>rnia 
 
 al 
 
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 Ex Libris 
 C. K. OGDEN 
 
 awa 
 


 
 ''
 
 FRAGMENTS 
 
 AND 
 
 FICTION&
 
 PAxted by Job* Mok, 
 Edinburgh, 181T,
 
 FRAGMENTS, 
 
 AND 
 
 FICTIONS, 
 
 TRANSLATED FROM THE, FRENCH 
 
 OF 
 JEAN POCOCURANTE DE PEUDEMOTS> 
 
 SOMETIME SECRETARY TO THE PRINCE DE TALLEYRAND. 
 
 SoUYeut un peu de verit 
 
 Se mele au plus grossier mensonge. 
 
 EDINBURGH : 
 
 PRINTED FOR MACREDIE, SKELLY, & MUCKERSY, 
 
 52, PRINCES STREET; AND T. & G. UNDERWOOB, 
 
 FLEET STREET, LONDON. 
 
 1817.
 
 .rvf.x-riTl 
 
 :,':,,;.* -A-^;\i 
 
 .&!i',ii'.i}J :
 
 TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE. 
 
 . 
 
 
 IN publishing a translation of the following 
 short pieces, we think it but fair to apprise 
 the reader, that he must not expect to find in 
 them any thing like the sustained and pro- 
 gressive interest of a novel. They are cast in 
 a mould somewhat peculiar, and ought, for 
 the most part, to be considered merely as 
 jeux d? esprit, or sallies of imagination. The 
 Visit of BEDOANAR is the only one of a 
 serious character. It contains one or two 
 passages where the author has shewn him- 
 self inclined to indulge in some of those 
 Platonic reveries, which we should hardly 
 have expected to meet with in the writings 
 of a Frenchman. At the same time, we do 
 not think that these samples of his philoso- 
 
 1081579
 
 11 TRANSLATOR S PREFACED 
 
 phy can be charged either with tediousness 
 or obscurity. As for the rest of the pieces, 
 we can only say, that they are worthy of a 
 person who styles himself the Secretary de 
 Peudemots. They seldom exceed u few 
 pages, and exhibit a certain caprice of 
 fancy, which ought to be tolerated if it 
 amuses. 
 
 The whole of them are translated with 
 as much freedom as is consistent with fi- 
 delity to the original.
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 ;- 
 
 The Bramins Well, 1 
 
 The Pyramids, a Fragment, 13 
 
 The Visit ofBedoanar, 21 
 
 One Night in Rome, 79 
 
 The Necromancer's Noviciate, 103 
 
 Confuciana; or Wise Sayings of Confu- 
 cius, 123 
 
 On the Pride of Sagacity, and the Love of 
 Emotion, 129 
 
 . 

 
 
 
 
 . 
 THE BRAMIN'S WELL. 
 
 " Tout a etc traite ea fables et en allegories chcz 
 les orientaux." 
 
 IN former days, the city of Hastinapur 
 was the capital of India ; but so de- 
 structive is time, that we cannot now 
 discover a vestige of its ruins. It was 
 very famous, and very magnificent. 
 The markets blazed with silks, and 
 fumed with oriental spices. Idlers 
 and voluptuaries found them an agree- 
 A
 
 able place of resort ; and the beauties 
 of Indostan were seen passing, in a 
 state of irresolution, from one booth 
 to another, while the cautious mer- 
 chant adhered to his price, nor allow- 
 ed himself to forget his interest, al- 
 though beset by many a soft voice and 
 beautiful pair of eyes. 
 
 One afternoon, a person of singu- 
 lar aspect entered the city. His dress 
 resembled that of a bramin ; but he 
 had a living serpent fastened round 
 his waist, instead of a girdle. Wher- 
 ever he went, a crowo" of spectators 
 attended ; and when he had come to 
 a convenient place, he turned and ad- 
 dressed them as follows : " May Bra- 
 ma long continue to shower down fa- 
 vours on the citizens of Hastinapur. 
 Their town is the fairest in the world j
 
 THE BRAMIN'S WELL. 3 
 
 their societies are the most polished, 
 and their women the most enchanting. 
 But no spot, however favoured, can 
 boast of exemption from the griefs 
 and evils of humanity. I have heard 
 that sickness groans even in these de- 
 lightful palaces ; and that the music of 
 those who divert themselves at even- 
 ing, on the holy waters of the Ganges, 
 comes to many an ear which is un- 
 able to participate in the general glad- 
 ness. Health is the door to every 
 other blessing ; the gratifications of 
 sense cannot reach us but through the 
 medium of sound organs. Intellect is 
 benumbed when a host of uneasy sen- 
 sations is continually disturbing the re- 
 gular sequence of our thoughts j and 
 Imagination, that capricious and easily 
 offended power, requires that pain shall 
 A 2
 
 be driven off the stage, before any of 
 her fairy pageants are exhibited. 
 
 " Listen, therefore, to what I am 
 going to relate : A bramin, distin- 
 guished for his piety, has again dis- 
 covered that miraculous well of which 
 we read in the Puranas. For many 
 ages it has been concealed beneath a 
 rock overblown with sand; and its 
 healing influence has all the while been 
 lost to the human species. A dream 
 sent from the gods has now restored 
 the knowledge of its situation, which 
 is about a league eastward of Has- 
 tinapur. Let such, therefore, as 
 are inclined follow me to the spot ; 
 they will find the venerable man of 
 whom I have spoken, waiting with his 
 gourd to dispense its waters, and com- 
 municate gaiety and lightsomeness
 
 THE BRAMIN'S WELL. $ 
 
 even to the most unhappy constitu- 
 tions." 
 
 This harangue was received with 
 shouts of satisfaction. Every invalid 
 and hypochondriac went immediately 
 to order his palanquin ; and the news 
 being spread with rapidity, produced 
 a commotion over the whole city. A- 
 mong other places, it reached the ve- 
 randa of a young lady, whose name 
 was Badoura, and who sat languishing 
 under the influence of a half-pleasing 
 and half-painful sensation, which she 
 could not understand. The seat of it 
 was in her bosom ; and the first symp- 
 toms had occurred after looking at a 
 very handsome youth, who sometimes 
 came to amuse himself with dressing 
 the parterres of a neighbouring gar- 
 den. This charming girl thought she 
 A3
 
 6 THE BRAMIN'S WELL. 
 
 could do no better than join the pil- 
 grims, and get a cup of water along 
 with the rest. In the mean time, as 
 she could not have the use of a palan- 
 quin without imparting her design to 
 a very peevish and untractable aunt, 
 she called on a favourite slave to attend 
 her as she walked, and shade her with 
 an umbrella. 
 
 Towards evening, a large procession 
 was seen to quit the walls of Hastina- 
 pur. It was led by the bramin, who 
 did not long continue to follow the 
 public highway, but struck off towards 
 a range of solitary mountains, where 
 the town of Hastinapur was soon lost 
 to view. Night began to thicken ; a 
 doleful breeze whistled among the 
 rocks, and the faint-hearted citizens 
 became dispirited at the length of the
 
 THE BRAMIN'S WELL. 7 
 
 journey. They told their conductor 
 that they had already gone more than 
 a league, and desired to know when 
 his well and his bramin would become 
 visible. To these clamours he replied 
 in a soothing manner, drawing on the 
 party step by step, until he had 
 brought them within the jaws of a 
 gloomy valley. There, he left them, 
 and his place was supplied by a troop 
 of banditti. The rich palanquins were 
 plundered. The women shrieked, and 
 the slaves fled. Badoura took refuge 
 in a thicket ; and prayed to Vishnoo 
 that she might rather fall into the paws 
 of a leopard than a robber. She was 
 in hopes that her female slave would 
 observe where she had gone, and re- 
 pair to the same spot j but after wait- 
 ing with anxiety till the noise of the
 
 combat had ceased, and the sound of 
 the voices had removed to a distance, 
 she found she was still alone, in the 
 midst of utter darkness. It seemed, 
 therefore, prudent to seek for an out- 
 let, and she went slowly forward, grop- 
 ing along the trunks of the trees, and 
 and shrinking back when the cold and 
 jugged bark came in contact with her 
 innocent bosom. After some time she 
 cleared the wood, and found herself 
 near one of those immense caves, 
 where the disciples of Buddha were in 
 use to perform their devotions before 
 that religion was expelled from Hin- 
 dostan. 
 
