{"collection":"myth-cosmogony","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_60058/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_60058","id":"gutenberg_60058","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/60058","summary":null,"tags":["Category: French Literature","Category: Mythology, Legends & Folklore","Category: Novels","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","Category: Science-Fiction & Fantasy","French fiction -- 18th century","Utopias -- Fiction","Voyages, Imaginary -- Fiction"],"text":"GIPHANTIA:\n\n                                   OR\n\n                               A VIEW of\n\n                            WHAT HAS PASSED,\n                          WHAT IS NOW PASSING,\n\n                    And, during the PRESENT Century,\n\n                            WHAT WILL PASS,\n\n                             IN THE WORLD.\n\n\n                  Translated from the original FRENCH,\n                        With explanatory Notes.\n\n\n                                LONDON.\n\n                    Printed for ROBERT HORSFIELD, in\n                        _Ludgate-Street_. 1761.\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n\n\n                                 TO THE\n\n                          Hon^{ble} MISS ROSS.\n\n\n MADAM,\n\nUpon your hearing the other day Giphantia much praised by some friends,\nand those no ill judges, you expressed a desire to see it in English, as\nyou had not, you said, French enough to read the original. I immediately\nresolved to gratify your desire, and that very day sat about the\ntranslation.\n\nIt is now finished: and, as my hand is not very legible, I take the\nliberty to address it to you in print with this Epistle Dedicatory;\nwhich, as neither you, nor the Author, want any encomiums, nor the\nTranslator any excuses, I shall cut short, and beg leave to subscribe\nmyself with great respect and sincerity,\n\n                           Madam,\n\n                       Your most obedient\n                         and most humble servant,\n\n Feb. 5,\n 1761.\n\n                                                         The Translator.\n\n\n\n\n                                 TABLE\n\n                                 OF THE\n\n                               CHAPTERS.\n\n\n                                PART I.\n\n                                                      Page\n\n             INTRODUCTION                                1\n\n             CHAP. I. THE HURRICANE                      4\n\n             CHAP. II. THE FINE PROSPECT                 9\n\n             CHAP. III. THE VOICE                       13\n\n             CHAP. IV. THE REVERSE                      16\n\n             CHAP. V. THE APPARITIONS                   24\n\n             CHAP. VI. THE SURFACES                     27\n\n             CHAP. VII. THE GLOBE                       34\n\n             CHAP. VIII. THE DISCOURSES                 38\n\n             CHAP. IX. HAPPINESS                        46\n\n             CHAP. X. THE HODGE-PODGE                   51\n\n             CHAP. XI. THE MIRROUR                      56\n\n             CHAP. XII. THE TRIAL                       63\n\n             CHAP. XIII. THE TALENTS                    73\n\n             CHAP. XIV. THE TASTE OF THE AGE            79\n\n             CHAP. XV. THE FEMALE REASONER              82\n\n             CHAP. XVI. THE CROCODILES                  85\n\n             CHAP. XVII. THE STORM                      93\n\n             CHAP. XVIII. THE GALLERY                   99\n\n             CHAP. XIX. THE OTHER SIDE OF THE GALLERY  116\n\n[Illustration]\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n\n\n                               GIPHANTIA.\n\n                            PART THE FIRST.\n\n\n\n\n                             INTRODUCTION.\n\n\nNo man ever had a stronger inclination for travelling than myself. I\nconsider\u2019d the whole earth as my country, and all mankind as my\nbrethren, and therefore thought it incumbent upon me to travel thro\u2019 the\nearth and visit my brethren. I have walk\u2019d over the ruins of the antient\nworld, have view\u2019d the monuments of modern pride, and, at the sight of\nall-devouring time, have wept over both. I have often found great folly\namong the nations that pass for the most civiliz\u2019d, and sometimes as\ngreat wisdom among those that are counted the most savage. I have seen\nsmall states supported by virtue, and mighty empires shaken by vice,\nwhilst a mistaken policy has been employ\u2019d to inrich the subjects,\nwithout any endeavours to render them virtuous.\n\nAfter having gone over the whole world and visited all the inhabitants,\nI find it does not answer the pains I have taken. I have just been\nreviewing my memoirs concerning the several nations, their prejudices,\ntheir customs and manners, their politicks, their laws, their religion,\ntheir history; and I have thrown them all into the fire. It grieves me\nto record such a monstrous mixture of humanity and barbarousness, of\ngrandeur and meanness, of reason and folly.\n\nThe small part, I have preserv\u2019d, is what I am now publishing. If it has\nno other merit, certainly it has novelty to recommend it.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n                                CHAP. I.\n                             THE HURRICANE.\n\n\nI was on the borders of Guinea towards the desarts that bound it on the\nNorth. I contemplated the immense wilds, the very idea of which shocks\nthe firmest mind. On a sudden I was seized with an ardent desire to\npenetrate into those desarts and see how far nature denies herself to\nmankind. Perhaps (said I) among these scorching plains there is some\nfertile spot unknown to the rest of the world. Perhaps I shall find men\nwho have neither been polished nor corrupted by commerce with others.\n\nIn vain did I represent to myself the dangers and even the almost\ncertain death to which such an enterprize would expose me; I could not\ndrive the thought out of my head. One winter\u2019s day (for it was in the\ndog-days) the wind being southwest, the sky clear, and the air\ntemperate, furnished with something to asswage hunger and thirst, with a\nglass-mask to save my eyes from the clouds of sands, and with a compass\nto guide my steps, I sate out from the borders of Guinea and advanced\ninto the desart.\n\nI went on two whole days without seeing any thing extraordinary: in the\nbeginning of the third I perceived all around me nothing but a few\nalmost sapless shrubs and some tufts of rushes, most of which were dried\nup by the heat of the sun. These are nature\u2019s last productions in those\nbarren regions; here her teeming virtue stops, nor can life be farther\nextended in those frightful solitudes.\n\nI had scarce continued my course two hours over a sandy soil, where the\neye meets no object but scattered rocks, when the wind growing higher,\nbegan to put in motion the surface of the sands. At first, the sand only\nplayed about the foot of the rocks and formed small waves which lightly\nskimmed over the plain. Such are the little billows which are seen to\nrise and gently roll on the surface of the water when the sea begins to\ngrow rough at the approach of a storm. The sandy waves soon became\nlarger, dashed and broke one another; and I was exposed to the most\ndreadful of hurricanes.\n\nFrequent whirlwinds arose, which collecting the sands carried them in\nrapid gyrations to a vast height with horrible whistlings. Instantly\nafter, the sands, left to themselves, fell down in strait lines and\nformed mountains. Clouds of dust were mixed with the clouds of the\natmosphere, and heaven and earth seemed jumbled together. Sometimes the\nthickness of the whirlwinds deprived me entirely of the light of the\nsun: and sometimes red transparent sands shone from afar: the air\nappeared in a blaze, and the sky seemed dissolved into sparks of fire.\n\nMean time, now tossed into the air by a sudden gust of wind, and now\nhurled down by my own weight, I found myself one while in clouds of\nsand, and another while in a gulf. Every moment I should have been\neither buried or dashed in pieces, had not a benevolent Being (who will\nappear presently) protected me from all harm.\n\nThe terrible hurricane ceased with the day: the night was calm, and\nweariness overcoming my fears, I fell asleep.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n                               CHAP. II.\n                           THE FINE PROSPECT.\n\n\nThe sun was not yet risen, when I wak\u2019d: but the first rays enlighten\u2019d\nthe east and objects began to be visible. Sleep had recover\u2019d my\nstrength and calm\u2019d my spirits: when I was awake, my fears return\u2019d, and\nthe image of death presented itself again to my anxious thoughts.\n\nI was standing on a high rock, from whence I could view every thing\nround me. I cast, with horror, my eyes on that sandy region, where I\nthought I should have found my grave. What was my surprise when towards\nthe north I spied an even, vast and fertile plain! From a state of the\nprofoundest sorrow in an instant I pass\u2019d (which usually requires time)\nto a state of the highest joy; nature put on a new face; and the\nfrightful view of so many rocks confusedly dispers\u2019d among the sands\nserv\u2019d only to render more affecting and more agreeable the prospect of\nthat delightful plain, I was going to enter. O nature! how admirable are\nthy distributions! how wisely manag\u2019d the various scenes thou presentest\nto our sight!\n\nThe plants, which grow on the edge of the plain are very small; the soil\ndoes not yet supply sufficient moisture: but as you advance, vegetation\nflourishes, and gives them a larger size and more height. The trees are\nseen to rise by degrees and soon afford a shelter under their boughs. At\nlast, trees co-eval with the world appear with their tops in the clouds\nand form an immense amphitheatre which majestically displays itself to\nthe eyes of the traveller and proclaims that such a habitation is not\nmade for mortals.\n\nEvery thing seem\u2019d new to me in this unknown land; every thing threw me\ninto astonishment. Not any of Nature\u2019s productions which my eyes eagerly\nran over resembles those that are seen any where else. Trees, plants,\ninsects, reptiles, fishes, birds, all were form\u2019d in a manner\nextraordinary, and at the same time elegant and infinitely varied. But\nwhat struck me with the greatest wonder, was that an universal\nsensibility, cloath\u2019d with all imaginable forms animated the bodies that\nseem\u2019d the least susceptible of it: even to the very plants all gave\nsigns of sensation.\n\nI walk\u2019d on slowly in this enchanted abode. A delicious coolness kept my\nsenses open to the pleasure; a sweet scent glided into my blood with the\nair I breath\u2019d; my heart beat with an unusual force: and joy enlighten\u2019d\nmy soul in its most gloomy recesses.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n                               CHAP. III.\n                               THE VOICE.\n\n\nOne thing surprised me: I did not see any inhabitants in these gardens\nof delight. I know not how many ideas disturbed my mind on that\noccasion, when a voice struck my ears, uttering these words: \u201cStop and\nlook stedfastly before thee; behold him who has inspired thee to\nundertake so dangerous a voyage.\u201d Amazed, I looked a good while and saw\nnothing: at last I perceived a sort of spot, a kind of shade fixed in\nthe air a few paces from me. I continued to look at it more attentively,\nand fancied, I saw a human form with a countenance so mild and ingaging\nthat instead of being terrified, the sight was to me a fresh motive of\njoy.\n\nI am (said the benevolent Shade) the Prefect of this Island. Thy\ninclination to Philosophy has prepossessed me in thy favour: I have\nfollowed thee in thy late journey and defended thee from the hurricane.\nI will now show thee the rarities of the place; and then I will take\ncare to restore thee safe to thy country.\n\nThis Solitude with which thou art so charmed, stands in the midst of a\ntempestuous ocean of moving sands; it is an island surrounded with\ninaccessible desarts, which no mortal can pass without a supernatural\naid. Its name is GIPHANTIA. It was given to the elementary spirits, the\nday before the Garden of Eden was allotted to the parent of mankind. Not\nthat the spirits spend their time here in ease and sloth. What would you\ndo, O ye feeble mortals! If dispersed in the air, in the sea, in the\nbowels of the earth, in the sphere of fire, they did not incessantly\nwatch for your welfare? Without our care, the unbridled elements would\nlong since have effaced all remains of the human kind. Why cannot we\npreserve you entirely from their disorderly sallies? Alass! our power\nextends not so far: we cannot totally screen you from all the evils that\nsurround you: we only prevent your utter destruction.\n\nIt is here the elementary spirits come to refresh themselves after their\nlabours; it is here they hold their assemblies, and concert the best\nmeasures for the administration of the elements.\n\n\n\n\n                               CHAP. IV.\n                              THE REVERSE.\n\n\nOf all the Countries in the world (added the Prefect) Giphantia is the\nonly one where nature still preserves her primitive vigor. She is\nincessantly labouring to increase the numerous tribes of Vegetables and\nAnimals, and to produce new kinds. She organizes all with admirable\nskill; but she does not always succeed, in rendering them perpetual. The\nMechanism of propagation is the master-piece of her wisdom: sometimes\nshe fails and her productions return for ever into nothing. We cherish,\nwith our utmost care, such as are sufficiently organized to produce\ntheir kind; and then plant them out in the Earth.\n\nA Naturalist wonders sometimes to find plants that had never been\nnoticed before: it is because we had just then supplied the earth with\nthem, of which he had not the least suspicion.\n\nSometimes also these Exotics not meeting with a proper Climate, decay by\ndegrees and the species is lost. Such are those productions which are\nmention\u2019d by the Antients and which the Moderns complain are no where to\nbe found.\n\nSuch a plant still subsists but has long droop\u2019d, and lost its\nqualities, and deceives the Physician who is daily disappointed. The Art\nis blam\u2019d; it is not known that the fault is in Nature.\n\nI have now a collection of new simples of the greatest virtue; and I\nshould have imparted them to mankind before now, had there not been\nstrong reasons to induce me to delay it.\n\nFor instance, I have a sovereign plant to fix the human mind, and which\nwould give steadiness even to a Babylonian: but for these fifty years I\nhave been diligently observing Babylon, and have not found one single\nmoment, wherein the Inclinations, Customs, and Manners have been worth\nfixing.\n\nI have another plant, most excellent for checking the too lively sallies\nof the spirit of invention: but thou knowest how rare these sallies are\nnow-a-days: never was invention at a lower ebb. One would think that\nevery thing has been said, and that nothing more remained but to adapt\nthings to the taste and mode of the age.\n\nI have a root which would never fail to allay that sourness of the\nLearned who censure one another: but I observe that without their\nabusing and railing at each other, no man would concern himself about\ntheir disputes. It is a sort of pleasure to see them bring themselves as\nwell as Learning into contempt. I leave the malignity of the readers to\ndivert themselves with the malignity of the Authors.\n\nMoreover, do not imagine that nature sleeps in any part of the earth;\nshe strenuously labours even in those infinitely minute spaces where the\neye cannot reach. At Giphantia, she disposes matter on extraordinary\nplans, and perpetually tends to produce something new: she every where\nincessantly repeats her labours, still endeavouring to carry her works\nto a degree of perfection which she never attains. These flowers which\nso agreeably strike the eye, she strives to render still more beautiful.\nThese animals, which to you seem so dextrous, she endeavours to render\nstill more so. In short, Man that to you appears so superior to the\nrest, she tries to render still more perfect; but in this her endeavours\nprove the most unsuccessful.\n\nIndeed, one would think that mankind do all in their power to remain in\na much lower rank than nature designs them! and they seldom fail to turn\nto their hurt the best dispositions she gives them for their Good. On\nthe Babylonians, for instance, nature has bestowed an inexhaustible fund\nof agreeableness. Her aim was manifestly to form a people the most\naimable. They were made to enliven reason, to root out the thorns that\nspring from the approaches of the sciences, to soften the austerity of\nwisdom, and, if possible, to adorn virtue. Thou knowest it: her favours\nwhich should have been diffused on these objects have been diverted from\ntheir destination; and frivolousness and debauchery have been cloathed\nwith them. In the hands of the Babylonians, vice loses all her\ndeformity. Behold in their manners, their discourses, their writings,\nwith what discretion vice unveils herself, with what art she ingages,\nwith what address she insinuates: you have not yet thought of her, and\nshe is seated in your heart. Even he who, by his function, lifts up his\nvoice against her, dares not paint her in her true colours. In a word,\nno where does vice appear less vice than at Babylon. Even to the very\nnames, all things are changed, all things are softened. The sincere and\nhonest are now-a-days your modish men who are outwardly all complaisance\nbut inwardly full of corruption: Good company are not the Virtuous but\nthose who excel in palliating vice. The man of fortitude is not he that\nbears the shocks of fortune unmoved, but he that braves Providence.\nBare-faced Irreligion is now styled free-thinking, blasphemy is called\nboldness of speech, and the most shameful excesses, Gallantry. Thus it\nis that with what they might become a pattern to all nations, the\nBabylonians (to say no worse) are grown libertines of the most seducing\nand most dangerous kind.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n                                CHAP. V.\n                            THE APPARITIONS.\n\n\nI return (continues the Prefect of Giphantia) to the elementary spirits.\nTheir constant abode in the air, always full of vapours and exhalations;\nin the sea, ever mixed with salts and earths; in the fire, perpetually\nused about a thousand heterogeneous bodies; in the earth, where all the\nother elements are blended together: this abode, I say, by degrees\nspoils the pure essence of the spirits, whose original nature is to be\n(as to their material substance) all fire, all air, or other unmixt\nelement. This degradation has sometimes gone so far, as that by the\nmixture of the different elements, the spirits have acquired a\nsufficient consistence to render them visible. People have seen them in\nthe fire and called them Salamanders, and Cyclops: they have seen them\nin the air and called them Sylphs, Zephyrs, Aquilons: they have seen\nthem in the water and called them Sea-nymphs, Naiads, Nereids, Tritons:\nthey have seen them in caverns, desarts, woods, and have called them\nGnomes, Sylvans, Fauns, Satyrs, _&c._\n\nFrom the astonishment caused by these Apparitions, men sunk into fear,\nand fear begot superstition. To these, Creatures like themselves, they\nerected altars which belong only to the Creator. Their imagination\nmagnifying what they had seen, they soon formed a Hierarchy of\nChimerical Deities. The Sun appeared to them a luminous chariot guided\nby Apollo through the celestial plains; Thunder, a fiery bolt darted by\nJupiter at the heads of the guilty: the Ocean, a vast empire, where\nNeptune ruled the waves: the bowels of the earth, the gloomy residence\nof Pluto, where he gave laws to the pale and timorous Ghosts: in a word,\nthey filled the world with Gods and Goddesses. The Earth itself became a\nDeity.\n\nWhen the elementary Spirits perceived how apt their Apparitions were to\nlead men into error, they took measures to be no longer visible: they\ndevised a sort of refiner by which from time to time they get rid of all\nextraneous matter. From thence forward, no mortal eye has ever seen the\nleast glimpse of these spirits.\n\n\n\n\n                               CHAP. VI.\n                             THE SURFACES.\n\n\nMean while the Prefect moved on and I followed, quite astonished and\npensive. At our coming out of the wood we found ourselves before a hill,\nat the foot of which stood a hollow column above a hundred feet high and\nthick in proportion. I saw issuing out of the top of the column vapours\n(much like the exhalations raised by the sun) in such abundance that\nthey were very visible. From the same column I saw coming out and\ndispersing themselves in the air certain human forms, certain images\nstill lighter than the vapours by which they were supported.\n\nBehold (says the Prefect) the Refiner of the Elementary Spirits. The\ncolumn is filled with four Essences, each of which has been extracted\nfrom each element. The Spirits plunge into them, and by a mechanism, too\nlong to be described, get rid of all extraneous matter. The images which\nthou seest coming out of the column, are nothing more than very thin\nsurfaces which surrounded them and served to make them visible. These\nsurfaces partake of the different qualities of the spirits who excel\nmore or less in certain respects, as visages are expressive of the\ncharacters of men, who differ infinitely. Thus, there are images or\nsurfaces of science, of learning, of prudence, of wisdom, _&c._\n\nMen often cloath themselves with them, and like masks these surfaces\nmake them appear very different from what they really are. Hence it is\nthat you constantly meet with the appearance of every good, of every\nvirtue and every quality, though the things themselves are scarce to be\nfound any where.