave me; your body requires you. -Farewell. - - * * * * * - - - - -A DISPUTE BETWEEN THE MIND AND THE BODY. - - -_Translated from a Greek Manuscript lately discovered._ - -BODY. - -Since you and I first became associates, you have never ceased to revile -me. I have, till now, borne your injurious language in silence, but at -length venture to inquire what offence you can charge me with, for I -have not hitherto been able to guess from your invectives what it is -that you complain of. - -MIND. - -I complain of being united to a thing so base as you are, and so -unsuitable to me. - -BODY. - -This is your usual language, and I wish to represent to you, that since -we were born, and have grown up together, I am entitled to a kinder -treatment, and I may add that the care, with which I have provided for -your ease and enjoyment might claim some gratitude from you. I have made -over to you my skull as a residence, which was prepared with great art -for your reception, and fitted up with every thing that it was thought -you could want. - -MIND. - -I admire the confidence with which you speak of having conferred an -obligation on me by receiving me into your skull, instead of which you -ought to be grateful to me for condescending to settle myself in such a -paltry dwelling. But if you desire to know the cause of my displeasure, -let me ask you, when our confederacy was first agreed upon, was it not a -condition that you should be subject to my authority? - -BODY. - -I confess that such was the treaty. - -MIND. - -Then have I not reason to complain of a vassal so turbulent and -seditious as I have always found you? - -BODY. - -I am astonished at the charge, for I cannot remember any revolt that I -have been guilty of. The five senses have been appointed to transmit -intelligence to you, and I believe that each of them has, with perfect -regularity and despatch, given you the information that it is charged -with. Besides this, all my limbs are subject to your command; every -muscle waits to execute your will, and moves only when you order it. -Such is the subordination that has been established, and I thought it -had always been observed. But has there lately been any disaffection -amongst my limbs? Has a leg or an arm refused to obey you, or have any -of my fingers declared themselves independent? - -MIND. - -No; I do not accuse them of disobedience. - -BODY. - -Have any of the senses then been remiss in their duties? Perhaps the ear -has failed to communicate to you a sound, of which it had received -notice, or the nose may have neglected to impart a perfume that had come -to it. If these senses have been guilty of suppressing any sounds or -smells, which were due to you, I will enforce a greater vigilance, and -take care that in future smelling and hearing shall be honestly -executed. - -MIND. - -I do not say that either the ear or the nose has been refractory. In -all such duties as these you maintain a great parade of obedience. My -accusation against you is, that you are full of vices and sensual -passions, which I highly disapprove of, and which you gratify in -defiance of me. In vain I prohibit your luxury; my commands are broken -as soon as they are pronounced; you commit follies in my presence -without the least restraint; and when you have a pleasure in view, I -seem not to have the least power to deter you from it. The truth is, -that from head to foot you are in a state of insurrection, and yet -presume to value yourself on your obedience, affirming in proof of it -that you furnish a nose to smell for me whenever I desire. - -I was born for virtue and contemplation, and if you had no share in -mankind crime would be unknown. Your intemperate passions cover the -world with vice, the punishment of which falls upon me. You commit sins, -and I am involved in the consequences of them. - -BODY. - -You are very indulgent in excusing yourself, and very liberal in -assigning to me all the wrong that is done; but it would not be -difficult to prove that you concur with me in every transgression, and -are very often the first instigator. Let us take as an example the vices -of luxury, in which I seem to be the most active; I have no doubt you -will deny that you are instrumental in my debaucheries. - -MIND. - -Certainly I do; you alone are guilty of every kind of intemperance, thus -inflicting upon me innumerable disorders and miseries, which I have -never deserved, and undermining all my vigour and enjoyment. For such is -the unjust alliance which I have been forced into, that when you -practise a vice the pains of it fall equally upon me. You drink to -intoxication, and the next morning require me to sustain the head-ache. -You by a long course of intemperance bring on the gout, and I must -partake of it. You eat and drink alone, but we must ache in conjunction; -and I, who do nothing towards the acquisition of gout, am involved in -every pang that you have caused. My share, too, is much the most severe, -since all the requisite patience is exacted from me, and whatever may be -the pain, I am expected to supply fortitude. Have you the confidence to -deny that you ought to bear your own gout? - -BODY. - -So far from owning myself only in fault, I maintain that the guilt of -our luxury is to be imputed entirely to you. - -MIND. - -According to you, then, it is the immortal soul which dines sumptuously, -while the body remains perfectly abstemious; the reasoning faculty -drinks, and the mouth is not concerned in the debauch. - -BODY. - -This you represent with your usual want of candour; but I can easily -prove that you only are to blame for every vicious banquet. - -Hunger and thirst are my natural appetites, which would rest satisfied -with the most simple food, were it not for the elaborate flavours, the -sauces, and other sophistries, with which you mislead me. My uneducated -hunger would never have attempted a discovery beyond plain meats, so -that, without your fertility of invention, and your research into -flavours, the gout would never have been found. Pray answer me, was it -the body that invented wine? To which of my limbs did it first occur -that the grape might become a delicious liquor? Was it the foot, the -hand, or the shoulder, that conceived the happy thought? Look at the -drunkard in his disgrace, and remember that it was the reason, the -immortal mind, which devised a liquor to debase him. Such is your -justice to me: you invent a pernicious liquor, pour it down my throat, -till I can no longer walk or stand, and then accuse me of debauchery. My -natural moderation is proved by those animals which have no mind, or at -least one of so little sagacity, that it can make no discoveries in -vice. The horse has the same sensations as man: like you, it has to -contend with a conspiracy of the five senses, but not having an immortal -reason to invent new tastes, it remains satisfied with its original -enjoyments. You say it is unjust that you should feel the pains from my -festivities, by which you would make it appear that I associate you with -me only in gout and head-ache, and refuse to admit you as an accomplice -in the delight of eating and drinking, while the truth is, that you -share with me all the pleasures of a banquet, and cannot deny that I -impart to you the flavour of wine as frankly as I communicate a pang of -gout. You are never excluded from my palate, nor is there a taste or -sensation in it which is kept a secret from you. I am not therefore to -be persuaded that you have less pleasure from our enjoyments than I -have; but so unreasonable are you, that while you never fail to demand -from me your full share of enjoyment, you wish me to keep all the pain -for myself. If you had not your part of the delight, I think you would -not so easily acquiesce in our pleasures; for when any pernicious food -is to be devoured, or a few supernumerary goblets are to be drained, I -always find you a willing associate. - -MIND. - -That I deny; I never fail to remonstrate against your vices. - -BODY. - -Yes; when there is no banquet ready, you pass the time in admiring -temperance, and sometimes you tell me that we will certainly begin to -practise it; but when the opportunity arrives,--when the table is before -us, and we sit down to be temperate,--you forget all our plans, and -suffer us to be undone without the least expostulation. - -That you may not seem to authorise our irregularities, you pretend to be -careless and forgetful, while in truth you heartily enjoy what we are -doing. When I stretch out my hand to the goblet, you seem to be thinking -of something else; when I help myself to a luxurious dish, though you -know how perniciously it is composed, you wink at the ingredients, and -give me no warning against it. Nor is this all, but you frequently -labour even to corroborate my imprudence; and when, from a regard to -health, we hesitate to partake of something that we both love, you can -instantly find some casuistry to justify the dish, affirming that it has -not all the malice imputed to it, or we have tried it before, and -survived, or perhaps, this once it may do no harm, with many such -evasions, which I never should have had genius to invent. But if you -really disapprove of intemperance, why do not you positively forbid it? - -MIND. - -If I sometimes want the firmness to control you, I ought not to be -reproached with it by you, who betray me into every frailty. All my base -appetites I receive from you; the immortal soul has no love of wine or -rich viands. It is by your means only that plausible dishes ever prevail -against me. Without your persuasion, the most urgent meats would fail to -move me; but you give them a specious flavour, and misrepresent them to -me in such a variety of tastes that I am deceived. - -You are always contriving to mislead me, and it is impossible that I -should defend myself against a perpetual intrigue of the five senses. -You incessantly instigate me to evil, and molest me with a thousand vile -desires, which never permit me to enjoy that state of reason and -tranquillity which is natural to me. By your arts I am enfeebled and -debased, so that even the blandishments of a goblet of wine overcome me, -and then you upbraid me with my compliance. - -BODY. - -Nothing can be more unjust than to charge me with these evil -suggestions. My voluptuousness takes place only while a meal lasts: you -have enjoyment also in recollecting past pleasures, and looking forward -to new. It is your own fancies that solicit you, and not my entreaties. -I have no pleasure in a goblet of wine, except at the moment of -commission; you expect it for hours before, revolve it in your thoughts, -consider the flavour of it, and then when the peril arrives, you accuse -me of your not being able to refuse the draught. - -I have certainly given you the first hint of our pleasures, but you have -improved upon my suggestions, and pursued them till they became luxury. - -Real appetite is too dilatory for you, and you therefore practise a -thousand artifices to be hungry. Often, too, when I have been quite -disabled by excess, you make use of variety and persuasive dishes to -give me new resolution for a debauch; and in all our other pleasures you -endeavour to revive me in the same manner. My inclinations are slow to -be provoked, and soon satisfied. You are indefatigably voluptuous. But -you say that if I were out of the world crime would be unknown. - -MIND. - -Certainly: in my own nature I am pure and heavenly, but lose my best -faculties by being entangled amongst your nerves, in which are seated -all the passions that trouble mankind. - -BODY. - -I think I could enumerate a few passions which frequently disturb the -world, and yet can hardly be imputed to me. Ambition is the cause of -great calamities; perhaps, then, you can inform me in which of my limbs -a love of sovereignty is fixed, since I know not of any aspiring muscle -which entertains such designs. It seems to me that my arms and legs, -with all my other limbs, are entirely free from avarice, envy, revenge, -and many such passions, which certainly prevail amongst men; and -therefore, if I am incapable of them, it is to be presumed that they are -endowments of the immortal mind. Is it I who plot and deceive? are all -schemes of fraud contrived by my muscles? - -MIND. - -These may not at first appear to be bodily vices, but I doubt not they -are all remotely derived from you. All unjust schemes and practices are -undertaken to procure your ultimate gratification; and I am convinced, -that were I disengaged from you, I should desire nothing but what is -virtuous and noble. I wish our confederacy could be ended. - -BODY. - -You often express a wish for this independence, and yet, whenever age or -sickness makes it likely that we may soon part, you are thrown into the -greatest alarm, and become extremely desirous of remaining amongst -these nerves which you now treat with so much contempt. How humbly do -you then implore me to harbour you a little longer! How anxiously do you -consult my countenance, and inquire what are my intentions; having -recourse every hour to some medicine, prayer, or other plot, to retard -the breaking of our alliance! If you sincerely desire a separation, why -do not you rejoice when you appear likely to be released from me, who -have subjected you to the hardship of enjoying so many pleasures. It is -strange that you triumph so little in the expectation of immediately -becoming a free spirit, and never again drinking wine or having the -gout. - -MIND. - -My regret at parting from you is a weakness, to which I confess myself -subject. Though I well know how unworthy you are of my kindness, yet -from the years we have passed together I usually contract a tenderness -for you, which, though I am ashamed of it, gives me some pain at the -prospect of separation. - -BODY. - -I believe, rather, you then discover how very helpless you are without -my assistance; and I suspect you feel some distrust of your ability to -live at all apart from me. - -MIND. - -What! do you presume to question my immortality? Have you the arrogance -to suppose that my being is vested in you? That reason, imagination, -memory, and all my great endowments, are derived from your muscles and -arteries? Can you deny that you spring from the earth? And how then is -it possible that we should partake of the same nature? - -BODY. - -I am far from wishing to disclaim my origin, but acknowledge myself -derived from the earth; and in return, let me beg you to give me some -information concerning your own lineage. Are you acquainted with your -parentage? Is your native place heaven or earth? Can you in any -intelligible language relate who and what you are? - -However, to proceed no farther in these questions about your origin, -which you seem in no haste to answer, let me ask how you would pass your -time if disunited from me, and deprived of those amusements which I -afford; for I believe that I supply or assist all the chief pleasures of -mankind. - -MIND. - -I should pass my time in contemplation like the gods. - -BODY. - -I know not what may be the habits of the gods; but if men were excluded -from all pleasure except contemplation I believe they would not think it -so agreeable an employment as you imagine. - -MIND. - -And pray, except vice and debauchery, which of the pleasures of life are -supplied by you? - -BODY. - -Remember I have never pretended that separate from you I am qualified -for happiness; I affirm only that I contribute my full share of the -pleasures that we enjoy together, and that if in this world you were -deprived of my society you would be melancholy and forlorn. If, then, -you ask me what advantages are furnished by me, I answer that one of the -chief pleasures of life is the love between the two sexes. - -MIND. - -And do you pretend to be the author of that love? I think more nobly of -the passion, and regard it as a feeling of the mind alone. - -BODY. - -Such has always been your doctrine; but I believe that I, though sprung -from the earth, have quite as much power to inspire love as you, who -are made of such great qualities as reason, imagination, memory, and I -know not how many more. Lovers very commonly profess their fidelity to -you, while in truth it is I on whom all their secret affections are -fixed, for there are many whose notions of body and mind are so confused -that they perpetually mistake one for the other. A young man declares -himself enamoured of the mind of some beautiful woman, and yet when he -is absent from her his thoughts are wholly occupied with her figure, and -he passes his time in considering her countenance, her hair, her neck, -while her reason, imagination, and memory do not once occur to him. When -he is in her presence he takes great delight in pressing her hand, -without betraying the least wish to press her intellect. Indeed, there -can be no doubt that in most instances in which the admiration is -professed to you I secretly supplant you, and win to myself all the real -tenderness. If two young persons were reduced to the mere soul, and -deprived of eyes, lips, and all the other conveniences which are now so -instrumental in loving, I do not understand how they could contrive to -love each other at all. - -MIND. - -I shall not condescend to reason with you any longer. - - * * * * * - -I must now explain the circumstances in which the preceding dispute -between the mind and the body took place. It was an unusual controversy; -for though the mind has often repeated these complaints against its -colleague, the body has always endured them in silence. This account of -the quarrel is translated from a Greek manuscript which has been lately -discovered, and fell into my hands by an accident which I need not -relate. This manuscript contained also the other tales in this volume, -which are entitled translations from Greek. The author of them is -unknown; but from his style he must certainly have lived in the later -and more corrupt times of the Greek language. A great scholar is -preparing these stories for publication by Latin notes and other -encumbrances, without which they could not be valid Greek. In the mean -time I give this translation. - -The foregoing dialogue, according to this Greek author, was overheard by -a philosopher named Aristus, who lived at Rhodes, where he had a great -reputation and many disciples. He had one day been giving them a lecture -on the inconvenience of having a body, on its vicious propensities, and -interruptions of thought and study. He had lamented that it cannot be -laid aside without loss of life, but exhorted his pupils to mortify, -control, and govern it, and thus to be as nearly as possible exempt from -it. His lecture being ended, and his pupils dismissed to assume an -authority over their bodies as they could, Aristus laid himself on a -couch for rest in the heat of day, at the same time murmuring against -the body, which exacted this indulgence, and very soon he fell into a -strange kind of trance, in which he heard the foregoing dispute between -the mind and the body as if within his own person. He listened till they -were silent, and then rose out of his trance in great astonishment at -this vision, which was quite different from a common dream. - -He wondered that the mind had not argued with greater force, and thought -that he could himself have pleaded its wrongs much better. Revolving the -subject in his thoughts, he unconsciously said aloud, "Whatever the body -may say in praise of itself, I should heartily rejoice in being free -from all intercourse with it." - -"Do you sincerely wish to relinquish your body?" said a voice close to -him. - -He looked round in surprise, but saw nobody: the voice seemed to come -from the hearth, upon which were some little wooden images, his -household gods, and while he gazed, one of these little figures opened -its mouth and repeated the question. These deities of the hearth had -hitherto been as silent as other gods of the same materials, and Aristus -was overawed by the unexpected voice. - -"Why," continued the image, "are you so much astonished? Is it wonderful -that a god should be able to speak?" - -"Certainly," answered the philosopher, "I did not expect a voice from an -oaken god." - -"But," replied the deity, "you have worshipped me with prayers and -offerings, and must therefore have believed in my power." - -"I have worshipped you," said Aristus, "in deference to the customs of -my country; but to tell you the truth, I no more expected any blessing -from you than from my walking stick, which is of the same wood as -yourself." - -"You philosophers," said the image, "are very apt to deprive the gods of -their privileges: but you have deserved a benefit from me by rescuing me -a few days ago from the fire, into which one of your children had thrown -me, and as it is in my power to separate you from your body I will do so -if such is your wish, still leaving you the faculties of seeing, -hearing, and speaking, which you would find convenient; but I advise you -to decide cautiously, for when once you have quitted your body you -cannot enter it again." - -Aristus still persisted in the wish to be disencumbered of his limbs, -and vehemently entreated the image to execute what it promised, so -possessed was he by his philosophy, though he was then in the prime of -life, when the body imparts so many agreeable hints, which it afterwards -loses the power of communicating. "Then," said the protector of the -hearth, "if such is your resolution, go down to the sea-shore, and -sprinkle a little of the salt water in your face, at the same time -pronouncing a word which I will teach you: immediately your body will -fade away, and leave you as free a soul as you desire to be." He then -taught Aristus to pronounce the powerful word, and the philosopher -eagerly expressed his gratitude for the privilege of not having a body. -But he said there was one thing wanted to make his happiness complete. -He had lived in great concord with his wife, but he feared that when -they were become so dissimilar, she being confined within a body, and he -reduced to reason and voice, they should not be so well fitted for the -society of each other; he therefore entreated the household god, that -his wife, Cleopatra, might be brought into the same condition as he was -himself about to assume. "I will grant your request," answered the -image, "if your wife concurs in it, but I shall not confiscate her -person without her own consent. If she agrees to what you wish, let her -sprinkle her face with sea water, and pronounce the word that I have -taught you, and she will find the same consequences." - -Aristus having again thanked the image, walked down to the sea in great -expectation of what was to happen; and as soon as he had sprinkled his -face, and pronounced the mysterious word, he saw his body begin to -escape. His arms, legs, and trunk wasted gradually away, and he could -not avoid feeling some horror on looking down at himself thus -diminished. - -But this melancholy spectacle lasted only a few moments, for he soon -withered away, and entirely vanished, so that he could not see the least -remnant of himself. When he was quite gone, he no longer pitied the -limbs, which had looked so rueful; and being very much elevated by the -singularity of his condition, he set out towards home to inform his wife -of the advantage he had obtained for himself and her. He was in great -admiration of the new kind of being with which he found himself endowed. -His body had left him so much remembrance of it, that he still imagined -himself to be moving his limbs. At first, therefore, forgetting his want -of substance, he set out to walk, as having legs, and fancied himself -proceeding in the usual manner, till he looked down, and saw nothing to -represent legs or feet. He had also a sensation of arms, together with -the belief of a head, and of every other part of his late body. As he -went along, he was continually looking for himself, and could hardly be -convinced that the limbs, which he felt so plainly, were not there. -However, he made the same progress on these imaginary legs as if he had -been really walking. - -The household god, in taking his body away, had left him those -faculties of it, without which he could not have enjoyed any -conversation or intercourse with mankind. The power of speech would have -been forfeited with his tongue; but the god had contrived him a -supposititious voice, exactly resembling the bodily one which he had -lost; and thus when he seemed to himself to be opening his mouth, and -moving his tongue, though his mouth and tongue were fallacies, yet he -produced sounds as serviceable as those which his real tongue had -formerly effected. The sense of hearing, too, being instrumental in -conversation, and having been lost with his ears, he was by the same -magic provided with a substitute for it. With these endowments, he went -home in quest of his wife, designing the same spoliation of her. - -He had often descanted to her on the demerits of the body, and told her -how happily the soul might live apart from it. She having no love of -dispute had always seemed to acquiesce in his philosophical opinions; he -now therefore believed that he should have no difficulty in persuading -her to follow his example, and discard this useless appendage. - -When he arrived at home, he was, from habit, about to knock at the door; -but endeavouring to raise what seemed to him a hand and arm, and seeing, -to his surprise, that no hand or arm resulted from the supposed effort, -he remembered his new condition, and was at a loss in what manner to -procure entrance into his house. He called many times, but was not -heard; and to his perplexity now first discovered that the immortal soul -by itself cannot knock at a door. He thought that the god ought to have -remedied this defect, and that as he had made him a false speech and -hearing, by the same art he ought to have invented some fiction, by -which he might have gained an entrance into his own house. It then -occurred to him that the arm which he had just discarded was the very -instrument that he was in need of, and a sudden apprehension crossed his -mind that he had acted rashly. From this difficulty he was relieved by -pressing against the door, and finding that he passed through it as if -it had been air. Delighted and re-assured by this exploit, he tried -himself against two or three other doors, which also offered no -opposition, and he stood in his wife's apartment. She was quite ignorant -of his presence: he passed before her face, and she took no notice of -him; till having amused himself for a short time in watching her, he -pronounced her name aloud. She started, and looked round the room -without answering: he stood close to her, and again uttered her name, -when in great astonishment she said, "Aristus, is that you?" - -"Yes, certainly; do not you know my voice?" - -"Where are you?" - -"Here, in this room, close to you; my hand is on your shoulder. Though, -indeed, I cannot properly call it my hand, because I no longer have -one, but that sensation of a hand which I retain is now placed on your -shoulder." - -"The sensation of a hand!" she exclaimed; "what can this mean? You must -have been learning some juggling arts, by which you make your voice seem -so near to me. But pray come into the room." - -"My dearest wife, cannot you believe me? I am now in the room with you. -My soul, my intellect, all the faculties of my mind are by your side at -this moment; as for the body, arms, and legs, which you have been -accustomed to call Aristus, I know not what is become of them." - -Aristus, perceiving that this explanation of his circumstances was not -quite intelligible to Cleopatra, at length relieved her astonishment by -relating to her his conversation with the image, and the change which it -had so kindly effected in him. His wife would have believed this -wonderful tale to be merely a pleasantry of her husband's, had she not -been convinced of its truth by his being invisible. She looked all -round, and could see nothing; the voice was certainly close to her; and -when she heard the air telling her this story she could not refuse to -believe that something unusual had occurred. - -She did not at first understand that her husband was to pass all his -life in this condition, but imagined that he had merely gained a -privilege of making himself invisible at pleasure; and in this belief -she said to him, "The Image has certainly taught you an excellent trick; -but as I have now had a proof of it, pray let me see you come to -yourself again." - -"What do you mean by coming to myself?" - -"Why, making visible the body that you now contrive to hide?" - -"Do you believe, then, that my body is here in concealment?" - -"I do not understand how you can be here without it." - -"Have I not already explained to you that my body is no longer a part of -me? Though it is away I am present; that is to say, my judgment, my -imagination, my memory, are here in person." - -"Where are they? I cannot see them." - -"No, they are not things to be looked at, but to be reasoned about." - -"What! shall I never see you again, and shall I only reason about you in -future?" - -"You will never again see those paltry limbs in which I formerly went -about; but me you will have with you still, that is, my reason, my ----" - -"Oh, Aristus! what have you done?" - -"Surely you do not regret what I have done. I have attained to that pure -and exalted condition which is natural to me,--I have become a genuine -mind, and shall pass the rest of my days in free contemplation. But this -is not all, I have happy tidings for you; the household god, at my -entreaty, has consented to extricate you also from your body. You have -only to repair to the sea, and as soon as you have sprinkled a little -salt water in your face, and repeated a word, which I will teach you, -your body will release you, and you will see it crumble away. Let us -immediately go to the sea, and practise this enchantment." - -"Indeed if I thought water would have such an effect I would never wash -my face again." - -"You do not seriously mean to be so perverse as to neglect this -opportunity of quitting your body." - -"Really I do not understand what is the advantage of being without a -body." - -"Have I not often explained to you that the mind by being disengaged -from the limbs is able to think with all its natural vigour?" - -"My limbs do not prevent me from thinking: I have now as many thoughts -as I desire, and do not wish to lose so much as a finger." - -"I am grieved that you are unable to value the blessing offered you. -Consider the glorious life we shall enjoy, when together with our bodies -we shall have laid aside our infirmities. We shall undoubtedly soon -become the two wisest persons upon earth, we shall attain to -contemplations hitherto beyond the reach of mortal reason, and shall -every day make fresh discoveries in nature." - -"One of us is sufficient for all this: you can make discoveries while I -stay in my body, and then you can tell me what you have found." - -"And do you imagine that you, a composition of dust, will be able to -comprehend the conceptions of a pure spirit?" - -"I must be content, then, with as many of them as are suitable to my -capacity." - -Aristus was greatly mortified by this obstinacy of his wife; and being -determined to enforce his advice, he turned towards her, as he imagined, -with a look not to be disputed, but suddenly remembered that he had no -longer a face to be stern with, and that this invisible anger could have -but little efficacy. Finding, therefore, that his wife began already to -have less veneration for him, now that he was out of sight, he became -more than ever desirous of obtaining the resignation of her body, and -continued to remonstrate against her perverseness. She persisted, -however, in refusing the release that he offered, and also reproached -him with his folly, lamenting her loss very bitterly, and declaring that -nothing could reconcile her to the change of his character. - -Aristus endeavoured to prove to her that his efficacy was not at all -diminished, the mind constituting a rational creature, and the body -being an insignificant addition. While he was thus labouring to -vindicate himself, a friend of his, named Polemo, entered the room, and -inquired whether Aristus was at home. - -"Oh, Polemo!" exclaimed Cleopatra, weeping vehemently, "you are come to -receive sad intelligence of your friend: you will never see him again." - -Polemo, supposing him to be dead, expressed the greatest sorrow, and -asked what disease or accident had caused this unexpected calamity. - -"Aristus can best relate his misfortune to you himself," answered -Cleopatra; "for I scarcely understand what has happened to him." - -"Is my friend then still alive?" inquired Polemo eagerly. - -"He is; but you can never again look upon him." - -"What can you mean? I conjure you to explain what has occurred." - -"Oh, Polemo! one of our household gods has taken away Aristus's body -from him. But ask him to tell you what has happened, for he is now in -the room." - -"Now in the room! and without his body! Really, if it were not for your -tears, I should suppose you were jesting. Perhaps there may be some -pleasant raillery in all this, but I confess I am too dull to understand -it." - -"Why do not you speak," said Cleopatra, addressing herself to the air, -"and explain this mystery?" - -Aristus having thus long suffered his friend's perplexity to continue, -at length declared himself by saying,-- - -"It is true that I am now in the room and apart from my body, but I know -you will not regard my separation as a calamity." - -Polemo was in great astonishment when these words spoke themselves close -to him. He knew the voice to be his friend's, and looking round -endeavoured to find him, till Aristus related to him the whole -adventure, and the circumstances in which he now found himself, saying -to him at the conclusion of his story,-- - -"You have come fortunately, my friend, to assist me in persuading my -wife to her duty. I have prevailed on the god to grant that by -sprinkling her face, and by the magical word, she shall be let loose as -I was, but (would you believe it?) she determines to remain shut up in -her body, and in spite of the fidelity and love which I have a right to -expect from her, she positively refuses to resemble me." - -"Indeed, my friend," answered Polemo, "I think you very unreasonable in -expecting that she should submit to such a change. She is certainly -obliged as a wife to be faithful and kind, but it does not seem to me -that as a wife she is obliged to be air whenever you may think fit to -desire it." - -"But is she not acting contrary to her own happiness in refusing such an -opportunity?" - -"Why, perhaps she has not, like you, felt the hardship of a body, but -having passed many years in hers very comfortably, has no reason for -desiring to break out of it. Not only do I commend her prudence, but I -believe that you even, philosopher as you are, will soon repent of -having allowed yourself to be thus despoiled; and I earnestly advise you -to repair instantly to this household god which takes away men's bodies, -and entreat that it will again let you into the human frame, which you -have so unadvisedly abandoned; that is, if it has not quite decayed -since your desertion of it, but can still be repaired so as to be -habitable." - -"That, I rejoice to say, is impossible," answered Aristus: "my body is -gone--quite annulled--I saw it abolished. But even if there were still a -frame fit for my reception, do you imagine, that after having once -escaped from that carcass I shall ever suffer myself to be inveigled -into it again?" - -"And pray what advantages have you gained by being shut out?" - -"I have gained the power of passing my life in uninterrupted thought, -the proper employment of the human mind." - -"But why could not you think in your body? I do not understand why your -limbs should interfere with your studies. When I wish to think I never -find that my arm interrupts me, or that my leg breaks in upon my -meditations." - -"Nor did his body interrupt him," exclaimed Cleopatra: "I have seen him -sit in it and think for hours together without any one of his limbs -molesting him." - -"Indeed," replied Polemo, "I think he had as much time for contemplation -as a man moderately thoughtful could wish." - -"But," said Aristus, "what an addition is now made to my life! for I -shall not lose a moment of time in any of those duties which the body -exacts. I am no longer required to eat, drink, or sleep." - -"You have to rejoice, then, in being quite exempt from pleasure," said -Polemo. - -"Entirely so." - -"I hope you may find this immunity as delightful as you expect," said -his friend; "but I cannot help fearing that you will soon begin to look -back with regret on those bodily employments by which you tell me you -have been so much persecuted; some of them seem to me very pleasant." - -"You would not suppose me likely to feel much regret if you knew what -satisfaction and alacrity I now find from being at large, and with what -compassion I regard you, when I see you encumbered by all those useless -limbs." - -"I can carry them without any inconvenience, and in my turn I lament -that you should go about nothing but voice, and talk out of the air in -that ridiculous manner." - -"You will envy my condition when you hear of my discoveries in -philosophy, and the wisdom and renown which I shall attain. From the -elevation of thought, which I feel already, I have no doubt that my -progress in study will be very rapid, and that I shall soon have things -to impart to you much too sublime to have been discovered within a -body." - -After some further conversation Polemo took his leave, having promised -to return soon, that he might learn the discoveries which Aristus should -have made. - -Cleopatra, being now left alone with the voice, which she was henceforth -to regard as Aristus, remained silent, and plainly showed by her -dejected countenance that she did not consider this sound as equivalent -to a husband; while Aristus, in suggesting arguments to console her, -felt himself very insignificant, and was conscious that he greatly -wanted personal advantages. The remainder of the day having passed in -melancholy conversation, and the hour of rest being arrived, he said, -"We must now part, for the immortal soul does not lie in bed: your body -insists upon sleep, but I, being intellect, am no longer liable to any -such infirmity. While you and your body are asleep, I shall be engaged -in meditation, and you see, therefore, how many valuable hours I have -rescued." - -Cleopatra retired alone, not a little indignant that this meditation -should have supplanted her in her husband's affections, while he left -the house and glided forth to pass the night in contemplation, as he -said. The moon was bright, and the night calm and beautiful. He sat down -on the sea-shore, and betook himself to the consideration of several -philosophical subjects, being very desirous of arriving at some happy -thought, which might justify him to his friend. He had been persuaded -that as soon as he was reduced to pure intellect he should be put in -possession of extraordinary powers, and that whenever he applied himself -to thinking, some great revelation would be made to him. He now, -therefore, sat waiting for these new thoughts; but though he revolved -one subject after another, on which he desired to gain information, to -his great disappointment his meditations did not seem to him more -profound than when he had been detained in a body. - -After some hours, he was weary of these studies, by which he was -surprised, having always imagined that the soul was not liable to -fatigue, and having always laid to the charge of his body all the -weariness that he had felt. Finding, however, that he was not the -indefatigable intellect which he had expected to be, he returned home -without having acquired any information except that it was a fine -night. On arriving at home, he entered his wife's chamber, and sat down -by her bed. She was asleep, and appeared very beautiful to him, and he -could not refrain from stooping to kiss her, forgetting how incapable of -such an enterprise he was become. On reaching her face he endeavoured to -press what he considered his lips against hers, and finding that no -intercourse ensued, was reminded of the deception. Being distressed that -all endearments were unattainable, he continued to gaze upon her, -acknowledging to himself that she was a beautiful woman, and beginning -to doubt whether he had done right. But he suddenly checked himself with -the consideration that he was now a pure soul, and as such, could not -possibly be affected by female beauty. - -Aristus had several young children, and the next morning Cleopatra -endeavoured to explain to them the change that had taken place in their -father. This, however, she was unable to make them comprehend: they were -never to see him again, they were told, yet he was still with them, and -by what means he had been put out of sight was a mystery beyond their -understanding. That figure which they had been used to consider as their -father having vanished, they wondered how any remainder of him could be -left, and were much perplexed by hearing that he had been divided into -two. In vain their mother tried to explain to them that the body might -be gone, and the mind remain at home; this was a distinction that they -could not reach. - -Aristus remained silent while his wife thus endeavoured to explain him -to the children; but finding himself too abstruse for their -understanding, in order to make his condition more intelligible, he -spoke to them. They were at first terrified by this mysterious voice, -and could hardly be prevented from running away; but hearing it solemnly -assure them that it was their father, and had no design of hurting them, -they took courage, and were then greatly amused to find how their father -had hid himself,--they laughed violently whenever he spoke, and seemed -to be delighted with the novelty. It was not long before Aristus found -that the order and obedience of the family were likely to be much -disturbed by his concealment. His wife being of a gentle temper had left -to him all the duty of command, and never claimed much authority to -herself; but now his influence was much lessened by his new singularity, -and the household was soon in great want of control. He endeavoured to -admonish and instruct his children as before, but the same obedience did -not ensue. They had been accustomed to follow without hesitation the -advice which came from a peremptory countenance; but now the advice -which came out of the air made very little impression upon them. His -positive commands were broken, and the lessons he enjoined were not -learned. Their mother attempted to persuade them of the duty they owed -to the voice which was going about the house, and which she affirmed was -still their father; but her expostulations could procure no obedience to -the venerable sound, and it was disobeyed every hour. In this revolt, -Aristus having nothing but a voice to govern with made trial of all its -tones, but still without success. Sometimes he remonstrated gravely, and -at other times was provoked into very loud invectives. When the voice -grew choleric the children were amused; they practised tricks to incense -it, and laughed immoderately whenever the air began to exclaim. On one -occasion, Aristus being exasperated beyond forbearance against his -eldest boy, and forgetting how incapable of revenge he was become, -attempted to inflict on him a severe blow; but the offender sitting -quite insensible of the admonition which had been aimed at him, Aristus -was obliged to confess that the mind, notwithstanding all its great -endowments, cannot chastise a child without the aid of an arm. - -Aristus had not lived long in this unusual condition before he began to -look back with regret upon the domestic happiness which he had enjoyed -in his body. He had relinquished all his pleasures, and had not found -those improvements in wisdom which he had expected. At first he had -been pleased by the novelty of his condition, the miracle of being -invisible, and the privilege of passing through a wall as if it were -air, but when he was accustomed to these ways he no longer found any -amusement in them, and pierced a wall without the least satisfaction. -When all mankind retired to sleep he sighed for that sweet rest and -forgetfulness, in exchange for which he had to pass his nights in a -dreary wandering. - -He would now have most gladly subjected himself again to eating, -sleeping, and all such ignominious practices, in his exemption from -which he had at first so much exulted. When he saw any poor squalid -wretch, he thought of the happiness he enjoyed by being settled in a -body, and he could not look at an arm or leg, however withered and -crooked, without envying the proprietor of it. - -He had frequent visits from his friend Polemo, who always inquired what -discoveries he had been making, and entreated him not to do so great an -injury to mankind as to keep them secret. To which Aristus answered that -he had indeed discovered many wonderful things, but since they were all -far too sublime to be comprehended by any person covered up in a body, -it would be useless to endeavour to explain them to Polemo; but if by -any means he could clear his mind from the limbs which obscured it he -would freely impart to him all his new acquirements. He had also to -contend against the visits and inquiries of all his friends; for the -news being soon spread that the mind of Aristus was loose from his body, -all were seized with a curiosity to know how a mind could live in such -circumstances. For several days, therefore, his house was crowded with -visiters, all desirous of hearing the mind speak. - -They entreated Aristus to speak first in one place, then in another, and -to move about and talk in every corner of the room, that they might be -convinced he was not a deception. - -Aristus continued to verify himself in this manner till his patience was -quite exhausted by the incredulity of his friends; some of whom he could -hardly persuade to believe in him by all the proofs that he could -furnish. He was perplexed, too, by their innumerable questions: they -wanted to be informed whether he had been cold when he was first -stripped, what were his sensations, by what contrivance he moved himself -about, and what invention had enabled him to talk without a tongue. Many -other such inquiries were made, which Aristus answered as favourably to -his own condition as he could. - -He was chiefly incensed that all his friends regarded this event as a -great misfortune to him. In vain he endeavoured to undeceive them, and -to explain the happiness he was enjoying--they persisted in pitying him; -and he saw that they thought he had committed a great folly in -abandoning his comfortable body. - -At length being quite overcome by his numberless vexations he resolved -to implore the household god that it would revoke what it had done for -him, and admit him again into his old frame if it were still fit for his -reception. Repairing, therefore, to the image, he entreated very -earnestly that his body might be restored to him. But to this request -the little figure remained as insensible as any other piece of wood. He -therefore repeated the prayer, and uttered a mournful narrative of his -sufferings, which, however, failed to extort any answer from the god. - -This hope being disappointed, Aristus became every day more miserable, -till as he was walking on a cliff near the sea, and considering his -several vexations, he suddenly determined to destroy himself by leaping -from the cliff, as the only remedy of his afflictions. First, therefore, -turning round he surveyed his native country as for the last time, after -which he confronted the precipice, and having completed all his -preparations, sprung desperately into the air. He felt himself falling, -and expected every moment to be dashed to pieces, till finding that he -had suddenly stopped, and looking round to discover the cause, he -perceived that he was impeded by the earth, at which he had arrived, and -on which he was now safely standing. He looked up, the rock was above -him, and finding that he had attained the bottom of it without any -success, he discovered what in the distraction of his thoughts had never -occurred to him, that in order to be killed from a precipice a body is -necessary. He began to consider, too, that he was equally unable to -practise against himself any of the other arts of dying. A dagger would -in his case prove as futile as a precipice; he was also disqualified for -being hanged or drowned; there was no drug of sufficient skill to -benefit him, and thus in dismay he remembered his perfect security. Not -having, therefore, received the comfort that he had hoped by his fall -from the rock, he had no expedient left but to return home. Day after -day passed without any diminution of his misery, the ridicule of his -friends and the discontent of his wife continuing. - -He was grieved to remark an increasing coldness in her manner whenever -he conversed with her, in consequence of which he was more frequently -absent from home. That she loved him less now than when he had a body -appeared to him a very culpable inconstancy; and while he was -considering what could be the reason of it, he was told that Cleon had -been seen to enter his house many times lately. This Cleon had been his -rival for the affections of Cleopatra when he was first endeavouring to -obtain her as his wife, and at one period of the conflict had seemed to -have a chance of being preferred. Aristus, therefore, was greatly -troubled by hearing of his visits, and was conscious that Cleon having -the advantage of a body they should no longer contend upon equal terms. -He resolved, therefore, in order to discover the real purpose, and -danger of this rival's visits, that he would watch the house, and be -present at the next interview unperceived, for which undertaking he was -effectually concealed. The being so admirably qualified to observe the -conduct of his wife was the first advantage that he had been able to -discover in the absence of a body. But before he had an opportunity of -putting this design in execution he gained by other means the -information that he wanted. One day on entering his wife's apartment he -found her in company with her sister, and hearing his own name -mentioned, he remained in ambush to listen to their conversation; from -which he learned that Cleon had been endeavouring to convince Cleopatra -that by her husband's disappearing she had been separated from him as -lawfully as if he had died in the usual way, and, therefore, since she -was at liberty to contract a new marriage, he had urged her to accept of -himself, who had suffered no such abolition, but was actually a human -being. It appeared that Cleopatra had scrupled to consider her husband -deceased; and at the moment when he entered the room the sister was -urging her to comply with the entreaties of Cleon, and endeavouring to -satisfy her that Aristus was virtually dead. "My dearest Cleopatra," -said the sister, "let me persuade you not to refuse the comfort of this -marriage; you are certainly authorised to be a widow." - -"Not while Aristus is alive." - -"Alive! if he is so let him show himself, and claim you as his wife." - -"He cannot show himself, as you know." - -"He is not dead then, but merely obliterated to such a degree that we -cannot see him. But can he do any thing like other human beings." - -"Yes, he can think." - -"An excellent husband!" - -"The noblest part of him remains, his reason, his memory, his -imagination." - -"But when you married, you were not contracted to a reason, a memory, or -an imagination, but to a human being in possession of two arms, two -legs, and altogether a competence of body; this person is gone. I am -surprised that Aristus, after being expunged as he has been, should -still pretend to be a married man. His absconding in this strange manner -is certainly equivalent to death; for as to the voice which is left to -personate him, it is ridiculous to profess fidelity to a sound. How can -a noise be entitled to a wife and children? It seems to me you might -with as much advantage be married to the creaking of a door." - -"I greatly lament the change." - -"It is impossible you can have any affection for him as he now is, and -I am sure you have never been happy since he first dwindled away." - -"I have indeed suffered much vexation. Aristus tells me I should be -better satisfied if I were like him; and he is constantly urging me to -surrender my body." - -"I would not give up my little finger to please him. I am sure you -cannot be persuaded to any thing so extravagant." - -"I certainly shall not; I am very easy in my body, and shall remain -there." - -"But I wish to convince you that Aristus is intrinsically dead." - -"I can hardly think it: this concealment of him is something very -different from the dying in his bed, and my closing his eyes, and -weeping, and having a funeral." - -"He has not, indeed, passed through all the formal dying, which would -have been satisfactory; but, nevertheless, every rational person must -think that he is so far dead as to empower you to be a widow. Therefore -pray resolve at once to disclaim any farther connection with this -reason, or intellect, or whatever else your sound may choose to style -itself. I am sure Cleon will be a good husband; and he has wealth, a -kind disposition, and a body." - -"Still I cannot help preserving a reverence for Aristus." - -"You may still revere your late husband and lament his death; that does -not prevent your marrying again: but to revere a sound as being Aristus -is ridiculous. You might as well, if he had died in the usual way, -consider yourself married to his ashes." - -"But if I were to become the wife of Cleon, I could not bear the -reproaches of Aristus. He would pursue me every where, and inveigh -against my infidelity. And I should have no means of shutting him out, -for he walks through a wall without feeling it. He would certainly haunt -me like a ghost!" - -"He will probably be troublesome at first; but if you act with spirit he -will soon find the folly of his clamours, and I think you may easily -bear a little invisible scolding. I am sure you must despise him for -lurking about you in this dishonourable manner. I could not bear a -husband that came walking to me through a wall. Cleon will pass through -a door in the natural way." - -Aristus had stood by during this conversation, and heard with great -resentment the arguments for his being dead: he was about to speak, when -he was prevented by this censure on the meanness of his concealment; and -he began to consider, that if he affirmed himself to be there, his -petulant sister-in-law would probably have the confidence to persist in -his death, and might defy him to appear and prove himself to be real, -his inability to do which would confirm her reasoning. He therefore -remained hid to hear the sequel of the conversation, in which his wife -became more inclined to believe that he was in justice dead, and at last -she promised her sister that she would consider the matter, and -endeavour to satisfy her scruples. The sister then departed, saying, -"When this voice of yours comes home, pray tell him openly that you look -upon him as an imposture, and do not listen to any casuistry by which he -would pretend to be a human being, but tell him you will believe it when -you see him." - -Aristus, in greater distress than ever, resolved, as a last hope, to try -once more the indulgence of the household god, and entreat him to -restore the body, being convinced that by appearing in it he should -instantly revive all Cleopatra's affection, and suppress any thoughts -which she might have admitted in favour of Cleon. - -He therefore repaired again to the hearth; where, with the most pitiful -entreaties, he conjured the image to hear his prayers. To his great joy -it opened its mouth, and asked what was his request. With great humility -he acknowledged his error, described the misery of his present -banishment, and prayed for permission to live again in his body. On -hearing this the god animadverted on his folly in having ever wished to -leave it, representing to him the impiety of discontent, with the duty -of acquiescing in the nature assigned to man, and living in perfect -resignation to the gods. - -Aristus listened very humbly to these admonitions, and assured the image -that he was now fully sensible of his fault, and eager to resume his -body that he might acquiesce in it, and show his resignation for the -rest of his life. - -The image then taught him certain magical words, by pronouncing which he -was to regain his body. The restoration was not to take place at once, -but one part of the body to be recalled after another, each word having -authority over a particular limb. - -Aristus having made himself master of these words earnestly expressed -his gratitude to the image, and returned home without making trial -whether any of his limbs were within call, designing to astonish his -wife by coming to light in her presence. Having entered her apartment, -where she was alone, he thus addressed her:-- - -"As I find, Cleopatra, that you cannot reconcile yourself to my present -condition, I am willing, if possible, to sacrifice for your sake all the -happiness that I enjoy in it, and again to undergo my body. I have -therefore been entreating the household god to contrive this for me. His -answer was so ambiguous that I know not whether he intends to comply -with my prayer or not, but from some hints that he gave I think it not -improbable that you may see me gradually coming back." - -Cleopatra seemed to give little belief to this; but Aristus, speaking -that word which had command over the beard, it instantly began to grow, -and by degrees fell down in full beauty, and there being yet no chin for -it to be associated with, Cleopatra was astonished by the unusual -spectacle of an independent beard supporting itself in the air. Her eyes -sparkled with hope at the sight; but Aristus, to amuse himself with her -suspense, delayed for some time to resume any other part of himself. He -was delighted to see, by the eagerness of his wife for his return, that -when finished he should have nothing to fear from Cleon. - -In great anxiety she watched his beard, expecting a chin to ensue from -it, and at last exclaimed in alarm, "My dearest Aristus, how slowly you -grow! I hope the god means to bring you back entire: surely he will not -limit you to a beard." - -"It is impossible to say," answered Aristus, "whether he will think -proper to suppress any of my limbs or not, but you must endeavour to be -content with as much of me as he may choose to give you." - -He then spoke another of the supernatural words, and a chin was annexed -to the beard: this soon spread into a face, which gradually advanced to -an entire head. Cleopatra was in raptures at seeing once more the -countenance of her husband. She kissed the lips again and again, till -quite assured that they were real. The coming so strangely out of the -air made it seem as if the whole appearance were an artifice; but by -examination she was convinced that what she saw was not only a true -head, but the very same which Aristus had worn. He continued these -additions to himself, repeating from time to time one of the magical -words, each of which produced its corresponding part. Every new -appearance delighted Cleopatra, and with the greatest emotion she -watched him coming back limb by limb, till at length he stood before her -quite