 Badoura trembled, and entered. 
 An extraordinary scene broke upon 
 her sight. The ca,ve was illuminated 
 with a profusion of chandeliers, and
 
 
 THE BRAMIN'S WELL. 
 
 the whole party of invalids and hypo- 
 chondriacs were sitting down to a 
 collation, formed of the choicest ma- 
 terials at that time used in the East. 
 But what surprised her more than all, 
 was to see the principal physician in 
 Hastinapur taking his seat at the up- 
 per end of the table. Before doing 
 the honours of the place, he address- 
 ed them in the following terms : 
 
 "I hope my fellow- citizens will 
 pardon this innocent frolic, which has 
 been contrived for no other purpose 
 than their own advantage. My pre- 
 sence here excites astonishment j but 
 that astonishment will cease, when it 
 is known that I am the person, who, 
 under the disguise of a bramin, led 
 you astray among these mountains, 
 and employed a troop of my own ser-
 
 10 
 
 vants to bring you here by force, 
 where you see that I have not ne- 
 glected to prepare for your reception. 
 " During my practice in Hastina- 
 pur, I have, a thousand times, been 
 consulted upon diseases which had no 
 existence but in the fancy of the pa- 
 tient, and which arose from nothing 
 but mere ennui and vacuity of mind. 
 In cases like these, I have always 
 frankly confessed that nothing could 
 be done by medicine ; and that the 
 patient could only cure himself by 
 finding out a better occupation for 
 his thoughts. But the indolent are 
 ever willing to be flattered with hopes 
 of relief from other causes than their 
 own exertions, and one promise af- 
 ter another has been held out to my 
 worthy townsmen, by the most perni-
 
 11 
 
 cious impostors. I have now led you 
 a ramble which will render decep- 
 tion less easy for the future, and which, 
 I am convinced, has for the present 
 banished all remembrance of imagin- 
 ary evils. Let us therefore spend the 
 night with gaiety. To-morrow, by 
 day-light, your palanquins will take 
 you back to the city." 
 
 The citizens of Hastinapur receiv- 
 ed this piece of raillery with the ut- 
 most good humour. They felt their 
 spirits lightened, and, having enjoyed 
 an agreeable repast, unanimously de- 
 clared, that the fright and the novel- 
 ty had done them a great deal of 
 benefit. Nevertheless, Badoura was 
 conscious of a gentle pain which still 
 continued lurlfing and lingering about
 
 12 THE BRAMINS WELL. 
 
 the regions of her heart ; and only re- 
 frained from saying so, because she 
 did not wish to be questioned upon 
 the subject.
 
 
 THE PYRAMIDS, 
 
 A FRAGMENT. 
 
 A king is a mortal god upon earth." BACOX. 
 
 ONE night a traveller who had come 
 to visit the antiquities of Egypt fell a- 
 sleep in his tent, and had the following 
 dream. He thought he had discovered 
 a new passage into the second of the 
 pyramids, and was already come to a 
 spacious apartment, where, on each 
 side, three stone sarcophagi rested on
 
 14* THE PYRAMIDS. 
 
 pedestals, of a severe and awful simpli- 
 city. The lids were closed with ex- 
 actness, and the sides covered with the 
 dark symbols of ancient times. These 
 circumstances brought to his recollec- 
 tion the enormous figure of the Sphinx, 
 who sits with equivocating looks be- 
 fore the pyramids, and smiles on the 
 baffled curiosity of nations. 
 
 But there was another door which 
 attracted his attention, at the far end 
 of the chamber ; and he found that it 
 led into a second hall, even more lofty 
 than the first. This hall contained no- 
 thing but a table of stone, upon which 
 rested a large volume of papyrus. The 
 traveller was advancing with eagerness 
 to examine it, when his lamp suddenly 
 went out, and left him in a fit of horror 
 at the darkness and vacuity by which
 
 THE PYRAMIDS. 15 
 
 he was surrounded. He groped about 
 for the door, but was unable to find 
 it. A tingling filled his ears ; and he 
 stretched himself upon the pavement. 
 Many hours seemed to roll over him 
 in that position ; and all the while his 
 mind was haunted with a variety of 
 strange conceptions. At one time he 
 thought he could hear the tombs open- 
 ing ; at another, he imagined that a 
 smell, half putrid and half aromatic,, 
 came floating into the vault. Faint 
 rustlings and feeble whispers ensued 
 and left him breathless with attention. 
 At last, something like the sound of 
 feet was heard. A sickly twilight pour- 
 ed into the chamber, and the kings of 
 ancient Egypt advanced, in burial gar- 
 ments that gleamed with phosphoric 
 light. The linen of past ages trailed
 
 16 THE PYRAMIDS. 
 
 on the pavement, and tainted it with 
 mingled spices and corruption. Each 
 regal spectre seemed bent with age ; 
 but the look of power still continued 
 to hover about their unsubstantial fore- 
 heads. 
 
 " Let us examine the book," said 
 one, " and see how mortals are filling 
 up their destiny. It is long since the 
 days of our dominion have been over ; 
 but I love at times to shake off that 
 heavy sleep which weighs upon my sar- 
 cophagus, and to learn the history of 
 those whom fate has appointed to rule 
 the nations, in these latter times." 
 
 "Descendant of Horus," replied an- 
 other vision, " your curiosity is natural. 
 Kings can sympathise only with kings; 
 and there is pleasure in seeing the 
 sceptre wielded even by another hand.
 
 THE PYRAMIDS. 17 
 
 I cannot help remarking, that we are 
 much indebted to the sybil, who left 
 us this book of hieroglyphics for our 
 amusement. She says that living 
 princes will no longer purchase her 
 volumes, because the prophecies which 
 they contain are not flattering to the 
 royal prerogative.'* 
 
 " The sybil cannot alter the fates,'" 
 replied the first speaker, " she can on- 
 ly write them j and, therefore, it would 
 be well for princes if they would read 
 her books, and prepare to meet, with 
 decency, those changes which cannot 
 be prevented. No species of earthly 
 grandeur lasts for ever. The croco- 
 diles of the Nile were at one time con- 
 sidered as divinities. They had tem- 
 ples to live in, priests to serve them,, 
 and nations to adore them ; but wlies 
 
 ItS
 
 18 THE PYRAMIDS. 
 
 these golden days came to an end, the 
 crocodiles went back into the river 
 without any disturbance, and had 
 sufficient judgment to accommodate 
 themselves to their original place in 
 the creation. The bird Ibis no longer 
 expects that men will embalm it after 
 death ; because the religious doctrines 
 which gave rise to that practice have 
 lost their credit. If the bird Ibis were 
 to threaten a modern Egyptian with 
 the anger of the gods, it would only 
 be laughed at ; and, in my opinion, 
 there is nothing so becoming as that 
 knowledge of the world which teaches 
 a man or a bird to arrogate no more 
 than he is really able to support ; and 
 to expect that when those opinions 
 change, upon which his power was
 
 THE PYRAMIDS. .19 
 
 founded, his power itself must suffer 
 a corresponding limitation." 
 
 " However obvious these facts may 
 appear to us," replied the other, " they 
 do not seem to have made any impres- 
 sion upon our brethren of modern 
 Europe. A man with a sceptre in his 
 hand may fairly be considered as in a 
 state of inebriety. It is impossible to 
 reason with him, for he is transported 
 and hurried along by a pleasing deli- 
 rium. He hopes to make the whole 
 universe bend to his inclinations, and 
 counts upon a degree of ductility and 
 plasticity in external objects, which 
 does not really exist. I remember a 
 porter in the streets of Memphis, who 
 was uncommonly stout and muscular. 
 Upon one occasion this man got him- 
 self intoxicated j and having formed
 
 20 THE PYRAMIDS. 
 
 a most extravagant estimate of his 
 personal strength, he must needs at- 
 tempt to stop a vast machine, which 
 was then at work in the city. The 
 consequence was, that the machine 
 closed upon him, and chopped off his 
 head." ******** 
 
 Ccetera desunt.
 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 THE VISIT OF BEDOANAR. 
 
 jifinrr 
 
 
 
 " Je me flattais," dit Pangloss, " de raisonner un pen 
 avec vous des eflets et des causes, du meilleur des mondes 
 possibles, de I'origine du raal, et de la nature de Tame." 
 
 VOLTAIRE. 
 
 CHAP. I. 
 
 
 
 BEFORE the deluge, two youths, named 
 Alzareb and Rustan, lived in one of 
 the greenest vallies, which have since 
 been overwhelmed by the sea. J Tis 
 said, the whole earth was then over- 
 spread with wickedness ; but these
 
 2 THE VISIT OF BEDOANAR, 
 
 young men, from a peculiarity of in- 
 clination, chose to live innocent j and 
 spent the day, sometimes in planting 
 apple-trees, and sometimes in study- 
 ing philosophy. 
 