\n\nAt Babylon especially, these surfaces are in singular esteem: all is\nseen there in appearance. A Babylonian had rather be nothing and appear\nevery thing than to be every thing and appear nothing. So, you see only\nsurfaces every where and of every kind.\n\nSurface of modesty, the only thing needful for a Babylonian lady: it is\ncalled decency.\n\nSurface of friendship, by the means of which all Babylon seems to be but\none family. Friendship is like a strong band made of very weak threads\ntwisted together. A Babylonian is tied to no one by the band, but he is\ntied to each of his fellow-citizens by a single thread.\n\nSurface of piety, formerly much in use and of great influence,\nnow-a-days totally in disrepute. It gives people a certain Gothic air\nquite ridiculous in the eyes of the moderns. It is now found only among\na few adherents to the old bigots, and in an order of men, who, on\naccount of their function, cannot lay it aside, how desirous soever they\nmay be.\n\nSurface of opulence, one of the most striking things in Babylon. Behold\nin the Temples, in the Assemblies, in the publick Walks, those citizens\nso richly dressed, those women so adorned, those children so neat, so\nlively, and who promise so fair to be one day as frivolous as their\nfathers: follow them to their homes; furniture of the best taste,\ncommodious apartments, houses like little palaces, all continues to\nproclaim opulence. But stop there: if you go any farther, you will see\nfamilies in distress and hearts overflowing with cares.\n\nSurface of probity, for the use of Politicians and those who concern\nthemselves with the management of others. These great men cannot be as\nhonest as the lower people; they have certain maxims from which they\nthink it essential never to depart, and from which it is no less\nessential that they appear extremely remote.\n\nSurface of patriotism, of which the real substance has long since\ndisappeared. We must distinguish, in the conduct of the Babylonians,\nbetween the Theory and the Practice. The Theory turns entirely upon\nPatriotism. Publick Good, national Interest, Glory of the Babylonian\nName, all this is the language of Theory. The Practice hangs solely upon\nthe hinge of private interest. It is very remarkable that in this\nrespect the Babylonians have long been dupes of one another. Each\nplainly perceived that _Country_ did not much affect him; but he heard\nothers talk of it so often and so affectionately that he verily believed\nthere was still such a thing as a true Patriot. But now their eyes are\nopen and they see that all are alike.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n                               CHAP. VII.\n                               THE GLOBE.\n\n\nSuch is the lot of the elementary spirits, continued the Prefect of\nGiphantia. No sooner are they out of the probation-column where they are\npurified, but they return to their usual labours: and to see where their\npresence is most necessary, and where men have most need of their\nassistance. At their coming out of the column they ascend this hill.\nThere by a mechanism which required the utmost skill of the spirits,\nevery thing that passes in all parts of the world is seen and heard.\nThou art going to try the experiment thy self.\n\nOn each side of the column is a large stair-case of above a hundred\nsteps which leads to the top of the hill. We went up; and were scarce\nhalf way when my ears were struck with a disagreeable humming which\nincreased as we advanced. When we came to a platform in which the hill\nends, the first thing that struck my eyes was a Globe of a considerable\ndiameter. From the Globe proceeded the noise which I heard. At a\ndistance it was a humming; nearer, it was a frightful thundering noise,\nformed by a confused mixture of shouts for joy, ravings of despair,\nshrieks, complaints, singings, murmurs, acclamations, laughter, groans,\nand whatever proclaims the immoderate sorrow and extravagant joy of\nmortals.\n\nSmall imperceptible pipes (said the Prefect) come from each point of the\nearth\u2019s surface and end at this Globe. The inside is organized so that\nthe motion of the air which is propagated through the imperceptible\npipes, and grows weaker in time, resumes fresh force at the entrance\ninto the Globe and becomes sensible again. Hence these noises and\nhummings. But what would these confused sounds signify, if means were\nnot found to distinguish them? Behold the image of the earth painted on\nthe Globe; the Islands, the Continents, the Oceans which surround, join,\nand divide all. Dost thou not see Europe, that quarter of the earth that\nhath done so much mischief to the other three? Burning Africa, where the\narts and the wants that attend them have never penetrated? Asia, whose\nluxury, passing to the European nations, has done so much good,\naccording to some, and so much hurt, according to others! America, still\ndyed with the blood of its unhappy inhabitants, whom men of a religion,\nthat breathes peace and good-will, came to convert and barbarously\nmurder? Observe what point of the Globe, thou pleases. Place there the\nend of this rod which I give thee, and putting the other end to thy ear,\nthou shalt hear distinctly whatever is said in the corresponding part of\nthe earth.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n                              CHAP. VIII.\n                              DISCOURSES.\n\n\nSurprised at this prodigy, I put the end of the rod upon Babylon; I\napplied my ear, and heard what follows:\n\n\u201cSince you consult me about this writing, I will fairly give you my\nopinion. I think it discreet and too much so. What! not a word against\nthe government, against the manners, against religion! who will read\nyou? If you did but know how tired people are with History, Morality,\nPhylosophy, Verse, Prose, and all that! The whole world are turned\nwriters; and you will more easily find an author than a reader. How make\nimpression on the crowd? How draw attention, unless by strokes levelled,\nright or wrong, against place-men; by luscious touches of imagination\nproper to excite the gust of pleasures blunted by excess; by the trite\narguments which, though repeated a thousand times, still please, because\nthey attack what we dread! This in my opinion is the only course for a\nwriter to take who has any pretensions to fame. Mind our Philosophers:\nwhen they reflect, for instance, on the nature of the soul, they fall\ninto a doubt which with all their reason they cannot get out of. Do they\ncome to write? They resolve the difficulty, and the soul is mortal. If\nthey assert this, it is not from an inward persuasion, but from a desire\nto write, and to write such things, as will be read. Again, if you had\nmade yourself a party: if you belonged to one of those clubs, where the\nCensor passes from hand to hand, and where each, in his turn, is the\nIdol! But no; you are among the literary cabals like a divine who should\npretend to be neither Jansenist nor Molinist[1]. Who, think ye, will\ntake care of your interests? Who will preach you up? Who will inlist\nyour name among those we respect?\u201d\n\nI removed the end of the rod about a twentieth part of an inch lower and\nI heard, probably, a Farmer of the imposts, who was making his\ncalculations upon the people.\n\n\u201cIs it not true (said he) that in the occasions of the state, every one\nshould contribute in proportion to his means, after a deduction of his\nnecessary expences? Is it not also true, that a very short man spends\nless in cloaths than a very tall one? Is it not true that this\ndifference of expence is very considerable, since there is occasion for\nsummer-habits, winter-habits, spring-habits, autumn-habits,\ncountry-habits, riding-habits, and I know not how many others? There\nshould be likewise morning and evening habits; but the morning is not\nknown at Babylon. I would therefore have all his Majesty\u2019s subjects\nmeasured and taxed each inversely as his stature.... Another\nconsideration of equal weight. A Tax on Batchelors has been talked of;\nbut it was not considered. Money should be raised upon those who are\nrich enough to be married, and especially upon those who are rich enough\nto venture upon having children. And therefore married men should be\ntaxed in a ratio compounded of the amount of their capitation and the\nnumber of their children. I have in my pocket-book I know not how many\nprojects as good as these, and which I have very luckily devised. Each\nman has his talents: this is mine: and it is well known how much it is\nto be prized now-a-days.\u201d\n\nAt a little distance a Grammarian was making his Observations. \u201cThree\nlanguages (said he) are spoken at Babylon: that of the mob: that of the\npetit maitre; and that of the better sort. The first serves to express\nin a disagreeable manner, shocking things. With all their judgment, some\nauthors have written in this language, and the Babylonians, with all\ntheir niceness, have read them with pleasure. The second is made up of a\ncertain contexture of words without any meaning. You may talk this\nlanguage a whole day together, and when you have done, it will be found\nyou have said nothing at all. To enter into the character of the idiom,\nit is essential to talk incessantly without reason, and as far as\npossible from common sense. The third wants a certain precision; a\ncertain force and certain graces; but it is susceptible of a singular\nelegance and clearness. It will not perhaps be expressive enough of the\nflights of the poet or the transports of the musician: but it expresses\nwith admirable ease all the ideas of him who observes, compares,\ndiscusses, and seeks the truth. Without doubt, it is the properest\nlanguage for reasoning; and most unhappily it is the least used for that\npurpose.\u201d\n\nMethought I heard a woman\u2019s voice at a little distance, and put my rod\nthere. \u201cI confess (said she) I am foolishly fond of this romance.\nNothing can be better penned. However, this same Julia, who holds out\nduring three volumes, and does not surrender till the end of the fourth,\nmakes the intrigue a little too tedious. It is also pity that the\nviscount advances so slowly. He uses such preambles, spends so much time\nin protestations, and presses his conquest with so much caution, that he\nhas put me, who am none of the liveliest, a hundred times out of\npatience. Surely the author was little acquainted with the manners of\nthe nation!\u201d\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n                               CHAP. IX.\n                               HAPPINESS.\n\n\nThe end of my rod by chance fell upon an assembly, where they were\ntalking of Happiness. Each declared his opinion as follows:\n\n\u201cAt length (says one) this superb Colonnade is laid open; they think of\nremoving those pitiful little houses which darken that grand and\nbeautiful front; they repent of having built under ground to adorn a\nplace; Taste is reviving; the Arts are going to flourish: very shortly\nBabylon will proclaim the magnificence of the monarch and the happiness\nof the people.... It is a great question whether colonnades, fine\nsquares, and large cities, will make a nation happy: they must be\nenriched. Industry must be excited, agriculture incouraged, manufactures\nincreased, and trade made to flourish: without which, all the rest is\nnothing.... Nonsense! I have said it, and I say it again: if we will be\nhappy, our manners must be more simple; the circle of our wants\ncontracted; and, in a country-life, we must withdraw from the vices\nwhich attend the luxury of cities.... I do not know wherein consists the\nhappiness of nations; but I think the happiness of individuals consists\nin the health of the body and peace of the mind.... Assuredly not.\nHealth causes no lively impression, and tranquility is tiresome. To be\nhappy, you must enjoy a great reputation; for, at every instant, your\near will be tickled with encomiums.... Yes! and at every instant your\near will be grated with censures, because there is no pleasing every\nbody. It is my opinion, every man is happy in proportion to his\nauthority and power: for one can gratify oneself in the same\nproportion.... Yes! but then that eagerness will be wanting which stamps\na value upon things: if all was in our power, we should care for\nnothing. For my part, I am of opinion, that to be happy we must despise\nall things; that is the only way to avoid all kind of vexation and\ntrouble whatsoever.... And I think, we should concern ourselves with\nevery thing: by that means we shall partake of every occasion of joy....\nNow I think we should be indifferent to every thing: as the means of\nenjoying an unchangeable happiness.... I take Wisdom to be the thing,\nfor that alone will set us above all events.... And I say, it must be\nFolly: for Folly creates her own happiness, independently of any thing\ncross or disagreeable about her.... You are all of you in the wrong.\nNothing general can be assigned that may be productive of the happiness\nof particular persons. So many men, so many minds: this desires one kind\nof happiness, and that another: one wishes for riches, another is\ncontent with necessaries; this would love and be loved; that considers\nthe passions as the bane of the soul. Every one must study himself and\nfollow his own inclination.... Not at all; and you are as much mistaken\nas the rest. In vain do I persuade myself that I should be happy, if I\npossessed such a thing; the moment I have it, I find it insufficient,\nand wish for another. We desire without end; and never enjoy. A certain\nman was continually travelling about, and always on foot: quite tired\nout, he said: If I had a horse I should be contented. He had a horse;\nbut the rain, the cold, the sun were still troublesome to him. A horse\n(says he) is not sufficient; a chariot only can screen me from the\ninclemencies of the air. His fortune increased, and a chariot was\nbought. What followed? Exercise till then had kept our traveller in\nhealth: as soon as that ceased, he grew infirm and gouty, and presently\nafter, it was not possible for him to travel either on foot or on\nhorseback or in a chariot.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n                                CHAP. X.\n                            THE HODGE-PODGE.\n\n\nI did not keep the rod any longer in one place; but moved it here and\nthere without distinction: and I heard only broken discourses, such as\nthese:\n\n\u201cWar, taxes, misery, are dreaded; insignificant fears all these: alas!\nmine are very different. I have here framed a system upon Earthquakes;\nand, by calculation, I find that near the center of the globe there is\nnow forming an internal fire that will turn the world upside down.\nWithin six months the earth will burst like a bomb, and all nature....\nYes! all nature vanishes in my eyes; thou alone dost exist for me:\nextinguish, my dear, extinguish the flame thou has lighted in my bosom.\nWhat a moment! Pleasure drowns all my senses: my soul, penetrated with\ndelight, seems to be upon the wing: she beats, she trembles, she flies:\nO receive her, my dear, she is wholly thine. Ah! I hear my husband\u2019s\nfootsteps; let us run.... Courage, brave soldiers! strike home; revenge\nyour country; let the blood flow, and give no quarter. May the Islanders\nperish and the Babylonians live!... I do aver, for my part that of all\nthe nations there is not one so gay as the Babylonians. They always take\nthings on the most smiling side. One day of prosperity makes them forget\na whole year of adversity. Even at their own misery, they all sing; and\nan epigram pays them for their losses caused by the follies of the\nGreat.... O how little are our great ones! and how foolish are our wise\nones! I cannot help thinking man an imperfect creature. I plainly see\nnature\u2019s efforts to make him reasonable; but I see too these efforts are\nfruitless. Materials are wanting. There are but two ages: the age of\nweakness in which we are born and pass two thirds of life; and the age\nof infancy in which we grow old and die. I have indeed heard talk of an\nage of reason; but I do not see it come. I conclude therefore, and I\nsay.... Yes! madam! of transparent cotton. The discovery was very lately\nmade in Terra Australis: so no more colds and defluxions. Transparent\nhandkerchiefs, gloves, and stockings, will defend from the weather, and\nat the same time give us a sight of that admirable bosom, those charming\narms, that divine leg.... Doubts every where, certainty no where. How\ntired am I to hear, to read, to reflect, and to know nothing precisely.\nWho will tell me only what is.... This, sir, is the country-man who\nleaving his plough, is come to talk with you about the affair of those\npoor orphans which is not ended. That is true, but what would you have?\nWe are so overwhelmed! No matter, it shall be decided.... Ah! good sir,\nI am glad to see you; I owe you a compliment: the last wig I had of you\nmakes me look ten years older. Surely the gentleman did not think, I had\nso magisterial a face! Do you know, my dear sir, that it is enough to\nmake me look ridiculous, and you to forfeit your reputation.... Grant, O\nLord, three weeks of a westerly wind that my ship may sail.... O Lord,\nthree weeks of an easterly wind that my ship may arrive.... Give me, O\nGod, give me children.... O God! send a malignant fever upon my\nungracious son.... O Lord! grant me a husband.... O God! rid me of\nmine....\u201d\n\nPerhaps all this Hodge-Podge will not be relished by most of my readers.\nI should be sorry for it. To what end then do mortals hold such odd,\nsuch silly and such contradictory discourses?\n\n\n\n\n                               CHAP. XI.\n                              THE MIRROUR.\n\n\nAs I was amusing myself with these broken speeches, the Prefect of\nGiphantia presented me with a Mirrour. Thou canst only (says he) guess\nat things: but with thy rod and that glass, thou art going to hear and\nsee both at once; nothing will escape thee; thou wilt be as present to\nwhatever passes.\n\nFrom space to space (continued the Prefect) there are in the atmosphere\nportions of air which the spirits have so ranged, that they receive the\nrays reflected from the different parts of the earth, and remit them to\nthis Mirrour: so that by inclining the glass different ways, the several\nparts of the earth\u2019s surface will be visible on it. They will all appear\none after the other, if the Mirrour is placed successively in all\npossible aspects. It is in thy power to view the habitations of every\nmortal.\n\nI hastily took up the wonderful glass. In less than a quarter of an hour\nI surveyed the whole earth.\n\nI perceived many void spaces, even in the most populous countries! and\nyet I saw men crowding, jostling and destroying one another, as if they\nhad wanted room.\n\nI looked about a good-while for happiness, and found it no where; not\neven in the most flourishing kingdoms. I saw only some signs of it in\nthe villages, which by their remoteness were screened from the contagion\nof the cities.\n\nI beheld in one view the vast countries which nature meant to separate\nby still vaster oceans; and I saw men cover the sea with ships, and by\nthat means join even these distant countries. This is plainly acting\n(said I) against nature\u2019s intentions: such proceedings cannot be crowned\nwith success. Accordingly, Europe does not appear more happy since her\njunction with America: and I do not know whether she has not more reason\nto lament it.\n\nI saw prejudices vary with the climates, and, every where, do much good\nand much harm.\n\nI beheld wise nations rejoice at the birth of their children, and\ndeplore the death of their relations and friends: I beheld others more\nwise stand round the new-born babe, and weep bitterly at the thoughts of\nthe storms he was to undergo in the course of his life; they reserved\ntheir rejoicings for funerals, and congratulated the deceased upon their\nbeing delivered from the miseries of this world.\n\nI saw the earth covered with monuments of all kinds, which human\nweakness erects to the ambition of heroes. In the very temples, the\nbrass and the marble, which contain the remains of the dead, present\nimages of war, and breathe slaughter: the very statues of those friends\nof mankind, of those pacific sovereigns, whom the calamities of the\ntimes involve in short wars, are adorned with warlike instruments and\nnations in chains, as if Laurels died in blood were only worthy to crown\nKings.\n\nI saw the most respectable of human propensities carry men to the\nstrangest excesses. Some were addressing their prayers to the Sun,\nothers were imploring the aid of the Moon, and others prostrating\nthemselves before Mountains; one was trembling at the aspect of\nthundering Jove, another was bending the knee to an Ape. The Ox, the\nDog, the Cat, had their altars. Incense was burning even to Vegetables;\nGrain, Beans, and Onions had their worship and votaries.\n\nI saw the race of mankind divide themselves into as many Parties as\nReligions; these Parties I saw divest themselves of all humanity and\ncloath themselves with Fanaticism, and these Fanatics worrying one\nanother like wild beasts.\n\nI saw men who adored the same God, who sacrificed upon the same altar,\nwho preached to the people the doctrine of peace and love, I saw these\nvery men fall out about unintelligible questions, and mutually hate,\npersecute, and destroy one another. O God! what will become of man, if\nthy goodness doth not exceed their weakness and folly?\n\nIn a word, I saw the several nations, diversified in a thousand\nrespects, all agree in their not being one better than another. All men\nare bad, the Ultramontane by system, the Iberian by pride, the Batavian\nby interest, the German by roughness, the Islander by humour, the\nBabylonian by caprice, and All by a general corruption of heart.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n                               CHAP. XII.\n                               THE TRIAL.