completed. - - * * * * * - - - - -ALCIBIADES. - - -_Translated from a Greek Manuscript lately discovered._ - -ALCIBIADES. - -Fly! Praxinoe, fly! I hear the voice of Socrates, and it frightens me as -much as the voice of Cerberus. Pick up your girdle and run. Leander, -here! remove the wine and fruit. Now my apartment looks more austere -than before. Here he comes. I wish he were at the pillars of Hercules. -Ah! Socrates, welcome. - -SOCRATES. - -Alcibiades, we expected you at the house of Agatho. You had promised to -be present at our conversation, and perhaps you might have benefited by -it as much as by lying on that couch. - -ALCIBIADES. - -I should have come, Socrates; but I was seized by a sudden sickness, -which made me quite unfit for philosophy. - -SOCRATES. - -I am grieved to hear it; but the colour in your cheeks makes me hope for -a speedy recovery. - -ALCIBIADES. - -I begin to think, indeed, that the disorder has left me. - -SOCRATES. - -I am sure it has, for I met it at the door. But was that beautiful -creature a disease? I imagined, as it glided by me, that it must be Hebe -herself who had been visiting you. I never before saw so blooming an -illness. - -ALCIBIADES. - -Ah! Socrates, I never succeed in deceiving you. I think I have heard you -boast that you have brought philosophy down from the stars to live -amongst men. - -SOCRATES. - -Is she not likely to do more good to men than to the stars? - -ALCIBIADES. - -Why, I was going to advise that you should release her and let her fly -up again, for she would be much less troublesome amongst the stars than -at Athens. The truth is, I cannot enjoy my pleasures while she is -observing them, but she might observe the Pleiades as long as she -pleased without giving me the least disturbance. But now, since I have -lost your conversation to-day, I would willingly hear you explain a -difficulty that I can propose. Perhaps one cause of my zeal for -instruction at this moment is a wish to divert the reproof that I see -coming. - -SOCRATES. - -I think you have justly interpreted your love of knowledge. However, let -me hear the difficulty. But stay, here are more friends; Cleocrates and -Hiero. - -ALCIBIADES. - -Welcome, my friends! but you shall not interrupt our conversation. -Therefore, without taking farther notice of you, I proceed to ask -Socrates why it is that I, being one man, discover within myself so many -different characters? I find a philosopher who would always be engaged -in study, a reveller that would make life but one debauch, and a -politician who loves to be busy with the state, a prudent man who -foresees every danger, and a rash fool who never avoids one, all -collected together and called Alcibiades. Nor do these different persons -prevail in turn, but all together; I wish to be wise and foolish at the -same instant, and frequently cannot decide which I desire the most. So a -few hours ago I wished to be both with you at the house of Agatho, and -here with a Rhodian girl. So violent was the contest that I expected to -be torn into two parts by it, and that one half of me would go to hear -you talk, while the other remained here with the Rhodian. - -SOCRATES. - -I should have been content with a smaller share of you than half; if you -had only sent your head by a servant, the fair Rhodian might have kept -the remainder, and I imagine you would not have been the less fit to -entertain her from wanting merely a head. - -ALCIBIADES. - -Not at all; but my whole head would not have consented to go, one part -of it only being inclined to philosophy. I am the same divided person -that Cerberus must be if he has a disposition to each head. Now pray let -me hear the explanation of this. - -SOCRATES. - -I transfer the duty to Cleocrates, who three days ago was about to tell -me something that he brought out of Egypt on this very subject. You -know that a man cannot be wise without having been in Egypt. - -CLEOCRATES. - -You shall hear my tale; but Hiero too can tell one to account for these -contending inclinations, and he having been not only in Egypt, but in -every other country, is entitled to be far wiser than I am. Let him, -therefore, speak first. - -ALCIBIADES. - -Begin, Hiero; and I charge you to omit all apology, preface, and -modesty. - -HIERO. - -Rejecting then all such impediments, I begin by telling you that amongst -every people which I have visited in my travels, I have found a great -curiosity to know the origin and first condition of mankind, and to -learn the changes which have made men what they now are. Accordingly in -every country some person has undertaken to gratify this desire, and -disclose the first beginning of man, and his progress to the present -condition; so that there is not a race to be found, however savage and -destitute of literature, which has not some legend of the early -circumstances of the world. Fortunately none are so inquisitive as to -ask how these things became known to the historian who first divulged -them; men think they have nothing to do with the story, but to believe -it. - -The general opinion seems to be, that since it is absolutely necessary -for the peace of our minds that some origin of things should be current -amongst us, it would be very unwise to undermine the one we have now, -because it might not be easy to find another. The best course is to let -things begin as they have been used to do. - -Thus the world has as many origins as it has races of men; all are -believed with the same resolution, and good men are ready to defend -their own beginning of things at the hazard of their lives. Though these -histories of unknown times are very different from each other, yet in -one particular they all agree, which is in supposing that man is now, by -his own vice and folly, in a very inferior condition to that which he -once enjoyed. - -I shall now give you my narrative of the early state of mankind, being -assured that I have as ample information on the subject as any previous -author; and I claim the advantage allowed to all historians of this -kind, which is, that I shall not be suspected of fiction merely because -I relate events of which there is neither remembrance nor history. - -The first generation of men was much more powerful and happy than the -present. The human race was not divided into two sexes, as now; but the -two sexes were united in every single person. Each human being was -composed of male and female, so joined together as to make one person. -Each, therefore, was supplied with four arms, four legs, two faces, and -two bodies. The two were separate in every part except the head, which -was the point that united them: the heads grew together without any -partition of skull between them, so that the two brains were joined, and -thus the two bodies were governed by one will and understanding. The -male was always on the right side, and the female on the left. Every -man, therefore, was naturally married, and without any choice of his -own. - -This combination of the two sexes prevented a great part of the miseries -by which life is now infested; for it is manifest that the world is -unhappy chiefly by the quarrels, jealousies, and contending wishes of -man and woman. Hence most of the great wars which have depopulated the -earth. If Helen had been fastened to Menelaus by the head, it is plain -that she could not have eloped from him, and involved Greece and Asia in -misfortune; nor is it probable that Clytemnestra would have divided the -head of Agamemnon with an axe if her own head must have shared the blow. - -Amongst this double race there was nothing to interrupt domestic peace. -It is evident there could be no such passion as jealousy, for when a -man's wife was part of himself he could not suspect her of infidelity. -There being only one mind in the double body, the male half never was -enamoured of the female half of another person, nor did the female side -love any but the male to which she was annexed. A man, therefore, was -then as unlikely to charge his female side with disobedience as he would -be now to accuse his own arm or leg of a mutiny. It is well known too -that the present conjugal love, however vehement at first, is very apt -to fall out of the heart after a certain time, which accident could not -occur in the double condition, the love of one half for the other being -a kind of self-love; so that any one who considers the fidelity with -which he adheres to himself in our present circumstances, will know with -how much greater constancy the man and woman then lived together than -they do now. That forgiveness with which a man now regards his own -faults and that patience with which he waits for his own reformation -were then practised between the two sexes, to the great peace and -concord of every family. All sensations felt by one side were imparted -equally to the other, so that the husband could not pursue his pleasures -apart from his wife. Besides this, when people were born married, as I -describe, they avoided all doubt and perplexity of choice; there were no -fears and anxieties in love, no vain pursuits, nor affections without -return. The male part was no more doubtful of the female's kindness than -a man is now apprehensive of losing his own esteem. - -But it pleased the gods that this happy condition should cease. The -reason of their displeasure I cannot assign with any certainty. It has -been thought that these double men having much greater strength and -dexterity than the present race, had made Jupiter apprehend that they -might at some time revolt from heaven, and become dangerous enemies. And -it is observable that in all countries, however religions may vary, -there is some obscure tradition of the gods having once imagined their -supremacy to be in danger, which I think argues a remarkable cowardice -in the divine nature; for when we consider the distance from earth to -heaven, we can hardly meditate an attack from this quarter with any -reasonable hope of victory. But I am rather inclined to think that in -this case Jupiter was not moved by the power of men, but by their -happiness. An excess of good is contrary to our nature, and certainly -the gods have always shown a very provident care in supplying us with -sufficient misfortunes. But whatever reasons may have decided the King -of the Gods, it is certain that he resolved to divide man from woman, -and make them live as two separate beings. Having therefore counted the -number of mortals on the earth, he took the same number of thunderbolts -in his hand, and hurled them with such certainty as to cleave every -human being into two parts. I think that a god capable of such dexterity -needed not to have feared the human race, though every man had had a -hundred arms instead of four. All mankind, therefore, having fallen -asunder at the same instant, each half was seized with consternation; -but yet was so stupified by the blow that it knew not what had happened, -and began to wander about by itself in an ignorant terror. After some -time, however, these halves became sensible of their condition; and each -perceiving that in its amazement it had wandered away from its partner, -was seized with a violent desire to be reunited. The earth was covered -with these imperfect creatures, running about in search of their -associates. When two halves which had been one were so fortunate as to -meet they threw their arms round each other, and with passionate -embraces declared that they never would be separated. But most of those -who did not speedily find their true partners, in horror at being alone, -betook themselves to some other half. The male and female sides being -equally terrified and forlorn in their sudden solitude, these wrong -associations were readily and eagerly formed. When two halves happened -to meet, each despairing of its former colleague, they joined themselves -together after a short negotiation, with mutual caresses and vows of -inseparable union. But it was soon found that a pair could not be thus -joined at pleasure with any success. When the two halves which before -the thunderbolt had formed one person were restored to each other, they -lived together in great harmony and happiness, endeavouring by a perfect -unanimity to forget that they were no longer one; but those who had been -casually united soon found cause of disagreement, and passed their lives -in hatred and dispute. And when one of this unfortunate confederacy -happened to meet with its true partner, involved also in a foreign -compact, the desire of reunion was incontrollable; and each deserting -its provisional associate, returned with delight to the former alliance. - -It is easy to discover a secret memory of these events in human nature -as it now is, what I have related being the true origin of love and -marriage. Each man and each woman of these times is singly but half a -creature, and is naturally sensible of its imperfection. In childhood we -do not suspect our mutilation; but as soon as the feelings are mature, -every person becomes eager to discover the other half of himself, and be -reunited to it. Unfortunately, the whole human race has been so -dispersed and confused together, that very few have the good fortune to -find their authentic halves; but both sexes being conscious of the -division they have suffered, are so impatient of solitude, that the -generality of persons after a very short search are content to choose -partners with which they have no affinity. Hence, a great part of the -two sexes are erroneously joined, which explains the number of unhappy -marriages; for the law is still in force, that two halves, not belonging -to each other, cannot be prosperously united, but to be happy together -they must be descendants of the same double person. When any two are -once made known to each other as being halves of the same person, -nothing can prevent their immediate union, and any former confederacy is -instantly abandoned. Thus, when a married woman, to the great -astonishment of her friends, deserts her husband and her children for a -stranger, the truth is that she has found her corresponding half. Thus, -also, we may understand why it is that a man has so often a violent -passion for some particular woman, whose charms are so far from being -obvious that he is the only person who has sagacity enough to discover -them. She is the half which it is the business of his life to find. - -When Jupiter made this division of men, he threatened that if they gave -him any farther displeasure he would make another partition, and divide -every human being, already so imperfect, into two. After some time, I -know not upon what provocation, he determined to execute this threat, -and with the same skill as before effected a still more lamentable -division, the whole human race falling asunder at the same instant. -Every man found himself, he knew not why, suddenly standing on one foot. -The two halves of a man gazed at each other in amazement; and each -asked the other its opinion of what had happened, and of what was to -follow. Each body was divided into two even shares; the nose being split -exactly in the middle, and the same justice observed from head to foot. -At the moment of division a new skin had grown over the parts newly -exposed, so as to prevent the loss of a single drop of blood. One of -these half men, therefore, putting his hand to that side of his face -which had undergone the change, felt a plain flat surface. The voice, -though from half a tongue, was as distinct but not so strong as before. -A man had no difficulty in supporting himself, or in hopping along on -his single foot; for though in the present condition of man it is a -severe labour for one foot to discharge the duty of both, and convey the -whole body, yet half the burden being taken away the remaining foot -could make some progress without any violent exertion. Some practice, -however, was required to move with sufficient speed and security; and -the right side, by its superior vigour, was the first to attain a -proficiency in hopping. As soon as the first consternation was over, -men, supposing that their new condition was to continue, endeavoured to -reconcile themselves to the being half what they had been, and to supply -the loss of limbs by the exercise of what remained. Many disputes and -confusions were caused by this event. A man being about to be married to -a beautiful girl before the division took place, and one side of him in -its first attempt to hop down stairs having broken its neck, the other -side found itself provided with two wives by the separation of the -intended bride; and as the two halves of her were equally beautiful and -loved him with equal fidelity, he knew not which to choose. There was -another case not less difficult to decide. A man had been betrothed to a -woman of great beauty, but her left cheek was unfortunately disfigured -by a scar. The two sides, therefore, being now of different value, the -right side of the man claimed the perfect half, maintaining that each -ought to take the part corresponding with himself; but this opinion was -disputed by the left side of the man, who positively refused to accept -of the blemished half. - -In many cases great injustice was done by this division to one half of -the human being. The brain being separated in the middle, the qualities -of the mind were divided. In some instances they had been equally -distributed through the head, so that each side contained a just share; -but in other cases they had been differently arranged, and one half -possessed all the valuable endowments. In some heads the virtues had -been all on one side, and the vices collected on the other; so that one -half was a man of perfect character, while the other abandoned itself to -every sort of depravity. It appeared that some men, who had been -distinguished by wit in conversation, had been witty only on one side of -the head, and that side remained as agreeable as before, while the other -became extremely dull. In a public assembly, soon after this occurrence, -the right side of an orator began to speak, and proceeded for some time -with great volubility, but suddenly stopped in the middle of a sentence, -and appeared at the end of its oratory, upon which the left side -finished the sentence, and then continued the harangue to its -conclusion. It seemed, therefore, that this oration had occupied the -whole head, in which it lay ready for use, and had been cut into two -equal parts, the left side of the orator being ignorant of the beginning -and the right side of the end. - -Jupiter soon discovered that by this second separation he had too much -disabled the human race, for men sunk into such misery and dejection -that all the duties and enterprises of life would have been speedily -forgotten had they remained so decrepit. He therefore ordered Apollo to -unite men again, and make them such as they now are, and as they were -before the last division. This was done, but not so skilfully as to -prevent all bad consequences from the separation. The injury done to us -is still apparent; for although on the outside we bear not the least -mark of this cruel operation, yet in the minds and characters of men it -is easy to find evidence of their having been cleft into two. The truth -is, that Apollo thought only of preventing any external injury, and was -not careful enough in adjusting the several parts of the brain to each -other. In most cases, therefore, the fibres were not accurately united, -and in consequence the generality of men may be said to have two minds; -one set of passions and opinions on the right side and another on the -left. Sometimes one side gains the direction of the man and sometimes -the other, and hence arise the contradictory qualities and variations of -character in the same person. A man, whose habitual prudence we have -long known, surprises us by a sudden rashness; in this case one side of -his head only has been stored with prudence, and that has commonly been -the governing side, but upon this one occasion the other half has -prevailed over it. In the first ages, when man and woman composed one -creature, two bodies were governed by a single mind; but now, to our -misfortune, one body is subject to the control of two minds, each of -which having its own separate passions, and endeavouring to gratify -them, there is a perpetual contest between them for the government of -the body. Any man who considers what passes within himself, will -perceive that he thinks and acts more like two men than one. He finds in -himself infirmities which he despises; this is the contempt which one -side of him entertains for the other side. He is conscious of two -dispositions,--the one wise, moderate, and circumspect, the other -intemperate and rash; and he cannot determine which of these is -himself, for all the passions seem equally his own. Thus I explain the -difficulty proposed by Alcibiades, and I am now ready to hear -Cleocrates. - -CLEOCRATES. - -I learned many things from an Egyptian priest, and amongst other strange -doctrines he told me that I had passed many lives upon the earth before -that which I enjoy now. Perceiving that I regarded this as a fable -intended for amusement rather than belief, he told me that he would soon -convince me of the truth of what he taught by restoring to my memory a -part of the past. He then mixed together many ingredients, of which I -knew not the nature, and making a draught of them desired me to swallow -it. I complied, and soon fell into a deep sleep, from which, when I -awoke, I found myself wonderfully altered, for I clearly remembered a -former life, the chief adventures of which were as distinct to me as the -occurrences of my present existence; and besides this I remembered my -death, and the treatment which I met with in another world. I shall not -relate to you any events of my former life, but confine myself to an -account of what I observed as a dead person, because it is that which -explains the subject of our present conversation. - -As soon as I was dead, then, I found myself in a throng of spectres, -approaching the place of judgment, which is conducted in a very -different manner from what is usually imagined. When I arrived at the -fearful spot, I found that the actions of all those to be tried had been -collected together, the deeds of each man forming a separate heap. The -judge held in his hands a large sieve, which he presented to the first -spectre who came to trial. He then took up a part of this man's actions, -and placing them in the sieve commanded him to shake them; the sieve -having a peculiar sagacity, by which it lets the meritorious actions -pass through, and retains the bad. This spectre had been a pirate, and -the sieve was filled with cruelty, rapine, and murder. He shook -vigorously, but only one of his actions dropped through; it was the -release of a prisoner without ransom, probably at the beginning of his -career, and from want of experience. When he had shaken the crimes -ineffectually for some time, the judge commanded him to empty the sieve -by inverting it, and then placed in it another handful of his life. This -he agitated with great resolution, but the sieve refused to part with a -single crime. He succeeded no better with the remainder of his exploits; -and when all had been shaken sufficiently to try their worth, they were -thrown into a heap, from which the judge deducted one crime as an -equivalent for the single good action which had passed the sieve, and -then ordered the criminal to lie down and roll himself in his sins. As -he rolled every crime adhered to him, and he rose from the ground -covered with his own enormities. A fury then approached, and touched him -with a lighted torch, by which every crime was instantly converted into -a flame. He uttered a loud yell; and another fury, armed with a whip, -drove him from the place of judgment, blazing violently as he went -along. All the spectres had to undergo the same judgment in turn; the -actions of each were submitted to the sieve, and for every deed which by -passing through could prove itself a laudable act one of the bad actions -was removed; the remaining errors were fixed to the guilty spectre as I -have described, and set on fire, when each of them burned with violence -and pain according to its enormity. - -Whether it was Minos who presided at this ceremony I could not learn; -but it seemed to me that the office required no great sagacity or -justice, for the sieve was really the judge, and I greatly admired the -equity with which it detained or dismissed the actions submitted to it. -I heard it said that this sieve was Minos himself, who had been -transformed into that instrument at his death for the duty I am -relating. - -I saw the trial of a well known orator, who took the sieve with great -confidence as a benefactor to his country. His harangues were placed in -it, and a few of them passed through, as having enjoined what was -useful; but the chief part, notwithstanding their eloquence, could -obtain no passage, and some of them, as soon as they were kindled, -seemed to give him great torment. I also saw three celebrated poets -receive judgment. They were Anacreon, Archilochus, and Sappho. Their -poems lay in the heap amongst the other actions of their lives, and were -subjected to the consideration of the sieve. Those strains which had -caused virtue immediately fell through, and the lays that had encouraged -vice were detained to become firebrands. Many were the dissolute odes -which Anacreon shook without success, though he tried every part of the -sieve, as if he had imagined that some of its holes would be more -indulgent than others. His debaucheries, too, were obstructed in the -same manner as his poetry; and as he had lived to a great age, and -continued his poetry and his enjoyments to the last, he made a large -conflagration. Sappho having lived and written as voluptuously as -Anacreon, was as unsuccessful in her agitation of the sieve. -Archilochus, also, had many licentious poems to burn him; and many -others were stopped in the sieve on account of their malevolent and -unjust satire. - -I shall not enumerate all the trials that I saw before I came to -judgment myself. I was fully satisfied of the justice of all that I had -seen, and was therefore in great terror, for I believed many of my -actions to be quite disqualified for passing so rigorous a sieve. And so -they proved; for though I shook them with great vigour, a considerable -heap remained after the deduction of faults equal in number to the good -actions. With great reluctance and horror of mind I rolled myself in -them as I was commanded, and rose covered with my crimes, which burst -into a blaze as soon as the torch was applied. The pain was dreadful, -and I wonder that by any means I could have been made to forget it. The -conducting fury drove me away to a large plain, where all the criminals -were collected. There was here no light except from the flame of our own -crimes, and we all wandered about in restless agony. Some rolled upon -the ground in hope of extinguishing their fires, but not a crime could -be smothered till it had been burned out in the manner ordained. The -whole place was filled with screams and lamentations. - -After some years of these dreary pains our fires evidently began to -abate. At the end of twenty years three of my errors had gone out, and -others were burning faintly. When fifty years had passed the flames had -disappeared from all of us. - -As soon as we were extinguished, several furies appeared with whips, and -drove us to a distant part of hell, where we had to make choice of -bodies in which to pass another life in the world. But first we -underwent a singular examination. The plain where we had been burning -was surrounded by a wall, and in leaving it we all passed through a -gate, at which sat a minister of the place, whose name I know not. He -seized every spectre that passed, and closely examined him; some he -dismissed, but upon others he performed a strange operation. For when he -had found one that required this remedy, he fixed his nails into the -head, and tore him downwards into two parts, as a man may tear a piece -of cloth. Every spectre so divided uttered a loud scream as if the -separation were very painful. It was remarkable, that each part was -still an entire spectre, and appeared as large as when the two were -united. The operator then examined the two halves, and sometimes tore -them again, each still retaining its size. Thus, in some instances, he -made six or seven spectres out of one. The reason of this I afterwards -discovered, and must explain to you. When this ceremony is ended, the -spectres are turned into an enclosed place, where they find a crowd of -bodies, being those which they had inhabited upon earth. Each has -liberty to enter either his own body or any other that he can seize, a -great strife, therefore, takes place; and in the contest for bodies it -frequently happens that two or more souls obtain a lodgement in the -same. These souls are compressed together, and pass through life as one -person. This, therefore, is the cause why so many contradictory thoughts -and inclinations are often found in the same man, for the two or more -souls can never be united so as to make a single mind, but each -preserves its own nature; and thus they are always contending together, -sometimes one gaining the ascendant and sometimes another. When a man -dies they go out of him as one spectre, having been pressed into each -other by the body, so that they cannot separate themselves by their own -efforts. They are then punished together, since their crimes have been -committed in concert; but as they leave the place of punishment they are -torn asunder as I have related. The executioner who divides them knows -by examination whether each spectre consists of one soul or more, and -never suffers a double one to pass. I was scrutinised with the rest, and -being found single escaped the laceration of which I was much in