 One evening, they sat in a porch of 
 marble, which overlooked their gar- 
 den, and received its perfumes. A 
 fair sister, whose name was Pagreeta, 
 was also present, and entertained them 
 with music, while her brothers gazed, 
 in a state of agreeable indolence, a- 
 cross the landscape, and saw their own 
 groves rolling backwards and for- 
 wards, in a gentle wind. Suddenly, 
 she gave a loud scream. A man of 
 enormous height was seen advancing 
 up the garden. He was wrapt in tunic 
 of white cloth ; and, although nearly 
 double the common stature, had au
 
 THE VISIT OF BEDOANAR. 23 
 
 elegant person, with a countenance of 
 the finest mould. 
 
 Alzareb and Rustan were much dis- 
 mayed at his approach. When he saw 
 their uneasiness, he made a full stop, 
 and respectfully saluted them, accord- 
 ing to the fashion of the place ; then, 
 with a smile of the most engaging ur- 
 banity, stretched out both his hands. 
 Alzareb started up, and received them 
 in his own. " What are you," said he, 
 " and from whence have you come ? 
 How does it happen that your frame 
 is of such dimensions, and yet so 
 beautiful, and so complete ?" 
 
 " I can well imagine your astonish- 
 ment," replied the stranger. " I be- 
 seech the lady to pardon me for com- 
 ing so abruptly into her presence, 
 and not abhor an unfortunate stran-
 
 24 THE VISIT OF BEDOANAR. 
 
 ger on account of his size. My errand 
 is peaceable, and such lias always been 
 my character. I have brought a ring 
 for Alzareb. It is a token sent from 
 one of his friends in the town of Omur, 
 who salutes him by me. Therefore, 
 only grant me leave, Madam, to sit 
 down in this charming porch, and I 
 shall give an account of myself." 
 
 Alzareb recognised the token. Pa- 
 greeta strove to get the better of her 
 apprehensions. She laughed, and 
 blushed, and appointed the stranger 
 a seat at some distance from her own. 
 
 " You must often have heard it re- 
 ported," said he, " that there is a 
 taller and more ancient race of men, 
 who still exist in this planet, and in- 
 habit some countries on the south side 
 of it. They have an origin altogether
 
 THE VISIT OP BEDOANAR. 25 
 
 distinct from yours. At one time, in- 
 deed, they were the sole inhabitants 
 of the globe, and occupied many de- 
 lightful cities, of which the foundations 
 are still visible. In my country there 
 is a vast pillar, upon which, accord- 
 ing to tradition, are inscribed the re- 
 cords of the planet ; but nobody can 
 decypher the characters, and our li- 
 terati frequently gaze on it with tears 
 of veneration and regret. The num- 
 ber of our people is now rapidly di- 
 minishing. The atmosphere has un- 
 dergone some change unfavourable to 
 the temperament of the bodies ; and 
 as there is no pleasure in remaining 
 at home, when the sick and the mi- 
 serable outnumber such as can still 
 enjoy their existence, I came abroad 
 to console myself by traversing the
 
 26 THE VISIT OF BEDOANAR. 
 
 different countries of the globe, and 
 observing their inhabitants." 
 
 " Good heaven !" cried Rustan, 
 " then we behold in your person a 
 sample of this wonderful race." 
 
 " You do," replied the stranger, 
 and my name is Bedoanar. I travel 
 about from place to place, and shift 
 my abode as often as I feel inclined. 
 The amusement of my life is observa- 
 tion ; and even before I left my own 
 country, I had obtained the repute of 
 being a philosopher. Wherever I 
 come, I seek for the society of men of 
 knowledge and reflection. Some of 
 these I lately met in passing through 
 the town of Omur, and enjoyed in 
 their conversation one of the few plea- 
 jsures that now remain to give my life 
 any zest or variety."
 
 THE VISIT OF BEDOANAR. 27 
 
 " I am sorry to hear that," said Pa- 
 greeta, " Your behaviour is very mild 
 for a giant. Is there any thing to make 
 you unhappy ?" 
 
 " No, Madam," replied Bedoanar, 
 with a smile j " but, in studying the 
 world, my feelings, as an individual, 
 have entirely forsaken me. General 
 principles are so habitually present to 
 my thoughts, that- particular incidents 
 give me no emotion ; and therefore, in 
 order to shun weariness, I from time to 
 time require to seek a new field of ob- 
 servation, or else the pleasure of con- 
 versing with some one of the same turn 
 of mind with myself. I have seen a vast 
 number of cities, deserts, and monu- 
 ments of the dead, I have examined 
 every thing remarkable. If you have 
 heard of any wonders in foreign conn-
 
 28 THE VISIT OF BEDOANAR. 
 
 tries, mention them, and I will say 
 whether or not they are completely 
 false." 
 
 " It has always been thought a mere 
 fable," said Alzareb, " that there was 
 another race of men besides ourselves j 
 but your presence brings conviction, 
 and inspires me with joy. I shall now 
 certainly obtain the solution of many 
 difficulties, and learn something of the 
 destination of man. Pray does there 
 still exist among your people any sa- 
 tisfactory notion of how their first pro- 
 genitors came into being, or were dropt 
 upon the globe ?" 
 
 " Alas !" replied Bedoanar, " I can 
 only refer you to the pillar which I 
 formerly mentioned." 
 
 " And that pillar," said Rustan, 
 *' preserves an obstinate silence, like
 
 THE VISIT OF BEDOANAR. 29 
 
 every thing else which mortals would 
 interrogate about the past or future.'* 
 
 p 
 CHAP. IL 
 
 '* W^ITH us, however,'* said Alzareb, 
 " A good many traditions are yet ex- 
 tant, about the first pair of the human 
 species, and likewise about the forma- 
 tion of the world. It seems as if they 
 blended the history of the universe, with 
 that of our globe ; and, in describing 
 the revolutions which have taken place 
 in the latter, went back to that sublime 
 aera, when the whole system of physi- 
 cal nature first emerged from ehaos, 
 under the immediate influence of the 
 Divinity. Perhaps they are the remains 
 
 c a
 
 30 THE VISIT OF BEDOANAR. 
 
 of an account originally just, but some- 
 what corrupted in its descent from an- 
 tiquity." 
 
 " I have more than once heard them 
 recited in my travels," said Bedoanar; 
 " their truth is now grown a very com- 
 mon subject of debate. Some people 
 maintain it with eagerness, because it 
 has formed a part of their education j 
 and has even incorporated itself with 
 religious doctrines of more import- 
 tance. Others exhibit a foolish viru- 
 lence and precipitation in pronouncing 
 these traditions to be false ; and I have 
 observed, with disgust, a great many 
 who are anxious. to point out aburdi- 
 ties in the popular faith, for no other 
 purpose than to gratify their own inso- 
 lence, in triumphing over its votaries." 
 
 "You are right, " said Alzarebj "and
 
 THE VISIT OF BEDOANAR. 31 
 
 and these people are no more to be 
 trusted than accusers, who share in 
 the spoil of a confiscation. But can 
 you tell me when your countrymen 
 first became acquainted with our exis- 
 tence." 
 
 " That happened long since," repli- 
 ed Bedoanar. " There is a desert of 
 sand, between this and the country 
 we possess. Some nobles, who had 
 been banished from our court, suc- 
 ceeded in crossing it, and finally met 
 with a large river whose waters were, 
 as transparent as the woods upon its, 
 bank were fresh and beautiful. In 
 walking here, they suddenly descried 
 a multitude of your nation engaged in 
 some festival. l Nothing could be more 
 'oyous or gaudy ; but the whole was 
 dissolved the moment our travellers
 
 32 THE VISIT OF BEBOANAK. 
 
 made their appearance. The dancers 
 dropt their garlands, and the victim 
 got away from the priest. You can 
 imagine the wonder of both parties j 
 the shyness of the lesser people, the 
 cautious advances of the larger, and 
 the fruitless endeavours of each to 
 interrogate or understand the other. 
 The conclusion was, that our exiles 
 were well received. After a long re- 
 sidence in that quarter, they thought 
 they might venture back to report 
 their discovery ; and they once more 
 appeared at court with six of the mi- 
 nor nation, to prove the truth of what 
 they related. A pardon was obtained. 
 The news were circulated over the 
 country j many speculations took place 
 and it was obliquely remarked that 
 we had good reason to quarrel with our
 
 THE VISIT OF BEDOANAR. 33 
 
 new neighbours, because we might 
 conquer and have them for slaves. 
 But succeeding adventurers found the 
 desert almost impassable, on account 
 of sandy whirlwinds. Many perished 
 on the road. At last, the journey came 
 to be seldom attempted ; and even cen- 
 turies rolled on without any visits pas- 
 sing between us. For my part, 1 came 
 here with considerable danger, and 
 shall never go back. I find as much 
 enjoyment in the conversation of your 
 people, as in that of my country- 
 men. The minds of both nations are 
 in fact of the same structure, and I 
 can sympathise equally with a man of 
 six feet and a man of twelve. There is 
 only one difference ; when I was among 
 my countrymen, I was among my ri- 
 vals and competitors ; we could not
 
 34 THE VISIT OF BEDOANAH. 
 
 converse without inwardly comparing 
 our qualifications, and struggling for 
 the lead ; but, in this quarter, men re- 
 gard me rather as an object of curio- 
 sity than of emulation. Their atten- 
 tion is fixed upon the strangeness of 
 my person, or my lot ; and we can be 
 long together without examining which 
 is the wisest, the most energetic, or 
 the best deserving of esteem. Hence, 
 I live quite in the sunshine of their 
 goodwill. Yet their astonishment is 
 frequently tiresome to me, and their 
 kindness insipid, in so much that I 
 sometimes wish to try my strength 
 again among beings altogether like 
 myself. Perhaps that is foolish. The 
 most easy plan is to keep my mind 
 free from the influence of personal 
 feeling, and amuse myself in the world 
 by looking on."
 