\n\n\nAfter this general survey of the whole earth, I had a mind to view\nBabylon in particular. Having turned my glass to the north, and\ninclining it gently to the 20th meridian, I tried to find out that great\ncity. Among the places that passed in succession under my eyes, there\nwas one that fixed my attention. I saw a country-house, neither small\nnor great, neither too much adorned nor too naked. All about it was more\nembellished by nature than by art. It overlooked gardens, groves, and\nsome ponds which bounded a hill on the east. A country feast was at this\ntime celebrating, to which all the neighbouring inhabitants were come.\nSome, stretched on the green turf, were drinking large draughts, and\nentertaining one another with their former amours; and several were\nperforming dances, which the old men did not think so fine as those of\ntime past.\n\nSeest thou (says the Prefect to me) in the balcony, that young lady who\nwith a smiling air is viewing the sight? She was married some days ago,\nand it is on her account that this feast is made. Her name is _Sophia_:\nshe has beauty as you see, fortune, wit, and what is worth more than all\nthe rest, a stock of good sense. She had five Lovers at one time: none\nmade a deep impression in her heart, none were displeasing to her; she\ncould not tell to which to give the preference.\n\nOne day she said to them, I am young; and it is not my intention to\nenter yet into the bands of matrimony, which is always done too soon. If\nmy hand is so valuable as by your eager addresses you seem to think,\nexert your endeavours to deserve it. But, I declare to you that I shall\nnot make any choice these several years.\n\nOf Sophia\u2019s five Lovers, the first was much inclined to extravagance.\nWomen (says he) are taken with the outside: let us spend freely and\nspare nothing.\n\nThe second had a fund of economy which bordered upon avarice. Sophia\n(says he) who has a solid judgment, must think him best that shows\nhimself capable of amassing riches: let us turn to commerce.\n\nThe third was proud and haughty. Surely (says he) Sophia, who has noble\nthoughts, will be touched with the lustre of glory: let us take to arms.\n\nThe fourth was a studious man. Sophia (says he) who has so much sense,\nwill incline to where the most is to be found. Let us continue to\ncultivate our mind; and strive to distinguish ourselves among the\nlearned.\n\nThe fifth was an indolent man, who gave himself little concern about\nworldly affairs: he was at a loss what course to take.\n\nEach pursued his plan, and pursued it with that ardor which love alone\nis capable of inspiring.\n\nThe prodigal expended part of his estate in cloaths, in equipages, in\ndomesticks; he built a fine house, furnished it nobly, kept open table,\ngave balls and entertainments of all kinds: nothing was talked of but\nhis generosity and magnificence.\n\nThe merchant set all the springs of commerce in motion, traded to all\nparts of the world and became one of the richest men of his country. The\nmilitary man sought occasions; and soon signalized himself. The studious\nman redoubled his efforts, made discoveries, and became famous.\n\nMean while, the indolent lover made his reflections; and, believing if\nhe remained unactive he should be excluded, he strove to conquer his\nindolence. The estate, he had from his ancestors, seemed to him very\nsufficient, and he did not care to meddle with commerce; the hurry of\nwar was quite opposite to his temper, and he had no mind to take to\narms; he had never read but for his amusement, the sciences did not seem\nto him worth the pains to come at them; he had no ambition to become\nlearned. What then is to be done? Let us wait, (says he) time will show.\nSo he remained at his country-house, pruning his trees, reading Horace,\nand now and then going to see the only object that disturbed his\ntranquillity. Ever resolving to take some course, the time slipt away,\nand he took none.\n\nThe fatal hour approaches (said he sometimes to Sophia) you are going to\nmake your choice, and most assuredly it will not be in my favour. Yet a\nfew days, and I am undone. This peaceful retreat, those delightful\nfields you will not grace, you will not enliven, with your presence.\nThose serene days that I reckoned to pass with you in the purest of\npleasures were only flattering dreams with which love charmed my senses.\nO Sophia! all that stirs the passions and troubles the repose of men has\nno power over me; my desires are all centered in you; and I am going to\nlose you for ever!\n\nYou are too reasonable, replied Sophia, to take it ill that I should\nchuse where I think I shall be happy.\n\nAt last, the time was expired, and not without many reflections, Sophia\nresolved to make her choice.\n\nShe said to the prodigal: if I have been the aim of your expences, I am\nsorry for it: but what you have done for my sake, you would have done,\nhad I been out of the question. You have lavished away one part of your\nestate to obtain a wife; you would spend the other to avoid the trouble\nof management. I advise you never to think of it.\n\nShe told the merchant, soldier and scholar, I am sensible, you have\nshown a great regard for me: but I think too you have shown no less, you\nfor riches, you for glory, and you for learning. In trying to fix my\ninclination, each has followed his own; each would do as much for\nhimself as for me. Should I chuse one of you, his views would still rest\nupon other objects; one would be busied with increasing his fortune, the\nother with his promotion in the army, and the third with his progress in\nthe sciences. I cannot therefore satisfy any one of you: and my desire\nis to ingross the heart of the man who ingrosses mine.\n\nThe same day, she saw the solitary gentleman. You have long waited for\nit (said she to him) and I am at last going to declare my mind. You know\nwhat your rivals have done to obtain my consent: see what they were and\nwhat they are. For your part, such as you was, such you remain. I think,\nI see the reason. Indifferent to all other things, you have but one\npassion, and I am its object. I alone can render you happy. Well then!\nmy happiness shall be in creating yours. I will share the delights of\nyour solitude, and will endeavour to increase them.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n                              CHAP. XIII.\n                              THE TALENTS.\n\n\nI returned to my first object, and, after a long search, I perceived on\nthe mirrour a spot of land which seemed wrapped in a cloud. There issued\nfrom thence a confused noise like the murmurs of an ebbing tide. The sun\nquickly dispersed the vapours, and I saw Babylon.\n\nI saw there spectacles wherein the calamities of past times are\nlamented, in order to forget the calamities of the present; I saw\nAcademies where they should examine and discuss, but where they dispute\nand quarrel; Temples that are built against the restoration of religion;\nOrators, who foretell to the seduced people the most terrible disasters,\nand Hearers who measure the expressions and criticize the style; a\nPalace wherein are placed Magistrates for the security of your property,\nand where you are conducted by Guides who fleece you.\n\nI cast my eyes on the publick walks and gardens, ever open to idleness,\ncoquetry and recreation. I beheld sitting alone on the grass a person\nwho, with a smile, was penning down his ideas. I fixed the paper, and\nread what follows:\n\n\u201cOne day Jupiter proclaimed through the whole earth, that he had\nresolved to distribute different talents to the different nations; that\non such a day the distribution would be made at Olympus; and that the\ngeniuses of the several nations should repair thither.\n\n\u201cThe Genius of Babylon stayed not till the day appointed, but came the\nfirst of all to Jupiter\u2019s palace. He made his appearance with that air\nof confidence which is natural to him; he uttered I know not how many\nvery handsome and well-turned compliments, and made presents to all the\ncelestial court with a grace peculiar to him.\n\n\u201cHe gave the Father of the gods a quintal of wild-fire of a late\ninvention, that his thunder may be more effectual and people begin to\nhave faith: to Apollo a Babylonian grammar, that he may reform the\noddities of the language: to Minerva a collection of Romances, that she\nmay correct their licentiousness and teach the Romancers to write\ndecently: to Venus two small _votive_ pictures, to thank her for that\nthe last year there were at Babylon but two hundred thousand inhabitants\nwho bore the long and painful marks of her favours.\n\n\u201cHe made his court to the Gods, wheedled the Goddesses, said and did so\nmany handsome and pleasant things, that nothing was talked of at\nJupiter\u2019s court but the agreeableness of the Genius of Babylon.\n\n\u201cMean while, the day appointed was come: and Jupiter, having advised\nwith his council, made the distribution of the different talents to the\nGeniuses of the several nations. To this he assigned the gift of\nPhilosophy: to that, the gift of Legislation; and to another the gift of\nEloquence. He said to one, Be Thou the most ingenious; to another, Be\nThou the most learned, and Thou, the most frugal; and Thou, the most\nwarlike; and Thou, the most politick: and Be Thou (said he, speaking to\nthe Genius of Babylon) whatever thou chusest to be.\n\n\u201cDelighted with his success, and returning home, the Genius of Babylon\nis at all. He framed I know not how many schemes, and executed none. He\nmade most excellent laws, and afterwards embroiled them with numberless\nexplanations and comments.\n\n\u201cHe would likewise turn Theologist, and engaged in disputes which proved\nfatal to him.\n\n\u201cHe traded, gained much, enlarged his expences, and became richer and\nless easy.\n\n\u201cOrator, Poet, Merchant, Philosopher, he was every thing; and in many\nthings he attained to perfection, but never could keep his ground.\u201d\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n                               CHAP. XIV.\n                         THE TASTE OF THE AGE.\n\n\nTwo men of letters were walking at a little distance. \u201cWill you not own\n(said one of them) that, two centuries ago, our learning was in its\ninfancy; and hardly showed to what degree it might arrive. In the last\ncentury, it took root and rose so high that nothing was seen above it.\nThe greatest masters among the Greeks and Latins were taken for\npatterns: they were equalled, if not surpassed.\n\n\u201cSuccess inspires confidence; and too much confidence breeds neglect. To\nhave the eye always on the Antients grew distasteful. They have had\ntheir merit (said the Babylonians) and we have ours: who can say we do\nnot equal them? They therefore set up for themselves: and the taste, not\nthe more general and of all the nations, but the taste peculiar to them\ncharacterized their works. See almost all our poems, our histories, our\nspeeches, our books, all is after the Babylonian mode; much of art,\nlittle of nature; a vast superficies, no depth; all is florid, light,\nlively, sparkling; all is pretty, nothing is fine. Methinks I foresee\nthe judgment of posterity: they will consider the works of the\nseventeenth century as the greatest efforts of the nation towards the\nexcellent; and the works of the eighteenth, as pictures wherein the\nBabylonians have taken pleasure to paint themselves.\n\n\u201cIf our writers are capable to go back and resume their great patterns,\nit is known what they can do; they are sure to please all the world, and\nfor ever: but, if they continue to stand on their own bottom, their\nworks will be only trinkets of fancy, on which the present taste stamps\na value, and which another taste will soon bury in oblivion.\u201d\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n                               CHAP. XV.\n                          THE FEMALE REASONER.\n\n\nI saw two women apart, one of which was talking: she looked round her\nevery moment with that air of uneasiness which expresses a confidence\nthe most mysterious. I lent my ear; and with great difficulty I heard\nwhat follows:\n\n\u201cI am obliged to thee, my dear Countess, for the idea thou hast\nconceived of my prudence. Hearken; I will hide nothing from thee; thou\nshalt see how far I may be relied on. We women are forced to guess\nthings, they will never be told us plainly: but, with a little\nattention, it is easy for us to see how matters are. For my part, I have\nreflected on the maxims of the wise men of our days, and from thence\nhave drawn these conclusions. It is only the mob that trouble themselves\nnow about a future state; the rewards and punishments of another world\nare words without a meaning; which have long been discarded by people of\nfashion. Beasts and men (of beasts the chief) are made to be guided by\nthe senses; they should be actuated solely by the passions. Let each\nattentively listen to what is inspired into him by nature, and let him\nfollow her inspirations; that is the way to happiness. On the other\nhand, society cannot subsist without laws, and laws cannot be\naccommodated to the passions of every citizen. They therefore who have\nplaced their happiness in what is forbidden by law, cannot behave too\ncircumspectly. They must always walk in the shade; mystery should follow\ntheir steps, and cast a veil on all their proceedings: in a word, they\nmay do what they will, provided they appear to do what they ought.\nThese, my dear Countess, are the maxims I have gathered from the\nPhilosophy of the time. I will not mention their influence on my\nconduct. Perhaps I really am what I appear to be: but I should be quite\notherwise, that I might appear always such.\u201d\n\nO Babylon! (said I to myself) the leven has fermented the whole mass.\nThou appearest very corrupt; but thou art still more corrupt than thou\nappearest.\n\n\n\n\n                               CHAP. XVI.\n                            THE CROCODILES.\n\n\nDuring the course of my travels, I saw in Persia, on the plains watered\nby the Tedjen, a dispute arise which divided the country and bred a\nsurprising animosity in the people. I was curious to see how that matter\nstood: I placed the mirrour in the proper position, and then put the end\nof the rod upon the globe, so as I could see and hear what was doing.\n\nThe plain was covered with two numerous armies; which were just going to\njoin battle. The ground of the quarrel was this:\n\nA pious and learned Musulman, who used to read the Alcoran with the zeal\nof an archangel and the penetration of a seraphim, took it in his head\none day to ask whether the dove, that instructed Mahomet, spoke Hebrew\nor Arabic. Some said one thing, some another; and two parties were\nformed. They disputed, they wrote at large pro and con, and could not\nagree. To the warmth of the contest were added bitterness, malignity its\ninseparable companion, and policy, which endeavours to make an advantage\nof every thing. One party persecuted the other, or was persecuted,\naccording as they were or were not uppermost. They began with the\nforfeiture of estates and banishments; and ended in an open war. The\nsectaries had caballed so well, that the people rose in arms against one\nanother.\n\nThe two armies were just going to ingage, when a venerable old man\nadvanced, and convening the heads, made the following speech:\n\n\u201cHearken, O ye people of Chorasan. There was in Egypt a famous city\ncalled Ombi; it was near another great city named Tentyris: both were\nsituated on the fertile banks of the Nile[2]. In that part, the river\nbred a great number of Crocodiles; and these voracious animals so\nfiercely attacked these two cities, that the inhabitants were going to\nremove. The governours of Tentyris were apprehensive that their\nauthority would vanish, and the citizens would come to be dispersed.\nThey assembled therefore the Tentyrites and said:\n\n\u201c_You suffer the destructive animals to increase and multiply in peace.\nHear what we have to declare to you in the name of the Nile your\nfoster-father and your God. Woe be unto you, if you remain any longer in\nthis state of indolence! Arm without delay, and wage war against the\nmonsters that devour your wives and children._\n\n\u201cIt was the injunction of the Nile, and not to be disputed. The\nTentyrites took up arms, but it was with great disadvantage, and never\nwas advice more imprudent. The Crocodiles, invulnerable in almost all\nthe parts of their bodies, killed many more men than the men killed\nmonsters. The governours of Ombi used a different artifice to keep the\nOmbites from leaving their city.\n\n\u201c_Hearken_, (said they to them) _the God_ Nile _speaks to you by our\nmouth: I create plenty among the Ombites, I inrich their lands, I fatten\ntheir flocks; my waters flow and they grow rich. The Crocodile is my\nservant, and I permit him now and then to feed upon some of them; this\nis the only tribute I require for all my benefits: and, instead of\nrejoicing at having it in their power by a single act to render\nthemselves agreeable to me, they destroy one another, if my servant\nseizes a few children. Let them cease to complain, or I will cease to\nfeed them; I will with-hold my waters and all shall perish._\n\n\u201cThe moment the Ombites knew the Crocodile to be the favourite of the\nNile, they erected altars to him; and, far from complaining when he was\npleased to feed on their children, they gloried in it. _Is there a woman\nmore happy than I?_ (said an Ombite) _I enjoy a competent fortune, have\na loving husband, and three of my children have been eaten by the\nservant of our God Nile._\n\n\u201cIn the mean time, the favourite of the Nile was killed by the\nTentyrites and worshipped by the Ombites. Discord and animosity inflamed\nthem against one another; they went to war, which ended in the\ndestruction of both. Thus perished two cities, dupes of their sincerity,\ndevoured by the Crocodile, and butchered by each other. Let this example\nopen your eyes, O ye unfortunate inhabitants of this happy climate.\nCease to be victims of an irregular zeal: worship God, keep silence, and\nlive in peace.\u201d\n\nScarce had the old man done speaking, when a general murmur and menacing\nlooks showed him how little he had moved the assembly, so he withdrew\nwith a sigh. Immediately the battle was joined; and I turned away my\neyes that I might not behold these mad people destroy one another.\n\nI have a great deal more to show you, (says the Prefect) let us lay down\nthe mirrour and rod, and walk on.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n                              CHAP. XVII.\n                               THE STORM.\n\n\nSome paces from the noisy globe, the earth is hollowed, and there\nappears a descent of forty or fifty steps of turf; at the foot of which\nthere is a beaten subterraneous path. We went in; and my guide, after\nleading me through several dark turnings, brought me at last to the\nlight again.\n\nHe conducted me into a hall of a middling size, and not much adorned,\nwhere I was struck with a sight that raised my astonishment. I saw, out\nof a window, a sea which seemed to me to be about a quarter of a mile\ndistant. The air, full of clouds, transmitted only that pale light which\nforebodes a storm: the raging sea ran mountains high, and the shore was\nwhitened with the foam of the billows which broke on the beach.\n\nBy what miracle (said I to myself) has the air, serene a moment ago,\nbeen so suddenly obscured? By what miracle do I see the ocean in the\ncenter of Africa? Upon saying these words, I hastily ran to convince my\neyes of so improbable a thing. But in trying to put my head out of the\nwindow, I knocked it against something that felt like a wall. Stunned\nwith the blow, and still more with so many mysteries, I drew back a few\npaces.\n\nThy hurry (said the Prefect) occasions thy mistake. That window, that\nvast horizon, those thick clouds, that raging sea, are all but a\npicture.\n\nFrom one astonishment I fell into another: I drew near with fresh haste;\nmy eyes were still deceived, and my hand could hardly convince me that a\npicture should have caused such an illusion.\n\nThe elementary spirits (continued the Prefect) are not so able painters\nas naturalists; thou shalt judge by their way of working. Thou knowest\nthat the rays of light, reflected from different bodies, make a picture\nand paint the bodies upon all polished surfaces, on the retina of the\neye, for instance, on water, on glass. The elementary spirits have\nstudied to fix these transient images: they have composed a most subtile\nmatter, very viscous, and proper to harden and dry, by the help of which\na picture is made in the twinkle of an eye. They do over with this\nmatter a piece of canvas, and hold it before the objects they have a\nmind to paint. The first effect of the canvas is that of a mirrour;\nthere are seen upon it all the bodies far and near, whose image the\nlight can transmit. But what the glass cannot do, the canvas, by means\nof the viscous matter, retains the images. The mirrour shows the objects\nexactly, but keeps none; our canvases show them with the same exactness,\nand retains them all. This impression of the images is made the first\ninstant they are received on the canvas, which is immediately carried\naway into some dark place; an hour after, the subtile matter dries, and\nyou have a picture so much the more valuable, as it cannot be imitated\nby art nor damaged by time. We take, in their purest source, in the\nluminous bodies, the colours which painters extract from different\nmaterials, and which time never fails to alter. The justness of the\ndesign, the truth of the expression, the gradation of the shades, the\nstronger or weaker strokes, the rules of perspective, all these we leave\nto nature, who, with a sure and never-erring hand, draws upon our\ncanvases images which deceive the eye and make reason to doubt, whether,\nwhat are called real objects, are not phantoms which impose upon the\nsight, the hearing, the feeling, and all the senses at once.