dread. - -I observed that when a soul had been divided, each single part was very -different in appearance and character from the compound soul before -separation. Thus Sappho, after being examined, was torn into two parts, -when one half of her appeared a soul of elevated and solemn genius, the -other half had in a previous existence been a woman of lascivious and -disorderly life, who having obtained entrance into the body chosen by -the woman of genius had filled her disposition and her poetry with vice. -As soon as they were separate, the sublime Sappho began with great -indignation to reproach her late associate with the disgraceful -pleasures in which she had involved her. The other was not at all -disconcerted, but received the censure with a laugh. - -I heard many other souls, after separation, inveighing against their -confederates, and declaring what great things they could have done had -they been single. Some of the souls thus reproved denied their guilt, -and affirmed that they had first been misled by the accuser, so that -there were many disputes amongst the cloven spectres. We were now turned -into the place where the bodies we had last lived in awaited us, and -amongst these we had each to choose a habitation for another life. The -bodies here presented a very singular spectacle, having no minds to -animate them, but standing upright without motion, and without thought -or life in the countenance. Some strange adventures now ensued amongst -the souls, in haste to take possession of the bodies that pleased them. -A soul enters the body by opening the mouth and crawling in, being able -by a little effort and struggling to compress itself so as to be -admitted. On every side, therefore, bodies were seen in the act of -swallowing their souls; and it frequently happened, that when a soul had -only his legs projecting from the mouth another seized him by the feet, -and dragged him back again, having a desire for the same body. - -I immediately saw the frame which I had last inhabited, but had no wish -to return into it, for it had neither strength nor beauty. Why I had -chosen it before I know not, for the draught of the Egyptian had not -restored things so remote to my memory. I resolved, therefore, to -provide myself with a better figure, and wandered about in search of a -body to my taste. - -I found that when a spectre had taken possession of a body, he was not -immediately united with it so as to form one being, nor could he command -it, as we living men rule our bodies; he was at first a separate -creature from the body, though not at liberty to leave it when once -settled within. The uniting of mind and body takes place afterwards. - -Many souls were extremely desirous of being the only occupiers of a -body, which gave rise to innumerable contests; for when a spectre of -this solitary temper had established himself in a body that he liked, he -vigorously defended it against all assailants. In many places a soul was -seen on the outside of a body eagerly endeavouring to force open the -mouth, which another soul within was striving to keep shut. Sometimes -the possessor remonstrated loudly against the invasion, and insisted on -his right to live alone. Other souls formed willing confederacies, and -chose a body by agreement, in which they might live together. Sometimes -he who was conscious of a deficiency in any particular quality -associated himself with one who had it in an eminent degree. I saw five -or six merry spectres, who purposely formed themselves into a -composition of the most incongruous characters, and seemed to be much -diverted with the expectation of being a very singular man. I remarked, -that the souls which had been united in a former existence always took -care not to become confederates again. Any spectre might enter either a -male or female body, and several therefore took the opportunity of -changing their sex. But in this case the former disposition still -continues, which explains the effeminate nature of some men, and the -masculine temper of certain women. In some instances a man and a woman -settled themselves in the same body, and it is easy to discover the -mixed characters which result from such a composition. - -I saw a male and a female spectre, who in their last existence had been -husband and wife, and still retained their love for each other. Thinking -it probable that if they took different bodies they should be separated -for ever, they agreed to become associates in the same. They hesitated -at first whether to be a man or a woman, but decided in favour of the -male sex; and having found an empty body they crawled into it, but a -mischievous spectre, observing this union, crept in after them, not -being discovered until he was quite established and immovable. When the -husband perceived how his privacy was interrupted, he loudly reproached -the intruder, who laughed heartily at finding himself so troublesome. - -I shall now, Socrates, relate what I saw take place in the composition -of you. I observed a thoughtful spectre wandering about, and appearing -in no haste to enter a body. Another soul, which was that of a poet, -proposed to him that they should become associates, saying, that the -reasoning power of one and the poetical fancy of the other could not -fail by combination to produce a splendid genius. The other spectre -declined this offer, saying, that he was conscious of a superior -intellect, which in his last existence had been rendered quite useless -by a bad confederate, and he was therefore determined to be alone. He -added, that he cared not what kind of body he should live in, provided -he was the sole master of it. This was overheard by another spectre, who -in his former life had been a public buffoon, and supported himself by -wandering through Greece, telling fables to the crowd, and exhibiting -the accomplishments of a monkey. He had been renowned for his satirical -humour, and his success in putting some of his hearers out of -countenance. This buffoon hearing the words of the philosophical -spectre, said to him, "If you wish to have no companion, I advise you to -enter the body now before you, for you cannot possibly have any -competitors for such a dwelling." The body he recommended was that, -Socrates, which you now walk about in; and as I have often heard you -ridicule the shape of it, I need not fear to offend you by telling how -it came to be your covering. The solemn spectre having considered this -body, said, "I really think your advice is good, for I certainly shall -not be disturbed by invaders as long as there is another body to be -found; besides which, a philosopher has many advantages in being ugly." -After a little consideration he opened the mouth, and crawled in, when -the buffoon, not able to refuse the opportunity of a jest, crept after -him, and had irrevocably entered the body before the philosopher -perceived his unwelcome colleague. He then inveighed bitterly against -the intruder, and lamented that a second time his intellect would be -useless from the levity associated with it. The buffoon contradicted -this, and affirmed that his vivacity would much assist the philosopher -in his design of instructing the world. Thus, Socrates, were you -compounded; and since to the buffoon we owe the satire and irony by -which we grow wiser, I think we may rejoice that the philosophical half -of you was so cheated. - -After this I saw a very beautiful male form disputed by a crowd of -spectres. The body was that of Alcibiades, and when I tell him how many -opposite characters were finally lodged in it, he will cease to wonder -at the variety of inclinations, which he finds within himself. It had -first been taken possession of by the spectre of a philosopher, who -thought that so noble a figure would give eloquence to his doctrines; -and when I first saw it, this philosopher within was guarding the mouth -against a multitude of assailants, all eager to inhabit the most -beautiful of bodies. I heard him arguing against the justice of the -attack, in a smothered voice from within the body, and endeavouring to -prove his own sole title. But in spite of his reasoning, the mouth was -forced open, and a whole crowd rushed in. The first to enter was the -spectre of a debauched reveller, who was followed by an orator, a -musician, a pirate, a soldier, a poet, and two courtesans, besides some -other spectres, of whose genius and vocation I was ignorant. More wished -to enter; but those within, thinking they had a sufficient diversity of -character for one man, combined together to close the mouth against all -future assailants. Since, therefore, Alcibiades, you find that in your -person so many people must agree to act together, you cannot wonder that -there is a frequent conflict, and that the philosopher has some -difficulty in ruling his associates. - - * * * * * - - - - -TRUTH RELEASED. - - -_Translated from a Greek manuscript lately discovered._ - -A LETTER FROM THRASICLES OF MILETUS TO RHODIUS OF ATHENS. - -You must remember, Rhodius, that when I last visited you at Athens we -fell into a dispute about the danger of truth, which was occasioned by -my advising you to erase certain passages from the book you intend to -publish, as being adverse to the general opinion, and against your own -peace. You would by no means allow this confiscation; but defended the -passages in question with all the fidelity of an author. Hence ensued a -controversy between us, whether truth could ever be mischievous, in -which, by your arguments against my notions, you fully convinced me that -I was right, and I believe I had the same success with you. I have since -been engaged in some adventures, which have pursued and decided our -dispute in a remarkable manner, and I shall therefore write you a brief -account of what has happened. You will probably mistake my narrative for -a fiction; but whenever you visit Miletus you may satisfy yourself, from -the inhabitants, that the singular events which I shall relate have -really happened. - -I was one day wandering alone in a wood, and had insensibly penetrated -into the thickest, and most remote part of it, when I suddenly perceived -myself at the very brink and danger of an opening in the earth, which I -found was a well, and looking cautiously down, I saw a glimmering from -the surface of water. I was leaving the place when I heard a human -voice, weak by the depth, but earnestly calling for aid, the person who -spoke having caught sight of me as I leaned over. I called down the well -to ask what unfortunate being was below, and by what accident, though I -have since thought that this inquiry into the particular method of -descent was not the measure that I ought first to have used for the -prisoner's release. The voice answered, that the person below was the -goddess Truth, who for some centuries had been hidden and useless in -that well, and entreated me to assist in her escape. It would commonly -be a natural and just caution to disbelieve any person casually met, who -should undertake to be Truth, but there was something more than human in -this voice, which instantly convinced me: I forgot my fears of this -goddess, and eagerly desired her freedom, which by ropes from a -neighbouring cottage I soon contrived. - -I now saw before me the real person of Truth; and if I had before -doubted her divinity, the first sight of her would have persuaded me. It -is impossible to describe the beauty and contemplation of her -countenance. I had seen her picture by Apelles, which is so beautiful, -that I had always thought it must exactly resemble her; but I now found -it altogether erroneous, which, perhaps, may be from his having painted -without seeing her: for while she has been buried in her well both -painters and philosophers have been describing her with as much -confidence as if they had been in daily intercourse with her. She -thanked me for her release; and I ventured to ask why she had chosen so -singular a residence, which, I conceived, would afford her no advantage -for instructing mankind. She condescended to give me a short history of -herself, saying that she was the daughter of Thought, the oldest of the -gods, by a mother of earthly race, whose name was Experience. She had a -half sister named Falsehood, from the same father, but of an unknown -mother. This sister was so like her in appearance, that they were -perpetually mistaken for each other; but their disposition and character -were very different, she herself being thoughtful, cautious, and -sincere, her sister, volatile, talkative, and deceitful. She had been -sent to take possession of this earth, which she was to govern; but her -sister had immediately followed her into her new dominions, under -pretence of a friendly visit, and here, by her busy nature and plausible -arts, she had soon usurped the whole authority. It being found, -therefore, that Truth was incapable of command by her own merit, two -instruments of government had been sent her from Heaven. These were a -torch and a mirror, which she held in her hands when she rose out of the -well. It was thought that she would be able to establish her power by -these gifts, which were endued with wonderful virtue and discovery. But -before she had begun to employ her new arms, having caught sight of her -treacherous sister in that wood, she had so eagerly pursued her for -reproach and triumph, that she had not seen the well, but fallen into -it, and heard the laughter of her sister as she disappeared. I told her -it had been affirmed by the philosopher Democritus that she lived in a -well but I had supposed this to be a mere fable and allegory. To this -she answered, that Democritus, like myself, had discovered her by -accident: she had called to him, informed him who she was, and implored -freedom, upon which he had endeavoured to negotiate with her, and -bargain, that if released she should confirm his particular philosophy, -and explode all other doctrines. She asked what were the tenets that he -expected her to enforce; in answer to which he had begun to scream -forth the heads of his creed. She interrupted him in this erudition, -which with a great exertion of voice he was conveying down the well: she -assured him that these were chiefly deceptions of her sister, and -promised, at being set free, to teach him better things. It appeared, -however, that he did not desire her to instruct him, but to ratify the -doctrines that he had published; and finding her resolved not to become -his accomplice, he had left her, first declaring that he should -carefully surround the well with thorns, against the discovery of -others. Since that time, a few other philosophers had come by accident -to the mouth of her well, but all had refused her freedom, some like -Democritus wanting to make conditions in favour of their own fancies, -and others telling her that they were frightened by the very sound of -her voice, that, if let loose, she would be the most pernicious being, -and that the bottom of a well was the only post in which she could do no -mischief. Since, however, she was at last free, she declared that she -should immediately begin to put in force the arms that had been sent -her, and hoped soon to gain by them her just authority. I entreated, -that as a reward for my assistance she would make my native city the -place of her first revelation. To this she consented, and we approached -Miletus. Before we entered the town, the goddess said that her torch -must be lit, since it was to be a principal instrument in undeceiving -mankind. She breathed upon it, when instantly it broke into a flame, and -it is impossible to describe the beauty and rapture from its light. The -sudden brightness betrayed the rival sister, Falsehood, who happened -then to be very near us, and invisible by her art; but she had no -concealment against the torch, and now stood manifest before her -offended sister. As they were now together, I could easily distinguish -the superiority of Truth; but they were so much alike, that I thought -had I seen only one I could not have pronounced with any certainty which -of them it was. Truth walked angrily up to her sister; and a -conversation ensued, which I will relate as nearly as I can remember the -words. - -TRUTH. - -I wonder at the insolence with which you confront me. - -FALSEHOOD. - -Will you tell me what behaviour I ought to assume in your presence? - -TRUTH. - -My surprise is, that you should have the courage to meet one whom you -have so basely injured. - -FALSEHOOD. - -What wrong can you accuse me of? - -TRUTH. - -That you are found amongst mankind is a sufficient proof of my wrongs. -This world was bestowed upon me, and I originally occupied it, but you -have supplanted me, called yourself by my name, and governed in my -place. - -FALSEHOOD. - -Now it appears to me that your inability to keep your place amongst men -is a proof that you have no such title to the world as you pretend. The -wise men of every age have been engaged in seeking you, but in vain. You -persist in remaining out of sight, and complain that you are not known -and honoured. It is true that for some time past your situation, the -bottom of a well, has not been very favourable for teaching the world; -but before you made that singular choice of a home you were as much -neglected and as little known as now. - -TRUTH. - -I am unknown, because you offer yourself to those who seek me, and call -yourself by my name. - -FALSEHOOD. - -Am I to blame for proving the more attractive of the two? But you seem -to affirm that you alone are entitled to live, and that I ought not to -be in the universe. - -TRUTH. - -The universe would be much more prosperous without you. - -FALSEHOOD. - -I contend, on the contrary, that from me proceeds almost every thing -that is valuable or useful to mankind. - -TRUTH. - -Indeed! I wish you would name some of the blessings which you bestow -upon the world. - -FALSEHOOD. - -I will do so: my inventions are so numerous that I cannot want topics. -First, then, you will grant that religion is a blessing. - -TRUTH. - -And are you the founder of religion? - -FALSEHOOD. - -Why, since out of the many religions that have ever been in the world -you can certainly claim only one, all the rest must be ascribed to me. -Make your choice, therefore, I will give up to you without dispute -whichever you select; but the others are mine, and all the piety and -virtue which they have caused must redound to my honour. - -TRUTH. - -A very moderate claim. - -FALSEHOOD. - -You must acknowledge it, unless you affirm that no virtue has ever been -practised except under your one religion. - -TRUTH. - -I wonder you should think fit to boast of the variety of false religions -with which you have deceived the world. This is the complaint I made -against you at first, that you have supplanted me in the possession of a -world which is by nature mine. - -FALSEHOOD. - -And I maintain that my having supplanted you proves that this world was -not designed for you; besides which, I am confirming my title to -possession by showing that I have invented almost every thing that is -esteemed valuable amongst men. - -TRUTH. - -Well, let me hear what other benefits the world owes you. It seems you -have invented religion. - -FALSEHOOD. - -All the religions but one; I give you one. - -TRUTH. - -You are very generous to me. - -FALSEHOOD. - -That is more than some philosophers allow you. Let us next consider -which of us benefits most the intercourse of private life. I affirm, -that without me there could be no such virtue as friendship amongst men. - -TRUTH. - -I thought it had been allowed by all that friendship is founded upon -truth. - -FALSEHOOD. - -Such is the common opinion, but altogether erroneous; for if any two -friends were to act with perfect sincerity, and mutually divulge every -thought that passes through their minds concerning each other, do you -think that they could remain friends? Let any man consider the secret -discoveries which he has made of his friend's infirmities, how he has -censured certain qualities of his mind, and ridiculed those failings -which could not endure to be mentioned or hinted at, and then let him -judge whether a candid disclosure of all his thoughts would tend to -confirm the friendship. He who would retain the kindness of any man must -suppress more than half his observations on that man's character. - -But without my arts there would be not only no friendship amongst men, -but no amicable intercourse or society; for if all were disclosed that -had ever been said or thought by each man against others with whom he is -acquainted, the general indignation would be such that not one person -would be found ready to converse with another. I may add, that if all -courtesy were discontinued the world would not be much improved,--and -what is courtesy but falsehood? If you were to prevail as you wish, men -would tell each other of their faults with the greatest zeal and -sincerity, and no two persons could meet without giving pain to each -other. When people now assemble for conversation, the art is to expose -the faults of absent friends, which is always pleasing, and those who -can impart this knowledge most skilfully obtain the greatest praise; but -if every man were as eager to apprise another of his own faults, as he -now is to tell him of his friend's, the information would be very -differently received. I think it easy to prove, that more than half the -kindness of human life subsists by dissimulation, and must therefore be -ascribed to me. - -TRUTH. - -Pray go on: what other good have you done? Having construed benevolence -into deception, you can have no difficulty in proving every other virtue -to be your own contrivance. - -FALSEHOOD. - -Next I affirm, that if I did not inspire and entertain the mind of man -with innumerable fancies and visions the melancholy of life would be -intolerable. What would man be without hope? and where he borrows one -hope from you he receives a hundred from me. What would become of all -the unhappy if they listened only to you for comfort? - -TRUTH. - -But if men are indebted to you for hope, to you also they owe -disappointment. - -FALSEHOOD. - -No; for those who are truly under my government are always supplied with -a new hope before the old one is lost. Pray why is it that none wish to -live again that part of their lives which is gone, and yet all set a -high value upon the remainder? Because they see you in the past and me -in the future. Then what a perpetual recreation do I furnish by those -visions of the future, in which many persons pass a great part of their -lives, not really hoping that such things may happen, for they are -usually impossible, but enjoying them in speculation, and as if actually -taking place. - -TRUTH. - -I acknowledge that claim; and allow you to be the author of those idle -fantastical dreams which divert men from true business and study. - -FALSEHOOD. - -My next assertion is, that I contrive all the complacency and -satisfaction which a man has from his own character. Had I invented no -other art for the welfare of mankind, the grand discovery of -self-deception would entitle me to the gratitude of the whole human -race. For if each man were to discern with severity every oblique motive -in his own heart, every mean preference of himself to others, every -artifice for undeserved praise, who is there that could endure himself? -I taught men the skill to hide their infirmities from themselves, the -only remedy against conscience. By this invention great numbers pass -with themselves for excellent men, who after a lesson from you would -regard themselves with hatred and contempt. Men commemorate with -gratitude those whom they believe to have first taught agriculture, -mechanics, and other arts of convenience or plenty, but my praise for -this invention has been forgotten, though even the discovery of bread -from the earth has not conferred on man half of that ease and -contentment which I have given by teaching him not to know himself. I -conclude you do not dispute my title to this invention. - -TRUTH. - -Certainly not; I allow you all the honour of this noble science, in -which men have received your lessons with great alacrity. - -FALSEHOOD. - -Let it not be supposed that because men now misunderstand their own -characters with great facility it must be a thing of no art or study. -The ease with which it is done proves how well my instruction has been -imparted. Many books have been written to teach the deceiving of -mankind, and many statesmen have practised with renown the rules they -assign, but no artifice of these books or statesmen can equal the skill -of men, even the most ignorant, in cheating themselves. It is -impossible, without admiration, to observe a man diligently keeping his -failings out of his own sight, and enjoying them under fictitious names, -inventing motives for his own use, and faithfully believing whatever he -chooses to tell himself, providing for his own advantage, and still -persuaded that he is labouring for others. With what genius have I -contrived that all these stratagems shall be conducted within one head -where there is no partition, so that it might have been supposed all the -thoughts must be known to each other! By this art I am the great author -of all serenity of mind, for the chief part of mankind can neither bear -to practise virtue nor to live without it; but by this excellent -contrivance they are enabled to believe themselves good without the -inconvenience of really being so. - -TRUTH. - -An excellent device for improving mankind! I had supposed that before a -man reforms his faults he ought to know them. - -FALSEHOOD. - -Your remark shows how much I excel you in the management of men. You can -think of no expedient to free men from the evil of their vices except -the leaving them off, which if you knew this world you would know to be -a visionary undertaking. I attempt nothing impossible, but teach men to -avoid the reproach of their faults by not knowing that they have any. -This art supplies most men with peace of mind; but some, it is true, are -troubled with a curiosity about what they are doing, and in all their -culpable actions take care to inform themselves what the employment -really is, so that they seldom can do wrong without knowing it. The -consequence of which is, that they pass their lives in great uneasiness -and ineffectual endeavours to relinquish their bad habits. But I have -found a remedy even for these people; for after every commission of a -fault I teach them to be convinced that they shall never be guilty of -it again, by which confidence they are restored to their tranquillity. - -TRUTH. - -You have stated very justly the share you have in men's opinion of -themselves. - -FALSEHOOD. - -To proceed, then, with my benefits: amongst the valuable entertainments -of life, literature and philosophy are most eminent. Let us consider -what part of them must be assigned to me. First, I think you will hardly -contest my right to poetry; or, if you please, you shall correct the -works of Homer, and expunge from them all the incidents that you -disallow. Your genius for poetry will be proved by what remains, if, -indeed, any thing is left; and it will be seen whether you have -increased the glory of Greece by inspiring its poets. But I shall -presume myself beyond dispute the author of poetry and other fiction; -and amongst the arts of fiction I think oratory may be ranked. - -TRUTH. - -I confess you are a more successful orator than I am. - -FALSEHOOD. - -I go on to philosophy, moral and physical, in which many things are -instituted as certainties, but I must observe that I can be as positive -as you. When there are two contending certainties, I must be entitled to -one of them, very frequently to both; and since there is not any opinion -to be found in philosophy without an adverse opinion equally resolute, I -must at least own half of that which is taught. But perhaps the most -equitable division will be that which I proposed in the case of -religion: you shall choose any one philosophical sect of which you like -to have been the author, and I will resign to you all that has been -written and said in defence of it, taking all the remaining controversy -for my share. Or, if you hesitate to undertake any entire sect with all -the belief that it exacts, I permit you from all the schools to select -what opinions you please, and be the author of them, while I keep what -you reject. I believe all that you have dictated would be comprised in a -very small volume, and leave me a splendid library of philosophical -writings. - -TRUTH. - -I grant you have been more copious than myself in works of this kind. -But go on, let me next hear of your exploits in mathematics. - -FALSEHOOD. - -No; you have named the only kind of learning in which I have not -excelled. - -TRUTH. - -Is there, indeed, any thing in which I surpass you? - -FALSEHOOD. - -Since, then, mathematics are the only kind of human learning which you -can ascribe to yourself alone, what would the world be without my -inventions? Very few men have a capacity for pure mathematics: to the -generality of those who study them they are no more than a help to -contemplations in which I have a share. - -But now, since I have reduced you to a mere mathematician, and proved -myself the author of all that is chiefly esteemed by the world, I think -that, instead of acknowledging my own usurpations, I have a right to -complain of yours. - -TRUTH. - -But, since you hardly allow me any possession upon the earth, what have -I usurped? - -FALSEHOOD. - -The honour and applause which justly belongs to me. I am the great -benefactor of mankind, yet am universally hated and despised. - -TRUTH. - -As you deserve to be. - -FALSEHOOD. - -You are revered and extolled though you have done nothing for the -improvement of human life. Men entreat you to show yourself to them and -you refuse; still, without having seen you, they are convinced of your -vast perfections and benefits. The only real cause which they have for -gratitude towards you is, that you are deaf to their prayers; for were -you to live amongst them, as they desire, all human happiness would be -at an end. - -TRUTH. - -Pray how should I interfere with human happiness? - -FALSEHOOD. - -I believed I had said enough to explain the advantages of your absence, -since at your appearance all my useful inventions must vanish. But -consider, if there were no error in the world there would be no -diversity of opinion; and although every philosopher thinks that the -world cannot prosper till all men think as he does, the truth is, that a -greater injury could not be inflicted upon man than the banishment of -all variety in belief. It is doubt and conjecture that keep the minds of -men in activity: if all were certainty, there would be no conversation, -for nothing could be imparted: there would be no literature or -philosophy of any kind; for nothing would remain to be done by argument, -eloquence, explanation, or research. If men were incapable of being -deceived they would not need to be informed. Hope and surprise would be -no more; and the minds of all would be possessed by a perpetual calm and -dejection. The search after Truth is caused by Falsehood; and I -acknowledge that the pursuit of you is useful, though the finding you -would be a great misfortune. I repeat, therefore, your only benefit to -man is the having taught him nothing. The bottom of a well is the most -useful situation of which you are capable. Being known by name, and -fancied something excellent, you may provoke a visionary hope and -pursuit of you which busies and employs men much to their advantage. You -ought, therefore, to be satisfied with being heard of, since your name -is here the only part of you that can be of use; but if you have an -ambition to be better known, I advise you to wander amongst the stars, -and seek for a race of beings fit to receive you in person. Whatever -dreams some philosophers may entertain of establishing you here at a -future time, as long as the faculties of men remain what they now are -you will be honoured and praised, but the world will really be governed -by me. - -TRUTH. - -You are mistaken; your reign is at an end: by these new weapons I shall -soon defeat all your arts. You cannot look at this torch without knowing -its power against you. - -FALSEHOOD. - -I know not what new authority may have been given you; but if in these -weapons, as you call them, there is really a power to undeceive the -world, I think I have proved to you the folly and calamity of using -them. I warn you of the universal despair that you are going to cause. -Remember that a man once undeceived cannot be restored to error. The -mischief you are preparing is irreparable, and I therefore give you my -opinion, that the best use you can make of your liberty is to leap back -into your well, as the only effort by which you can benefit mankind. - - * * * * * - -Thus speaking, Falsehood walked away: her sister had heard her with a -scornful look, and allowed her to argue without much contradiction. We -now entered the town, where I conducted the goddess to my house, and -going immediately to the prætor, who was then at Miletus, informed him -that Truth was arrived there to free the people of Miletus from all -their errors, and I asked his permission and concurrence, which he -readily granted, and wrote to the emperor an account of the -extraordinary event. I then returned to the goddess, and by her -instruction made preparations in my house for her discoveries. I -published that those who liked it might come and be undeceived with -regard to various fallacies. The goddess kept herself concealed, and I -was empowered to command the torch and mirror. - -The first day was assigned to the satisfying of suspicious husbands. It -had been made known that an invention was ready, by which all married -men who doubted the fidelity of their wives might discover either their -guilt or innocence. The first who offered himself to this hazard was a -rich citizen of Miletus. He came to me accompanied by a friend, who -earnestly endeavoured to dissuade him from the experiment. - -"What advantage," said he, "do you hope from the trial? If your wife's -frailty be detected, you will have gained a certain evil, which is now -only possible, and if her innocence appear, you are in the same -condition as now." - -"No," answered the husband; "I shall then be easy, and I am now -perpetually disquieted." - -"And why all this anxiety?" inquired his friend: "what cause have you -for suspicion?" - -"My chief cause," said he, "is that my wife loves me more than she can -give a reason for; I am sure there is nothing in me to justify all the -kindness she professes." - -"So," replied the other, "her love is hypocrisy, and her neglect would -be the love of another. With such a temper you can never be satisfied." - -"Yes," said the husband, "I am going to be satisfied now." - -"But only for the past," rejoined his friend; "you must still be in -trouble for the future." - -Thus this faithful adviser continued to argue against the enterprise; -but in spite of his reasons the husband persisted in demanding the -inquiry. I desired him to go home and return to me attended by his wife, -to which he said that he would bring her on some pretence, and not -explain the true design. I then made preparations for the trial, which -was thus conducted. At the torch of Truth I lit a small taper of -peculiar materials, and placed it in a room, from which I excluded the -light of day. Such was the sagacity of this light from the torch of -Truth, that when a married woman, secretly corrupt, entered the room, it -was to be extinguished, but to burn on at the presence of a wife without -blemish. I shut out the daylight to make the sudden darkness and -conviction more solemn. - -The inquisitive husband soon appeared with his wife, who believed she -had come to see some splendid show. I took the husband aside, and told -him the nature of the trial. He then entered the room, and desired his -wife to follow him, fixing his eyes on the taper. She was no sooner in -the room than all was dark. I then let in the light upon the detected -wife, while her husband assailed her with reproaches. She was much -surprised to hear him so violently upbraid her with the taper's going -out, which she declared was not by her contrivance, and was besides, she -thought, no great calamity. When the magic was explained to her, she -protested against the injustice of her reputation being forfeited -because a taper had gone out; perhaps it had mistaken her for another -woman; she would maintain her honour against any torch or taper in the -world; and then she appealed to her husband, whether he would believe a -candle rather than his wife. - -But the detection was to be completed by discovery of her accomplice, -for which another proceeding was necessary. I lit the taper again, and -giving it to the wife, desired her to pass with it in her hand before -the mirror of Truth, when instead of her own image the assistant in her -guilt was to appear in the mirror with the taper in his hand. She -complied, though unwillingly, while the husband looked eagerly into the -mirror for his enemy; and as his wife passed he saw a perfect -resemblance of that friend who had endeavoured to deter him from this -inquiry by so urgent a remonstrance. His wife was so overcome and guilty -at the sight that she no longer accused the taper of detraction, but -fell on her knees for pardon. Her husband wept; and as the negotiation -seemed likely to be prolonged, I told him, since he was now cleared -from suspicion, it would be convenient that he should give audience to -his wife at home, in order that other husbands might come and enjoy the -same satisfaction. - -Another wife was soon brought to trial: she was possessed of great -beauty, and instantly extinguished the taper. At the second trial for -detection of her partner, as she passed like the preceding lady in front -of the mirror, with the taper in her hand, three young men appeared -holding the taper in concert. The husband was much distressed by the -number: one, I believe, he could have forgiven, but the plurality seemed -greatly to discompose him. He desired his wife to remain before the -mirror, till he had recognised all their faces, which filled him with -surprise; for he had regarded all these culprits as excellent young men, -having estimated their merit by the deference with which they had -treated himself. - -The next lady came to the information of the taper with evident -reluctance; but when she had entered the room, the light continued -steady, upon which her husband, who had shared her apprehension, -embraced her with great joy; but in the midst of their triumph the fatal -light went out. The husband, in consternation, inquired why the taper -had retracted its first acquittal, to which I answered that it -distinguished the time of transgression: its going out was -instantaneous, when the fault was recent, and there was a delay in -proportion to the length of innocence that had intervened before the -experiment. He comforted himself that the delay had now been -considerable: his wife protested that the interval had not been less -than ten years, and she thought the taper might have said nothing about -such an obsolete adventure. In this her husband agreed: he called it a -censorious candle; and dispensing with the intelligence of the mirror, -led his wife out of the house. - -In the trial of some ladies, the taper faded gradually, grew more and -more dim, and required several minutes from its first decay, to be quite -extinguished. By this it denoted a reluctant and tenacious sacrifice of -virtue; in going out suddenly it signified a speedy resolution. A lady -came to trial with great alacrity, and seeming quite convinced of her -own innocence, but as soon as she was within the knowledge of the taper -its light began to waste away. The husband was in despair, while the -wife protested vehemently against the extinction, which she called a -vile slander; but the taper, after being gradually almost reduced to -darkness, suddenly recovered itself into a blaze. - -"What!" exclaimed the husband, "has the taper been convinced by my -wife's declaration, and recalled its verdict!" - -"No," I answered, "it had no intention of going out; but from its -approach to darkness, you are to conclude that your wife's virtue has -been brought to the same extremity, the taper having been almost -extinguished, she must have been almost frail. In every instance the -taper follows accurately the example of the lady." The wife was so -overcome by the unforeseen exposure of the fault, which she had not -quite committed, that by shame and silence she confessed herself to have -been nearly faithless. She was conducted to the mirror, into which the -husband looking anxiously for the tempter, that he might provide against -a return of the danger, saw one of his dearest friends, according to the -plan of human affairs. In the case of another wife, the taper gave the -same verdict of an approach to error, and when she was brought before -the mirror it presented a singular spectacle. The form of a certain -young man appeared in it for an instant and vanished, and it was -followed by twenty others in succession, only a glimpse being given of -each. Being desired to interpret this, I informed the husband, that the -fault of his wife had been only thought of, and no choice had been made -of an associate; but in her imagination all these young men had been -competitors for the office. - -It often happened that when a lady was presented to the taper it would -decay and revive many times, and some appeared to have been constantly -preparing for frailty, yet still without attainment. When the fading of -the taper was gradual, its restoration was always by a sudden effort. In -several cases, after growing dim, and blazing forth again many times, -it went out at last, showing that much endeavour and resolution had been -wasted. In the decays of light the flame was more or less reduced in -proportion as the danger had been urgent. Sometimes when the alteration -was not very palpable there was a dispute about it, the wife urging the -husband not to see any diminution of the light. - -The fame of these discoveries being spread through the city, every -married man was seized with a desire of being set at rest, and those -wives who refused the experiment fell under a reproach little less than -conviction. For many days the taper continued its information, to the -great disturbance of numberless families. - -I next undertook to try the fidelity of friends, and fixed a day for -exposing pretended kindness. The first who came to this examination were -two men celebrated for inviolable friendship to each other. The one owed -his life to the courage of the other at sea, and had since, at the risk -of his own ruin, preserved the fortune of his friend, in danger of -bankruptcy. They had been friends so long and so securely as to want no -confirmation, but had been provoked to this trial by the sneers of a -satirist, who had written an ingenious treatise to prove that friendship -has no real being, and in truth is nothing more than a few letters of -the alphabet joined together. This doctrine he enforced also in -conversation, and attacking these two supposed friends, he had -entreated them to undergo the trial which I had announced, and so -confirm the discoveries of his book; upon which they had undertaken, by -complying with his desire, to show the fallacy of his tenets. He -accompanied them to the experiment for triumph and derision. - -I told these inquirers that I could subject their friendship to two -kinds of scrutiny, one of which taught a man the secret wishes of his -friend concerning him, and the other betrayed what he had said of him -when absent. The malicious author advised them to choose this last -trial, and strengthen their friendship by their mutual praises out of -hearing. To procure this intercourse, I drew back a small sliding door -in the wall, and showed the mouth of a funnel. I then desired one of -these friends to listen, informing him that from this funnel would issue -all that the other had said of him in conversation during the previous -month. All were silent and attentive, and very soon a voice was heard in -the funnel, which the chief listener recognised as his friend's. The -voice first said something moderately in praise of his disposition, and -then proceeded to his faults, which it confessed with great sincerity, -explaining certain bad propensities, which he had fancied unknown to all -the world except himself, and to himself even he had acknowledged them -only in moments of uncommon frankness. His countenance betrayed his -resentment at his friend's knowledge of these things, but he appeared -to be still more mortified when the voice, with much wit, ridiculed his -peculiarities of manner and gesture. It seemed that he never could talk -earnestly without the cooperation of all his limbs, and embroiling his -arms, legs, and body in the discourse. These unnecessary efforts were -now represented by his friend so as much to amuse the hearers, whose -laughter was preserved in the funnel, and heard at suitable times. While -he listened, his guilty friend stood confounded to hear his past remarks -coming out of the wall, and had not confidence to disown them. The -author was the first who made any observation on the revived detraction. -He offered to comfort and appease the injured man. "I fear," he said, -"you are discomposed by what you hear; but you should remember that your -friend did not mean to vex you, for when he said all this he did not -expect it to be kept in a funnel, and let out in your hearing: had he -had the least suspicion of such a contrivance, undoubtedly he would have -been more circumspect. Pray consider, also, that he has great sagacity, -and excels in discerning the characters of men, and that all persons -love to exercise any faculty which they have in perfection. Your friend -could not avoid observing these particulars; for you cannot expect that -a man who has sagacity shall not use it." - -"I think," said the injured friend, "if it was necessary for the -exercise of what you call his sagacity that he should observe these -things he might have kept them secret." - -"But then," said the other, "he has a great deal of wit, and to debar -him from your failings, which he knows so accurately, and can, -therefore, excel with, would be to require too great a sacrifice from -his friendship." - -The victim would not allow that an urgent want of being witty was a -sufficient reason for making a friend ridiculous, but left the house -abruptly, and his friend was too much abashed to pursue him with any -defence. A reconciliation was afterwards attempted, but in vain. - -When a report had been spread of the funnel, and its success in -separating two such friends, great numbers soon came to consult it. They -did not come in pairs like the two friends just mentioned, but each -visiter was led in singly, and being placed at the funnel with no -witness, except myself, heard out of it every thing that had been said -concerning him in his absence during the month before. The praise from -this funnel was so much exceeded by the censure, that to listen was in -most cases a very painful duty, yet every sufferer seemed under a charm -to remain till the end of the discipline, and would not lose a single -sneer. My employment was to watch the countenance, and observe what pain -was given by the several kinds of animadversion. - -Some accusations, which I thought the most severe, were heard with -perfect calmness, while many trifling charges, not at all injurious to -the character, caused great rage and uneasiness. - -One man, who without disturbance had heard a violent and arbitrary -temper imputed to him, was unable to command himself at the ridicule of -some peculiar and established gesture with which he saluted his friends. -Another being accused of inordinate vices showed no concern; but it -being added, that he had a tiresome way of telling a story in -conversation, he was overwhelmed with shame. - -Most listeners seemed more ready to pardon the being supposed to want a -kind disposition, than being thought defective in understanding. But the -charge of any bodily imperfection was chiefly resented both by men and -women; and many, who were armed against satire on all their endowments -of mind, could not sustain with any firmness a jest on the shape of -their features, or the management of their limbs. I observed that the -most painful and masterly strokes of censure were always by an intimate -friend. In which cases not only was the sufferer incensed against his -friend for divulging his infirmities, but he regarded even a knowledge -of them as a vile breach of fidelity, which made me consider how -unreasonable we are in imposing this blindness on our associates; for we -expect the greatest ignorance of our faults in those who have the best -opportunities of knowing them. - -Few friendships could stand against the information of this funnel. All -the listeners went from it enraged or dejected; some sought new -companions, and others had recourse to solitude as the only security -against deceitful friendship. I have mentioned besides the funnel a -trial of friendship, by which any person might discover the secret -wishes of another concerning him. A rich old man desired to make this -inquiry into the inclinations of his grandson, whom he had made his -heir. The youth had just sent him a present of some quails, together -with an anxious wish that he might have life and health for many years. - -"Now," said the old man, "let me know whether he would have sent me this -wish had he thought that I should live the longer by virtue of it?" - -For this scrutiny I placed the old man in front of the mirror, and told -him that on pronouncing his grandson's name he would see in it any fate -that the youth really wished him. He spoke the name, and I asked him -what he saw. - -"I see," he answered, "my own figure lying on a bed, and seemingly I am -at the point of death,--my grandson kneels at the bed-side with a -countenance full of grief. He is very dutiful, indeed, to wish me dead -that he may show his sorrow. I seem to be giving him my last advice, and -with what submission he receives it! But now I have sunk back, and I -believe am effectually dead; the young man thinks so too, for he jumps -up and goes to my chest, he unlocks it, and surveys my treasure with -delight. I have an excellent grandson! He has sent me a present of -quails! but I will take care that the latter part of his vision shall -never be fulfilled; he shall not be the invader of that chest. I must -provide another heir." - -"But," said I, "if some young man is to inherit your property only on -condition of not wishing you dead, you may perhaps hardly find one who -will be able to perform his part of the contract. Besides, if this young -man attacks your life with no weapon more hurtful than a wish, you may -live in defiance of him. It is some merit that he has not contrived your -death, instead of being content with wishing it. Many an heir has -hastened possession by his own industry." - -"So," answered he, "you think I ought to give this youth my property as -a reward for not having poisoned me." - -"It is probable," I said, "if you were more generous to him now, he -would wait for your death with a grateful patience." - -"What!" he replied, "it is advisable that with half my wealth I should -bribe him not to wish for my death! that would be employing my money to -great advantage!" - -"Well," I said, "if you are determined to have an heir who will prefer -your enjoyment of this money to his own, you should lose no time in -seeking for him; so singular a man will not be easy to find." - -This old man having appointed several heirs in succession, and discarded -them after trial of their wishes in the mirror, at last died without a -will, and his grandson came into possession. - -The mirror was next consulted by a merchant who had just taken leave of -his wife to go to sea. At parting she had prayed earnestly for his -safety, and he came to try the sincerity of these prayers. As soon as he -had pronounced the name of his wife he saw the mirror filled with a -violent storm at sea, and his ship tossed about by it, his own figure -standing on the deck. The lady's wish proceeded, and very soon the ship -sunk without a hope of preservation to any on board. He then saw his own -dead body driven on shore amongst other ruins; his wife was on the -beach, accompanied by a young man whom he knew: she pointed to the body -smiling, then stooped, and drawing from its finger a ring, which had -been her own present, placed it on the finger of her living companion, -who succeeded to it with great joy. - -Many other husbands pronounced the name of their wives before the -mirror, and saw themselves in the agonies of death, and many wives by -the name of their husbands incurred the same doom. A man who had -consulted the funnel, and heard much detraction against himself, was -however greatly pleased with one of his friends, whose voice had said -many things in his praise without the least censure. That his friendship -might be quite certain, he resorted to the other trial also, pronounced -his name before the mirror, and immediately saw himself standing on the -sea-shore, and watching three ships which contained his whole wealth, -for he, too, was a merchant. These ships were in danger by a storm, and -very soon he saw them perish. His representative in the mirror stood -fixed in distress and ruin, when his friend, the author of the storm, -approached him with consolation, led him to his house, and there -presented to him a deed which put him in possession of an easy -maintenance. The merchant saw this with great astonishment. "What!" he -exclaimed; "my friend wishes me ruined that he may restore my fortune! -He is very generous; but I think had he let my ships come safe into port -without being at the pains of raising this tempest, and drowning so many -innocent men, he would have acted more beneficently and more to my -advantage." He seemed hardly able to determine whether he should be -grateful or angry on account of this singular kind of generosity, but on -the whole I thought he resented the loss of his ships. The mirror -afterwards showed many instances of the same thing, so as to make it -appear that a man often wishes the distress of his friend for the sake -of being his comforter. - -Indeed, the mirror declared a strange opposition between the actions of -a friend and his secret wishes; for many who had lived in the constant -practice of kindness and benefits towards a companion, yet appeared to -have pleased themselves at their leisure with involving him in imaginary -troubles. The injury was not to be inflicted by them, but by fortune, -and they were to have no share in it except by a secret satisfaction. -Great was the resentment of many at seeing the distresses wished them by -friends to whom they had given no kind of provocation. And what -aggravated the cruelty was, that these malicious friends proposed no -advantage to themselves from the desired calamities. I endeavoured to -explain to some of these injured and incensed people, that they were not -to suppose, because a friend wished them to be unfortunate, he would -make them so if it were in his power; all he had done was to consider, -in a kind of dream, that if such distresses should occur to those he -loved he could find a singular pleasure in them. But none would allow -this distinction; and by all a misfortune wished was resented as much as -one inflicted. In several of these trials it appeared, that a man had at -the same time wished a disaster from fortune to his friend, and an -opportunity to himself of doing him good. - -This trial of friendship was made by several persons to whom some gift -of fortune had suddenly accrued, and they seldom failed to see -themselves deprived of it in the mirror by the wishes of those who had -been full of joy and congratulation at their success. I learned from -these trials, that whatever prize or advantage a man obtains, every -other man thinks it taken from himself. - -I announced another discovery to be made by the mirror; which was, the -showing every man his own character. The importance of this knowledge is -owned by all, and by all the study is neglected, perhaps from its -difficulty, since it is as hard to know our own faults as not to know -the faults of our friend. I proposed this trial, thinking it the most -useful of all, and persuaded that Truth could not make a nobler -communication to man than his own mind. The first who came for -intelligence about himself was a philosopher, renowned for his virtues, -and for the number and probity of his disciples. He said the study of -his life had been to know himself, and he believed that nothing remained -for him to discover, but he had come to have his judgment confirmed. I -desired him to stand before the mirror, in which he would immediately -see his whole character. "But," said he, "how am I to distinguish the -qualities of my mind by the eye? I can reason about them, but I know not -any one of them by sight. How can a virtue have shape or colour?" I -told him, that by looking in the mirror, he would discover more of his -character than by disputing the possibility of seeing it. I informed him -that he would see two reflections of his face; the one on his right -hand, expressing the character which he attributed to himself, and that -on the left representing his real disposition. - -I looked over his shoulder while he made the trial. It is impossible to -describe the peculiar clearness with which the qualities of mind were -declared in these two faces. On the right hand, I saw the face of the -philosopher, beautiful with the practice of every virtue; this was his -character according to his own judgment. On the left were the same -features, but corrupted into a countenance wholly different, so as to -signify a foolish love of applause, voluptuousness awkwardly concealed, -avarice, treachery, haughtiness; and all covered by a hypocritical pomp -and solemnity. The teacher of wisdom stood in dismay at this discovery; -he was no longer at a loss to conceive how qualities of mind could be -subject to the eye. After gazing some time in horror, he turned suddenly -away, and sought refuge at home. His pupils assembled at the usual hour -for a lecture, but he had not the boldness to confront them, imagining -that he now carried about with him the face that he had seen in the -mirror. He dismissed them, renounced the trade of wisdom, and lived -melancholy and alone. - -Many others came for a view of their characters; and it appeared, that -men are willing to know themselves when they can do so with no farther -toil than the looking into a mirror, though they will not undertake the -study requisite for acquiring that knowledge in the ordinary way. The -sight struck them all with misery and aversion, and not one who had -visited the mirror for this inquiry was to be seen in public for a long -time after. - -I now made it known that all authors who chose to bring their works to -the torch might have them cleared from error. I was soon visited for -this purpose by the philosopher Eucritus, who had lately finished a -treatise on which he had been employed for several years. This he now -brought to be corrected by the torch. I had nothing more to do than to -open his book, and let the light of the torch fall upon it, after which -I restored it to him, saying, that all its fallacies had been expunged. -He opened it with great eagerness to see how many of his opinions were -disallowed, and found the whole book a blank, every word of his treatise -having disappeared. I advised him to bring me his other works, which -perhaps might be capable of the same improvement. He was unable to speak -a word on seeing the fate of his doctrines, but retired in dismay. To -my surprise he brought no more of his writings for amendment; and this -judgment being made known, all the authors of Miletus used the same -precaution against being in error, and declined the trial, so that the -torch had no farther employment in correcting books. - -I now published that I could free men from vain wandering hopes, leaving -them only such as were to be fulfilled, which must give them wonderful -prudence and success in their undertakings. The first who came for this -relief was a young man, who told me he was not conscious of any -extravagant dreams, but as he knew how much the management of a man's -hopes contributes to his prosperity, he had come to be quite sure that -his expectations were all perfectly moderate. I produced the torch, and -desired him to look steadily upon it, which when he had done for a short -time, I told him that if he had any visionary hopes he would see them -leaving him. Accordingly many projects, which he had secretly enjoyed at -his leisure, appeared one after another, seeming to come out of his -brain. The first was the figure of a crown that he was to have won by a -series of great exploits, for which opportunities were to have occurred -at favourable times. This crown had the appearance of a shadow; it -issued from his head, and floating away into the air, was soon turned -into a smoke and vanished. He was much startled by the loss of his -crown, and surprised that this design was not to be accomplished. After -the crown went shadows of the great actions by which he had intended to -obtain it. Several battles came out of his brain, and soared through the -air; the fighting in them was very vehement, and the figure of this -young man appeared conspicuous in the danger. The battles, like the -crown, soon vanished. Next came forth some pictures of him declaiming to -the people, for his crown was to have been won by oratory as well as -war. When all his achievements had left him he stood in despair; he was -no more to be an orator, a general, or a king, though before this time -the transition from one exploit to another had been so easy that a crown -seemed inevitable. He left me abruptly, and lived a few days in the -utmost dejection, for a hope thus banished can never return; and finding -it impossible to recover his crown, he very soon put himself to death as -the only cure. Great numbers of people came to this trial, though it may -appear strange that they should desire to be made melancholy; but as -this proceeding was to clear them from all fallacious hopes, it seemed -to give a foresight of the future, which is always sought very eagerly; -many, therefore, came to procure despair. - -Amongst these were five young men of obscure rank, each of whom had -privately aspired to the empire of the world, and hoped to sit on the -throne of Constantinople. When they had looked at the torch their heads -were disburdened of a great crowd of guards and attendants. I -remonstrated with one of these men on the extravagance of his designs, -when he declared that he could not understand the folly of his hopes, -for Diocletian was not from a higher origin than himself. These five -competitors for the empire had concealed their ambition, and passed a -quiet, harmless life, not at all distinguished from their fellow -citizens, having yet to begin the great exploits which were to gain the -empire. - -Many other young men of boundless hopes came to this trial. When the -torch was applied, each of them saw his own figure issuing from the -brain, engaged in whatever mighty action he had secretly designed, and -very soon vanishing in smoke. Several were reciting to a crowd of -people, who seemed full of admiration; these were to have been -celebrated poets, and certainly an ample supply of them was prepared for -Miletus. - -There were also orators, soldiers, and statesmen. In short, from these -heads came every great intention which is apt to be entertained by young -men who have nothing to do. Every one of them gazed after his hope with -a countenance full of misery. It was impossible to regain a hope once -dismissed by the torch, and those who had undergone this clearing of the -mind were overcome by despair; some put themselves to death, and others -lived disconsolate and incapable of any effort. - -During these achievements of Truth many complaints had been made to the -prætor by perverse men, who doubted the utility of what was done; and at -last he resolved to make a strict examination of the city, and satisfy -himself whether its improvement was as great as he had expected. When he -had completed his observations, he sent for me and described to me the -consequences of what I had been doing. The peace of numberless families, -he said, had been quite destroyed by the discoveries of the torch -concerning married women; almost all who had been firm friends were -quite alienated by the information of the funnel; and besides these -disturbances, the city was full of miserable wretches who had lost their -principal hopes, and had no longer energy for any enterprise, or even -for their common business. He had resolved, therefore, to stop the -progress of Truth, lest the city should be quite ruined, and for this he -thought the most effectual device was to throw back the goddess into the -same well which had so long kept her harmless and quiet. - -This design was immediately executed; the goddess was seized, and I -being commanded to lead the way to the residence where I had found her, -in spite of her remonstrances she was thrown in, together with her -torch and mirror. The mouth of the well was then covered and carefully -hid, and every person engaged in the transaction was bound by oath not -to disclose the spot. - -I have written you an account of these adventures, my friend Rhodius, -that you may consider whether your late discoveries, if let loose, are -likely to confer as much benefit on the world, and as much honour on -yourself, as you have imagined. The obvious conclusion from my narrative -is, that when we have drawn Truth out of her well, the only use we can -safely make of her is to throw her back again. - - * * * * * - - - - -THE TWO EVIL SPIRITS. - -DIALOGUE I. - - -BELPHEGOR. - -Ah! my old friend Recab! where have you been during all these ages? I -have not seen you since the Fall. - -RECAB. - -I have been working in the mines since the Fall. When our chief resolved -to build Pandemonium, he sent me amongst others to search for silver, -and from that time to this I have been digging in the lowest pit of this -dismal place, for metal has always been wanted. At last I am released, -and now I have much to see and to learn, for I know but little of recent -events, the mines not abounding with intelligence. From some new workmen -I have had an imperfect account of the creation of men; but I wish to -see these new creatures, for I understand that the dissolute amongst -them are sent here. - -BELPHEGOR. - -You call them new, forgetting how long you have been buried in the -mines. You may find them here in sufficient numbers; and if you wish -rather to see them living, you may, perhaps, obtain leave to accompany -me to their world, where I am going very soon. - -RECAB. - -I shall be glad of the opportunity. And what are you doing now? I have -observed you walking about, and examining the ground with great -attention. - -BELPHEGOR. - -My business lately has been to keep the pavement of hell in repair. - -RECAB. - -Then you can tell me what this pavement is. I have never seen any thing -like it before. There is nothing of the sort in the mines. - -BELPHEGOR. - -I find you are come very ignorant out of the mines. I thought all the -world had known that hell is paved with good intentions. - -RECAB. - -Are good intentions so abundant here? - -BELPHEGOR. - -Oh! yes; they are the intentions of those, who come here after death. - -RECAB. - -I thought that the profligate only had been sent down to us. - -BELPHEGOR. - -True, but they are usually the best provided with good intentions. - -RECAB. - -That seems strange. - -BELPHEGOR. - -You will understand it better when you have seen living men. - -RECAB. - -But pray, how do you obtain these good intentions? For since you preside -over the pavement, I suppose it is your duty to collect them. - -BELPHEGOR. - -Every man, who is sent here after death, brings down with him all the -thoughts and actions of his life in a bag. At the gates of hell the bag -is opened, and if any good deeds are found in it they are let go, and -immediately fly up to heaven, where they are kept for the use of future -men. His bad actions he carries on with him to the place where he -receives his sentence; and his good intentions, that have never been -accomplished, as being neither vice nor virtue, are thrown into a heap, -and afterwards used in mending the pavement. - -RECAB. - -Are these intentions then very durable? Or what is the particular -excellence of such a pavement? It seems to me a singular choice of -materials. - -BELPHEGOR. - -The advantage of this pavement is, that it torments the condemned -spectres; they are always wandering about; and when one of them finds -his own good intentions, he remembers his opportunities of virtue, and -is reproached with the folly of not having executed such resolutions. - -RECAB. - -It is ingeniously contrived: but how does a man discover his own -intentions in this great space? - -BELPHEGOR. - -Do not you see inscriptions upon them? Each intention bears the name of -the person by whom it was entertained. Look round, and you will observe -here and there a man studying the ground with great attention. The -miserable wretches will stand for hours and days poring over their own -virtuous resolutions, and lamenting the weakness with which they broke -them. For notwithstanding the misery of such reflections, there is an -enchantment in this remorse, which fixes them to the spot. - -RECAB. - -I see some creatures intent upon the pavement; are they men? - -BELPHEGOR. - -They are the spectres of men. - -RECAB. - -I see that the pavement has other inscriptions besides the names of -those to whom the intentions belonged. - -BELPHEGOR. - -Upon each is written the particular virtue, in favour of which the -intention was formed. As you walk about you will see that the ground is -covered with intentions of temperance, chastity, and every other virtue -in the world. You may also observe that every separate piece of pavement -is marked with lines, which serve to record the time during which the -resolution lasted. Each is divided into seconds, minutes, and hours. - -RECAB. - -Then if time is represented by these lines, some of the good intentions -appear to have lived but a very short time. Here is one that has lasted -a minute. - -BELPHEGOR. - -A minute is a moderate continuance for so perishable a thing as a good -intention. You may find great numbers of them cut off at a much earlier -period. - -RECAB. - -Here I find an intention repeated a greater number of times than I shall -take the trouble of counting. It is an intention of being moderate in -wine and diet. This person seems to have become a temperate man at least -a thousand times. - -BELPHEGOR. - -I remember the man: he died of an apoplexy from luxury. You see that -each of his intentions has lasted just four hours, so that he has been -temperate from the end of one meal to the beginning of the next. Each of -his meals was concluded with a determination never to commit another -debauch; and his last resolution was the only one that he kept, for he -died before the opportunity of breaking it arrived. - -RECAB. - -Do men usually design to do a thing so often without doing it? - -BELPHEGOR. - -Many are very resolute between their infirmities, and perfectly virtuous -all their lives, except at the moment of being frail. - -RECAB. - -But I should think this habitual austerity must impair the enjoyments of -a voluptuous man. Even the attempt to be virtuous must disturb him, -though not so much as the really being so. - -BELPHEGOR. - -Why no; a man living in a course of pleasures, which he knows to be -ruinous, is frequently molested by remorse, to quiet which he determines -upon abstinence ever after; and this he does, not that he may be -abstemious in future, but that he may be easy at the present moment. -Thus men form intentions of virtue that they may enjoy their vices in -peace. - -RECAB. - -That artifice accounts for what you told me, that the dissolute are -usually best provided with good intentions. Here is another design, -which has paved a large district by its frequency. I see it is a -determination against idleness. - -BELPHEGOR. - -Idleness has caused more pavement to be made than any other fault. - -RECAB. - -What does this inscription mean, "Never to see my friend's wife again?" - -BELPHEGOR. - -It is the resolution of a man, who found himself becoming too benevolent -towards the wife of his friend. As soon as he made the discovery he -determined to see her no more, but this noble intention proved a mere -paving-stone. You see that he was three times resolved upon this -self-denial, for here are three similar resolutions. I remember the case -perfectly, for I was then on the earth, and was employed as tempter upon -this very man. Here is the first of his determinations against seeing -this beautiful woman again. You see that he resolved with great vigour, -for the vow has been in force till the fifth day. During that time my -business was to clear his mind from prejudicial thoughts, such as the -danger of discovery, the ruin and unhappiness of the lady, the injury -and indignation of his friend. These reflections were at first very -troublesome, and returned as fast as I drove them out. I therefore -changed my plan, and suffered them to take full possession of him -without resistance, so that he was soon in perfect security, and thought -himself so well fortified that absence was unnecessary. He therefore -released himself from the irksome determination, and saw the lady again. -After a week passed in her society, being seized with a sudden terror -he made this second resolution, which, as you see, continued for two -days. He then began to fear that this violent forbearance would prove -intolerable, and concluded that his best policy would be to see the lady -sometimes, though seldom, and thus reclaim himself from her by degrees. -Still he had vigour left for a third banishment, and this time you may -see that he remained firm for six hours, after which he judiciously -acquiesced in what he could not prevent. - -RECAB. - -But I do not quite understand all this. You speak of a man endeavouring -to leave his friend's house, and not succeeding. If he wished to go, -what prevented him? Had he not the use of his limbs? - -BELPHEGOR. - -Yes, but he could not persuade them to carry him away. - -RECAB. - -That I cannot comprehend; if I wish to fly, my wings never refuse to -flap, and if I would walk I am not obliged to use any oratory with my -feet. You tell me that a man sometimes sits still against his own -consent, and cannot prevail upon his own limbs to convey him where he -would go. - -BELPHEGOR. - -Yes, there is this singularity in human nature, that a man holds a very -precarious power over himself, and is often inexorable to his own -reasoning. There are a few peremptory men, who keep themselves in -absolute subjection; but the generality maintain an uncertain dominion, -and many have very little authority with themselves; so that most men -are all their lives doing one thing and trying to do another. Some have -recourse to every sort of artifice and enticement in procuring from -themselves what they wish to be done, and it is remarkable that a man is -very easily deceived by a plot of his own devising. There is nothing -that mortifies him more than to be deceived by another man, but he -submits to be cheated by himself without a murmur. He is sharp-sighted -and suspicious against all others, but towards himself is wonderfully -credulous, notwithstanding the experience that he has had of his own -arts. But you will understand this better when you have seen living men. - -RECAB. - -I hope so, for I now find it very abstruse. Here, I see, is a most -resolute paving stone, for the intention it declares is, "To abandon all -my vices next year." - -BELPHEGOR. - -There are just thirty of these stones. The man began to resolve at forty -years of age, and entered into an annual agreement with himself till -seventy, when he died. - -RECAB. - -What are those heaps that I see near the gates? - -BELPHEGOR. - -They are heaps of virtuous intentions, ready to be used upon any part of -the pavement that wants repair. I have found several places, where the -inscriptions are worn out, and must order those spots to be mended. As -soon as the stones become illegible they are always removed, being then -incapable of causing remorse. - -RECAB. - -Why are they opening the gates? - -BELPHEGOR. - -To receive some men, who have lately died, and been sent here from the -earth. You may observe that each of them carries a bag. We will go and -see what addition they have brought to our materials for paving. I -remember these men, having known them in my last visit to the earth. The -first was a miser; his bag is quite full, but I think there are more -vices than good intentions in it. Empty his bag. Why, it has not yielded -one paving stone; the unprofitable wretch has never even intended to do -good. Let us see what his faults are. He has seen his relations -distressed without relief, has cheated his friends, been cruel to his -children, with a great deal more; and all this without so much virtue as -amounts to a paving stone. Shut up his bag again. The next was a -convivial spendthrift; what a shower of virtuous projects is coming out -of his bag! He has as many good intentions as vicious actions, and will -pave a considerable district. He would have been an excellent man if he -could. The third was a selfish tyrannical wretch; his bag will afford us -nothing; yes, there is one piece of pavement, which is more than I -expected from him. What can it be? "An intention of forgiving a -distressed cottager his rent." This, I suppose, was his only approach to -virtue, and he would not break the uniformity of his life by -accomplishing the design. I must leave you now, for I have other -business; but I shall soon be ready for my journey to the world where -these creatures are alive, and I will ask for permission to take you as -my companion. If you become a skilful tempter, you will have frequent -employment amongst men, and will find their world far more agreeable -than this. I therefore advise you to study the art with diligence, and I -will teach you all I know in it. Before I am ready to set out you -cannot employ your time better than in conversing with the spectres -here, from whom you may learn something of the world they came from. - -RECAB. - -I will follow your advice, and pray do not fail to obtain me permission -to attend you. - - * * * * * - - - - -THE TWO EVIL SPIRITS. - -DIALOGUE II. - - -BELPHEGOR. - -Well, Recab, are you ready to set out? - -RECAB. - -Have you obtained permission for me? - -BELPHEGOR. - -Yes; I represented you as an ingenious spirit, and likely by practice to -become an accomplished tempter. You must endeavour to justify my -praises, or I shall be disgraced. - -RECAB. - -I will certainly apply myself industriously to the employment, for fear -I should be sent back into the mines. I have been conversing with the -dead, as you advised me, but have not obtained from them any clear -insight into the nature of man. I have learned that human life is -miserable, and that no man can leave without bitter regret the world in -which he has been so wretched. I have also discovered that men are the -authors of their own unhappiness; that they are miserable, not by -necessity but choice. The first desire of man is to be happy; the power -of being happy is given to him, and he prefers the being miserable. The -mines may, perhaps, have impaired my faculties, but these things appear -to me to be very difficult studies. - -BELPHEGOR. - -Men are full of contradictions, certainly, but still they may be -understood. Come, let us set out; I have an order for the gate to be -opened to us. - -RECAB. - -What have you in that bag? - -BELPHEGOR. - -A new disease, as a present for mankind. You will see me distribute it. -I seldom go to the earth without some largess. But come, the gate is -opened; we must stand upon the very brink, and then spring out into the -abyss. - -RECAB. - -How dark it is! How shall we find our way? - -BELPHEGOR. - -I know the road very well; you have only to keep close behind me. Now -spring;--well done! flap your wings boldly, and shoot straight upwards. - -RECAB. - -But which is upwards? I can find neither upwards nor downwards in this -black abyss; it is all alike. - -BELPHEGOR. - -Keep close to me. - -RECAB. - -But how am I to see you? - -BELPHEGOR. - -You must follow me by the sound of my wings. - -RECAB. - -Belphegor! Belphegor! - -BELPHEGOR. - -What is the matter with you? - -RECAB. - -I had lost you; pray do not go so fast. I never before flew with so much -labour and difficulty. - -BELPHEGOR. - -We are still within the attraction of hell, which drags us back. We -shall soon be beyond its influence, and then you will fly without -fatigue. Well, do not you fly with more ease now? - -RECAB. - -Yes; but I am tired of being in the dark. - -BELPHEGOR. - -You must learn perseverance if you would be a tempter. But do not you -see a glimmering of light before us? - -RECAB. - -I believe I do now. - -BELPHEGOR. - -And now look, there is a star. - -RECAB. - -What is a star? There are no stars in our mines, and therefore I know -not what they are. - -BELPHEGOR. - -You will see what they are when we arrive amongst them. We are directing -our course to the star that you see. - -RECAB. - -I see hundreds of stars now. - -BELPHEGOR. - -Yes; and that which you saw first is something more than a star. - -RECAB. - -What a beautiful globe of light it is become. - -BELPHEGOR. - -Several worlds revolve round it at different distances, and to one of -them we are going. - -RECAB. - -Take care, Belphegor; do you see what is coming? A great world is -rushing towards us. - -BELPHEGOR. - -Do not fear; it will do us no harm. That is the planet the most distant -from this sun. It is accompanied by six smaller globes, which glide very -prettily round the large one. - -RECAB. - -Very prettily, perhaps, but I should like to be out of their way. - -BELPHEGOR. - -Fly straight on, and trust to my guidance. - -RECAB. - -Here comes another strange world, with a hoop round it, and seven little -globes. - -BELPHEGOR. - -That is the second planet from the extremity; and now at a distance you -see a third, with four attendants. But there is our globe; we shall soon -reach it. - -RECAB. - -There are two together. - -BELPHEGOR. - -Yes; it is the larger that we are to visit. - -RECAB. - -It grows to a great size as we come near; but surely we shall be dashed -against it. - -BELPHEGOR. - -Fly on without fear. There, you find we have reached the ground without -any injury. You may sit down to rest yourself for a few minutes. - -RECAB. - -What a cool delightful world! - -BELPHEGOR. - -We must fly on a little farther yet. This is India; and England is the -country we are to visit. - -RECAB. - -Are your proceedings limited to a particular spot? - -BELPHEGOR. - -It is best that every tempter should confine himself to one country, -that he may know the particular character of the people, and so tempt -them to advantage. I have chosen to light in India first, having a -little business to transact here. - -RECAB. - -Are you opening your bag to let out the blessing that you told me of? - -BELPHEGOR. - -Yes; you see this little blue ball: it is a new disease of my own -invention, which will become very famous, and acquire the name of -Cholera Morbus. This little ball will surprise men in the midst of their -sins, and send them down to us in thousands. I have chosen this country -to let my disease loose in, because the climate here is most favourable -to its first prosperity. I have placed it on the ground, and you see -that, having felt the open air, it is beginning to turn into a blue -vapour. The whole ball has now disappeared, and the vapour crawls slowly -along before the wind. Let us follow our assassin, and see its first -success: it is going straight towards that village. There is a strong -healthy man;--see! he is the first victim; the vapour has coiled itself -round him like a serpent. - -RECAB. - -He has fallen down. - -BELPHEGOR. - -And you may perceive what pain he suffers. - -RECAB. - -Two more have fallen. - -BELPHEGOR. - -And the blue cloud continues to spread. My medicine was well mixed; that -vapour needs no farther orders; we may therefore continue our flight. -This disease will give rise to innumerable conjectures among men, and -many ingenious opinions will be formed concerning its origin. I think -human science cannot discover that it was let out of my bag. - -RECAB. - -Have you bestowed many such presents upon the world? - -BELPHEGOR. - -Yes; long ago, I brought here a vigorous disease, which obtained the -name of "the plague." After having put millions to death, it is still as -lively as at first. But diseases are not the only blessings distributed -from this bag; sometimes it lets loose a delusion. Not long after the -creation of this world I mixed a delusion with uncommon skill, and -brought it from below in my bag. It is called "religious zeal," and has -been more fatal than the plague. As soon as I perceived its success, I -combined its most important ingredients with a few more drugs, and so -formed another excellent delusion, called "party spirit." There is -hardly a country on the earth which has not been visited with both. But -come, if your wings have had rest enough we will mount again. - -RECAB. - -I am ready. - -BELPHEGOR. - -We will rise only to a moderate height, that you may see the earth and -its inhabitants. You will be pleased with the sight, now that you are no -longer afraid of the world's rolling against you. - -RECAB. - -How beautiful it is! I perceive that men have the same figure here as -when they come down to us, only they now look more healthy and cheerful. -But pray what quarter of the globe are we now flying over? for I have -learned from the dead that the earth is divided into four parts. - -BELPHEGOR. - -This is Asia below us. - -RECAB. - -Then there are two great cities here, which I have a curiosity to see, -Nineveh and Babylon; for I heard Sardanapalus and Nebuchadnezzar -conversing about them, and each contending for the superior splendour of -his own city. - -BELPHEGOR. - -You are not much conversant with Eastern history. You are come up some -thousands of years too late to see the places you mention; not a trace -of them remains. But do you see that man sitting in the desert and -drawing, with his servants asleep, and his camels resting by him. That -is an English traveller; and he is now taking a sketch of Babylon. - -RECAB. - -But how can he draw a town that is not there? He must be a great artist. -I can see nothing but desert where he is looking. - -BELPHEGOR. - -He sits at least 200 miles from the place where that city really stood; -but having found a few stones, he is drawing them as Babylon, and is -determined that no man shall dissuade him from having really seen that -famous city. When he returns home, he will make a great book containing -this picture, and many others equally authentic; and his countrymen will -delight themselves with looking at the true Babylon. He might as well -confirm the validity of his work by a portrait of Belshazzar. However, -those stones will represent Babylon as well as if they were true -fragments of the great wall. Look there! far away where I point; there -is a famous city. - -RECAB. - -But can I see it? or is it in the same condition as Babylon? - -BELPHEGOR. - -It is really to be seen; that is Constantinople. - -RECAB. - -What! the city of the murderer, Constantine, whom we have below? - -BELPHEGOR. - -Yes; the emperor attended by so many bishops, who are always wondering -why they are not in heaven. - -RECAB. - -Is this the sea that quivers in the sun below us? I have heard that this -world is divided into sea and land. - -BELPHEGOR. - -Yes; to the left you may see a river flowing into it with several -mouths: there is Egypt, the country of the Pharaohs and Ptolemies, with -some of whom, perhaps, you may be acquainted. On the sea you may -perceive several ships full of men. Most of those now under us are from -England. The people of that country are perpetually wandering round the -globe. You may see two Englishmen in the middle of Africa--those two -white men surrounded by blacks. They are English travellers, who, having -every comfort at home, choose to roam through the deserts of Africa, in -the greatest misery. - -RECAB. - -I have heard much below of the wretchedness of human life; but, as if -there were a want of suffering, men seem to follow pain with the -greatest industry, and then think themselves cruelly treated because -they are allowed to find it; they choose to wander through the deserts -and then complain that they are not comfortable and at home. - -BELPHEGOR. - -A great part of mankind take the same pains to be miserable that these -travellers do. - -RECAB. - -But are they also looking for Babylon in the sand? - -BELPHEGOR. - -No; though a desert of Africa would be as good a Babylon as a desert of -Asia. These travellers have a different purpose. There is an African -river of which the English know the source, but they have not discovered -where it runs into the sea; and I should tell you, that the whole people -of England are in great trouble when they know the beginning of a