 THE VISIT OF BEDOANAR. 35 
 
 " I believe so," said Rustan, " and 
 you have excellent opportunities of 
 observation. The whole earth lies 
 before you. It must be a pleasing 
 life to ramble from one climate to an- 
 other, to see the sun go down, some* 
 times over a landscape of rich green, 
 and sometimes over the cold and icy 
 waters of the north, to view the forms 
 and occupations of the different ani- 
 mals with which our globe is peopled, 
 to visit the solitudes of uncultivated 
 nature, and imbibe a philosophic still- 
 ness of character, to explore the sad 
 remains of antiquity, andsee the manes 
 of human feelings hovering about their 
 vaults, to plunge among the swarm 
 of living nations, and find here and 
 there an individual worthy of esteem, 
 to partake of the several pleasures
 
 36 THE VISIT OF BEDOANAR. 
 
 mankind have invented in each coun- 
 try, and at the same time to behold 
 their contentions, their projects, and 
 their absurdities, without any personal 
 anxiety about the issue." 
 
 " All this I have done,'* said Bedo- 
 anar, " but not without some feeling 
 of gloom and despondency; I once 
 hoped to make the universe an object 
 of enthusiasm, but 1 soon found I could 
 neither like it nor understand it." 
 
 " Alas we find that, even at home,'* 
 said Alzareb ; " but, come, let us hear 
 what notions you have formed on the 
 subject ? Is the pain which belongs to 
 our condition anecessary means of pro- 
 ducing the pleasure, or can you figure 
 any possible arrangement by which the 
 one could be had independent of the 
 other ? Are our minds pieces of me-
 
 THE VISIT OF BEDOANAR. 87 
 
 chanism, contrived for a particular 
 purpose, by an intelligent workman j 
 or are they things existing of them- 
 selves, and accidentally dropt into 
 their present situation by causes that 
 had no power of conceiving the result, 
 or of acting with a view to future cir- 
 cumstances ?" 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 " JLHESE are abstruse and difficult 
 questions," replied Bedoanar ; " but 
 it appears to me, that if our spirits 
 have been made, that artist who con. 
 structed them must have known their 
 qualities ; and I do not think he would 
 intentionally construct bad ones, that 
 is to say, minds who cannot enjoy 
 
 D
 
 38 THE VISIT OF BEDOANAR. 
 
 themselves without making others un- 
 happy. 1 cannot even suppose he 
 would construct such as were capable 
 of pain at all, for pain is bad in itself, 
 and, so far as we can judge, the capa- 
 city for pain is not a necesssary con- 
 comitant of the capacity for pleasure. 
 Pain seems altogether useless ; and 
 surely the minds that have it so much 
 interwoven among their other phoe- 
 nomena, must have sprung from the 
 bosom of necessity, and cannot be the 
 production of choice. Indeed we ne- 
 ver see any thing radically and essen- 
 tially new making its appearance. 
 We behold aggregates forming, and 
 complex bodies resolving into their 
 primitive parts, but not one elemen- 
 tary substance, as far as we can judge, 
 is at any time either added to the
 
 THE VISIT OF BEDOANAR. 
 
 39. 
 
 number of those in existence, or des- 
 troyed. 
 
 " I therefore think the power of an 
 awful spirit has been exerted, not in 
 producing the materials, but in ar- 
 ranging the system of the universe. 
 His plans, thoughts, and operations, 
 are visible on its face, and I am con- 
 vinced he has done the best which 
 could be done with what he found ; 
 or rather, indeed, that he is constantly 
 perfecting the system, and bringing 
 all things into more complete order, 
 from day to day, not from any fault 
 or oversight in his original design, but 
 because no change or improvement 
 can be brought about faster than is 
 consistent with the nature of. his ma- 
 terials, and because it is probably by 
 means of their action upon one an-
 
 40 THE VISIT OF BEDOANAR. 
 
 other that most revolutions in the 
 universe are accomplished. At pre- 
 sent our planet groans with wretch- 
 edness. Evil is common j but, in the 
 structure of most objects, I perceive 
 so many contrivances for preventing 
 evil, that I cannot help thinking some 
 benevolent spirit must have spent 
 much time in organizing them at first, 
 and will, therefore, in all probability, 
 continue to remove their defects, as 
 often as any suitable juncture occurs, 
 and renders it possible to do so. 
 
 Fate, or, in other words, the bias of 
 the native qualities of objects, is per- 
 haps the moving principle of the uni- 
 verse ; but there is a great spirit who 
 looks on and applies it. He finds all 
 nature crowded with minds, and per- 
 haps, in some cases, affected by their
 
 THE VISIT OF BEDOANAR. 41 
 
 will. He subdues them, and compels 
 them to concur in his plans of univer- 
 sal arrangement. He desires to place 
 them all in a situation of enjoyment; 
 and, as the greatest sum of enjoyment 
 springs from an equitable distribution 
 of it, he will suffer none to be made 
 unhappy with a view to the gratifica- 
 tion of others. Yet some of them, 
 fond of acting at random, are loath to 
 be hampered by any considerations 
 of public utility. Others, engaged in 
 minor schemes and operations over 
 nature, cannot see their work swal- 
 lowed up in a larger system without 
 bitterness of heart. Others, indulging 
 in a savage despotism over such as are 
 weaker than themselves, grow dark 
 with venom at having their subjects 
 emancipated. But although these,
 
 2 THE VISIT OF BEDOANAR. 
 
 and such as these, are exasperated a- 
 gainst the Supreme conductor and 
 vindicator, others, of a more compre- 
 hensive understanding, perceive the 
 grandeur of his projects, and with 
 gladness acknowledge him as Supreme, 
 while they sympathise in his views, and 
 co-operate in his undertakings. 
 
 " He examines the physical uni- 
 verse ; he calculates on its properties. 
 Constellations begin to smile through- 
 out the dark abyss j and a troop of in- 
 visible planets throng into motion 
 around each component star. Ani- 
 mals are constructed, and minds cho- 
 sen forgiving life totheir bodies. Con- 
 tinents are peopled. The hum of ex* 
 istence and pleasure begins to rise on 
 all sides, like a mighty concert ; and 
 the workmen, smit with a redoubled
 
 THE VISIT OF BEDOANAR. 43 
 
 enthusiasm, apply themselves again to 
 the formation of new creatures. A 
 thousand exquisite combinations and 
 varieties come breathing from their 
 manufacture, every day. There is not 
 a green pasture, in any globe, where 
 the dance of life is not set agoing, nor 
 a valley where the garlands of vegeta- 
 tion, are not scattered to intoxicate 
 with their odour, and dazzle with their 
 bloom." 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 
 3^>m- 
 
 " SUCH may have been the beginning 
 of the present order of nature," said 
 Alzareb ; " but my thoughts recur to 
 this unfortunate globe, which is our 
 birth-place. I do not understand our
 
 44 THE VISIT OF BEDOANAR, 
 
 lot. We see the bodies of our compa- 
 nions, after some time, left inanimate ; 
 and we know not what becomes of their 
 minds. Yet, unlike the lower animals, 
 we have sufficient powers of abstraction 
 to state the question, and to feel the 
 horror and the mystery of dying." 
 