\n\nThe Prefect then entered into some physical discussions, first, on the\nnature of the glutinous substance which intercepted and retained the\nrays; secondly, upon the difficulties of preparing and using it;\nthirdly, upon the struggle between the rays of light and the dried\nsubstance; three problems, which I propose to the naturalists of our\ndays, and leave to their sagacity.\n\nMean while, I could not take off my eyes from the picture. A sensible\nspectator, who from the shore beholds a tempestuous sea, feels not more\nlively impressions: such images are equivalent to the things themselves.\n\nThe Prefect interrupted my extasy. I keep you too long (says he) upon\nthis storm, by which the elementary spirits designed to represent\nallegorically the troublesome state of this world, and mankind\u2019s stormy\npassage through the same: turn thy eyes, and behold what will feed thy\ncuriosity and increase thy admiration.\n\n\n\n\n                              CHAP. XVIII.\n                 THE GALLERY OR THE FORTUNE OF MANKIND.\n\n\nScarce had the Prefect said these words; when a folding-door opened on\nour right, and let us into an immense Gallery, where my wonder was\nturned into amazement.\n\nOn each side, above two hundred windows let in the light to such a\ndegree, that the eye could hardly bear its splendor. The spaces between\nthem were painted with that art, I have just been describing. Out of\neach window, was seen some part of the territory of the elementary\nspirits. In each picture, appeared woods, fields, seas, nations, armies,\nwhole regions; and all these objects were painted with such truth, that\nI was often forced to recollect myself, that I might not fall again into\nillusion. I could not tell, every moment, whether what I was viewing out\nof a window was not a painting, or what I was looking at in a picture\nwas not a reality.\n\nSurvey with thy eyes (said the Prefect) survey the most remarkable\nevents that have shaken the earth and decided the fate of men. Alass!\nwhat remains of all these powerful springs, of all these great exploits?\nthe most real signs of them are the traces they have left upon our\ncanvases in forming these pictures[3].\n\nThe most antient actions, whose lustre has preserved their memory, are\nthe actions of violence. Nimrod, the mighty hunter, after having worried\nthe wild beasts, attacks his fellow-creatures. See in the first picture\nthat gigantic man, the first of those heroes so renowned; see in his\nlooks pride, ambition, an ardent desire of rule. He framed the first\nscheme of a kingdom, and uniting men under the pretence of binding them\ntogether, he enslaved them.\n\nBelus, Ninus, Semiramis ascend the throne, which they strengthen by\nfresh acts of violence! and of above thirty kings who successively\nreigned, only one closed the wounds of mankind, let Asia take breath,\nand governed like a philosopher: his name is almost forgot. History,\nwhich glows at the sight of renowned and tragical events, languishes\nover peaceable reigns: and scarce mentions such sovereigns.\n\nSardanapalus ends this series of kings. Enemy to noise, disorder and\nwar, he mispends his time, shuts himself up in his palace, and sinks\ninto effeminacy. The women, thou seest about him, neither think nor\nexist but for him. His looks give them life, and he receives life from\ntheirs. What do I say? He seeks himself with astonishment and finds\nhimself not; a surfeit of pleasures destroys his taste: he does not\nlive, but languish.\n\nIn the mean time, two of his generals[4] loathing peace, form schemes of\nconquests, and feed, themselves with bloody projects. They deem\nthemselves alone worthy to reign, because they alone breathe war in the\nmidst of the publick tranquillity. See where they attack and dethrone\ntheir effeminate monarch: and forcing him to destroy himself, they seize\nand share his dominions. Thus the Assyrian empire was dismembered, after\nhaving kept Asia in continual alarms above twelve hundred years.\n\nKings succeeded both at Nineveh and at Babylon; and all became famous\nfor wars and ravages[5]. One of them laid Egypt waste, plundered\nPalestine, burnt Jerusalem, put out the eyes of a king whose children he\nhad murdered, drove from their country whole nations and put them in\nchains; and, after such expeditions, he ordered altars to be erected to\nhim, and worship to be paid him as to a beneficent God. See at the foot\nof his image, incense burning and nations lying prostrate; and admire\nhow far the pride and abjection of mortals extend[6].\n\nThe next picture represents the infancy of Cyrus, and the particular\nmoment wherein he gave signs of that intolerable haughtiness, considered\nby the historians as the first sallies of a greatness of soul, which to\ndisplay itself wants only great occasions. Cyrus, both by right of birth\nand right of conquest, united Assyria and Media to Persia, and was the\nfounder of the largest empire that ever existed.\n\nHis successors still think their bounds too narrow: they send into\nGreece, which was then signalized in Europe, armies infinitely numerous,\nthe which are destroyed: and the spirit of conquest had on that occasion\nthe fate which unhappily it has not always.\n\nThe Greeks, freed from these powerful enemies, turn their arms against\none another: they are animated by jealousy, inflamed by the warm and\ndangerous eloquence of their orators, and torn by civil wars. Persia\nfalls into the same convulsions. And when perhaps every thing was\ntending to peace, Alexander appears, and all are embroiled worse than\never.\n\nThis picture shows him in that tender age wherein he lamented his\nfather\u2019s conquests, and saw with grief human blood shed by wounds, he\nhad not made. Scarce was he on the throne when he carried desolation\ninto Greece, Persia and India. The world did not suffice for his\nmurdering progress, and his heart was still unsatisfied. That other\npicture represents his death. That destructive thunderbolt is at last\nextinguished, Alexander expires, and casting his dying eyes on the grand\nmonarchy he is going to leave, nothing seems to comfort him but the\nprospect of the bloody tragedies of which his death is to be the signal.\n\nOf all Alexander\u2019s dominions, those to whom they belonged of right, had\nthe least share. The empire was divided among his generals[7]. War was\nsoon kindled amongst them, continued among their descendants, and ruined\nall the countries of which they had the rule.\n\nAmong so many warlike kings, Ptolemy Philadelphus appeared like a lily\nraised by chance in a field of thorns. See in that immense library, the\nmonarch surrounded with old sages, who are giving him an account of the\nnumberless volumes which are before his eyes. He was too great a lover\nof mankind to disturb their tranquillity; and held them in such\nestimation, that he collected from all countries the productions of\ntheir wit[8]. These kinds of riches seemed to him alone worthy his care.\nHe saw them with the same eye that other kings behold those metals which\nthey search for in the bowels of the earth, or which they fetch from the\nextremities of the world through rivulets of blood.\n\nWhilst discord rages amongst Alexander\u2019s successors and their\ndescendants; already appeared in the center of Italy the first sparks of\nthe flame that was to spread over the universe and consume all nations.\nLike those bodies of a vast weight, which, not being in their just\nposition, swing themselves to and fro for some moments, and then fix\nthemselves immoveably; Rome, subject successively to kings, consuls,\ndecemvirs, military tribunes, settles a government and begins the\nconquest of the world.\n\nThis ambitious nation, direct at first their forces against their\nneighbours. In vain did the several Italian states struggle for five\nhundred years against the fate of Rome: one while in subjection, another\nwhile in rebellion: now conquerors, now conquered, they were all in the\nend forced to submit to the yoke.\n\nItaly subdued and calmed, that is, reduced to the state of those robust\nbodies, which by being exhausted fall into a consumption and weakness,\nthe Romans cross the seas, and go into Africa in search of fresh enemies\nand other spoils. Carthage as ambitious, perhaps as powerful, but more\nunfortunate than her rival, after a long and violent contest, is\novercome and destroyed. Corinth and Numantia share the same fate.\n\nAbout this time, Viriatus raised himself in the same manner as the\nRomans. In this picture, he is a huntsman; in that, a robber; in the\nthird, a general of an army; and in the fourth, he mounts the throne of\nLusitania. But he was only a victim crowned by fortune to be sacrificed\nto the ambition of the Romans[9].\n\nAsia is soon opened to these insatiable conquerors. The empire daily\nenlarges, and that enormous power over-runs all the known world.\n\nThe first passion of the Romans was glory. During seven centuries,\npatriotism, which policy cherished with so great success, directed the\nlove of glory in favour of the republic; and the Romans signalized\nthemselves no less by their attachment to their country, than by their\nwarlike exploits. This space was filled with a long train of heroes, and\nthose that followed, despairing to become famous in the same manner,\nsought to distinguish themselves by other methods. Rome was mistress of\nthe world; it appeared glorious to become master of Rome. Sylla, Marius,\nand some others, showed that such a project was not impracticable: C\u00e6sar\naccomplished it. That boasted conqueror, who was reproached with so many\nthings, effaced them all by his virtue: by his military virtue which\ndestroyed above a million of men, oppressed his fellow-citizens, and\nenslaved his country. In vain did the republic exert her utmost\nendeavours to save her expiring liberty; she was exhausted and stretched\nher hands to Augustus, who, from a bad citizen, became the best of\nmasters.\n\nRaised to the empire, he put an end to war, and soon gave mankind a\npeace the most universal, they had ever enjoyed. The elementary spirits\nhave given an idea of the pleasure of this general tranquillity, by the\nagreeable prospect of the landskips which are here represented.\n\nThis peace.... Pray (says I interrupting the Prefect) suspend a moment\nthe rapid recital of so many revolutions; give me leave to examine this\npicture, and a little time to calm the perturbation of my mind. How I\nlove to see that beautiful sky; those plains that lose themselves at a\ndistance; those pastures filled with flocks; those fields covered with\ncorn? The breath of war blows far from those climates the vertiginous\nspirit of heroism. This is indeed the seat of peace and tranquillity. My\nimagination carries me to those delightful vallies: I behold and\ncontemplate nature, whose labours nothing interrupts, producing on every\nside life and pleasure. My thoughts are composed and my spirits sedate\namidst the tranquillity that reigns in those places: my blood, grown\ncool, flows in my veins with the same gentle motion as the rivulets that\nwater those green turfs; and the passions now have on my mind only the\neffect of the zephyr, which seems to play gently among the branches of\nleafy trees.\n\n\n\n\n                               CHAP. XIX.\n                     THE OTHER SIDE OF THE GALLERY.\n\n\nThe Prefect soon resumed the thread of his discourse. The quickness,\nwherewith he ran over the Gallery, hardly gave me time to view the\nseveral pictures he was explaining. I had not seen him before nor did I\nafterwards see him speak with so much action. His face was inflamed, his\neyes darted fire, and his words were too slow for his eagerness.\n\nThe language, the manners, the laws of the Romans (said he) were spread\nover the world. The nations, conquered and settled, became members of\nthe empire; and all the known world made but one family. By what\nfatality was Augustus\u2019s peace, which seemed so unalterable, of so short\na duration? Mankind only breathed, and were soon inflicted with new\nwounds. When Rome had no more kingdoms to subdue, she had rebels to\nreduce. Several nations, thinking it a great happiness or a great glory\nto be parted from the body of the empire, rebelled in Europe, in Asia,\nin Africa: all were repressed. Thus most of the nations, formerly\nattacked and defeated, now the aggressors and reduced, continued to be\nhurled from one misfortune to another; and the following pictures, those\nwhich represent the more celebrated times of the first Emperors, will\nstill go on to present to thee spectacles of blood. The three reigns of\nTitus, Antoninus, and Marcus Aurelius, were three fine Days in a severe\nWinter.\n\nThose times, nevertheless, were times of peace, in comparison of those\nthat had gone before and those that came after. The empire was like a\nbody with a good constitution, but which however is attacked with some\ndisorders, and shews that it is not far from its decline.\n\nWhilst the Romans, at first to extend, then to support and sometimes to\ninrich themselves, kept the world in awe, pulled down what attempted to\nrise, and penetrated wherever they were allured by rich spoils; towards\nthe North, in those frozen climates where nature seems to reach only to\nexpire, there arose and increased, in the bosom of peace and silence,\nnations who were one day to humble the pride of the masters of the\nworld. Three centuries had not yet passed since Augustus\u2019s peace, when,\nin the reign of Valerianus, the deceitful hope of a more commodious and\nhappy life armed these unpolished people. See where they are coming out\nof their huts, tumultuously gathering together, marching in disorder,\nand showing the way to the hideous multitudes who followed one another\nfrom age to age.\n\nThese foreign enemies, coming when the empire was rent with internal\nrebellions, shook the Colossus. It withstood however, for some time, the\nweight which pulled it down, and one while ready to fall, and another\nwhile erect, it seemed sometimes to be going to stand firm again.\n\nAmong the emperors who signalized themselves against the Barbarians,\nProbus contributed the most to support the Majesty of the Roman name.\nValiant, but still more humane, he abhorred war and continually waged\nit. Dost thou observe, in the picture before thee, that bald old man,\nhis air of candor, his respectable countenance, the plainness of every\nthing about him? It is Probus represented in the moment when, beholding\nRome\u2019s enemies humbled, full of the idea of that general peace he always\ndesired, he said: \u201cyet a few days and the empire will have no farther\noccasion for soldiers.\u201d Words which rendered him worthy of the\nveneration of the whole earth, but which caused him to be murdered. Time\npassed, the efforts of the Barbarians redoubled, and blood continued to\nbe shed.\n\nMean while, the enemies of Rome grew warlike, and her defenders\ndegenerated. Of this the chief causes were pride, which increasing\nwants, forces the citizen to refer every thing to his private interest;\nthe folly of most of the emperors, which bred in the people a numbness\nwhich a few years confirm, and which whole ages cannot remove; perhaps\ntoo a weariness of the spirits; for that ambition, that haughtiness, or,\nif you please, that Roman grandeur, was in the course of things an\nexcessive effort, which, like an epidemical distemper come to its\nheight, must necessarily abate by degrees.\n\nHowever this may be, a century and half after their first invasions, the\nBarbarians began to make real progresses, and dismember the Western part\nof the empire. Amidst the troubles that then existed, some kingdoms were\nestablished which still remain to this day. Just as Earthquakes, which\nraising the sea drown whole regions, produce also new Islands amidst the\nwaves.\n\nSee the Goths, who after traversing sword in hand, part of Asia and all\nEurope, are settling in Spain: see the Angles, a people of Germany, who\nare passing into Great Britain, and, under pretence of aiding, are\nseizing it: see the Franks, other Germans, who are coming to free the\nGauls from the Roman yoke and making them to submit to theirs. In these\nunhappy times, Rome herself shares the same fate which she had made so\nmany cities undergo; she is plundered and sacked at several times[10].\n\nBut the next pictures present to thee, in a point of view still more\ndreadful, regions laid waste, fields bathed in blood, and cities in\nashes. These are the exploits of Attila and his rapid incursions in\nMacedonia, Mysia, Thrace, Italy, and almost through the whole world\nwhich he ravaged. So many desolations, proceeding from several\nconquerors, would have made so many heroes: coming from a single hand,\nthey form a terrible monster. It is thus that military virtues show\nthemselves in their true colours, and become horrible when they meet in\na center[11].\n\nDuring Attila\u2019s ravages, certain Italians flying from his fury, withdraw\nto the Adriatic sea-side. Behold in this picture the men pale, the women\ndishevelled, and the children in tears. Some hide themselves among the\nrocks; others dig themselves subterraneous retreats; some ascend the\nhills, and, as far as their eyes can reach, look whither the merciless\nconqueror, whose name alone makes them tremble, is still pursuing them\nto those desolate places, so little proper for the habitation of men. On\nevery side thou canst see nothing but destruction and horror: very soon\nhowever proud Venice is going to rise out of these melancholy ruins.\n\nShortly after, the last blow is given to the Western empire. Tyrannized\nby its rulers, rent by factions, weakened by continual losses, and\npressed by a fatal destiny, it shakes under some emperors, and falls\nunder Augustulus. Rome and Italy, successively a prey to two Barbarians,\nare afterwards united to the Eastern empire, from which by fresh\nmisfortunes they were soon after detached again.\n\nTwo centuries passed in cruel vicissitudes, when a new scourge, Mahomet,\narose in the East. He was deemed at first but as an impostor worthy of\ncontempt: but he had an understanding capable of the greatest things,\nand a boldness which carried him to the highest enterprizes. It was\nknown how far he was able to go, when his progress could no longer be\nopposed. He over-ran part of the East, and out of the ruins founded the\nkingdom of the Khalifs. The nations, he subdued by force of arms, he won\nby seduction; and, more fatal still to mankind than all the heroes whose\npernicious actions die with them, he sullied the human species with a\nstain which probably will never be effaced[12].\n\nIn the West, the misfortunes of the Romans are renewed. The Lombards\nwaste Italy, the Moors settle in Spain, from whence they threaten the\nFrench: new swarms of Barbarians are going to invade the finest\ncountries of Europe.\n\nAt this time, from the bosom of France arises a Prince full of genius,\nand of that military ardor which, in a calm, would have brought on a\nstorm; but which, finding the tempest formed, like an impetuous wind,\nblew it away: this was Charlemain. In this picture, he checks the\nSaracens; in that, he subdues Germany; moreover, he destroys in Italy\nthe power of the Lombards, founds the temporal authority of the Popes,\nand receives the crown of the Western empire.\n\nCharlemain\u2019s empire soon fell to pieces. The partitions of the princes,\nand the ambition of some chiefs, detach whole nations from it. Weak or\navaricious emperors give or sell liberty to others. The rest is under\nparticular lords: the sovereign scarce keeps the title and shadow of\nauthority.\n\nDost thou observe that battle? seest thou a numerous army defeated by\nfifteen hundred men? It is the \u00e6ra of the liberty of the Helvetic body.\nMembers of the empire, but oppressed by tyrants, the Swiss shake off the\nyoke and form a government, the wisdom of which cannot be too much\nadmired. Their commerce extends but to necessaries: they have soldiers\nonly for their defence, and these too are trained among other nations: a\nconstant peace reigns in the republic. Without covetousness, without\njealousy, without ambition, liberty and necessaries content them. They\nare a people that talk the least of philosophy, and are the most\nphilosophical.\n\nWhilst the new Western empire is rent, the Eastern is destroyed. Thou\nseest coming out of Asia the last swarm of Barbarians which were to fall\nupon Europe[13]. They advance: and, like huge masses which acquire more\nforce in proportion to the height they fall from, they crush\nConstantinople and seize the Eastern empire, which they still possess to\nthis day.\n\nSuch is the disastrous contexture of the compendious History of mankind:\nthe crowd of particulars is only a crowd of less noted calamities. The\ntotal of the nations, especially the European, is like a mass of\nquicksilver, which the lightest impression puts in motion, which the\nleast shake divides and subdivides, and of which chance unites again the\nparts in a thousand different manners. Who will find the means to fix\nthem?\n\n\n                       THE END OF THE FIRST PART.\n\n\n\n\n                               GIPHANTIA:\n\n                                PART II.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n                                LONDON,\n                      Printed in the Year MDCCLX.\n\n\n\n\n                                 TABLE\n                                 OF THE\n                               CHAPTERS.\n                                PART II.\n\n\n                                                    Page\n\n               CHAP. I. THE REPAST                   201\n\n               CHAP. II. THE KERNELS                 212\n\n               CHAP. III. ANTIENT LOVE               215\n\n               CHAP. IV. THE GRAFTS                  221\n\n               CHAP. V. VOLUPTAS                     228\n\n               CHAP. VI. PERPETUAL YOUTH             233\n\n               CHAP. VII. THE ITCHINGS               239\n\n               CHAP. VIII. THE COMPENSATIONS         249\n\n               CHAP. IX. NIL ADMIRARI                253\n\n               CHAP. X. THE FANTASTICAL TREE         259\n\n               CHAP. XI. THE PREDICTIONS             265\n\n               CHAP. XII. THE SYSTEM                 274\n\n               CHAP. XIII. EPISTLE TO THE EUROPEANS  292\n\n               CHAP. XIV. THE MAXIMS                 302\n\n               CHAP. XV. THE THERMOMETERS            306\n\n               CHAP. XVI. THE LENTILS                312\n\n               CHAP. XVII. THE SUBTERRANEOUS ROAD    318\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n                               GIPHANTIA.