river, -and not the end. These two resolute men, therefore, are exposing -themselves to the greatest dangers and hardships, that both ends of the -stream may be known; and if they can pursue it to the place where it -runs into the sea, and actually detect it in the fact, they will return -to tell their countrymen, who will be overjoyed by the intelligence. But -now we must turn our course to the right, for I have deviated from the -true direction to give you a survey of the earth. Europe is now beneath -us. - -RECAB. - -I see a great crowd of men running about, and a thick smoke rising from -them. - -BELPHEGOR. - -That is a battle, in which crowds of men meet together to kill others -and be killed themselves. Probably many thousands will go down to us -from this encounter. - -RECAB. - -And how can they be compelled to destroy each other so plentifully? - -BELPHEGOR. - -There is no compulsion: all these men might have remained at home, and -preserved their lives. - -RECAB. - -Why have we taken this long flight to destroy the happiness of mankind? -they seem so determined to be miserable, that I think our arts are not -wanted. - -BELPHEGOR. - -When you know men better, you will find occasions to exercise your -ingenuity upon them. There are many, indeed, who eagerly ruin -themselves without our assistance; others wait for a hint from us; but -there are some so obdurate, that all our skill is required to circumvent -them. But we have reached England, and the great city now beneath us is -London. We will soar round a little that you may have a view of it. The -streets are full of our victims. - -RECAB. - -For what purpose do those crowds of people continually hasten backwards -and forwards? - -BELPHEGOR. - -Each of them has a separate design in view; many are transacting their -own business and ours at the same time. Money is the chief pursuit of -all those in the part of the town now under us. - -RECAB. - -I have heard of money in my conversations with the dead; pray show it to -me, for I know not what it is. - -BELPHEGOR. - -In many places you may see one man giving to another a small shining -thing; that is money. - -RECAB. - -Can that be the famous thing that I have heard of? I have been told that -money is one of the most powerful beings in the universe, and as artful -as Satan himself; that its eloquence is irresistible; that it is always -in confederacy with us, and the most powerful ally we have; that it -commits innumerable crimes, and subverts both the integrity of men and -the modesty of women. - -BELPHEGOR. - -You have heard no more praises than it deserves. That shining metal can -do all that you say, and a great deal more; you will soon be acquainted -with its artifices. But we will now fly to another part of the town, and -descend to find some person upon whom you may practise your first lesson -in temptation. - -RECAB. - -Surely those who see us will know that we are evil spirits, and will -guard themselves against our designs. How shall we persuade them that we -are not what we appear? - -BELPHEGOR. - -What! do you suppose that we are to show ourselves, black and sooty as -we are, to the mortal whom we would tempt, and assure him, that although -appearances are against us, we are not real devils, but men like -himself; and that, although we may seemingly have horns and wings, we -are, in truth, shaped like other mortals? This, I think, would not be -very plausible; but you do not know that no human being can either see -us or hear us speak. - -RECAB. - -How, then, can we have any communication with men? - -BELPHEGOR. - -That I will soon show you. Let us alight in this street; and now, in -this house, there is a lady who will serve to teach you the rudiments of -temptation. - -RECAB. - -How do you know her present circumstances? They may be changed since -your last visit to the earth. - -BELPHEGOR. - -It is not from my last visit that I know her. By experience we acquire -the means of discerning the present circumstances and undertakings of -any mortal whom we approach. I will teach you the art when you are -qualified for it. By constant exercise and hardship since the fall, we -have discovered in ourselves many faculties that we were ignorant of -before. - -RECAB. - -I do not find that by my labours in the mines I have discovered any new -faculties in myself. - -BELPHEGOR. - -I suppose not. This is the house, and we may pass through the wall into -it; for the walls here are not so intractable as that which surrounds -our dominions below. See! there sits the lady, quite idle, and with a -pensive countenance. Many mortals when they are alone are always in bad -society; solitude has probably prepared this lady to receive us. But a -spirit has no influence over the outside of a human being; all our -artifices are practised within; therefore walk into this woman, and try -what you can do. - -RECAB. - -How is it possible that a human being should contain a devil? We are -considerably larger than men, even without our horns and wings. - -BELPHEGOR. - -I have not yet told you, that the spirits sent to tempt mankind are -endued with the power of varying their size; you have received this -faculty without knowing it. Do as you see me do. - -RECAB. - -I see you beginning to contract yourself, and shrink all over. You are a -mere dwarf already, and still continuing to decrease; you have now -dwindled to the size of an insect, yet I can distinguish the same shape -and face as before. I must tell you that your diminutive person looks -very ridiculous. - -BELPHEGOR. - -Now follow my example, and contract yourself as I have done. - -RECAB. - -It is useless to bid me be little, unless you teach me how to effect -this abridgement. - -BELPHEGOR. - -It is done by a particular effort of contraction. Only endeavour to be -small, and you will find yourself becoming less. - -RECAB. - -I will try, then. - -BELPHEGOR. - -Where are you going? You have shot up to the height of a hundred feet -through the roof of the house. You gave yourself a twist just contrary -to what was required. I do not think, indeed, that this woman will -contain you, now that you are let out to that size. But how long do you -mean to stand projecting through the roof? - -RECAB. - -I wish you would bring me down again, for I do not like my situation at -all. - -BELPHEGOR. - -Make another effort. Well done; you have descended to your ordinary -stature at once. Try again: that is right--you are a foot shorter. You -have acquired the true art of contraction. Now you are dwindling very -prosperously, and at last are as diminutive and ridiculous as myself. -After a little practice, you will draw yourself in and shoot yourself -out at pleasure. But we have not yet completed our reduction; contract -yourself till I desire you to stop. There; you are now small enough. - -RECAB. - -I am glad of it, for I was in some fear lest I should vanish altogether. - -BELPHEGOR. - -I have now reduced myself to an equality with you, and we will walk into -the lady together. - -RECAB. - -How strangely her appearance is altered! She is as large as I was when I -started up through the roof, and is covered with great holes. - -BELPHEGOR. - -The alteration is only in your sight; by the diminution of your organs -objects appear to you greatly magnified. The holes that you talk of are -only the pores in the lady's skin, and the change of our bulk has -qualified us to creep through them; so that you are no longer startled -by being desired to walk into the lady. Though she appeared quite solid -before we changed our size, we shall find her porous all through. We -must fly up, enter at the forehead, and penetrate to the brain: follow -me. Creep in at that pore, and now fold your wings, and walk close -behind me: the road is very intricate. - -RECAB. - -Intricate, indeed! without you I should certainly have lost myself, and -wandered about this woman's head for ever. You seem to know every turn. - -BELPHEGOR. - -When you have travelled through as many human brains as I have, you will -walk with equal certainty. - -RECAB. - -Stop, Belphegor! - -BELPHEGOR. - -What is the matter? - -RECAB. - -Something holds me by the horns, and I cannot move. - -BELPHEGOR. - -You have entangled your horns in a nerve; do not struggle, and I will -release you. There, now, take care to conduct your horns better. - -RECAB. - -What noise is it that I hear? - -BELPHEGOR. - -The beating of the heart, by which human life is supported. Day after -day, and year after year that organ acts with the same fidelity. We have -now reached the place where our temptations are performed. You see this -mirror; it reflects every thought that passes through the woman's mind, -whatever she imagines or considers is instantly represented in it. In -the brain of every human being there is a similar mirror. This picture -of the mind can never be discovered by men of science, though they are -very ingenious in their researches, since it is far too small to be -found by their best glasses. It is composed of an infinite multitude of -nerves, interwoven together so as to make a polished surface. If you -look behind this mirror, you will see branches of nerves proceeding from -the back, the great number of delicate filaments over the mirror being -united behind in a few branches. - -Now, I must acquaint you with the history of this lady. She had -contracted a violent passion for a young man, who had an equal love for -her, but on account of his poverty they could not be married. In -despair, therefore, she has been induced to accept of another man, and -they are soon to be united. - -She is now, therefore, endeavouring not to love her former favourite, -and instead of him to dote on the person who is to be her husband. This -morning she has positively forbidden herself to think once of the -dangerous man during the day. We shall see how she will succeed in -keeping him out of the mirror. Now, let us watch it. - -RECAB. - -I see the figure of a man in it now; has her resolution failed already? - -BELPHEGOR. - -No; that is the future husband: she is considering his figure, manner, -and conversation; endeavouring to reconcile herself to him, and -interpreting him as favourably as she can. She does not succeed very -well in her praises; that is a most ill-shaped figure, and in reality he -is not ugly. She is very unjust in laying such a nose to his charge. -Then she equally misrepresents his manner: see how awkwardly that shadow -conducts his limbs. These are all mere aspersions. - -RECAB. - -These thoughts proceed without any suggestion from us: if the duty of a -tempter is only to look into this mirror, I can perform it as skilfully -as you. - -BELPHEGOR. - -Something more is required, which I will now explain to you. This -feather which I pull from my wing is the instrument of temptation. The -surface of the mirror is endued with a most acute sensibility, so that a -dexterous touch of this feather will cause such an emotion over it, that -all the delightful and forbidden recollections of the mind are not to be -resisted. There are some feathers in the wing of a devil which have a -remarkable softness and allurement, exactly suited to the perceptions of -the mirror: I can teach you to select the tempting quills. By this -feather I can revive guilty thoughts, which had for years been -suppressed, and when persons have established an absolute command over -themselves, I subvert their authority at a single touch. Now see how I -will alter the scene in this mirror; observe how the surface trembles as -I draw the feather gently across it. - -RECAB. - -The figure of the intended husband has vanished at the first touch. - -BELPHEGOR. - -I try a second touch;--what a sigh there was! Now what do you see? - -RECAB. - -The mirror is occupied by another man much handsomer than the first. - -BELPHEGOR. - -That is the real lover, who has been so positively interdicted; but he -owes a great part of his beauty to the lady, and is far handsomer in -this mirror than elsewhere. Let us see what he will do, and what -treatment he will receive. He stands with his eyes fixed in despair, and -makes no progress; I must assist him. For you are to understand by his -melancholy looks, that the lady is thinking of his sorrow at her -marriage, and supposing it impossible that his wishes should be -gratified. There is a very delicate touch of the feather, and in -consequence you see that a shady walk has sprung up in the mirror. A -shady walk has been instrumental in many an intrigue. If you watch you -will see that these trees have a secret to keep. - -RECAB. - -The figure of the lady herself has appeared in the walk. - -BELPHEGOR. - -And her admirer advances from the farther end to meet her. They are -walking together very peaceably. Let us see how long this indiscretion -will continue. Not long, with a violent effort the whole scene has -vanished. - -RECAB. - -What is to come next? - -BELPHEGOR. - -The lady herself appears with a child in her arms; she is now -endeavouring to banish all unlawful thoughts by thinking of the children -that she is to have. I will take that child from her by one touch of my -feather. - -RECAB. - -No; the child remains in defiance of your feather. - -BELPHEGOR. - -I know what has weakened my feather; I will soon reinforce it. You may -remark that one of the nerves proceeding from the back of the mirror -trembles violently; we call that the nerve of conscience; and whilst its -vibration continues no vicious picture can appear in the mirror, for the -filaments from that nerve are spread over all the surface and agitate -the whole together. Sometimes that nerve is troublesome, but I think in -this case I can easily pacify it. I have only to pull another feather -from my wing, and press it lightly against the trembling nerve, which -you see instantly quiets it, and now that the conscience no longer -interferes, I again touch the child with my tempting feather; -immediately it fades away, and in its place comes a letter, which the -lady is reading with great eagerness. I think we have made some advances -towards the completing of this affair. - -RECAB. - -Perhaps so: but our plot has proceeded so abruptly, that I know not what -we are doing. I do not understand why this letter is so preferable to -the child. - -BELPHEGOR. - -Then I must interpret. This lady now imagines herself the wife of the -man whom she has been condemned to marry, and consenting to receive -letters from her first favourite. That is the dream which my feather has -suggested. Having therefore given her these excellent thoughts to be -married with, we will leave her. Now that the sensibility of her mirror -is provoked, she will never be able to keep these pictures out of it. -After she has been married we will return into her, and try to -accomplish in reality what we have succeeded in making her imagine. The -best plan of conducting such a scheme is that two spirits should act in -concert, and one of them instigate the man, while the other prompts the -female. You therefore shall be my colleague: before this lady is ready -for us you will have acquired some dexterity. We will now find our way -out again: follow me, and guide your horns carefully through the nerves. - -Being now in the open air we must resume our natural size, for we should -fly very slowly with these diminutive wings. Let me see you enlarge -yourself: well done; you have succeeded at the first trial. We will now -go in search of some person upon whom you may try your feather. For your -first attempt I must find you one, who will be tractable, and easily -dissuaded from virtue. In this house is a man who will afford just the -easy practice that you want. He is a rich old miser, whose want of -generosity has brought his son into great distress, and in a moment of -compassion he has been induced to promise him relief. The persuading him -to retract this frailty will be an exploit just suited to a beginner. -Come into the house. There sits the old man: we must make ourselves -little again; that will do; you are become very expert in changing your -bulk. Keep close behind me, as we go through his head. Now what do you -see in the mirror? - -RECAB. - -I see a woman weeping bitterly, and three children with her. - -BELPHEGOR. - -That is the son's wife, who has made the old man intend to be bountiful. -Draw this feather from your wing: one gentle touch of it will recall the -mirror to its natural passion, a love of money. Admirably done! A heap -of money has instantly taken the place of the daughter-in-law and her -children. You have revoked the intended munificence. - -RECAB. - -I have converted the old man's charity into a paving stone. - -BELPHEGOR. - -Yes; and I think there is no danger of his relapsing into kindness; we -will therefore leave him, and find one who will require a little more -art. Now recover your true size. - -RECAB. - -This temptation seems to be performed without any great skill. - -BELPHEGOR. - -You must not expect to find every mortal as easy to reason with as this -old man. Many mirrors must be solicited by a delicate and artful touch, -which cannot be acquired without study. The effect of the feather is to -bring into the mind whatever thoughts are the most alluring, and -therefore the touch must be regulated by the disposition. Some mirrors -are best provoked by a quick abrupt touch, others by a slow protracted -one; some must be urged by a hard blow, and others persuaded by a hint -that is only just felt. This knowledge is acquired by a study of human -nature. - -RECAB. - -It appears that we can do no more than recall the corrupt thoughts which -have been in the mind before; it is not in our power to suggest any -thing new. - -BELPHEGOR. - -Yes it is; but I thought it best to explain our art by degrees. The -feather merely drawn over the surface of the mirror does nothing more -than revive the vicious thoughts which have been there before. This is -the most simple and the easiest way of tempting. To inspire a new wish -you must draw upon the mirror with the point of your quill a picture of -the object that you would cause to be desired. Thus if you wish to -involve a man in an unlawful passion for a particular woman, you -delineate her upon his mirror, the nerves of which continue to vibrate -through all the lines that have been traced by your quill, thus making -him meditate on the woman's figure; and no man can avoid a vehement -desire for any object which is thus depicted on his mirror by the quill -of a devil. Before you can practise this way of tempting you must learn -to draw, and make yourself capable of executing a perfect resemblance. -But follow me, and I will soon find some person upon whom I can show you -a specimen of this art. - - * * * * * - - - - -THE JUDGMENT OF MAHOMET. - - -To the bottom of my grave I heard the disturbing trumpet, and then the -voice of the Prophet commanding that the bodies of the dead should rise, -the souls be restored to them, and that all mankind should appear in the -Valley of Judgment. I started out of death, and stood on the surface of -the earth. Very great was the misery of being disquieted, and I should -have been willing to forfeit my hopes of paradise for permission to lie -still. I found myself standing in the burying ground where I had been -laid at my death, and saw the graves opening all round me, and flinging -out their dead, old and young. - -Every one at rising found by the side of his grave two sacks belonging -to him, in one of which were contained the good actions of his life, and -in the other the faults. These two sacks were to be carried by the -owner to the Valley of Judgment: they were closely sealed up, and he had -not the power of opening them till he should come to his trial, when the -virtues were to be weighed against the crimes in the scales of the -Prophet, and as either prevailed over the other he was to be consigned -to happiness or misery. At the first sight of my own two sacks I was -struck with consternation to behold a very large one inscribed "Vices," -and evidently quite full, while that entitled "Virtues" was dangerously -small. In my own eyes I had always been a good man, and now on hastily -endeavouring to remember my faults I could scarcely believe that I had -committed so large a bag of them. On the other hand, when I surveyed my -little sack of merits, it was equally inconceivable to me that all the -good I had done could be packed up in so small a compass, and I called -to mind several laudable actions, each of which appeared to me of itself -large enough to fill it. So bulky were my faults that it seemed -impossible for me to reach the Valley of Judgment under such a burden, -and I doubted whether I had strength enough to lift them from the -ground. However, I grasped the sack, and made a great effort, which I -found was not required; for notwithstanding the size of my load it -proved to be extremely light, and I threw it over my shoulder with -perfect ease. I rejoiced to discover that my errors were great in -appearance only, and snatching up my virtues in my left hand I set out -on my journey. - -Having gone some distance I saw a crowd of people who had stopped to -rest themselves, and placed their sacks on the ground; and although I -was not weary, I joined them for the sake of their society. I first -addressed myself to a man who stood by a very large bag of crimes, from -which he had just relieved his shoulder, and I could not forbear -expressing to him my surprise that he should have been able to carry it. -He assured me that large as his burden was, it contained only such -frailties as sat very lightly upon him. I took hold of his bag to try -its real guilt, but with my utmost efforts was unable to stir it from -the ground. He laughed at my feebleness, and taking it in one hand -whirled it round his head without the least difficulty, astonishing me -by such an exhibition of strength. He then requested permission to try -the weight of my faults, which I told him he would hardly feel, but to -my surprise he was as unable to raise them as I had been to lift his. I -could not imagine why we should differ so much concerning the weight of -each other's sack, till I observed the same mutual experiment made by -several among the crowd with the same result; every person finding the -sack of vices owned by another intolerably heavy, while his own, however -large, had an alacrity in being carried that prevented his being the -least incommoded by it. All round me I saw men toiling in vain to lift -their neighbours' burdens, which, when raised by the owner, sprang upon -his shoulders without an effort; and it was remarkable that however -small a bag of sins might be, any person who made trial of it, except -the proprietor, was sure to find it grievously heavy, and to rejoice -that he was free from such a burden. - -No one in all the company being exempt from this propensity to connive -at the weight of his own sack and magnify that of his neighbours, it -seemed impossible to form a true judgment of any before we should see -them in the scales of the Prophet, which were not likely to be biassed -in the same manner. In the mean time, when I saw the most bulky loads -passing themselves on the owners for mere trifles, I began to fear that -my own might have equally misrepresented itself to me, since every other -person in palliating his bag seemed as confident of its real innocence -as myself. I took it up again and again, threw it upon my back, and -whirled it round, unable quite to satisfy myself whether it were -intrinsically a light bag or not; but it was lifted with such ease, and -lay on my shoulder so plausibly, that I at length came to the conclusion -that every other man present had certainly suffered his bag to deceive -him, and that I alone had rightly interpreted mine. - -An old woman, loaded with a very large sack of faults, complained to me -that her merits had been forgotten. She told me that she had found by -the side of her grave this great bag, in which every failing of her life -must have been accumulated, but her sack of good actions had not been -sent to her. I asked her whether she was quite sure that she had -performed any such actions, to which she answered with some indignation -that they were innumerable, and that her prayers alone would have made a -considerable burden. I afterwards heard her repeating to all who -approached the injustice that had been done her by the suppression of -her bag. - -Though all those who were at first assembled in this place bore their -own sacks without trouble, yet this was not universally the case; and we -were afterwards joined by many who seemed miserably fatigued, and -eagerly threw down their loads for the sake of a short respite. They -seemed to be variously affected towards what they carried, according to -the cowardice or valour of their consciences, more than the real weight -of the burden. Some shrunk with horror, and appeared to be under -dreadful persecution from bags of no great bulk. - -After I had left this crowd, and was pursuing my journey, I saw a man -who had placed his bag of sins on the ground, and stood gazing at it, -and holding a knife in his hand. I asked him with what design he stood -looking at his vices so steadily, and what assistance the knife was -likely to afford him in carrying them. He told me that he was loaded -with the most serious charges against himself, and should certainly be -condemned on the testimony of his bag, unless he could find some -expedient for suppressing a part of its evidence. The seal, he said, -could not be broken without detection, and he had therefore intended to -open a few stitches, that he might release some of his worst sins, and -afterwards heal the wound as dexterously as he could; but, on -examination, he had found the sack to be made without a seam, for fear, -as he supposed, lest any little fault should have trickled through some -flaw in the stitches; and he could not forbear murmuring against the -severity with which his vices had been enclosed in so inexorable a bag. -In this difficulty, the only plan that remained for setting his errors -free was to cut a hole with the knife which he held in his hand. I -advised him to abstain from all such violence, asking with what -confidence he could present a bag with a hole in it at the judgment, and -whether he thought it probable that the Prophet would connive at the -aperture. To this he answered, that he should repair his bag, and not be -so incautious as to present it with a declared hole. He intended to -break in at the bottom, and when he came to judgment, should place it -close to the Prophet, quite upright, and standing on its conscious end; -the Prophet, it might be expected, would break the seal and take out the -sins, without being so censorious as to turn it up, and call the lower -end in question. I endeavoured to dissuade the unfortunate man from this -desperate attempt; but he persisted, that having the choice of two -dangers, he resorted to this deception as the least of them; for he -should certainly be condemned on the information of his bag, unless he -could find some means of imposing silence upon it. - -He therefore turned up the bottom of his sack, being resolved upon -violence, and, after a little hesitation, made a great effort to plunge -his knife in; but to his astonishment the knife, though a sharp one, -failed to inflict any wound. He repeated the stroke, and still the bag -remained unhurt, being quite impenetrable, and not capable of letting go -a single vice that had been entrusted to it. He attempted an inroad in -several different parts, but being every where repulsed, threw away the -knife, and resuming his inviolable bag proceeded under it in a miserable -state of mind. - -I found that my approach to the Valley of Judgment had an extraordinary -effect upon my bag of vices, making it become gradually heavier; and -when I came within sight of the place, my burden seemed to grow more -oppressive at every step. In this misfortune I was not singular; a man, -whom I overtook, complained of the same aggravation in his sack, which -at setting out he had carried with ease, and could now hardly support, -though he protested he had done nothing on the road that could entitle -it to weigh more. The same thing occurred to others; and I remarked that -those sacks, which at first were most cheerfully carried, on a nearer -approach to the valley began to harass their bearers the most -grievously. - -At length I arrived at the fearful spot. The place of Judgment was in a -large valley surrounded by hills, the sides of which were covered with -mankind, divine power having contrived that the human race should on -this occasion be enclosed within a space which would otherwise have -contained but a very small part of it. This pale multitude was a -dreadful sight. Every one in the crowd was endued with the power of -seeing and hearing all that passed at the place of Judgment, as -distinctly as if he had stood close to it, so that the crimes and -virtues of each who came to trial were made known to the whole world. - -In the middle of the valley stood the Prophet, with some attendants, and -before him was a pair of scales, in which he was weighing the crimes and -merits of men, and pronouncing sentence according to the weight. It was -the law of this judgment, that any man who had wronged another should, -in retribution, resign to him so much of his own merit as was equivalent -to the wrong, the quantity being adjusted by weight; and if he who had -committed the injury happened to have no merit, or not enough for -atonement, he had to receive from the injured person a portion of his -sins, and be judged for them as if he had committed them himself. When a -sinner was condemned, the earth opened under his feet, and showed a -dreadful passage, into which he fell; the earth closed again, and he was -seen no more. Whenever this place opened a sound of distant torment came -from it, which was seen to strike terror into the whole multitude. The -person consigned