 " Whatever may be the cause or the 
 use of that phaenomenon you mention,'* 
 replied Bedoanar, " there is one rea- 
 son for it perceptible in the structure 
 of the mind. We see that changes 
 are needful to its good health, even at 
 present. A total change may be still 
 more needful, and still more refresh- 
 ing. All human pleasures consist ei- 
 ther of bodily feelings, or of emotions, 
 arising from particular aggregates of 
 thought. As for the bodily feelings, 
 they may be repeated as often as we
 
 
 THE VISIT OF BEDOAKAR, 45 
 
 can obtain their exciting causes, name- 
 ly, certain affections of the nerves, ari- 
 sing from the contact of external ob- 
 jects. Emotions, on the contrary, are 
 far more liable to miscarriage, in their 
 production ; for although, like all other 
 things, they have each a fixed and de- 
 terminate cause, and although they 
 can never fail to make their appearance, 
 when the combinations of thought, 
 
 which constitute that cause, have ta- 
 ken place ; yet these combinations 
 cannot often be repeated without be- 
 coming adulterated with a mixture of 
 extraneous ideas, which operate, like 
 a wrong acid in a chemical experi- 
 ment, and either totally suspend the 
 action of the different ingredients, or 
 produce a muddled and imperfect ef- 
 fect. Such is the sad but inseparable
 
 4-6 THE VISIT OF BEDOANAR. 
 
 consequence of the principle of asso- 
 ciation. All objects that can suggest 
 the thoughts fit for producing any 
 emotion, become, ere long, associated 
 with a number of other thoughts, 
 quite foreign to the purpose. These, 
 at first, impede the production of the 
 emotion ; and, afterwards, entirely 
 remove our attention from what ori- 
 ginally warmed and lighted UD our 
 hearts. 
 
 Animals are framed in such a man- 
 ner, as to propagate their species, and 
 therefore they must also die j for no 
 definite surface of land can support 
 inhabitants, which, if immortal, would 
 increase in an indefinite degree. Per- 
 haps this arrangement is adopted be- 
 cause of our internal structure, whicli 
 requires novelty. Perhaps we die,
 
 THE VISIT OF BEDOANAR. 47 
 
 that we may not yawn upon a stage 
 where we cannot any longer find en- 
 joyment ; and the mind is stript of its 
 old organs of perception, only to be 
 dropt in some new land, rife with ob- 
 jects of emotion, and untainted by the 
 footsteps of care," 
 
 " 'Tis very possible," said Alzareb ; 
 " for it cannot be denied that our feel- 
 ings grow duller and duller almost 
 every time we get them excited by the 
 same object, and suffer, in the course 
 of our lives, what painters would call 
 a degradation of colour. One circum- 
 stance, however, prevents our stock 
 from being, all at once, exhausted. A 
 great number of our feelings require, 
 in us, particular degrees of intellectual 
 advancement before they can make 
 their appearance, and they start up,
 
 48 THE VISIT OF BEDOANAR. 
 
 therefore, only one by one, as our dif- 
 ferent faculties are expanded." 
 
 " Yet," replied Bedoanar, " the ob- 
 jects which produce them are all found 
 in the same world ; and have, for the 
 most part, something similar in their 
 composition. Hence those habits of 
 association that spoil one, are likewise 
 apt to take the flush of novelty from an- 
 other ; till at last, in old age, we can 
 hardly procure a single feeling, of any 
 force or purity. Indeed, nothing ever 
 equals the bloomy freshness of infant 
 pleasure ; nor does any subsequent 
 fascination ever produce such an ex- 
 quisite thrill, as the first shaft of love, 
 in the heart of a stripling. 
 
 " I believe not," said Alzareb ; 
 " and all this, no doubt, affords some 
 reason for dying. But, in the present
 
 THE VISIT OF BEDOANAR. 49 
 
 planet, surely the arrangements for 
 developing our agreeable emotions 
 are either very lame, inadequate, and 
 imperfect or else many positive sour- 
 ces of wretchedness are allowed to 
 be constantly operating along with 
 them." 
 
 " Although we suffer much," replied 
 Bedoanar, " from an occasional dearth 
 of objects and situations, to excite our 
 feelings ; and although the witch of 
 ennui frequently tempts us to force 
 pleasure at the price of an overbalance 
 of subsequent misery, or to seek for 
 emotions that are involved in such a 
 combination of circumstances, as can- 
 not be obtained without disturbing 
 and distressing a number of our fellow 
 mortals ; yet I think the fault of the 
 human lot lies more in positive and 
 E
 
 $0 THE VISIT OF BEDOANAR. 
 
 active sources of wretchedness, than 
 in the difficulty of procuring enjoy- 
 ment." 
 
 CHAP. V. 
 
 " IN the first place, men are obliged to 
 continue their own existence by their 
 own exertions. They must have food, 
 and they must struggle for it among a 
 thousand competitors, equally neces- 
 sitous, while the utmost quantity that 
 is raised in the planet seldom an- 
 swers for the total number of those 
 who require it. The labour, physical 
 or mental, with which an individal 
 must purchase his own share, is sel- 
 dom without bitterness. At any rate, 
 labour, so long as it continues, chains
 
 THE VISIT OF BEDOANAR. 51 
 
 him up from seeking after those en- 
 joyments most agreeable to his nature. 
 This feature, in our condition, is cer- 
 tainly a very disagreeable one j but per- 
 haps the rulers of the universe, when 
 they provided mankind with a certain 
 allotment of pleasure, thought it was 
 enough ; and having arranged the 
 physical world as at presentment away 
 to shower their favours elsewhere. 
 Perhaps the necessity we complain 
 of has even been imposed intention- 
 ally. Perhaps it is meant as a shackle 
 on the restless qualities of the human 
 spirit ; which, if they were at freedom 
 to follow their own bias, would pro- 
 duce nothing but everlasting storms 
 of contention, violence, and injustice. 
 In the mean time, it is evident, 
 that although the planet were never
 
 52 THE VISIT OF BEDOANA) 
 
 so much enlarged in size, or increased 
 in fertility, propagation would soon 
 overspread it with more inhabitants 
 than it could feed j and that, unless 
 their numbers could be confined within 
 a stationary limit, mankind must al- 
 ways walk on the brink of starvation, 
 as at present. I sometimes wish the 
 major part of the species were born of 
 a neutral sex, that would never feel 
 desire, and might enjoy the span of 
 their own existence without leaving 
 any successors behind them. But 
 every fool goes about increasing our 
 numbers without mercy. His progeny 
 first grapple with another for bread, 
 and then, like their infatuated parent?, 
 engender once more, to make it 
 scarcer. I begin to think there is no 
 such happy time for a planet, as when
 
 THE VISIT OF BEDOANAR. 55' 
 
 it is recently peopled. An ample ve- 
 getation has then but a moderate num- 
 ber to consume its fruits ; and the 
 transports of love need be subject to 
 no restriction ; for the child who 
 leaves the breast of his mother finds 
 the green earth cherish and feed him 
 as tenderly. He comes back only to 
 receive caresses. No doubt men are 
 then ignorant; but, in counterbalance, 
 they have all the delights of examin- 
 ing and exploring. Nature is, to 
 them, a fairy labyrinth ; and life, a 
 series of animating and pleasing ad- 
 ventures, that never allow the mind 
 to cool. 
 
 The task of supporting our own lives 
 is the necessary consequence of our 
 physical structure, and of the nature 
 of the planet, both of which were 
 
 E3
 
 54 THE VISIT OF BEDOANAR. 
 
 optional to the power who contrived 
 them ; but almost all the hatreds, 
 enmities, and cruelties of one man 
 towards another, (and these form 
 the principal other source of our 
 unhappiness,) seem to spring from 
 a corruption of the desire of superi- 
 ority, and from the pleasure found 
 in exerting power, which are cir- 
 cumstances belonging to the structure 
 of our own minds, and therefore, I 
 suppose, incapable of being altered. 
 Our contentions about the mere ex- 
 ternal means of enjoyment seldom ex- 
 cite much rancour. They are eager, 
 but not virulent. It is only where 
 the notions of power and importance 
 are involved in the dispute, that men 
 cordially detest one another.
 
 THE VISIT OF BEDOANAR. 
 
 CHAP. VI. 
 