\n\n                            PART THE SECOND.\n\n\n\n\n                                CHAP. I.\n                              THE REPAST.\n\n\nMy zeal has carried me farther than I should have imagined, added the\nPrefect; it is time to think of what concerns thee. The air of Giphantia\nis lively and full of active corpuscles; it keeps up the spirits; and,\nin spite of the fatigues, thou hast endured in the desart, it does not\nsuffer thee to have the least sense of weariness, However, thou hast\nneed of a more solid food. I have ordered thee a Repast, and I will\nregale thee after the manner of the elementary spirits.\n\nWe went out of the gallery; and the Prefect conducted me to a grotto, of\nwhich the architecture was so strange, that I dare not venture to\ndescribe it. The whole furniture was a marble table and a cane-chair, on\nwhich he bid me sit down.\n\nWhatever I saw at Giphantia was extraordinary, the Repast to which I was\ninvited was not less so. Thirty salt-sellers filled with salts of\ndifferent colours, were placed on the table in a circle round a fruit,\nmuch like our melons. There was also a glass decanter full of water,\nround which other salt-sellers formed another circle.\n\nThese preparations were not very tempting; I never had less appetite.\nHowever, not to affront a host, to whom I was so much obliged, I tasted\nthe fruit that he offered me. The purest chymical earth purged of all\nforeign matter, would have more taste. I forced myself to swallow a few\nbits. I drank a glass of water: And I told the Prefect, that my strength\nwas more than sufficiently recruited, and if he pleased, we would\ncontinue to visit the rarities of Giphantia.\n\nThou hast had (said he) the complaisance to taste the fruit and the\nliquor, thou wilt farther oblige me to season them both. The salts which\nstand round them have, perhaps, more virtue than thou art aware of. I\ninvite thee to try.\n\nUpon these words, I viewed the salt-sellers more attentively, I saw that\neach had a label; and I read upon those that surrounded the insipid\nfruit, salt of woodcock, salt of quail, salt of wild-duck, salt of\ntrout, _&c._ Upon the others, I read, concrete juice of Rhenish, of\nChampagne, of Burgundy, of Usquebaugh, of oil of Venus, of Citron, _&c._\n\nHaving taken a small slice of the fruit, I spread upon it a grain of one\nof those salts; and putting it to my mouth I took it for the wing of an\nortolan. I looked upon the salt-seller from whence I had the salt, and\nsaw the word _ortolan_ on the label. Astonished at this ph\u00e6nomenon, I\nspread upon another slice salt of turbot, and I thought I was eating one\nof the finest turbots the channel ever produced. I tried the same\nexperiment upon the water; according to the salt I dissolved in it, I\ndrank wine of Beaune, of Nuis, of Chambertin, _&c._\n\nMy lord, (said I to the Prefect) you have shewn me the columns, the\nglobe, the mirrour, the pictures; I have admired the mechanism of these\nmasterpieces, and the wonderful skill of the elementary spirits; but\nnow, my admiration is turned to desire. Is a mortal allowed to enter\ninto the physical mysteries of the spirits? May I learn from you, this\ninvaluable secret of your saline powders.\n\nNow-a-days more than ever, (added I) men (especially the Babylonians)\nseek with eagerness whatever can please the senses; and one of the\nthings which raises the greatest emulation, is to have a table covered\nwith exquisite dainties. Their fore-fathers did not look upon a good\ncook as a _person divine_. The most simple preparations sufficed for\ntheir food: they thought no wines excelled those of their own country;\nand sometimes those good men made a little too free with them. The\nmodern Babylonians disgusted at this simplicity, and hating hard\ndrinking, have taken a different method. They are become sober, but of a\nsensual and ambitious sobriety, which, by unheard of extracts and\nmixtures, perpetually creates new tastes. They search in the smallest\nfibres of the animals for the purest substance, and, under the name of\nessences, they inclose in a little phial the produce of what would\nsuffice for the nourishment of the most numerous families. The most\nexquisite wines cannot satisfy their palate; they esteem nothing but\nwhat is owing to a violence done to the order of nature\u2019s productions.\nThey extract the most active spirit of wine, and thereto add all the\nspices of India: And, with such liquors, seeds of fire, collected from\nall the countries of the world, flow in their veins.\n\nYou see (continued I) that with the secret of your savoury\ncrystalizations, I should be able to satisfy the nicest palates, and\nplease the most curious lovers of variety. But what is much more\nimportant, these saline extracts, which are not prepared by the\npernicious arts of the distiller and cook, these extracts, I say, would\nnot spoil the stomach in pleasing the taste; high health would revive\namong us; the primitive constitutions would be restored by degrees; and\nmankind would resume a new youthful vigour; in all respects, a man might\nbe a glutton without danger, and, that is saying a great deal of a vice,\nwhich is become incorrigible.\n\nI was not refused: In less than half an hour, the Prefect taught me the\nwhole art; I actually resolve the savours, with the same ease that\nNewton did the colours. From all the fruits that go to decay, from all\nthe plants of no use, from even the herbs of the field, in a word, from\nall bodies whatever, I extract all their savoury parts; I analyze these\nparts; I reduce them to their primitive particles; and then uniting them\nagain in all imaginable proportions, I form saline powders, which give\nsuch a taste as is desired. I can inclose in a small snuff-box,\nwherewith to make in an instant a complete entertainment, courses,\nragouts, fricassees, deserts, coffee, tea, with all kinds of wine and\nother liquors. From a single bit, though ever so insipid, I produce at\npleasure the wing of a partridge, the thigh of a woodcock, the tongue of\na carp, _&c._ From a decanter of water, I draw Tomar, Ai, Muscadine,\nMalmsey, Chian wine, Lacryma Christi, and a thousand others.\n\nMy secret should have been publick before now; but all the advantages\naccruing from it do not remove a fear, which, as will be seen, is surely\nnot without foundation. I am apprehensive that certain gentlemen,\nincessantly busied to open new channels to convey to them the substance\nof the people, may lay their greedy hands upon my salt, and undertake to\ndistribute it, charged with some light tax. These light taxes are known\nalways to grow heavier, and end with crushing; much like those\nsnow-balls, which, rolling down from the top of the mountains, and soon\ngrowing immensely large, root up trees, throw down houses, and destroy\nthe fields. Let these gentlemen give in our newspapers, a positive\nassurance that they will never meddle with the management of my savours;\nthe next day, I will publish my secret, distribute my powders, and\nregale all Babylon.\n\nI think I know the world: these gentlemen, you will see, will keep\nsilence, and I my salt, and so nobody will be regaled.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n                               CHAP. II.\n                              THE KERNELS.\n\n\nMy dinner ended and my lesson learnt, we sate out again. Let us (said\nthe Prefect) take the benefit of this long shady walk, and go to the\ngrove at the end of it. By the way, I will explain some matters relating\nto what I am going to show thee.\n\nAdam had just been driven out of Paradise, (continued the Prefect:) The\ntree, from which the fatal apple was gathered, disappeared: Innocence,\neverlasting peace, unmixt pleasure vanished; and death covered the earth\nwith her mournful vail. Witnesses of Adam\u2019s sin and punishment, the\nelementary spirits remained in a consternation mixt with astonishment\nand fear. All was silent, like the dreadful calm, which, in a gloomy\nnight, succeeds the flashes of lightening.\n\nOne of our spirits perceiving on the ground the remains of the fatal\napple, hastily took them up, and found three Kernels: these were so many\ntreasures.\n\nThe forbidden tree, which was the cause of Man\u2019s misery, was to have\nbeen the cause of his happiness. It contained the shoots of the\nsciences, arts, and pleasures. The little, men know of these things, is\nnothing in comparison of what this mysterious tree would have disclosed\nin their favour. It was to vegetate, blossom, and bear seed for ever;\nand the least of these seeds would have been the source of more delights\nthan ever existed among the children of men.\n\nWe took great care of the three Kernels, which had escaped the total\nruin just then befallen mankind; this was not sufficient to repair their\nunhappy fate, but it helped to soften it. As soon as we were returned to\nGiphantia, we consulted upon what we could do in favour of mankind so\nterribly fallen. Most of the spirits took the office of governing the\nelements, and, as far as lay in their power, of directing their motions,\naccording to the wants of men. Those that remained at Giphantia, were\nentrusted with the sowing of the three Kernels, and carefully to mind\nwhat they produced.\n\n\n\n\n                               CHAP. III.\n                             ANTIENT LOVE.\n\n\nAs we were talking we entered into a pretty large grove, in the midst of\nwhich, I perceived a star formed by most beautiful shrubs. From every\npart of these shrubs there darted forth a luminous matter, whereon were\npainted all the colours of the rain-bow. Thus the sun, viewed through\nthe boughs of a thick tree, seems crowned with sparkling rays, on which\nshine the liveliest and most variegated colours.\n\nThe first Kernel taken from the fatal apple and committed to the ground,\n(said the Prefect of Giphantia) produced a shrub of the nature of those\nthou seest. Its leaves were like those of the myrtle. Its purple\nblossoms, speckled with white, were raised round their stalks in form of\npyramids. Its boughs were thick and interwoven with one another in a\nthousand different ways. It was the most beautiful tree, nature had ever\nproduced, therefore it was her most favorite object. A soft zephyr,\ngently moving its leaves, seemed to animate them; and never were they\nruffled by the impetuous north winds; never was the course of its sap\nobstructed by winter\u2019s frost, or its moisture exhausted by summer\u2019s\nscorching heats; an eternal spring reigned around it. This singular\ntree, was the Tree of Love.\n\nIt is well known what influence the extraneous particles of the air have\nupon us. Some accelerate or retard the motions of the blood, others dull\nor raise the spirits, sometimes they brighten the imagination, and\nsometimes they cloud it with the gloomy vapours of melancholy. Those\nthat were exhaled from the tree of Love, and dispersed over the earth,\nbrought the seeds of the most alluring pleasure. Till then, men, left to\na blind instinct, which inclined them to propagate their species, shared\nthat advantage (if it is one) with the rest of the animals. But, like a\nflower which opens to the first rays of the sun, their hearts soon\nyielded to the first impressions of love, and instinct gave place to\nsentiment.\n\nWith that passion they received a new life; the face of nature seemed\nchanged; every thing became ingaging; every thing touched them.\n\nThe other passions disappeared, or were, in respect of this, like brooks\nto a river in which they are going to be lost.\n\nSuperior to all events, love heightened pleasure, asswaged pain, and\ngave a charm to things the most indifferent. It enlivened the graces of\nyouth, alleviated the infirmities of age, and lasted as long as life.\n\nIts power was not confined to the creating a tender and unchangeable\nattachment to the object beloved; it inspired also a certain sentiment\nof sweetness, which was infused into all men, and united them together.\nSociety was then as an endless chain, each link was composed of two\nhearts joined by love.\n\nThe pleasure of others was a torment to none: Gloomy jealousy had not\npossessed the human heart, nor envy shed her venom there. Concord\nmultiplied pleasures: A man was not more pleased with his own, than with\nthe happiness of others.\n\nMankind was yet in infancy, and unacquainted with excesses. Adversity\ndid not depress them to annihilation, nor prosperity puff them up to the\nloss of their senses. Their wants were few, the arts had not increased\nthem. Frightful poverty appeared not among them, because they knew not\nriches; every one had necessaries, because none had superfluities. Utter\nstrangers to the ridiculousness of rank, they were not exalted with\ninsolence, nor did they servilely cringe; no man was low, because no man\nwas high. All was in order, and men were as happy as their state would\nadmit of. O nature! why dost thou not still enlighten us with those days\nof peace, harmony, and love!\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n                               CHAP. IV.\n                              THE GRAFTS.\n\n\nThe stinging nettle and wild briar increase and are renewed, (continued\nthe Prefect) the tree of Love had not that privilege. Its blossoms\nvanished without leaving a kernel, and its shoots planted in the ground\ndid not take root; they died and nature groaned.\n\nMean while, this only tree was going to decay; its sap withdrew from\nmost of the branches, and the faded leaves withered on their boughs.\n\nThe elementary spirits were sensible how valuable the treasure was, that\nthe sons of men were going to lose, and were under the deepest concern\nfor them. They studied therefore to find the means to fix love upon\nearth, and imagined they had succeeded.\n\nThey took from the languishing and exhausted tree, its best shoots and\ngrafted them upon different stocks. This precaution saved love, but at\nthe same time, altered its nature. Nourished by an extraneous sap, these\nshoots and their emanations quickly degenerated: So the exotic plants\nwhich grow in our gardens by the assiduous care of the gardiner, change\ntheir nature, and lose almost all their virtues.\n\nLove then existed among men; but what love? It sprung from caprice, was\nattached without choice, and vanished with levity: It became such as it\nis at this day amongst you. It is no longer that common band which\nunited mankind, and rendered them happy; it is on the contrary, an\ninexhaustible fountain of discord. Formerly, it was stronger alone than\nall the passions together; it was subject only to reason: Now, it is\novercome by the weakest passion, and hearkens to any thing but reason.\n\nTo say the truth; it is no longer Love: Phantoms have taken its place,\nand receive the homage of men. One in the highest ranks only finds\nobjects worthy his vows; he thinks it love, it is only ambition. Another\nfixes his heart where fortune is lavish of her gifts, he imagines, love\ndirects him, but it is thirst of riches. Another flies from where\ndelicateness of sentiments calls for his care and regard, and runs where\nan easy object hardly gives him time to desire. What is the ground of\nhis haste? a depraved appetite for pleasure. Of pure, sincere, and\nunmixt love there is none left; the grafts are quite spoiled.\n\nAt Babylon, degenerated love varied with the fashions, the manners, and\nevery thing else. At first it gave into the Romantick: This was in the\ndays of our good Knights Errant. It was all fire, transport, extasy. The\neye of the fair was a sun, the heart of the lover was a volcano, and the\nrest of the same stamp.\n\nIn time, it was found, that all this was departing a little from nature;\nin order therefore, to make it more natural, love was dressed like a\nshepherd with a flock and pipe; and spoke the language of a swain. In\nthe heart of his noisy and tumultuous city, a Babylonian sung the\nrefreshing coolness of the groves, invited his mistress to drive her\nflock thither, and offered to guard it against the wolves.\n\nThe pastoral language being drained, the sentiment was refined, and the\nheart analysed. Never had love appeared so subtilised. To make a\ntolerable compliment to a girl beloved, a man must have been a pretty\ngood metaphysician.\n\nThe Babylonians, weary of thinking so deeply, from the height of these\nsublime metaphysicks fell into free speeches, double-meanings, and\nwanton stories. Their behaviour was agreeable to their talk; and love,\nafter having been a valiant knight-errant, a whining shepherd and a\nsublime metaphysician, is at last grown a libertine. It will soon become\na debauchee, if it is not so already; after which, nothing remains but\nto turn religious; and this is what I expect.\n\nMoreover, the Babylonians flatter themselves with being a people the\nmost respectful to the ladies, and boast of having it from their\nancestors. In this respect, as in all others, two things must be\ndistinguished at Babylon, the appearance and the reality. In appearance,\nno place where women are more honoured; in reality, no place where they\nare less esteemed. Outwardly, nothing but homages, inwardly, nothing but\ncontempt. It is even a principle at Babylon, that the men cannot have,\nin an assembly, too much respect for the sex, nor, in private too\nlittle.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n                                CHAP. V.\n                         VOLUPTAS or PLEASURE.\n\n\nWe came out of the grove. Men (said I to the Prefect) are highly\nindebted to you for preserving love, degenerated as it is. If you did\nbut know what a void there is among them now-a-days! Their amusements\nare so few, that the least of all must be to them very valuable. Love no\nlonger makes their happiness; but it diverts them at least. What would\nthe Babylonians do, if love did not put in motion all those walking\nstatues, which you see so busy about the women? They sigh, they\ncomplain, they request, they press, they obtain, they are happy or\ndupes; it is just the same thing: But time passes, and that is enough\nfor the Babylonians.\n\n\u201cIn the beginning (continued the Prefect) nature, ever attentive to the\nwelfare of men, begot Voluptas. She was an unadorned native beauty, but\nfull of those charms which characterises whatever comes out of the hands\nof the common parent of all Beings. Nature gave her a golden cup, and\nsaid: Go among men; draw pleasure out of my works; present it without\ndistinction to all mortals; quench their thirst, but make them not\ndrunk.\u201d\n\nVoluptas appeared upon earth. Men flocked together in crowds; all drank\nlargely of her cup; all quenched their thirst, none were intoxicated.\nVoluptas made herself desired, presented herself seasonably, and was\nalways received with joy. As she offered herself with restriction, she\nwas always cherished and never cloyed. Men, not being enervated by\nexcess, preserved to a very advanced age, all their organs in vigor;\ntheir taste remained; and old age still drank of Voluptas\u2019s cup.\n\nNature has a rival, called Art, who, incessantly employed in rendering\nhimself useful or agreeable to society, strives to supply what nature\ncannot or will not do for men. He resumes nature\u2019s works, retouches\nthem, sometimes embellishes, often disguises and degrades them.\n\nArt failed not to observe the conduct of Voluptas, and to refine\nwhatever she offered to mankind. He could not bear an interval between\npleasures, and would have them succeed one another without intermission.\nHe ransacked all the countries of the world, united all the objects of\nsensuality, and multiplied a thousand ways the pleasures of sense. Men,\nsurrounded with so many alluring objects, thought themselves happy, and\nin their intoxication, said: _Without Art, Nature is nothing_. But very\nsoon their senses were cloyed; satiety bred disgust, and disgust made\nthem indifferent to all kinds of pleasure. Neither Art nor Nature could\naffect them to any degree. From that time, they have hardly been able to\namuse or divert themselves. Voluptas has no longer any charms for them.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n                               CHAP. VI.\n                            PERPETUAL YOUTH.\n\n\nThere is no place (continued the Prefect) where these dissipations,\nsupposed to supply the room of pure pleasure, are more necessary than at\nBabylon; so there is no place where they are more frequent.\n\nThe Babylonians are known not to be made for much thinking, and, for\ngood reason, it is not desired they should think. A wise policy has\nalways proposed to keep as many employed as possible, and to amuse the\nrest.\n\nFor these last it is, that the arts of amusement are incouraged, that\npublick walks are kept up at a great charge, that spectacles of all\nkinds are exhibited, and so many places tolerated, where gaming,\ndrinking, and licentiousness serve for food to these heedless men, who,\nwithout these avocations, would not fail to disturb the society.\n\nThese various avocations fill up the moments of life to such a degree,\nthat there is no time for recollection, and for counting the years that\ninsensibly fly away. A man declines, decays, is bent under the load of\nyears, and he has not once thought of it.\n\nRather let us say, there is no old-age at Babylon, for men of this kind:\nA perpetual Youth runs through their life; the same agitations in the\nheart, the same dullness in the soul, and the same void in the mind.\nYouths of twenty-five and of sixty, march with an equal pace to the same\nend. The desires, eagernesses, sallies, excesses are the same. All\nforgetful of themselves, still go on; and death alone is capable to stop\nthe career of these decrepid youths.