to paradise ascended a glorious road, which rose up a -hill that concealed its top in clouds. The faces of the whole crowd were -turned up to every one who climbed this road, which in the middle of a -hill turned round a rock and disappeared. From behind the rock a -wonderful light fell upon the road, which, as the new saint entered it, -brightened his countenance, and made him another being. As each -approached the spot, all mankind gazed from below to see the light -receiving him, and then turned back their eyes with horror to the place -of Judgment. I observed that as any one who was thus rising arrived at -the rock, and looked onward, his eyes were filled with wonder and -happiness at what he saw. - -The Prophet had a list of mankind, from which he called them before him -in turn; and every one, as he heard his name pronounced, issued from -the crowd and appeared at the scales. The weighing was conducted by -Mahomet and the person tried; the prophet placing the vices in one -scale, and the criminal consigning his own virtues to the other. To -entitle a person to paradise, it was required that the virtues should -exceed the vices in weight by a certain number of pounds. - -I saw a man who had passed his life in vice and pleasure approach the -scales, and with a trembling hand break the seal of a large bag of sins, -at looking into which he shuddered with horror, and seemed hardly able -to put in his hand. Being, however, compelled to an exposure, he drew -forth his debaucheries, one after another, to a melancholy number, and -placed them in rows before the Prophet. This bag having made its -confession, he turned to that containing his merits, which was in -appearance tolerably stored; and as he produced them he seemed to be -encouraged by the sight, and to hope that they might prevail over his -pleasures. These merits, being also laid out in order, made at first -sight a very advantageous show; but I soon observed that they consisted -entirely of resolutions to be virtuous, without one positive act of -virtue amongst them. On comparing the two heaps, I saw that the -resolutions of the one were formed against the very vices of the other, -drunkenness being opposed by a determination of sobriety, and every -other vice encountered by an intention of its adverse excellence. These -resolutions had a very specious appearance, and to the eye seemed of -more than sufficient weight to prevail against the errors with which -they were to contend; besides which, they were far more numerous, there -being set against every act of intemperance at least twenty or thirty -designs in favour of moderation. - -The Prophet, taking up an act of drunkenness, placed it in the accusing -scale, which was immediately weighed down by it. The culprit seemed not -to be dismayed, but selecting from his heap a very firm intention of -sobriety, with some confidence placed it in the scale which had to -defend him; but against this excuse the opposite scale remained -immovable. He added another similar determination, which proved equally -fruitless; and continuing to repeat the same kind of vindication, had at -length piled up all his laudable designs without making the slightest -impression on the peremptory scale, which was kept down by a single -error. - -"Didst thou imagine," said Mahomet with a frown, "that these resolutions -would have a power in my scales, which they had not in thy own heart?" -The earth opened, and another was called into the place of the criminal. - -The person who now came to be tried appeared in a hopeless condition, -being provided with a large sack of vices, and no bag of merits. I -remembered to have travelled in his company a part of my journey to the -Valley of Judgment, when he had informed me that notwithstanding his -want of a virtuous bag he had considerable hopes of entering paradise. I -asked him on what grounds his claim could be founded; and he answered, -that though he must confess he had passed his whole life in vice, still -his errors had not proceeded from a dissolute mind, but from the -strength of temptation: his heart, he said, had never been corrupted, he -had hated vice in the midst of his debaucheries; and from his earliest -youth to the day of his death had admired and loved virtue though he had -never been quite able to practise it: but being inspired with this -passion for what is laudable, he had always considered himself a good -man, and could not believe that he should now be condemned for sins -which he had committed contrary to his own wish. I thought it useless to -flatter his hopes, and told him that I feared an admiration of virtue -would hardly atone for an actual vice; for if this kind of inclination -were really of the value that he believed, he would certainly have been -furnished with a bag full of an admiration of what is laudable. This had -not seemed to discourage him, and he now advanced boldly to trial with -his single bag, which he emptied of its contents. The Prophet heaped up -his vices on the dreadful scale, which sunk without hesitation, and -pointing to the other which was mournfully elevated, he asked the -criminal whether he had any thing by which to lower it. - -"Oh, divine Prophet!" he answered, "I stand before the Almighty justice -without the aid of a bag, yet let not my merits be the less effectual -because they come not out of a sack. Though I lived in vice I never -loved it, but in the midst of my sins I ardently desired to be -virtuous." To this the Prophet replied, "Thou shalt have a just -retribution; thy wish for virtue shall be rewarded by a wish for heaven; -though thou wilt now live in hell thou wilt never love it, but in the -midst of thy torments shalt ardently desire to be in paradise." - -I saw a man advance to trial with great courage: he first placed his -sack of vices on the ground, and then proceeded with some ostentation to -break the seal of that which contained his good actions. He drew forth a -few insignificant merits, and then, to his dismay, finding the bag -empty, complained to the Prophet that his best actions had not been -packed up. During his whole life he said he had practised charity with -the utmost zeal, and hoped to have found his sack full of the distresses -which he had relieved. The Prophet assured him that whatever acts of -charity he had performed were certainly there. He turned the mouth of -his bag downwards and shook it, but without shaking forth any charity, -and he then declared there must certainly be a hole in the bag, by which -his charity had escaped; but on examining it, he was not able to find -the least blemish. With a look of misery he turned to his sack of -faults, and when it was opened, at the top appeared a heap of the very -actions that he had been looking for. He recognised his virtues with -great joy, declared they had been placed by mistake in the wrong sack, -and complained that the preparation of his burdens had been intrusted to -some angel who could not distinguish vice from virtue. He was proceeding -to grasp the good deeds in order to restore them to the other heap, when -the Prophet stopped him, saying that perhaps these actions, which he had -construed into charities, were not really such, but he had weights which -would instantly prove their real nature. He then tried one of them in -the scales, and declared that by the weight it was proved to be, not -"charity," but "ostentation," and had therefore, as a vice, been -allotted to the right sack. The remainder of these ostentatious acts -being placed in the scale, without the addition of any more of the -faults which were there, out-weighed the whole stock of merits, and thus -was this charitable man condemned by the very actions to which he had -trusted for his justification. - -I next saw at the scales the female who on the journey had complained to -me that she was not provided with a load of merits, although her prayers -alone would have filled a very large bag. It now appeared that she had -misconstrued her prayers, as the man last tried had misconceived his -charity; for her sack of faults, on being opened, was found to be choked -with these very prayers which were to have carried her into paradise. -Mahomet placed them in the infallible scale, and by the weight -pronounced them to be "hypocrisy." - -I was thrown into great alarm by observing how human beings are liable -to be imposed upon by their own actions, and began to fear that many of -my deeds, which had always passed with me as virtues, might receive a -very different name from these uncharitable scales. I looked back upon -several acts of charity, the validity of which I had never before called -in question, but I was now in doubt which of my bags might contain them. - -I saw many such instances: men came to judgment with great complacency, -relying on some action which had been very amiable in their own eyes, -when this very piece of goodness was detected in the guilty sack. The -father of a family was astonished to see among his faults the -chastisement of his children, which he had always regarded as paternal -affection, but when it was placed in the scales its weight was declared -to be that of "anger." - -By far the greater number of actions which had been thus misunderstood -by their owners were proved to be composed of "vanity." Those which in -appearance were acts of patriotism, friendship, religion, or generosity, -were found to be made of these same materials, though by the proprietor -of them himself they had never been suspected to be counterfeit. - -There was one man whose virtuous actions greatly preponderated in the -scale, and it seemed as if his happiness was secure, when there issued -from the crowd of mankind a number of his contemporaries, who claimed -reparation for the injuries they had suffered from him. It seemed that -this man, though possessed of very good intentions, had been remarkably -choleric, and in his fits of anger had done some violence to each of -these persons, who were now clamorous for compensation. It was chiefly -his intimate friends, and his servants, who had demands against him: the -wrong suffered by each was referred to the scales, and an equivalent -given from the merits of the angry man. One by one his virtues were paid -away; and so ungovernable had his temper been, that of the stock of -virtues which had been about to carry him triumphantly to heaven not one -remained. - -The merits of one person whom I saw tried were considerable; but as he -had had an unfortunate love of pleasure, his debaucheries proved a -little too heavy, and he wanted two pounds of virtue to entitle him to -paradise. In this difficulty, he remembered that a neighbour of his had, -in a bargain, defrauded him of some acres of land, an injury which had -given him so much vexation, that in atonement for it he had no doubt of -receiving more than the two pounds of merit which were wanting to make -up his qualification for heaven. He asserted his claim, therefore, and -his dishonest neighbour being called, the injury was placed in the -scales, and found to weigh three pounds. Accordingly, the injured man -was authorised to select from the sack of the other any good action, not -exceeding three pounds, that he might prefer. The man who had committed -the fraud had during his whole life been occupied in the improvement of -his fortune, and as he had rigorously abstained from all luxury, his -sack was now filled with resistance to pleasure, that being the only -virtue it contained; but since it was the very merit in which the -plaintiff was most defective, he was delighted to see it in such -abundance, and with great joy asserted his claim to three pounds' weight -of resistance. First, he chose from the heap an act of self-denial, -which looked extremely austere, notwithstanding which it proved almost -destitute of weight, and when placed in the scale caused not the least -depression of it. He added another effort of abstinence, which failed in -the same manner; and he continued to heap up one after another, till the -whole cargo of resistance collected together was found to weigh only two -ounces. This caused a general surprise, and many suspicions were -whispered concerning the veracity of the sacred balance. It began to be -believed that Mahomet secretly prompted his own scale, making it magnify -the faults of men, and connive at their virtues; and I heard one person -complaining, that after he had practised temperance with great -difficulty during his whole life, he was now to lose all the merit of it -by the detraction of these scales. He said he had restrained every -unruly desire, and now it appeared that all his mortifications were to -weigh two ounces. The Prophet perceiving these murmurs, and graciously -deigning to vindicate the probity of his scales, weighed one of the -pieces of resistance with those weights which discovered the real -quality of every thing, and declared it almost entirely composed of -"want of inclination." - -The two ounces of resistance being made over to the injured person, -there still remained two pounds fourteen ounces of injury not paid for; -and the wealth of the other being exhausted, he had nothing to give, and -was therefore compelled, in order to a composition of the fraud, to -accept of its weight in vice. The plaintiff therefore having liberty to -choose from his errors any one that he might most wish to discard, -selected an act of drunkenness, which he assigned to the old man, with -whose grave and prudent demeanour it seemed very inconsistent. He was -greatly embarrassed to find himself thus surprised into a debauch, and -represented to the Prophet how unjust it was that he should be -intoxicated by the wine which another man had drank; but his -remonstrances were not listened to, and he was deputed to suffer for the -intemperance, while the person guilty of it was allowed to pass into -heaven, having made up the weight for eternal happiness. - -A young man, whose virtues were found to preponderate in the scale, and -who appeared just ready to rise, was stopped by the shrill voice of a -woman in the crowd, which sounded as if some fearful demand was going to -be made upon his virtues. A woman appeared, and advancing to the scales, -alleged that this young man had treacherously deprived her of her -virtue,--a loss which she had never ceased to deplore. The accused could -not deny the charge, and looked mournfully at the scale containing his -merits, expecting it to be grievously lightened by this claim. The -woman's virtue was then placed in the scale, where, to the astonishment -of all, it was found to weigh only one grain, such having been its real -value in the mind of the possessor. The young man being desired to pay -to her one grain of virtue could find no merit in his store, which was -light enough; and the Prophet, therefore, breaking from his filial piety -a fragment weighing a grain, presented it to the injured woman, who, -having trusted entirely for future happiness to the price she expected -in exchange for her virtue, was struck with despair at receiving so -small a chip. - -After observing a number of judgments I concluded that the guilt of -every action was decided according to the injury which mankind had -sustained by it. Thus the pleasures of a man, by which he had not -impaired the happiness of others, were not to be found in his sack of -faults: but those enjoyments, which, by example or participation, had -involved others in misfortune, were declared by the scale to be crimes; -and if even without being imparted to others they had corrupted the mind -of the criminal, or occupied his time so as to prevent the good actions -he would otherwise have performed, they were weighed against him. - -At the bottom of each sack containing vices were found the opportunities -of virtue, which the criminal had neglected, and which were weighed -against him as actual crimes. Thus there were some, who, by the -advantage of their situation in life, had done but little harm, and yet -their merits were greatly outweighed by these omissions of goodness. -Some produced sacks very well stored with merit, who nevertheless were -overwhelmed by the multitude of neglected opportunities. Others who -found but few good actions in their sack, yet were favourably judged by -the scale, because there were no opportunities against them. - -The Prophet perceiving it was generally suspected that the angels who -had prepared the sacks of vice and virtue had performed their tasks -ignorantly, and omitted many acts of goodness, declared, that every -person who was dissatisfied with the stock of merits assigned him, might -require any absent action of his life to be produced and weighed. - -A Saracen approached the scales with great confidence, relying upon the -number of men whom he had put to death for not believing in Mahomet; -but, to his dismay, these exploits were all found in the criminal bag, -and the earth swallowed him while he remonstrated against the -ingratitude of the Prophet, who condemned him after such services. A -Christian also, who had converted men to his own faith by torture, -imprisonment, and other arts of persuasion, found all these religious -efforts in the wrong bag. By some other judgments it was soon declared -upon what grounds religious merit was to be decided: those who had -caused the morality of their religion to be received had merit by it; -but there was no credit to those who had only propagated their faith -from party zeal; and if they had done it violently the oppressions were -as heavy in the scale as other injuries. - -I observed the trial of a zealot who had been burned for heresy. He had -maintained every article of his creed against the flames, and been -turned into ashes without recanting a single tenet. Having now observed -that good men of all religions were rewarded, he opened his bag of -virtue with confidence, and was astonished that his burning could not be -found in it. However, supposing it to have been omitted by mistake, he -summoned it into the sack through the permission given by the Prophet, -and taking it forth, held it ready to atone for any failing that could -depress the adverse scale. A man stepped forth, and claimed compensation -of him for an injury. The zealot once endeavoured to convert this man, -who was of a different faith from himself, and incensed by his not -believing with the despatch which he thought reasonable, he had seized -him by the hair, and dashed his head against a wall with so much energy, -as to make him fall senseless to the ground, upon which the teacher had -left him thus effectually silenced. This outrage was placed in the -scale, and weighed it down with some force. The zealot, with a -triumphant look, placed his martyrdom in the other scale, but without -stirring it. He lost all patience when he discovered the invalidity of -his burning, and asked what inducement men would now have to become -martyrs. The Prophet condescended to answer, that he forgot the world -was now at an end; and if it were not, perhaps it would be quite as -prosperous without martyrs. He then tried this martyrdom by his -infallible weights, and found it interpreted into "party rage." - -I remarked the trial of an author celebrated for some works on moral -philosophy. A man whom he had defrauded of a legacy came forward to -demand a portion of the philosopher's virtue. The fraud was committed to -the scale, and hastily drew it down, when the author took from his bag -a treatise on justice, which had been much applauded. I believe this -book was not in his bag at first, but summoned there by the permission -which the Prophet had given, that all who believed any of their virtues -omitted might require them to appear. The author, therefore, tearing out -a leaf from his treatise, placed it in the scale as an ample equivalent -for the legacy. He was surprised that this just and eloquent leaf had no -weight against the fraud, upon which he added another torn from a part -of the treatise which evinced the most integrity; but this reinforcement -was equally useless. He then resigned the whole dissertation to the -scale, but it did not move its adversary from the ground, though loaded -only with an oversight about a will, while the treatise contained a -strict equity in every transaction of life, and amongst other acts of -probity a faithful execution of wills. The author again had recourse to -his bag, and produced another work, in which he had equally observed the -severest rules of duty; but this in conjunction with the essay on -justice had no force against the violated will. He continued with the -same result to heap one book upon another, for he had been a man of very -voluminous morals, and neglected no kind of virtue in his writings. At -length he had come to the end of his productions without any atonement, -and the great heap of books hung in the air, outweighed by one little -error. He proceeded to expostulate against the indignity to his works; -and presenting one of the volumes to Mahomet, entreated him to read only -a single page, that he might be convinced what injustice was done, when -one trifling error was not allowed to be expiated by his continued -probity in writing. The Prophet only pointed to the scale resting on the -ground, upon which the author said that unless the scale had read his -works he could not accept of it as a competent judge of their integrity. -The Prophet, without any answer, opened his bag of vices, of which there -was an ample collection, and added them to the scale. The author very -mournfully searched his bag of merits, which were few and trivial, for -he had been so lavish of virtue in his writings as to have none left for -practice. However, he made another appeal on behalf of his works; asked -how he could be a malefactor with so many chapters of virtue, and -represented the injustice of condemning one who had been a good man in -every sentence he had written. He then took up one of his books, and was -beginning to read aloud at a passage of very vigorous probity, when the -earth opened and he descended reading. - -A man approached the scales with a criminal bag of a hopeless size, and -a diminutive sack of merits; yet by his confident look he seemed to -imagine the little bag qualified to contend with the large one. When the -great bag came to its confession it was found exempt from hardly any -kind of depravity, and the scale sunk irrevocably under its contents. -The criminal, however, opened his small bag without dismay; and having -stocked the scale with two or three trifling merits, he drew from the -bottom of the bag a death-bed repentance, and placed it in the scale -with a look of success, but to his amazement the accumulated vices on -the other side were unmoved. He appealed to the Prophet against the -decision of the scales, declaring that his repentance had been -authentic, and without premeditation, not like the formal remorse of so -many, who while they commit a crime design to evade punishment by a -fiction at last. He protested that for two days before he died his vices -had harassed him with sufficient terror; and his clergyman had exhorted -him not to afflict himself any longer, for he had repented quite enough -to be forgiven. He said he had done all that a dying man could do, and -he did not believe that a more deserving death would be presented at -judgment. The Prophet deigned to answer that amendment was the only -repentance. - -"But," said the man, "I had no time for that." - -"You lived fifty-six years," replied Mahomet. - -"Yes," said the culprit: "but my repentance did not begin till my last -illness." - -"And why not?" inquired the Prophet; but before the condemned wretch -could answer he was swallowed up. - -This last sentence appeared to strike a miserable terror into the crowd; -for there were great numbers who had thought that by repenting at last -they had amply provided for the judgment, and they now saw their whole -stock of merit taken from them. I heard a man near me reproaching his -priest for having deceived him about the efficacy of a death-bed sorrow. -He said he had never committed a sin of any importance without resolving -to cancel it by remorse at last: at his death he had not had time to -bestow a separate repentance upon each fault, but he had included his -whole life in one comprehensive remorse, and lamented all his errors at -once. Accordingly his priest had assured him that with allowance for the -hurry of his case he had made a very handsome repentance, and might die -securely. He now bitterly upbraided his teacher for not having obtained -better information; since he had always understood from him that it was -the privilege of a dying man to retract any part of his life that he -disapproved of, and that he had only to be sorry for a bad action in -order not to have committed it. It seemed that this minister of religion -had obtained preferment from the man who now complained, and therefore -at that man's death had forgiven all his sins out of gratitude. He now -gave little attention to the reproaches of one whom he seemed to think -disabled as a patron. - -A man who had been a celebrated hermit was next tried. His bag of merits -contained little besides the relief of two or three distressed -travellers. This scarcity seemed to astonish him; however, it might be -imagined that his hermitage would be found equally exempt from faults. -But his solitude had secured no such immunity; for the Prophet took from -his other sack a number of faults, which instantly dragged the scale to -the earth, outweighing the sheltered travellers. The hermit declared -that his bag must have acknowledged the faults of some other man by -mistake, for he had done nothing in his cell that could possibly weigh -so much. By examination, however, he found that these weights were -neglected opportunities, good actions which he might have performed, and -had omitted. Still he protested against the validity of these -accusations, and declared his hermitage had furnished no such occasions -of doing good as were here imputed to him. - -"Here," said he, "I am accused of not having aided my brother, who was a -bankrupt: I never heard of his ruin, besides which I possessed nothing -except a walking staff, which would not have retrieved his affairs had I -bestowed it upon him. If I had known of his approaching misfortune, I -would have prayed against it. I wish you would call as witnesses some -of the angels, who, I suppose, watched over me: they will tell you that -I never went farther from my cell than to the neighbouring wood, and -that I cannot with any appearance of justice be accused of my brother's -being a bankrupt; yet his bankruptcy seems to weigh very heavily against -me, as if in my meditations I had undermined his fortune. The bag also -imputes to me the neglect of many other good actions, for which I was -equally disqualified. It seems as if I ought to have relieved every want -and affliction in the world, and all from my hermitage." - -"And why were you in a hermitage?" said the Prophet. - -"I was there to pray, to fast, to meditate," answered he, "and now I -find a bad reward of my exertions." - -"Therefore," said the Prophet, "your bag of faults contains the good -actions, for which you would have had opportunity had you lived with -other men, and practised their duties. However, if you think that your -prayers, fasts, and meditations have so much merit, you may put them in -the scale, and try their efficacy against these deserted opportunities." - -The hermit availed himself of this privilege, and first loaded his scale -with a meditation of six hours, which effecting no descent, he seconded -it with a prayer of equal patience, and then proceeded to heap up one -handful of severities after another, till he had used his whole supply -of rigour without the least tendency downwards. He was beginning another -remonstrance, when he disappeared. - -I stood a long and wearisome time watching these judgments; at last my -own name was called, and I approached the Prophet with a miserable -reluctance. My faults being placed in the scale descended with such -violence that I quite despaired of changing the verdict. I drew forth my -little supply of merits, and tried their force in vain: the earth opened -under me, I fell, and lay on my back in the midst of flames. With a -great effort I started up, and found myself in bed with my curtains on -fire, and Sale's Koran by my side, the Preliminary Discourse of which I -had been reading by candlelight, and falling asleep had derived from it -the dream which I have related. - -THE END. - - LONDON: - Printed by A. SPOTTISWOODE, - New-Street-Square. - - * * * * * - -Transcriber's notes - -'orefuse' changed to 'to refuse' ('never to refuse him') p. 12 - -'the remaing' changed to 'they remain' ('they remain a part of every -year') p. 93 - -Duplicate word 'may' deleted ('which may make him silent') p. 108 - -Duplicate word 'I' deleted ('I have a curiosity') p. 394 - -Obvious spelling errors corrected, unusual but consistent or unique -spelling left as is. - -Punctuation on the contents page is as per the original. - - - - - -End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Adventures in the Moon, and Other -Worlds, by John Russell Russell - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK ADVENTURES IN THE MOON *** - -***** This file should be named 43543-8.txt or 43543-8.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/4/3/5/4/43543/ - -Produced by Chris Curnow, John Welch and the Online -Distributed Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This -file was produced from images generously made available -by The Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions -will be renamed. - -Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no -one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation -(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without -permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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