 THE desire of attaining power is by 
 far the most prolific source of unfair 
 conduct that exists in human bosoms ; 
 and the pleasure of exerting it is no 
 better than a direct incentive to cruel* 
 ty ; for we cannot often prove and feel 
 our mastership, but by forcing others 
 to suffer something which is disagree- 
 able to them, and which they would 
 not suffer if they could possibly help 
 it. In most cases, power can only be 
 shewn by making some change ; and, 
 unfortunately, changes cannot always 
 be made for the better. These facts 
 are exemplified over all the globe. 
 Persons entrusted with authority have 
 a constant wish to multiply the powers
 
 THE VISIT OF BEDOANAR. 
 
 of their office beyond what public uti- 
 lity demands, and consequently to en- 
 croach on public freedom. Private 
 individuals are, in general, secretly 
 watching for dependants, and making 
 use of the wants of their neighbours 
 to enslave them by interest, when they 
 cannot do it by force. All powers, 
 whether native acquired, or conven- 
 tional, are brandished by their own- 
 ers, without discrimination, or re- 
 gard to common sense. The petty 
 magistrate seems always on the look- 
 out for some person to bastinado. 
 The clever disputant will agree with 
 nobody, till he has proved them in the 
 wrong. The muscular bully walks in 
 a circuitous direction, for the sake of 
 meeting people to shove out of his 
 road. The selfish demagogue thinks
 
 THE VISIT OF BEDOANAR. 57 
 
 nothing of any atrocities that are com- 
 mitted, while he has the pleasure of 
 leading the populace. The puny do- 
 mestic tyrant will give his family no 
 rest, under pretence of keeping it in 
 order. The speculator will rather ad- 
 vance and support a falsehood, than 
 die without effecting any change upon 
 mens opinions. The chief, with a large 
 army, disturbs five or six comfortable 
 nations, to make them into an empire, 
 not half so well organized, in its poli- 
 tical structure, as each of them was 
 when separate. And, finally, the 
 wretch who has no influence any 
 where else, comes home and kicks his 
 dog. 
 
 All these oppressions go on with- 
 out ceasing. They are aggravated, 
 sometimes by the impudence, and
 
 THE VISIT OF BEDOANAR. 
 
 sometimes by the grave hypocrisy 
 with which they are committed. One 
 of the most provoking circumstances 
 about an usurper, in private life, is 
 the skill with which he contrives to 
 entangle his usurpations with his legi- 
 timate rights, in such a manner that 
 it is impossible to strike at the one 
 without also touching the other, and 
 enabling him to come forward with a 
 demand for vengeance against the 
 person he would have wronged. 
 
 In those cases where men cannot hope 
 for any direct controul over one ano- 
 ther's actions, we find them endeavour- 
 ing to tyrannize indirectly, with regard 
 to thought and feeling; and it is this ab- 
 surd conduct that so frequently damps 
 the pleasure of social intercourse. If a 
 person seem at all anxious for the sym-
 
 THE VISIT OF BEDOAN 7 AR. 5Q 
 
 pathy of his companions, it will inten- 
 tionally be denied him, until he has 
 paid court with innumerable com- 
 pliances and submissions. If another 
 is weak enough to respect their opi- 
 nions, he will find them very cold in 
 approving of any thing he does ; for 
 to grant him approbation at once, 
 would be to throw away their ascen- 
 dancy without exerting it. Some- 
 times a particular class of individu- 
 als will club together in support- 
 ing "some falsehood which tends to 
 degrade another class. Sometimes two 
 or three dastardly minds will unite 
 their strength to put a single and un- 
 supported being out of countenance. 
 Even the solitary pleasures of the 
 heart are not placed beyond the reach 
 of malignant interference. In human
 
 60 THE VISIT OF BEDOANAR. 
 
 estimation, it is better to inflict pain 
 than to exert no power at all ; and 
 therefore men will often attempt to 
 sap and destroy the finest emotions of 
 their neighbours, by representing the 
 object which excites those emotions 
 as ridiculous or chimerical. In trans- 
 forming it with falsehoods, they make 
 a pretence of shewing its true nature. 
 They call him a dupe ; and, what is 
 the most bitter of all insults, assume 
 the language of a stronger mind in- 
 forming a weaker ; while it is evi- 
 dent the laugh must always end on 
 their side, because they possess a firm 
 hold of his feelings, and can wound 
 them as often as they please ; and be- 
 cause, on the other hand, he has com- 
 monly no hold of theirs, and is unable 
 to reciprocate. It is this circumstance
 
 THE VISIT OF BEDOANAR. 6l 
 
 which renders scepticism so inviting a 
 creed to the generality of mankind. 
 Human scepticism is, for the most part, 
 nothing but a system of unfair nega- 
 tions, contrived with a view to insult 
 and oppress those who derive emotion, 
 or any other advantage, from the truth. 
 But when men, living together in civi- 
 lized society, find that even their emo- 
 tions place them at the mercy of others, 
 an alarm is given to their pride; and at 
 last no one dare cultivate any feeling, 
 until he can be sure of a general sym- 
 pathy from his companions ; which is 
 very seldom the case, because there 
 are few feelings in which an extensive 
 circle will ever join. A wretched 
 meagreness of soul is the consequence. 
 People walk about, like shadows and 
 skeletons, because they must not pre- 
 
 F
 
 62 THE VISIT OF BEDOANAR. 
 
 sent any substance to be struck at -, 
 and, after all their endeavours to shun 
 laughter, become at last ridiculous in 
 the mass, as an example of beings who 
 have been forced to abandon all the 
 best enjoyments of their nature, by 
 the blindfold petulance of one an- 
 other. 
 
 Through the whole of life, the de- 
 sire of power constitutes a source of 
 emotion, which is rarely forgotten j 
 and which, from time to time, bids 
 every man become a traitor against 
 the rights of his brother ; but, in old 
 age, the pleasure of controlling others 
 forms a staple, and almost sole re- 
 maining enjoyment. In boyhood, and 
 even in manhood, the strength of our 
 sympathies, and the powerful interest 
 of some objects of emotion, not yet
 
 THE VISIT OF CEDOANAR. 63 
 
 exhausted, will often serve to prevent 
 any thought of usurpation ; but, in 
 the remaining part of our existence, 
 the sympathies have died out ; and 
 the love of abstract justice, which 
 ought to supply their place, is not to 
 be found in ordinary human bosoms. 
 Few have the worth and genius to re- 
 main long young in their feelings. 
 Most people, after a certain period, 
 must seek for emotion in the love of 
 power, which never grows old. Mar- 
 riage itself is sometimes resorted to 
 for procuring subjects, when they can- 
 not be found elsewhere ; and the last 
 resource of the dotard, who can no 
 longer struggle for importance on the 
 open theatre of public life, is to esta- 
 blish a quiet and easy despotism for 
 F 2
 
 6*4 THE VISIT OF BEDOANAH. 
 
 himself in the bosom of his own fa- 
 mily. 
 
 When mankind are so continually 
 busied in throwing nets over each o- 
 thers liberty, who can wonder that the 
 worldhas an aspectof desolation, orthat 
 kindness and confidence are withered 
 up? There is no person but abandons 
 the pleasure of sympathy for the plea- 
 sure of ruling, whenever circumstan- 
 ces put it in his choice. Nay, to such 
 a height is the frenzy for domination 
 carried, that a man who seeks enjoy- 
 ment in his own mind, or in the con- 
 templation of agreeable objects, in 
 such a manner as to give his neigh- 
 bours no molestation, is by many con- 
 sidered as a weak person and a dream- 
 er. The world hints that he is harm- 
 less because he is impotent ; and this
 
 THE VISIT OF BEDOANAR. 65 
 
 < 
 
 insinuation frequently rouses indivi- 
 duals into demons, who might other- 
 wise have spent their day quietly. 
 
 ' 
 GHAP. VII. 
 
 " IN short, there is hardly one tran- 
 saction between human beings in- 
 to which this fatal passion does not 
 contrive to insinuate itself. Had the 
 love of pow r er been accompanied by 
 an equal attachment to justice, I 
 should not have borne it so much ha- 
 tred, but in most minds the one prin- 
 ciple is by far too strong for the o- 
 ther. The love of justice is an arti- 
 ficial product of intellect and associa- 
 tion. The love of power is an origi- 
 nal propension of our minds. All men, 
 F 3
 
 66 THE VISIT OF BEDOANAR. 
 
 are under a natural temptation to deal 
 unfairly, because they gain by doing 
 so. None but a small number have 
 any thing in their mental structure 
 which produces an opposite feeling 
 strong enough to balance the motives 
 for committing inj ustice. The rest re- 
 ceive little impediment either from 
 sympathy, from habits of education, 
 or from the perception of utility j and 
 as these appear to exhaust all the gua- 
 rantees for moral rectitude, it is plain 
 they must follow their own wishes at 
 their neighbour's expence. 
 
 Surely the planet, where matters are 
 on this footing, has no reason to be the 
 seat of much peace, or agreeable feel- 
 ing. We find it is quite the reverse. 
 Our finest emotions are all crushed in 
 the bud ; and our lives are spent ra-
 
 THE VISIT OF BEDOANAK. j 
 
 ther in defending our rights, than in 
 enjoying them. It is vain that some 
 people tell us of a natural disposition 
 to benevolence, which lurks about the 
 human heart. Will casual fits of sym- 
 pathy ensure the permanent happiness 
 of society ? Will a few gratuitous ten- 
 dernesses answer the same purpose, as 
 a habitual respect for the rights of 
 our neighbours? Can any cool ob- 
 server forbear to smile at a being who 
 first gives full scope to his envy and 
 malignity, in all cases where they are 
 called into action, and then affects to 
 play the comforter with some person 
 who is so insignificant, and so help- 
 less, as to excite no envy at all ? Even 
 the love of power does not hinder man- 
 kind from pitying those griefs which 
 arise from a different cause than their
 
 68 THE VISIT OF BEDOANAR. 
 
 own tyranny- But after the pleasure 
 of giving succour to wretchedness, 
 perhaps the very next pleasure they 
 resort to, is that of producing it ; like 
 the sour beldame, who first lets fall 
 her charities in the streets, and then 
 goes home to spread gloom and suffer- 
 ing though her own household. 
 