\n\nIt is remarkable, that one day, one of those young old men, bethought\nhimself to make reflections. \u201cWhen a man (said he) is come, like me, to\na certain age, he does not fully live, he dies by degrees, and he ought\nsuccessively to renounce whatever does not suit his state. There are\nthings that become nobody, which however are connived at in youth; but\nwhich make an old man ridiculous. What business have I now with this\ncostly furniture, these splendid equipages, with this table served with\nso much profusion? Am I excusable for keeping a mistress, whose\nluxuriousness will not fail to ruin me in the end? does it become me to\nappear still in those places, where licentiousness carries inconsiderate\nyouth? I will forsake a world for which I am no longer fit, and will\nembrace that peaceful and retired life to which my declining age invites\nme. What I shall retrench from my expences, I will give to my nephew,\nwho is coming; into the world, and should set out with some figure.\nSince I am dying by degrees, so by degrees he ought to inherit.\u201d\n\nThis resolution being taken and well taken, a friend of his comes to\nvisit him, sees him thoughtful, asks the reason and learns his design.\n\u201cWhat, (says he to him) have you not still spirit enough to withstand\nreason? She knocks, and it is going to be opened! what do you mean?\nReason may be of use to a young man, to curb the fury of his passions;\nbut must be fatal to an old one, in totally extinguishing the little\nrelish he has left for pleasures. What a fine sight will it be, to see\nPlutarch\u2019s morals, Nicole\u2019s essays, and Pascal\u2019s thoughts lodged in thy\nbrain, close by Bocace\u2019s novels, La Fontaine\u2019s tales, and Rousseau\u2019s\nepigrams! Believe me: Reason is good only for those, who have cultivated\nit long ago; heads made like ours cannot suit it. Our maxims and\nreason\u2019s are too contradictory; and instead of regulating, it would\nthrow all into disorder and confusion.\u201d\n\n\u201cBut (replied our new convert) dost thou know what thou art doing with\nthy extraordinary eloquence? never was so much reason used to prove,\nthat we must act against reason. Come, let us go, my dear marquis, a\nfree supper waits us at the ... where the nymph, thou knowest, will\ncompleat my conviction: From thence we will go to the ball. Tomorrow,\nchampagne at your cousin the countess\u2019s, and lansquenet, at our friend\nthe President\u2019s.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n                               CHAP. VII.\n                             THE ITCHINGS.\n\n\nWe walked toward the south. On this side, Giphantia ends in a point, and\nforms a little promontory, from whence there is a large prospect. This\npromontory is covered all over with a plant, whose boughs descend and\ncreep every way. This is the production of the second Kernel. The plant\nnever bears either leaves or blossoms, or fruit: It is formed by an\ninfinite number of very thin small fibres, which branch out of one\nanother.\n\nView carefully the fibres (says the Prefect to me.) Dost thou see at\ntheir extremity, little longish bodies, which move so briskly? They are\nsmall maggots, which this plant breeds; whether vegetation, carried\nbeyond its usual bounds, produces them; or whether there comes at the\nextremity of the fibres, a sort of corruption, by which they are\nengendered. In time, these maggots waste away so as to become invisible:\nBut withal they get wings, and growing flies, they disperse themselves\nover the earth. There, they stick fast to men, and cease not to infest\nthem with a sting given them by nature. And as the tarantula, with the\npoison which she leaves in the wound she has made, inspires an\nimmoderate desire to leap and dance, just so these small insects cause,\naccording to their different kinds, different Itchings. Such are the\nitch of talking, the itch of writing, the itch of knowing, the itch of\nshining, the itch of being known, with a hundred others. Hence, all the\nmotions, men put themselves into, all the efforts they make, all the\npassions that stir them.\n\nThe sensation they feel on these occasions, is so manifestly such as we\nare describing, that when any one is seen in an uncommon agitation of\nbody or mind, it is very usual to say, _What fly stings? what maggot\nbites?_ Though nothing can be seen, it is perceived that the cause of so\nmany motions is a stinging: A man often finds it by experience, and\nknows what it is owing to.\n\nWhen once men are troubled with these restless prickings, they cannot be\nquiet. He, for instance, that is stung with the itch of talking, is\ncontinually discoursing with every body, correcting those that do not\nneed it, informing those that know more than himself. His visage opens,\nlengthens, and shortens at pleasure: He laughs with those that laugh,\nweeps with those that weep, without sharing the joy of the one, or the\ngrief of the other. If by chance he gives you room to say any thing,\nspeak fast and stop not; for, in an instant, he would begin again, and\ntake care not to be interrupted. Never does he lend an ear to any one;\nand even when he seems to hold his tongue, he is still muttering to\nhimself. He despises nothing so much as those silent animals, who hear\nlittle and speak still less; and he thinks no men more worthy of envy\nthan those, who have the talent of drawing a circle of admirers, of\nraising the voice in the midst of them, and of saying nothings\nincessantly applauded.\n\nSometimes the itch of talking is turned into the itch of writing; which\ncomes to the same thing; for writing, is talking to the whole world.\nThen those torrents of words, which flow from the mouth, change their\ncourse and flow from the pen ... what numbers of bablers in these silent\nlibraries! Oh how must those who have ears, and run over these immense\ncollections, be stunned with what they hear! They are like great fairs,\nwhere each author cries up his wares to the utmost of his power, and\nspares nothing to promote the sale. Come (says an Antient) come and\nlearn of me to practice virtue and become happy; come and draw from\nthese pure fountains, whose streams are polluted by the corruption of\nmen.... Come rather to me (cries a Modern) time and observation have\nopened our eyes; we see things, and only want to show them to you....\nMind them not (says a Romancer) seek not truth there; truth still lies\nin the bottom of Democritus\u2019s well. Come therefore to me for amusement,\nand I will help you to it. Come and read the life and exploits of the\nduke of * * * *, the model of the court; he never attacked a girl\nwithout debauching her; he has embroiled above fifty families, and\nthrown whole towns into confusion: He must, it is plain, be one of the\nmost accomplished men of the age.... I have things to offer you, much\nmore interesting than all this, (says a Versifier) I have the prettiest\nodes and finest songs in the world, little soft verses, nosegays for\nIris, and a complete collection of all the riddles and symbolical\nletters, which for these ten years have puzzled the sagacity of the\nstrongest heads in Babylon.... Away with those trifles (says a Tragic\nPoet) and come to me: I manage the passions as I please: I will force\ntears from your eyes, transport you out of your senses, and make your\nhair stand an end.... That is very kind indeed, (says a Comic Poet) but\nI believe, it will be better to come to me, who will make you laugh at\nall others and even at yourselves. I pity you all, (says a Man-hater)\nburn me all those books there and mine too; and let there be no mention\nof learning, arts, sciences, and the like wretched things; for it is I\nthat tell you, as long as you have any reason, you shall have neither\nwisdom, nor conduct, nor happiness.\n\nI say nothing of the itch of knowledge, which should always precede that\nof writing, and which commonly follows it at a good distance, and often\nnever comes at all.\n\nAt Babylon, the itch of being singular, is like an epidemical disease.\nIt is pretty well known wherein the Babylonians are alike, but it would\nbe the work of an age, to say wherein they differ. Every one\ndistinguishes himself by some remarkable stroke. Hence comes the mode of\nportraits, and the facility of drawing them. Draw them by fancy, you are\nsure they will meet with a likeness; draw them after nature, you will\nnever fail of originals. There are some for the pulpit, for the use of\nthe orators who want grace, there are some for the theatre, for the use\nof poets who want genius, there are some for writings of all kinds, for\nthe use of the authors who want ideas.\n\nThe most troublesome of all the itches produced by these insects, is the\nitch of being known. Thou canst not conceive, what efforts are made by\nall the men stung with this itch. I say all the men; for, who has not a\nview to reputation and fame? The Artisan shows his work, the Gamester\nhis calculations, the Poet his images, the Orator his grand strokes, the\nScholar his discoveries, the General his campaigns, the Minister his\nschemes. And even he that sees the nothingness of this chim\u00e6ra, still\ncontemplates its charms, and sighs after it: Just so a lover, with a\ntroubled heart, strives to abandon a faithless mistress, from whom he\ncannot bear to part. What designs, what efforts of imagination to make\none\u2019s self talked of! how many things attempted and dropt! what hopes,\nfears, cares, and follies of every kind!\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n                              CHAP. VIII.\n                             COMPENSATIONS.\n\n\nWhat you tell me (says I) is very extraordinary. But I cannot see why\nthe elementary spirits raise and cultivate this plant with so great\ncare. They who wish us so much good, in this respect do us very little.\nTo behold men, stung to the quick, acting like madmen, losing their\nsenses for chimeras, is a thing, in my opinion, deserving pity; but\nperhaps it may be an amusement to the elementary spirits.\n\nLike many others (replied the Prefect) thou judgest and seest things but\nin one view. The itches have their inconveniences; but that is nothing\nin comparison of their advantages. Without the itch of talking and\nwriting, would eloquence be known? Would the sciences have been\ntransmitted and improved from generation to generation? Would not you be\nlike so many untaught children, without ideas, without knowledge,\nwithout principles? Was it not for the itch of being known, who would\ntake the pains to amuse you, to instruct you, to be useful to you by the\nmost interesting discoveries? Without the itch of ruling, who would busy\nthemselves in unravelling the chaos of the laws, in hearing and judging\nyour quarrels, in watching for your safety? Without the itch of shining,\nin what kingdom would policy find a vent for those respectable\nknick-knacks wherewith she adorns those she is pleased to distinguish?\nAnd yet, this kind of nothings are, for the good of the state, to be\nacquired at the price even of blood. Thanks to our flies, there are some\nmad enough to sacrifice all for their sake, and others fools enough to\nbehold them with veneration.\n\nTake away our insects, and men stand stupidly ranged by one another,\nlike so many statues; let our insects fly, and these statues receive new\nlife, and are as busy as bees. One sings, another dances, this reads his\nverses and falls into an extasy, that hears him and is tired: The\nChymist is at his furnace, the Speculatist in his study, the Merchant at\nsea, the Astronomer discovers a new satellite, the Physician a new\nmedicine, the soldier a new man\u0153uvre; in fine, the statues are men; and\nall this is owing to this plant and our care.\n\nI beg (said I to the Prefect) we may stand at a distance from this\nadmirable plant; I dread more than I can express, the neighbourhood of\nthese volatiles. I rejoice much to see them authors of so many benefits;\nbut I fear still more, the uneasiness they create.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n                               CHAP. IX.\n                             NIL ADMIRARI.\n\n\nYour fearfulness, (says the Prefect) surprises me. Tell me, I pray, what\nidea hast thou of what is called grandeur, dignities, and high rank in a\nstate?\n\nI am in this world (answered I) like a traveller, who goes on his way\ncuriously observing the objects, but desiring none, because he is but a\npassenger. Moreover, if things are estimated according to the happiness\nthey procure, I do not think that the highest places should be much\nvalued; for, I see, they make no man happy, and are a misfortune to\nmany.\n\nWhat of riches? added the Prefect.\n\nPleasure (said I) is like a very rare commodity, which, however, every\none would fain purchase. Among those that succeed, the rich buy it very\ndear, it comes cheap to the rest: One may as well be among the last as\nthe first. Of the few pleasures that exist, the lower class enjoy as\nlarge a share as the highest.\n\nWhat of wit, genius, talents? says the Prefect.\n\nOne half of the world, replied I, study to amuse the other. The first\nclass is formed of men of talents; whose brains are wound up by nature\nhigher than ordinary. They are incessantly striving to please: If they\nfail, they waste away with grief; if they succeed, it is never fully,\nand a single censure creates them more pain than all the encomiums\ntogether give them pleasure. It is, therefore, better to be of the\nsecond class, I mean among those who are amused by the others.\n\nAs far as I see, said the Prefect, the aspect of the great and their\npomp, of the scholar and his extensive genius, of the rich and his vast\npossessions, makes little or no impression on thy mind.\n\nI confess, replied I, that no man was ever less dazzled with all this\nthan myself. Wrapt in a certain coolness of sense, I am guarded against\nall strong impressions. I behold with the same eye the ignorant who know\nnothing, and the learned who know all, except truth; the protector who\nplans, though he knows his weakness, and the protected who cringes,\nthough he perceives his superiority; the peasant that is disgusted with\nthe simplicity of his diet, and the rich sensual, who with thirty\nniceties, can hardly make a dinner; the duchess, loaded with diamonds,\nand the shepherdess decked with flowers; vanity, which dwells in the\ncottage as well as in the palace, and upholds the low as well as the\nhigh; care, which sits on the throne by the king, or follows the\nphilosopher in his retirement. All the parts on the stage of this world,\nseem to me one no better than another: but I do not desire to act any. I\nwould observe all and be taken up with nothing. Hence it is, that I\ndreaded the neighbourhood of these restless flies....\n\nAnd hence it is precisely, interrupted the Prefect, that thou hadst\nnothing to fear from them. Thou admirest nothing; it is sufficient: The\nflies can take no hold of thee. The first impression they must make, is\nthe impression of surprise and admiration; if they make not that, they\nmiss their aim. But the moment admiration is admitted, a crowd of\npassions quickly follow. For, in the object of wonder, great hurt or\ngreat good is expected. Hence Love or Aversion, and all their\nattendants; restless Desire which never sleeps; Joy, which embraces and\ndevours its objects; Melancholy, which, at a distance, and with weeping\neyes, contemplates and calls for what it dreads: Confidence, which walks\nwith head erect, and often meets a fall; Despair, which is preceded by\nfear and followed by madness, and a thousand others. If thou wilt rest\nsecure from their attacks, cherish thy coolness of sense, and never lose\nsight of the grand principle,\n\n                             NIL ADMIRARI.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n                                CHAP. X.\n                         THE FANTASTICAL TREE.\n\n\nAfter having walked some time by the side of a rivulet, we came into a\nbeautiful and spacious meadow. It was enamelled with a thousand sorts of\nflowers, whose various colours were, at a distance, blended together and\nformed shining carpets, such as art has never woven. The meadow was\nbounded by a piece of rock, like a wall; against which grew a tree, like\nan espalier. It did not rise above a man\u2019s height, but spread itself to\nthe right and left, the length of the rock, above three hundred paces.\nIts leaves were very thin and very narrow, but in such abundance, that\nit was not possible to see the least part, either of the trunk or of the\nbranches, or of the surface of the rock.\n\nThou seest, said the Prefect, the product of the third and last Kernel;\nwe give it the name of the Fantastical Tree.\n\nFrom this precious tree it is, that inventions, discoveries, arts and\nsciences take their original; and that by a mechanism, which will\nsurprise thee.\n\nThou knowest that the fibres of the leaves of a tree, are ranged\nuniformly on each of them; to see one, is to see all the rest. Here,\nthis uniformity has no place; each leaf has its fibres ranged in a\nparticular manner; there are not two alike in the Fantastical Tree. But,\nwhat is most wonderful, the fibres, on each leaf, are ranged with\nsymmetry, and represent distinctly a thousand sorts of objects; one\nwhile a colonnade, an obelisk, a decoration; another while mechanical\ninstruments; here, geometrical diagrams, algebraical problems,\nastronomical systems; there, physical machines, chymical instruments,\nplans of all kinds of works, verse, prose, conversation, history,\nromances, songs, and the like.\n\nThese leaves do not fade. When come to perfection they grow by degrees\nprodigiously small, and roll themselves up in a thousand folds. In this\nstate, they are so light, that the wind blows them away; and so small,\nthat they enter through the pores of the skin. Once admitted into the\nblood, they circulate with the humours, and generally stop at the brain,\nwhere they cause a singular malady, the progress of which is thus:\n\nWhen one of the leaves is settled in the brain, it is imbibed, dilated,\nopened, becomes such as it was on the Fantastical Tree, and presents to\nthe mind the images wherewith it is covered. During the operation, the\npatient appears with his eyes fixed, and a pensive air. He seems to hear\nand see what passes about him, but his thoughts are otherways employed.\nHe walks sometimes at a great rate, and sometimes stands stock-still. He\nrubs his forehead, stamps with his foot, and bites his nails. They who\nhave seen a geometrician upon the solution of a problem, or a naturalist\non the first glimpse of a physical explication, must have observed these\nsymptoms.\n\nThis violent state proceeds from the efforts of the soul, to discern\nwhat is traced on the leaf; it holds longer or shorter, according as the\nleaf takes up more or less time in displaying, and aptly presenting\nitself.\n\nThe abatement of the malady appears by light emanations from the brain,\nsuch as some ideas suddenly conceived, some designs hastily thrown upon\npaper, some scheme sketched in a hurry. The soul begins to discern the\nobjects, and contemplate at leisure the Fantastical leaf.\n\nThese last symptoms declare an approaching crisis, which quickly shows\nitself in a general evacuation of all that has been transmitted to the\nbrain. Then verses flow, difficulties are cleared, problems are\nresolved, phenomena are explained, dissertations are multiplied,\nchapters are heaped upon chapters; and the whole takes the form of a\nbook, and the patient is cured. Of all the accidents which afflicted\nhim, there only remains an immoderate affection for the offspring of his\nbrain, of which he was delivered with so much pain.\n\n\n\n\n                               CHAP. XI.\n                              PREDICTIONS.\n\n\nBehold, added the Prefect, showing me the extent of the Fantastical\nTree, behold leaves for a century of designs, of discoveries, and of\nwritings. Thou mayest examine at thy leisure what, during that space,\nwill torment above a million of heads.\n\nI drew near, and attentively viewed a good while the wonderful tree,\nespecially those branches on which the sciences vegetated; and after\nhaving examined it to the last boughs with all the attention and\nexactness I am capable of, I think myself qualified to make here some\nPredictions.\n\nThe historical branch has an admirable effect; all the events are\npainted like a camayeu[14], as by the hand of the greatest masters. So\nmany leaves, so many little pictures. What will most surprise, is, that\nthese pictures, seen in different points of view, represent the same\nsubject, but represent it very variously: And, according to the manner\nof beholding it, the same action appears courageous or rash, zealous or\nfanatical, rational or silly, proud or magnanimous. So, according to the\npoint of view, wherein these leaves present themselves to the brain of\nan historian, he will see things in a good or bad light, and will write\naccordingly. I would not have such works entitled, _The history of what\npassed in such a time_, but rather, _The manner in which such an author\nsaw what passed_. Moreover this branch is plentifully furnished, and\nshould be so. As long as there are men, there will be ambition,\ntraitors, disturbers of the publick peace, merit will be forgotten and\nthe worthless preferred, virtue will be oppressed, vice will be\ntriumphant, countries will be ravaged, cities will be sacked, and\nthrones will be dyed in blood; and these are the food of history;\nexcellent school, for youth to learn lessons of humanity, candor, and\nsincerity!\n\nThe metaphysical branch is almost equally furnished: But its leaves are\nvery thin, and their fibres so excessively small, that they are hardly\nperceivable. I greatly pity the brains where they will settle. I see but\none way to give them ease: And that is, to treat the most thorny\nquestions after the modern manner; I mean to supply the want of clear\nideas and deep reflections, by bold and confident assertions, which may\nserve to impose.\n\nThe moral branch droops, and receives scarce any sap; its withered\nleaves declare an approaching decay; alas! it is dying. The plans on it\nare quite effaced. This is too visible from the works that are published\nof this kind. The ideas of good and evil are confounded; virtue is so\ndisguised as hardly to be known, nor is it easy to discern what is to be\ncalled vice. And yet, the whole is not said. There remains many\narguments to be published against the obsolete notion of justice; many\njests to be passed upon those who still talk of probity in the old\nfashioned stile; many fresh proofs to demonstrate, that national,\nprivate, and especially personal interest, should be the sole rule of\nconduct. At these so fine lessons, the Babylonians will clap their hands\nand cry: \u201cIn truth, all the world was blind; and men did not see clearly\ntill this present time.\u201d\n\nThe poetical branch is in a very bad state; there are only a few boughs\nleft, among others, the dramatic bough, and that so very weak, it can\nhardly support itself. There will appear from time to time at Babylon\nsome tragic poets, but no comic. I suspect the reason. Formerly the\nBabylonians were only ridiculous; they were brought upon the stage and\npeople laughed: Now, they are almost all vicious, but vicious upon\nprinciple; and such objects by no means raise laughter. The manners\nbegin to be no longer theatrical.\n\nThe panegyrical branch is very considerable, and bends under its load.\nThere will be panegyricks applicable to a great man from whom some\nfavour is expected; to an author who having flattered, receives homage\nfor homage; to another, who is flattered, in order that he may flatter\nagain. There will be some commercial ones, which will be sold, to one\nfor his protection, to another for his table, to a third for his money.\nThere will be also some, and in great plenty for those, who beg them:\nBut there will be hardly any for those that deserve them the most.\n\nWith good-sense alone, and the simplest notions which a bough of the\nphilosophical branch furnishes, and which teach to estimate the things\nof this life according to their value, there will be formed, among the\npeople, a number of practical philosophers; whilst, among the men of\nletters, all the penetration imaginable, all the knowledge they think\nthey have, all the wit in the world will form only imperfect\nphilosophers. They will avoid praises, but so as to attain them by some\nround-about way. They will profess the most ardent zeal for all the\ncitizens, nay, for all men in general; but they will care only for\nthemselves. They will decide upon the most complicated, the most\nobscure, the most important questions, with an astonishing confidence;\nbut in deciding everything they will clear up nothing. They will wear\noutwardly the most reserved modesty; inwardly they will be eaten up by\nambition. Now, shall we call such persons philosophers? It is thus that\nwe give the name of stars to those meteors, which kindle sometimes in\nthe upper region of the air, make a blaze, and instantly vanish.\n\nIn general, I thought, I saw upon a great number of leaves, things\nentirely contradictory. The century will slide away, and the sentiments\nupon the same objects will not be reconciled. According to custom, each\nwill speak his opinion, and attack the rest. Disputes will arise; and\nthe most bitter ironies, the strongest invectives, the most cutting\nrailleries, nothing will be spared to raise the laughter of the crowd,\nand the pity of the wise.\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n                               CHAP. XII.\n                              THE SYSTEM.\n\n\nOf an infinite number of plans of different works, that I saw drawn on\nthe leaves of the Fantastical Tree, I remember three. In the first, the\npoint in question is very abstract, but treated in so singular a manner,\nthat perhaps it will not be disagreeable to give here a slight sketch of\nit.\n\n\u201cWhen I have examined matter, it has appeared to me, that it could not\nthink, and I have readily admitted Beings purely spiritual. It is true,\nthe least ideas of such substances have never been formed. This proves\nthe sagacity of man does not reach very far: But does it prove there is\nnothing beyond?\n\n\u201cWhen I have considered the animals, I have not been able to help\nthinking them intelligent, and that so much ingenuity was not without\nsome understanding. They are, therefore, said I, provided with a\nspiritual substance. But what! these insects, these worms, these\nmicroscopical animals, who increase without number in the shortest\nspace, have they each a spiritual, that is to say, an unchangeable,\nimmortal soul? I do not imagine, any such thought ever entered into a\nsound head.\n\n\u201cThen calling to mind that intelligent Being diffused through the whole\nearth, and perhaps farther, that immense spirit of whom some antient\nphilosophers have talked, under the name of the universal soul; I have\nthought that, without multiplying infinitely spiritual substances, that\nsoul was very proper to supply their place, and alone sufficient to give\nlife to all the animals. I have therefore embraced the opinion of the\nantients, but with one restriction.\n\n\u201cThey were persuaded that every thinking organized Being, is animated by\na particle of the universal soul; That cannot be. If this soul is\ncapable of perceptions, it is spiritual, and indivisible, and if it is\nindivisible, it cannot separate from itself any part to go and animate\nany Being whatever. If this spirit informs different bodies, it is\nbecause it operates at the same time in different places; and not\nbecause it sends any where some emanation of its substance.\n\n\u201cFarther: The antients believed that man, like the animals, derived from\nthe universal soul all the intelligence he is endowed with; another\nmistake. If we consider in man, that hidden principle which carries him\nso efficaciously to follow the impressions of sense, though ever so\nrepugnant to reason, we shall agree, with the antients, that this\nprinciple must be the same with that which animates, rules, and directs\nthe animals; the pure sensitive nature of the universal soul is visible\nin it. But when I perceive in man another agent, which tends to subject\nall his actions to the rules of justice; which so often opposes the\nsenses (though seldom with success) which, even when it succeeds not to\nhinder the sin, never fails to sting him with remorse and repentance; I\ncannot help thinking, that besides the universal spirit, there is in man\nanother principle of a superior order: A principle known by the name of\nrational soul. It is manifest by the clashing between the passions and\nreason, that there are in us two contradictory Beings, which oppose one\nanother. If I may be allowed to compare things of so different a nature,\nI should say that every thing which partakes of the universal soul is\nlike a spunge soaked in water, and immersed in the sea; and that if,\nmoreover, the body is endued with a reasonable soul (which is the case\nof man) it is like the same spunge soaked in water, but in which a drop\nof oil has found its way.\n\n\u201cIn fine, the antients believed, that the universal soul was diffused\nevery where; but neither can That be. Perhaps it pervades the\nterrestrial globe, or, it may be, the whole solar system, or even\nfarther: But still it is certain, it has its bounds, it is God alone\nthat fills immensity.\n\n\u201cBut how shall the existence of a thinking Being be admitted, which,\nbounded as it is, has however so prodigious an extension? What ideas can\nbe formed of its capaciousness and its limits? How can it animate so\nmany bodies physically separated one from the other, and forming so many\nindividuals? Let us fathom, as far as in us lies, these depths of\nobscurity.\n\n\u201cSince spiritual substances have no solidity, they are penetrable, and\ntake up no room. From their penetrability it follows, that several\nspirits may exist in one and the same space, and that a body may also be\nin the same place. From their taking up no room it follows, that they\nhave neither length, nor breadth, nor depth; that they have no extension\nproperly so called. But still a spirit is a real Being, a substance:\nThough it takes up no room, it is necessarily some-where; and, though it\nhas no extension properly so called, it has necessarily its bounds. So,\nin a metaphysical sense, all spiritual Beings may be said to be more or\nless extended, to contain, and to be contained: And then we may return\nto our companion of the spunge, penetrated by a drop of oil, impregnated\nwith water, and immersed in the sea.\u201d\n\n\u201cOn the other hand, by virtue of the laws of combination, the result of\nthe unions necessarily differs from the substances that are united; and\nit does not appear, that the soul and the body should make an exception.\nWhen the spirit and matter are united, think not the spirit the same as\nbefore; it is, in some measure, materialized; think not the matter such\nas it was before; it is, in some measure, spiritualized. From this\nmixture results a new Being, different from pure spirit, though it\nretains its noblest virtue; different from brute matter, though it\npartakes of its qualities: It is a particular Being, forming an\nindividual, and thinking apart; in fine, it is such a Being as you that\nare reading, such as I that am writing. Therefore, what perceives in us,\nis properly speaking, neither the universal spirit nor the rational\nsoul, nor organized matter: but a compound of all three. Just as when a\nlion roars, it is not the universal soul, that is in a rage; it is the\ncompound of that soul and the brain of the lion. Hence it comes, that\neach animal forms a separate thinking individual, though all the animals\nthink only by virtue of one and the same spirit, the universal soul. Let\nus proceed without losing sight of the faint light which guides us thro\u2019\nthese dark paths.\n\n\u201cWe have seen that, to form an animal, there needs only a combination of\norganized matter, and the universal soul; and, to form a man, there must\nbe another union of organized matter, universal spirit, and rational\nsoul. If the universal spirit was wanting; ever obedient to the dictates\nof the rational soul, we should see none but virtuous and spotless men,\nsuch as are no where to be found. If the rational soul was wanting,\nabandoned to this instinct of the universal spirit, which always follows\nthe allurements of sense, we should see none but monsters of vice and\ndisorder.\n\n\u201cThe rational soul is united to the human body, the instant the motion\nessential to life is settled there, it is separated the instant that\nmotion is destroyed; and, once separated, it is known to return no more,\nit departs for-ever; and enters into a state of which there is to be no\nend.\n\n\u201cThe universal soul is united and separated in the same circumstances:\nBut it is not always separated for-ever. Let, in any person, the motion\nessential to life, after having totally ceased, come to be renewed, (a\nthing which every physician knows to be very possible) and what will be\nthe consequence? The rational soul, which departed upon the ceasing of\nthe vital motion, cannot return; but the universal soul, always present,\ncannot fail of re-uniting with the organized body set in motion again.\nThe man is dead, for his soul is separated from his body. He preserves,\nhowever, the air of a living man; because the universal soul is\nre-settled in his brain, which it directs tolerably well.\n\n\u201cSuch to you appears a person perfectly recovered from an apoplectic or\nlethargic fit, who is but half come to life; his soul is flown; there\nremains only the universal spirit. Excess of joy, or of grief, any\nsudden opposition may occasion death, and does occasion it, in fact,\noftener than is imagined. Let a fit of jealousy or passion affect you to\na certain degree, your soul, too strongly shocked, quits its habitation\nfor-ever: And, let your friends say what they please, or say what you\nwill yourself, you are dead, positively dead. However, you are not\nburied: the universal soul acts your part to the deception of the whole\nworld, and even of yourself.\n\n\u201cDo not complain therefore, that a relation forgets you, that a friend\nforsakes you, that a wife betrays you. Alas! perhaps it is a good while\nsince you had a wife, or relations, or friends; they are dead; their\nimages only remain.\n\n\u201cHow many deaths of this kind have I seen at Babylon? Never, for\ninstance, did contagious distemper make such havock as the late pious\nbroils. It is true, the Babylonians are so constituted, that their soul\nsits very loose; the least shock parts it from the body; this is\nconfirmed by observation. Call to mind their notorious quarrel about\nmusick, their rage, their fury: How few heads were untouched? They are\nmad, said some reasonable people: But for my part, I knew they were\ndead.\n\n\u201cGod rest the soul of the author of the _Petites Lettres a de grands\nPhilosophes!_ He had long been declining; and at last died some months\nago. Instantly, the universal soul, possessed of his brains, dislodged\nsome shreds of verses, jumbled them together, and framed that lifeless\ncomedy, the indecency of which gave offence to all the Babylonians that\nremained _alive_.\n\n\u201cI shall now speak of the signs by which the living may be distinguished\nfrom the dead: And, doubtless, the reader sees already what these signs\nmay be. To behold wickedness with unconcern; to be unmoved by virtue, to\nmind only self-interest; and without remorse, to be carried away with\nthe torrent of the age, are signs of death. Be assured, no rational soul\ninhabits such abandoned machines. What numbers of dead amongst us! you\nwill say. What numbers of dead amongst us! will I answer.\n\n\u201cAs there are signs which declare that such a particular person, who\nthinks himself, and whom you think full of life, is however deprived of\nit; so there are signs which show the ravages, these concealed deaths\nhave made in the world. For instance, there must have been, of late\nyears, a great mortality among the learned: For, if you observe almost\nall the productions of modern literature, you will find only a playing\nwith words, destructive principles, dangerous assertions, dazzling\nhints. Alas! our authors are manifestly but machines, actuated by the\nuniversal soul.\n\n\u201cAnd, very lately, have we not had fresh proofs of this mortality? What\nis meant by these libels unworthy of the light? These _when\u2019s_? These\n_if\u2019s_? These _what-d\u2019ye-calls_? These _wherefore\u2019s_? And I know not how\nmany more with which we are deluged. Be not persuaded that rational\nsouls are capable of such excesses.\n\n\u201cI will conclude with opening a door to new reflections. Suppose a man,\nlike so many others, vegetates only, and is reduced to the universal\nsoul, I demand whether the race of such a man is not in the same state.\nIf so, I pity our posterity. Rational souls were scarce among our\nfore-fathers; they are still more so among us; surely there will be none\nleft among our offspring. All are degenerating, and we are very near the\nlast stage.\u201d\n\n[Illustration]\n\n\n\n\n                              CHAP. XIII.\n                        LETTER TO THE EUROPEANS.\n\n\nThe second of the works, of which I remember to have seen the plan\ndelineated on the leaves of the Fantastical tree, was digested into the\nform of a letter, addressed to all the nations of Europe, the substance\nof which is as follows:\n\n\u201cO ye powerful nations of Europe; nations polished, ingenious, learned,\nwarlike, made to command the rest; nations the most accomplished upon\nearth; the times are come: Your profound schemes for the happiness of\nman have prospered: You enjoy it at length, and I congratulate you upon\nit.\n\n\u201cIn nature\u2019s infancy, those uncivilised ages wherein men wandering in\nthe fields, were fed with the products of the earth, a perfect security,\neasy pleasure, profound peace, or rather languishing indolence benumbed\nall the faculties of the soul. But when the sweets of property had\nflattered the human heart; when each had his inclosure and could say,\n_This is mine_; then all was in motion. A man had too much of one thing,\nand too little of another; he gave the superfluity for what he wanted:\nAnd trade was established. It was at first carried on among neighbours;\nthen, from country to country; and at last, from one of the quarters of\nthe world to the other three. From that time, mankind have formed but\none numerous family, whose members are incessantly employed in cheating\none another. The spirit of distrust, finess, and fraud, have displayed\nall the springs of the soul; the talents have shown themselves, the arts\nhave taken birth; and men begin to enjoy the full extent of their\nunderstanding.\n\n\u201cHow well these profound speculatists have conjectured, who have told\nus: _Would you have a state flourish? incourage populousness; for real\nstrength and riches consist in a great number of citizens. To incourage\npopulousness, enlarge trade more and more, set up manufactures,\nintroduce arts of every kind; and, to consume superfluities, call in\nluxury._ Let the names of those who have opened this admirable way, be\ncarefully preserved in our kalendar.\n\n\u201cIt is true, by following this method, you have missed your aim, which\nwas populousness. What fortune soever a man may raise, it is consumed by\nthe boundless expence of luxury, which always exceeds the revenues:\nThere is nothing left for the education and settlement of children; and\nmeans must be used to have a small number, or even none at all. Long\nraces suit only those remote times when your ancestors, plentifully\nfurnished with necessaries, were so unfortunate as to have no idea of\npageantry. It is no wonder, if people so barbarous as not to know silk,\nlace, tea, chocolate, Burgundy, Champagne, should so increase in the\nnorthern regions, as to over-run, like a torrent, all your countries,\nshould found monarchies, and dictate laws, which are revered to this\nday.\n\n\u201cBut what signifies populousness and multitude? Rejoice, O ye fortunate\nnations; for you have coffee and snuff, cinnamon and musk, sugar and\nfurs, tea and china. How happy are you! and how composed should your\nminds be!\n\n\u201cIt is true, toils, hunger, thirst, shoals, storms, sooner or later\ndestroy these insatiable traders, who traverse the seas to bring you\nthese precious superfluities. But with how many advantages are these\npetty inconveniences repaid? The face of Europe is entirely new! even to\nyour constitutions all is changed. Thousands of quintals of spices,\ncirculate in your blood, carry fire into your inmost nerves, and give\nyou a new sort of Being. Neither your health, nor your diseases are like\nthose of your fore-fathers. Their robust constitution, simplicity of\nmanners, their native virtues, are they comparable to the advantages you\nenjoy? That sensibility of the organs, that delicacy of mind and body,\nthose universal lights, those vices of all kinds.... What! will it be\nsaid, are vices also to be reckoned among the actual felicities of\nEurope? Yes, without doubt: Is it not daily proved, that virtue\nheretofore might be useful to the prudent economy of your ancestors, but\nthat, for enlightened citizens, who no longer walk by the old rules,\nvice is absolutely necessary, or rather changes its nature and becomes\nvirtue.\n\n\u201cAnother advantage that you owe to the depth of your policy and\nextensiveness of your trade is, that perpetual occasions offer to show\nyour courage, and to practice your military virtues.\n\n\u201cWhen formerly your countries were under that vast dominion, which\nswallowed up all the rest, they sunk into indolence; you had only short\nwars and long intervals of peace, every thing languished. But since, out\nof the wrecks of that unwieldy empire, a hundred petty states have been\nformed, every thing has revived. The Europeans have incessantly\nquarrelled and fought for little spots of land; the grand art of heroism\nis returned, the art of sacking provinces and shedding blood: And that\nbalance of power so much talked of, is at last established, which puts\nall Europe in arms at the motion of the least of its parts, and by means\nof which, a single spark is sufficient to set the whole earth in a\nflame.\n\n\u201cLet us not regret those times so productive of warriors, when country\nheroes, each at the head of two or three hundred vassals, continually\nharrassed one another. The seeds of dissention, which were grown scarce\nin your climates, have been sought in the farthest parts of the earth;\nand from the bosom of the two Indias, commerce has brought fresh seeds\nof enmity, discord, and war.\n\n\u201cThese fertile sources are not exhausted; there still remain countries\nto be discovered. O ye indefatigable nations! is your courage abated?\nWhat! should you confine yourselves to your late progresses, as if there\nremained no unknown lands? Will you never go and hoist your standards,\nand build forts, directly under the Poles? Rouse yourselves, there are\nstill left riches to plunder, countries to waste, blood to spill.\n\n\u201cBut why should you cast your eyes on such objects? Are not your\npossessions immense? Is not your luxury carried to the utmost height?\nAre there still new vices to be introduced among you? And do not you\nbegin to shake off the troublesome yoke of every sort of duty? Without\ndoubt, you are very well, nor were you ever better. The little way you\nhave to arrive at perfection, will soon be gone over. When modern\nwisdom, which timorously conceals herself still in the shade, shall\nappear in broad day; when she shall have raised her proud head, and\nshall see all Europe at her feet, universally adopting her maxims, then,\nyou will have neither religious nor moral principles; you will be at the\nsummit of felicity.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n                               CHAP. XIV.\n                              THE MAXIMS.\n\n\nThe third work of which I remember to have seen the sketch on the\nFantastical Tree, was entitled, _Rules of Conduct for the Eighteenth\nCentury, addressed to a young Babylonian, who is coming into the world_.