 Go, go, ye whimpering impostors ; 
 dry up your tears, and pocket your 
 balm* Learn justice, and we shall be 
 able to dispense with your pity ; for 
 if no person ever inflicted any wounds, 
 there would be fewer to heal. Society 
 owes more of its happiness to the in- 
 dividual who restrains, in himself, a 
 single mischievous and aggressive pro- 
 pensity, than ta the dealer of a thou- 
 sand benevolences, if these benevo- 
 lences are intermixed with conduct of
 
 THE VISIT OF BEDOANAR. 69 
 
 an opposite description. The former 
 gives some proof, that he really does 
 love his neighbour as himself; the 
 latter is nothing but a weak and ab- 
 surd wretch, who allows the gusts and 
 flaws of his nature to drive him along 
 at random/* 
 
 " And yet," said Alzareb, " the 
 latter is the character most frequently 
 to be met with. It seems as if the 
 animal part of our nature outweighed 
 the human. Justice, which ought to 
 be the characteristic of an intellectual 
 being, obtains little footing in society ; 
 but the world exhibits no dearth of 
 mechanical sympathy, or instinctive 
 affection. The human species are like 
 quadrupeds in a forest, who riot alter- 
 nately in mischief and fondness, with- 
 out ever looking to the consequences."
 
 70 THE VISIT OF BEDOAXAR. 
 
 " Perhaps/* replied Bedoanar, "more 
 love of justice exists in the world than 
 what is perceived in action. Men of 
 principle, finding their best intentions 
 constantly rendered abortive by the 
 irregular movements of fools, begin to 
 lose heart, and sometimes ultimately 
 abandon that integrity which requires 
 so many sacrifices on their part, and 
 yet produces so little advantage to so- 
 ciety." 
 
 " And, therefore," said Alzareb, 
 " I complain of our condition. Fate 
 may have burdened the universe with 
 a class of ill- constituted minds, but 
 why should they not be kept apart 
 from such as are willing to preserve, 
 in their conduct, some regard for the 
 happiness of each other? Men are 
 not all equally stupid and headlong
 
 THE VISIT OF BEDOANAR. 71 
 
 in following the dictates of their sel- 
 fishness. Some of them are willing to 
 compound and to calculate. Some of 
 them are even magnanimous, gentle, 
 and affectionate, considerate of the 
 rights of their neighbours, and suscep- 
 tible of so many charming emotions, 
 that they could almost afford to live 
 out their days without devising or ex- 
 ecuting any mischief, if it were not for 
 the cruel aggressions which provoke 
 them to retaliate. Why should not 
 these be allowed to enjoy the advan- 
 tages of their own constitution ?"
 
 THE VISIT OF BEDOANAR. 
 
 CHAP. VIII. 
 
 '* THERE we land in a riddle," an- 
 swered Bedoanar. " But I really do 
 not believe any person could find a 
 sufficient store of emotions to fill up 
 his existence, without including the 
 pleasures of action, or, in other words, 
 the pleasure of exerting power, either 
 in bringing about some new event, or 
 in leading and controuling his neigh- 
 bours. In short, there is a radical de- 
 fect in the human constitution. We 
 cannot be happy without acting ; and 
 yet we cannot find a sufficient number 
 of opportunities of action, without 
 making others miserable. Few can 
 be satisfied with executing the mere
 
 THE VISIT OF BEDOAXAR. 7 
 
 useful drudgeries of life ; and there 
 is not a great deal besides for a per- 
 son to do, which will not prove a curse 
 rather than a blessing, to the commu- 
 nity. Every one desires to produce 
 important consequences, that will be 
 felt by those around him ; but it is 
 easier to produce painful effects, than 
 agreeable ones. Every one desires to 
 rule and to lead ; but how seldom can 
 he find another, who will derive advan- 
 tage or gratification from being under 
 his controul ; and, in so far as govern- 
 ment is required for a whole nation, 
 it is evidently their interest to be go- 
 verned as much as possible by con- 
 ventional principles amongthemselves, 
 and not by the will of an individual. 
 
 Some have thought that, in the ge- 
 neral system of action and re-action, 
 G
 
 V* THE VISIT OF BEDOANAR. 
 
 which pervades human life, each indi- 
 vidual enjoys his own share of the feel- 
 ing of power, and gains as much hy 
 his triumphs, as he loses by his defeats 
 and mortifications. But I suspect 
 this is false, in the majority of cases. 
 All men are not equally fit for the 
 struggle. Many are trodden down 
 at the very outset, and suffer the bit- 
 terness of unmixed oppression to the 
 close of their lives. Again, a vast 
 number of our species are never al- 
 lowed the pleasure of exerting what 
 force of character they have, because 
 fortune has tied their hands, and be- 
 cause their well-being depends on the 
 pleasure of almost every person whom 
 they have to deal with. Even those 
 who labour under no shackles of this 
 kind, have but a thin succession of
 
 THE VISIT OF. BEDOANAR. 75 
 
 triumphs. Cases of paramount strength 
 can seldom occur, because they neu- 
 tralise each other. In all the rest of 
 cases, a man's attention is fixed more 
 upon his superiors than his inferiors, 
 and hence the stings of envy come to 
 visit his bosom, far oftener than the 
 sweets of exultation. As for those 
 between whom the struggle for supe- 
 riority is not yet decided, it is obvious 
 that mutual hatred is very destructive 
 to their peace. 
 
 " For my part, when I consider 
 these things, I feel a great increase of 
 esteem for all those amusements and 
 agreeable arts which furnish a supply 
 of emotion, without making any per- 
 son suffer for it, and which help to 
 suspend, for a while, that restless pur- 
 suit of importance, which is at once
 
 76 THE VISIT OF BEDOANAR. 
 
 so bitter, and so vain. Life is well 
 spent, when we are well diverted ; 
 and those who make themselves too 
 busy, are in general actuated less by 
 a sense of duty than their ambition. 
 One of the principal obligations we 
 owe to mankind, is to let them alone ; 
 and one of the chief beauties of ac- 
 tion is to repel encroachments, and 
 assert our own freedom." 
 
 As Bedoanar was uttering these 
 words, he fixed his eyes upon a city, 
 which was situated at some distance, 
 in the middle of the landscape, and 
 which at that time sent up wreaths of 
 white smoke, illuminated by the set- 
 ting sun. " Ah, thou gilded abode of 
 unhappy mortals !" cried he, " If 1 
 were to preach to thy inhabitants, I 
 would recommend to them to live joy-
 
 THE VISIT OF BEDOANAR. 77 
 
 fully, during the days of their vanity* 
 In the words of a certain wise man, I 
 would say to them, Go now, eat your 
 bread and drink your wine with a 
 merry heart. Cultivate good humour. 
 Do not be afraid of each others con- 
 tempt, for you are all contemptible ;, 
 and the fear of scorn is the root of a 
 thousand useless vexations. Remem- 
 ber that, in some respects, your own 
 species may be considered as your 
 worst enemies, that their exactions 
 will prove endless, if you have the 
 folly to comply with them, and, a- 
 bove all, that it is your pride, your 
 fantastical pride, which enslaves you,, 
 and gives one man such a fatal pur- 
 chase over the happiness of another., 
 Do not listen, therefore, to the sug- 
 gestions of the crafty, who endeavour;
 
 78 THE VISIT OF BEDOANAR. 
 
 to hold out wrong qualities as objects 
 of esteem; and whose real object is 
 to turn your self-love into such chan- 
 nels as will place you more and more 
 at the mercy of society." 
 
 Such were the reflections of Bedoa- 
 nar ; and certainly they are by no 
 means amiss for an antediluvian phi- 
 losopher. One would almost think 
 he had read the Ecclesiastes of Solo- 
 mon, and the Odes of Horace. 
 
 After spending some time with Al- 
 zareb and Rustan, (during which a 
 number of metaphysical questions were 
 debated without any satisfactory re- 
 sult,) Bedoanar took his leave, and 
 before parting wished them much suc- 
 cess in their studies, if it was worth 
 while to study what they could riot 
 mend.
 