\nIt contained the following Maxims.\n\n\u201cEvery country has its customs, every age its manners; and, in human\nwisdom, the only unchangeable Maxim is, to change with the times and\nplaces. The most unquestionable Maxims of the Babylonians, and of the\npresent times are such as these:\n\n\u201cTo have true merit does not much signify; but to have small talents is\nessential. To make one\u2019s court, for example, and pretty verses, is\nsufficient to prosper: and even farther than can be imagined.\n\n\u201cGreat faults shall be forgiven you, but the least ridiculous ones are\nunpardonable. You think right, and say excellent things: But take care\nyou do not sneeze; it will be such an indecorum, that all the Babylonish\ngravity would not be able to hold; and you might speak still better\nthings, and not a soul hear you.\n\n\u201cBe particularly careful to act entirely with reference to yourself, and\nto talk always with reference to the publick-good. It is a fine word,\nthat _publick-good_: If you would, it will never enter into your heart;\nbut it must be always in your mouth.\n\n\u201cSeek not the esteem of the Babylonians in place, that leads to nothing;\nseek to please. What, think you, will esteem do for you? It is so frozen\na sentiment, has so distant a relation to _self_! But amuse their\nhighnesses, and their eminencies, you will then be prized, they will not\nsuffer you out of their sight; they will do all for you, and think they\ncan never do enough.\n\n\u201cWait not to sollicit for a place you may be fit for; probably you will\nnot succeed. But ask, without distinction, for whatever shall offer. It\nis a secret to you, but you must know, that it often enters into the\ndepth of true policy, to prefer unfit persons, and remove those that are\ncapable.\n\n\u201cIn fine, if you will prosper, turn, according to circumstances,\nflatterer, like a dedication; quack, like a preface; verbose like a book\nof art or science; enthusiast, like a demi-philosopher; liar, like an\nhistorian; fool-hardy, like an author who is resolved to be talked of.\n\n\u201cThese are the true principles of wisdom: But remember, it is the\nBabylonian wisdom of the Eighteenth Century.\u201d\n\n\n\n\n                               CHAP. XV.\n                           THE THERMOMETERS.\n\n\nAs I was attentively examining a leaf of the Fantastical Tree, on which\nI perceived grand projects, and insufficient means; I saw another, so\nsmall and curled as to be almost invisible, fly off from a neighbouring\nbough, and suddenly disappear. At the same instant I felt a slight\npricking in my forehead, and a sort of restlessness in my head, which I\ncannot describe, and which has not left me ever since.\n\nCertainly this leaf has entered my brain, and is labouring to unfold\nitself; some new invention will result from it one time or other. I even\nbegin to suspect of what kind; and I imagine, it will be a mechanical\naffair. If I am not mistaken it is this:\n\nThe different tempers, the different talents, the different dispositions\ndepend upon the heat and motion, more or less considerable, of the\nanimal spirits: This is a settled point among the physicians; I shall\nnot appeal from their judgment. The question would be to find a\nmechanical instrument, to discover in each person the degree of heat and\nmotion of this animal liquid, in order to discern what any one is fit\nfor, and to employ him accordingly. This is what I am seeking, and what\nthe leaf, which is busy in my brain, when unfolded will not fail to show\nme.\n\nI will compose a quintessence analogous to the animal liquid; and,\ninstead of spirits of wine, I will fill thermometers with it. On the\nside of the tube, in the room of the different degrees of the\ntemperature of the air, there shall be an enumeration of the objects,\nabout which men are usually employed: Instead of cold, temperate, hot,\nvery hot, _&c._ shall be put, good for history, good for physick, good\nfor poetry, good for the gown, good for the sword, good for the mitre,\ngood for the baton, good for Bedlam, _&c._\n\nWhen a person shall put his hand upon the phial, the liquor will be\ncondensed, or dilated; and, rising or falling in the tube, will show\nwhat the person is good for.\n\nI will present Thermometers to sovereigns, that they may chuse Generals,\nMinisters, Counsellors, and especially Favourites, who will love them\nenough to tell them the truth. I will give some to Bishops to fill their\nBenefices and Dignities, for I observe, that those who are appointed to\nwatch, should themselves be watched. I will give some to Fathers, that\ntheir children may be wisely disposed of: We shall not see them gird\nwith a sword a son whom they ought to dedicate to the altar, nor bury in\na cloister a daughter who would have been the delight of a husband, and\nthe happiness of a family. I will give some to the Great, that they may\ndiscern those who deserve their protection: They will grant it no more\nto a base flatterer, to a supple intriguer, to an ostentatious mean\nperson, who has pretensions; but to true merit, which is seldom seen by\nthem, and never with all its advantages. I will give some to those\ntender-hearted virtuous Girls, made to enliven the small number of our\npleasures, and to allay the multitude of our troubles. With my\nThermometers, they will chuse husbands worthy of their affection, if any\nsuch there be; and they will not see themselves given up to men born for\nthe plague of their sex; those men without morals, who marry for life,\nand espouse only for six months.\n\nIn fine, I will give some to particular persons, that each may examine\nhimself, and act accordingly: For I observe, that generally every one\ndoes what he should not do; I see none but what are misplaced.\n\nI am now solliciting for a pension, to defray the vast expence, that I\nmust evidently be at in making Thermometers, even though I should give\nthem only to such as most want them.\n\nIt is true, that reflection might serve instead of my liquid and\nglass-tubes, but reflections are known to be very rare. For example, it\nis now at Babylon as on the real stage; all is action, nothing is\nthought, and my Thermometers may become a necessary piece of furniture.\n\n\n\n\n                               CHAP. XVI.\n                              THE LENTILS.\n\n\nThe sap which circulates in the Fantastical Tree, said the Prefect, is\nexhausted in bearing and nourishing leaves. Let it be considered, how\nmany plans, views, projects, come into men\u2019s heads; the prodigious\nquantity of leaves that this tree must furnish will be astonishing; and\nit will be no longer wondered, that its whole substance is wasted in\ntheir production.\n\nMean while, the sap, passing into the philosophical branch, makes more\nprogress there than any where else; it produces blossoms, and sometimes\nfruit. These blossoms are of a singular form and colour, that is to say,\nadmirable to some eyes, and very odd to others. Their odour is very\npenetrating; few love it, many cannot bear it: To like it, requires a\nstrong head, and a brain organized on purpose.\n\nThese same blossoms are extremely delicate: The least change of the air\ndisorders their economy. They generally fade without leaving any fruit.\n\nIn fine, the fruit is very late, and seldom comes to perfect maturity.\nThe shell is almost round, divided within into little cells, and ending\nat the top in a crown.\n\nThe little cells of the philosophical fruit, are full of seeds\ntransparent as crystal, round and flatted like a Lentil, but infinitely\nsmaller. When the fruit is ripe, it bursts; the cells open, the seeds\ncome out. But as they are very light, they are suspended in the air, and\nthe wind blows them every way over the surface of the earth.\n\nOne thing would astonish thee if thou wast not a little versed in\nchymistry and optics, and that is, these philosophical grains have a\nparticular analogy to the eye. They will not stick to any other\nsubstance; but, as soon as they come within the reach of certain eyes,\nthey never fail to fasten on them, and that just before the sight of the\neye. As they are perfectly transparent, they cannot be perceived: But\nthey are discovered by their effects.\n\nHe that has a seed of this kind before his eyes, sees things as they\nare, and he cannot be imposed upon by chim\u00e6ras. What used to appear to\nhim _great_, is prodigiously lessened, and what appeared to him\n_little_, is magnified in the same proportion; so that to his eyes,\nevery thing is upon a level or nearly so.\n\nIn general, men appear to him very little, and those lords over others,\nwhom he beheld before as colossuses, seem to him so little above the\nrest, that he hardly perceives the difference.\n\nHe sees the extent of human knowledge, and finds it so near to\nignorance, that he does not conceive how learning can breed vanity, or\nignorance cause shame.\n\nHe sees without disguise the phantom of immortality, the idol of the\ngreat and the jest of the wise. He sees the celebrated names penetrate a\nlittle more or less into futurity; and then stop like the rest and sink\ninto eternal oblivion.\n\nHe sees what is low in the most sublime; the dark part of what casts the\nmost lustre, the weak side in what appears the strongest: And his\nimagination presents to him nothing dazzling, but wherein his reason\ndiscovers all the defects.\n\nHe sees the earth, as a point in the boundless space; the series of\nages, as an instant in eternal duration; and the chain of human actions,\nas the traces of a cloud of flies in the aerial plains.\n\nIn fine, he respects virtue; and, as to the rest, whatever he perceives\nall around him, even to the most minute things, seems to him all alike.\nHe esteems nothing, he despises nothing, he prefers nothing, and\naccommodates himself to every thing.\n\nSuch a man cannot be conceived to be susceptible of all those little\nsallies of joy which affect others, but then he is screened from those\nlittle mortifications which trouble them so much, and in my opinion, he\nis a gainer.\n\n\n\n\n                              CHAP. XVII.\n                        THE SUBTERRANEOUS ROAD.\n\n\nI have one thing more (said the Prefect) to show thee; prepare thy eyes\nand thy ears; and be frightened at nothing.\n\nThe rivulet, by the side of which we walked to the Fantastical Tree,\nreceives several streams as it flows along; and, as if it left with\nregret so beautiful a residence, after forming a thousand serpentine\nwindings in the meadow, it glides gently towards its mouth. In that\nplace, a hole, formed by an opening of the earth, receives and transmits\nit through subterraneous channels.\n\nWe came to the place where it was broadest. The bottom was of smooth\ngravel, and the water not above an inch deep. The Prefect went in and I\nfollowed him.\n\nI had gone but a few paces, when the bottom gave way: I sunk, but it was\nonly to my waste; and I remained in that posture, without being able to\nget to one side or the other. Fear nothing, says the Prefect, calmly\nenjoy the last spectacle I have reserved for thee.\n\nI then gave myself up to the efforts of the waters, which carried me\naway, and I soon entered into the subterraneous cavities, where they\nwere lost. At a little distance, the rivulet flowed into another, and\nsoon after, both ran into a river. I was carried from stream to stream;\nI crossed gulphs, lakes, and seas.\n\nAs long as a faint light permitted, I contemplated the internal frame of\nthe earth. It is a labyrinth of immense caverns, deep grottos, irregular\ncrevices, which have a communication with one another. The waters that\nflow in these subterranean places, spread themselves sometimes into vast\nbasons, and seem to stagnate; sometimes they run with a rapid stream\nthrough narrow straits; and dash against the rocks with such\nimpetuosity, as to produce the phosporus and flashes of lightening; very\noften they fall from the top of the vaults with a dreadful noise. The\ndazzled eye sees, as it imagines, the foundations of the earth shake;\none would think, that the whole was turned upside down, and falling into\nchaos.\n\nWhen the glimmering light, which I had enjoyed some time, came to fail,\nI found myself buried in profound darkness, which increased the horror,\nI had conceived at what I had seen. A hideous noise, mixed with the\nmurmuring of the streams, with the whistling of the gulfs, with the\nroaring of the torrents, threw me into great perturbation of mind; and\nmy troubled fancy formed to itself a thousand frightful images.\n\nI went on a good while in this darkness; and I know not how far I had\ngone when a faint light struck my eyes. It was not like that which\nprecedes sun-rising, or follows sun-set; but that melancholy light,\nwhich a town on fire spreads at a distance in the shade of the night. I\nwas some time before I saw whence it came: At last, I found myself close\nto the most terrible of all the sights.\n\nA vast opening exposed to my eyes in an immense cavern, an abyss of\nfire. The devouring flame rapidly consumed the combustible matter with\nwhich the arched roofs of the abyss were impregnated. A thick smoke\nmixed with fiery sparks, diffused itself to a great distance. From time\nto time, the calcined stones fell down by pieces, and the liquified\nmetals formed flaming streams. Sometimes whole rocks, rent from the tops\nof the vaults, gave passage to water, which poured down in boiling\nstreams. The moment the water touched the calcined matters and melted\nminerals, it caused most shocking detonations: The concavities of the\nglobe resounded, their foundations were shaken: And I conceived that\nsuch was the cause of those terrible earth-quakes, that have destroyed\nso many countries, and swallowed up so many cities.\n\nI was soon in darkness again; for I still went on. Every moment I should\nhave been destroyed, if the Prefect of Giphantia had not watched over\nme. I saw him no more: But his promise was with me: And the dangers, I\nhad escaped, heartened me against those I had still to undergo. By\ndegrees I took courage, and became so easy as to make some reflections.\n\nAlas! said I, through a frightful desart I came into the most beautiful\nmansions in the world, and I am now going thence through gulfs, abysses,\nand vulcanos. Good and evil closely follow one another. It is thus, the\nlight of the day and darkness of the night, the frosts of the winter and\nthe flowers of the spring, the gentle zephyrs and the raging storms,\nsucceed one another. However, by this strange concatenation, is formed\nthe enchanting prospect of nature. Let us not doubt it: The natural\nworld, notwithstanding its disorders, is the master-piece of infinite\nwisdom; the moral world, in spite of its stains, is worthy the\nadmiration of the philosopher: And Babylon, with all its faults, is the\nchief city of the world.\n\nAt last, after many days of subterraneous navigation, I once more saw\nthe light; I came out of these terrible vaults, and the last current\nlanded me upon a maritime coast. The serenity of the air was not ruffled\nwith the wind; the calm sea shone with the rays of the rising-sun; and,\nlike a tender wife who stretches out her arms, and sweetly smiles on a\nbeloved husband, the earth seemed to resume new life at the return of\nthat glorious orb, from whence springs all its fertility. By degrees, my\ntroubled senses were calmed: I looked round me, and found myself in my\nown country, six hundred furlongs north-west from Babylon, to which city\nI address and dedicate this narrative of my hazardous travels.\n\n\n                                _FINIS._\n\n-----\n\nFootnote 1:\n\n  The Jansenists (so called from Jansenius bishop of Ypres) explained\n  the Doctrine of Grace after the Calvinistical or rather Methodistical\n  manner, whilst the Molinists (so named from Molina a Spanish Jesuit)\n  explained it after the Arminian or rather Semi-pelagian way. The\n  Gallican clergy were divided between these two Opinions.\n\n  The reader may remember, there are three opinions concerning Grace.\n  Says the Calvinist and Methodist, Grace does ALL. Says the Arminian\n  and Semi-pelagian, Grace does HALF. Says the Pelagian, Grace does\n  NOTHING.\n\nFootnote 2:\n\n  The city of Ombi stood on the eastern side of the Nile, and Tentyra or\n  Tentyris on the western; both in Thebais part of Upper Egypt. The\n  Tentyrites were professed enemies of the Crocodiles, whilst the rest\n  of the Egyptians held them in great veneration, especially the\n  Ombites, who for their sake waged war with the Tentyrites.\n\nFootnote 3:\n\n  Our author in this and the following chapter gives a very lively\n  summary of the four great monarchies of the world.\n\n   I. The Assyrian or Babylonian founded by Nimrod (or Belus I.) soon\n  after the dispersion at Babel, and which ended with the taking of\n  Babylon (A. C. 538) by Cyrus who founded II. The Persian empire which\n  ended with the defeat of Darius Codomannus (A. C. 334) by Alexander\n  the Great who founded III. The Grecian or Macedonian empire which in\n  about five years was divided among his successors, and at length\n  (after the battle of Actium and death of Cleopatra) became subject to\n  IV. The Roman empire under Augustus C\u00e6sar, of which there are still\n  some remains.\n\nFootnote 4:\n\n  Arbaces governour of Media, and Belesis of Babylon.\n\nFootnote 5:\n\n  After the death of Sardanapalus (who is said to burn himself, his\n  wives and concubines, his eunuchs and riches, in one of the courts of\n  his palace) the empire was divided into the Median over which Arbaces\n  reigned at Nineveh, and the Assyrian over which Belesis reigned at\n  Babylon. These were united under Cyrus about 210 years after. Belesis\n  (the Baladan of Scripture) is called also Nabonassar. From the first\n  year of his reign begins the famous Astronomical \u00c6ra of Nabonassar,\n  containing 908 years from February 26 before Christ 747, to the 23d\n  year of Antoninus Pius in the year of our Lord 161.\n\nFootnote 6:\n\n  Nebuchadnezzer (A. C. 589) utterly destroyed Jerusalem, put out king\n  Zedekiah\u2019s eyes, killed his sons and erected the golden image in the\n  plains of Dura.\n\nFootnote 7:\n\n  By a solemn treaty Ptolemy had Egypt, _&c._ Cassander had Macedonia\n  and Greece. Lysimachus had Thrace, Bithynia, _&c._ Seleucus had Syria,\n  _&c._ Of these, the kingdom of Egypt (under 14 monarchs including\n  Cleopatra) and of Syria (under 27 kings) subsisted till subdued by the\n  Romans. The rest soon fell to pieces.\n\nFootnote 8:\n\n  His Library is said to consist of above 200,000 volumes. Among the\n  rest was the Septuagint or Greek translation of the Old Testament A.\n  C. 267. done by Ptolemy\u2019s order. This library was at last destroyed by\n  fire.\n\nFootnote 9:\n\n  This man who from a huntsman raised himself to the throne of Lusitania\n  (now Portugal) defeated the Romans in several battles; so that Cepion\n  the consul was forced at last to have him murdered by treachery. He\n  was (says Livy) much lamented and honorably buried.\n\nFootnote 10:\n\n  Rome was taken by Alaric king of the Goths in 410. By Genseric the\n  Vandal in 455. By Odoacer king of the Heruli in 465, and by Totila the\n  Goth in 546, by whom it was miserably plundered.\n\nFootnote 11:\n\n  Attila king of the Huns, (called _the scourge of God_) after his other\n  devastations entered Gaul with 500,000 Men and was defeated in the\n  plains of Chalons in 451, with the loss of 200,000 Huns. After which\n  he wasted Italy and destroyed Aquileia and other places. Then\n  returning home, he died on his wedding night. The Huns were the most\n  terrible of all the northern swarms. By the very terror of their\n  countenances they are said to over-run the Scythians, Alans and Goths.\n  They were so ignorant as not to know letters.\n\nFootnote 12:\n\n  Mahomet was born at Mecca in Arabia, May 5, 570. He is thought by some\n  to be persuaded that he was really inspired to propagate the belief of\n  one God, and to overthrow the idolatrous religion of his country. If\n  he retained some absurd notions, it was (say they) to induce his\n  countrymen to embrace his religion. The Mahometan \u00e6ra begins July 16,\n  622, when he fled from Mecca to Medina. He died Jan. 17, 631, after\n  having reduced Arabia to his obedience. His religion has since spread\n  itself over Asia, Africa, and great part of Europe.\n\nFootnote 13:\n\n  Soliman, father of the Othman race, came out of Scythia with 50,000\n  men in the year 1214, and pushed his conquests to the Euphrates. In\n  attempting to pass that river he was drowned in 1219. Othman his\n  grandson was declared sultan in 1300. Mahomet II. the seventh emperor\n  of the Turks, put an end to the Eastern empire by taking\n  Constantinople in 1453. The Turks embraced the religion of Mahomet.\n\nFootnote 14:\n\n  Camayeu, is a stone, whereon are found various figures formed by\n  nature. It is the name the orientals give the onyx, on which and on\n  agate, these natural figures are often found. When the figures are\n  perfected by art, it is still called a camayeu, as is also a painting\n  in one colour, representing basso relievos.\n\n------------------------------------------------------------------------\n\n\n\n\n                          TRANSCRIBER\u2019S NOTES\n\n\n 1. Changed all long \u017f to short s.\n 2. Added 200 to all page numbers in Part 2 to avoid conflicts with Part\n      1 numbering.\n 3. Silently corrected typographical errors and variations in spelling.\n 4. Retained anachronistic, non-standard, and uncertain spellings as\n      printed.\n 5. Footnotes have been re-indexed using numbers and collected together\n      at the end of the last chapter.\n 6. Enclosed italics font in _underscores_.\n 7. Superscripts are denoted by a caret before a single superscript\n      character or a series of superscripted characters enclosed in\n      curly braces, e.g. M^r. or M^{ister}.","title":"Giphantia: Or a View of What Has Passed, What Is Now Passing, and, During the Present Century, What Will Pass, in the World.","tradition":"myth-cosmogony","translated_text":null,"word_count":29421}