 79 
 
 .. 
 ONE NIGHT IN ROME. 
 
 . i 
 
 Kuow'st thou the pile the colonnade sustains, < 
 " Its splendid chambers, and its rich domains, 
 Where breathing statues stand in bright array. 
 
 GOETHE. 
 
 DURING those extraordinary times 
 when Nero wantoned in every species 
 of atrocity, a young man, by name 
 Agenor, was brought up in one of the 
 provinces of Italy. He lost both his 
 parents, and finding himself his own 
 mastery set out to visit Rome. 
 
 It was at dusk, after a fatiguing 
 journey, when he first made his ap-
 
 80 ONE NIGHT IN ROME. 
 
 proach to that immense labyrinth of 
 wonders and of crimes. Lights were 
 seen scattered over all the city. The 
 sound of chariot wheels, vocifera- 
 tions, and musical instruments, reach- 
 ed him before his entry, and soon after 
 stunned him, in passing along the 
 streets, where senators, and women of 
 rank, flamens, and gladiators, knights, 
 thieves, matrons, orators, and debau- 
 chees, were strolling together in com- 
 panies, and conversing in a thousand 
 different tones, of drunkenness, deri- 
 sion, kindness, resentment, vulgarity, 
 and high-breeding. In short, it was the 
 festival of Cybele, the mother of the 
 gods, and all Rome was in an uproar. 
 Our youth feels abashed in the me- 
 tropolis. The number of countenan- 
 ces that wear a look of intelligence
 
 ONE NIGHT IN ROME. 81 
 
 and penetration, without any stamp of 
 moral goodness, dismays and con- 
 founds him. He falls into reveries 
 upon the subject, and tries to con- 
 ceive what style of manners would 
 best protect him from ridicule in deal- 
 ing with such men ; or how he could 
 endeavour to match their shrewdness, 
 when it was accompanied by no res- 
 pect for justice or truth. 
 
 In the meantime, a scuffle took 
 place among some slaves. One of 
 them was wounded, and retired among 
 the pillars of a temple, where he lay 
 down, without receiving the least no- 
 tice or comfort from any passenger. 
 Agenor went up to the spot, and spoke 
 to him. After enquiring into the na- 
 ture of his hurt, he learnt the name 
 and abode of his master, who was a
 
 82 ONE NIOHT IN ROME* 
 
 praetor, and whom he next went to 
 seek, for the purpose of procuring as- 
 sistance. 
 
 It was a magnificent house to which 
 the slave had directed him. The mas- 
 ter was out at supper, but his lady 
 was giving an entertainment in his ab- 
 sence, and ere long came in person to 
 learn what intelligence our youth had 
 to communicate. She was a noble 
 figure, had some beauty, with a gay 
 look, and an eye full of a thousand 
 meanings. While Agenor was telling 
 his story she regarded him attentively. 
 Indeed his cheek had a fine bloom, 
 and his locks were as rich and exuber- 
 ant as what we now behold on the 
 forehead of the charming Antinous. 
 As for his manner, it implied the most 
 unbroken simplicity, so that, after
 
 NIGHT IN ROME. 83 
 
 giving orders for bringing home the 
 wounded slave, she begged, in a ma- 
 tronly tone, that he would come up 
 stairs, and partake of a repast along 
 with some of her friends ; " because," 
 added she, with a smile, " it is the 
 festival of Cybele." Agenor com- 
 plied. 
 
 There was a good deal of company 
 in her saloon. Among others, a cen- 
 turion, who did not appear so devout 
 as Cornelius ; an old senator, tooth- 
 less and half blind ; a Greek belong- 
 ing to the theatre ; several married 
 women of the city ; and a beautiful 
 young girl, with dark eyes and modest 
 lips, whose name was Phrosine,a niece 
 of their absent host. 
 
 It was upon this young person that 
 our hero's thoughts were principally
 
 84) ONE NIGHT IN ROME. 
 
 fixed during supper; although me 
 lady of the house never allowed much 
 time to pass without asking him some 
 question, or sending a smile to meet 
 his eye as it wandered over the table j 
 and although she presented him with 
 a sweetmeat, where there was a sprig 
 of myrtle floating in the juice. Phro- 
 sine spoke little, but Agenor could 
 observe she never missed any thing 
 he said. This made him talk with 
 animation, and gave his voice that 
 sort of mellowness which quiets the 
 female bosom into a delicious langour, 
 while it penetrates to its very core. 
 An easy gaiety prevailed through- 
 out the company. The perfumes 
 which were burnt in the chamber, to- 
 gether with the occasional strains of 
 music performed by attendants, oper-
 
 ONE NIGHT IN ROME. 85 
 
 ated in producing that luxurious in- 
 dolence which is averse to any sort 
 of contention. Every disagreeable 
 thought was turned aside by some 
 dexterous pleasantry. No alterca- 
 tion had time to occur before it was 
 solved by a jest. The choicest wines 
 of the praetor were circulated with a 
 liberal hand; and the old senator, from 
 time to time, poured forth unmeaning 
 gallantries, without knowing exactly 
 to whom they were addressed, Age- 
 nor began to perceive the beauty of 
 nonsense, which is almost the only 
 thing that can relax the vigilance of 
 our self love, and enable us to live 
 harmoniously together. 
 
 In the meantime, a great deal of 
 gossip took place among the married 
 women. Nero's conduct was exaroin- 
 
 H
 
 86 ONE NIGHT IN ROME. 
 
 ed with freedom ; but more as an ob- 
 ject of ridicule than of detestation. 
 The Greek enlarged upon some fine 
 panthers then at the circus. The cen- 
 turion drank assiduously, and lay in 
 watch for any ambiguities of language 
 that might happen to drop from the 
 company. These he regularly follow- 
 ed up with such remarks as implied 
 his adoption of their worst meaning ; 
 and he shewed an expertness in this 
 exercise, which long practice only 
 could have taught him. Indeed not 
 one sentence escaped from the sena- 
 tor which he did not mould into some 
 equivocal declaration or proposal. The 
 reverend father himself had no suspi- 
 cion of this, although shouts of laugh- 
 ter were constantly breaking forth a- 
 mong the male part of the company ;
 
 ONE NIGHT IN ROME. Sj 
 
 and therefore he continued slowly 
 bungling forward from one subject to 
 another, while the long chasms be- 
 tween his ideas were filled up and 
 garnished by the centurion, at his own- 
 discretion. In those days an old 
 senator was considered as the finest 
 butt in the world. 
 
 When the party broke up, Agenor 
 came near Phrosine, and said, for the 
 pleasure of speaking to her, " How 
 long does the festival of Cybele con- 
 tinue ?" Any question will serve to 
 accompany the looks of a lover. 
 Phrosine replied, " Only two days 
 more ; but in that time you will see 
 much of the nature of Rome ;" and 
 then added, with a girlish ignorance 
 of her own feelings, " What a plea- 
 sant companion that old senator is \
 
 88 ONE NIGHT IN ROME. 
 
 I never spent a night- so happily." 
 " Nor I," said Agenor, who knew the 
 reason better. 
 
 A servant was waiting at the door 
 of the saloon. Agenor followed him ; 
 but, instead of being shewn down to 
 the street as he expected, he was left 
 in a solitary chamber, enriched with 
 furniture and paintings of exquisite 
 beauty. Here was an ivory couch, 
 lined with purple ; two Etruscan vases 
 full of roses j and a Cupid of Parian 
 marble, by one of the first sculptors 
 in Greece. The paintings were all of 
 an amorous description. Satyrs gamb- 
 led along the walls, and thoughtless 
 nymphs were seen very much expos- 
 ed among the dark recesses of an an- 
 cient forest. Agenor endeavoured to 
 find out the meaning of his situation,
 
 ONE NIGHT IN ROME. 89 
 
 but could not. Presently the praetor's 
 wife entered. She took his hand with 
 much cordiality, and said, " My dear 
 Agenor, pardon me for this deten- 
 tion : I cannot let you depart, with- 
 out some advice concerning the perils 
 of this bad city ; for I perceive you 
 are a stranger. Young men some- 
 times endeavour to get near the Em- 
 peror in public places, in order to see 
 his person. Beware of doing so. It is 
 impossible to say what might happen 
 if you should attract his notice ; for 
 his power is absolute, and mischief is 
 always in his thoughts. Do not asso- 
 ciate with gladiators and charioteers, 
 who seldom leave an obolus in the 
 pockets of their companions j nor 
 with Greeks, who are sad impostors. 
 Again, your handsome person may 
 H 3
 
 90 ONE NIGHT IN ROME. 
 
 chance to captivate some of our ma- 
 trons, who love gallantry j but al- 
 though they should smile on you from 
 their windows, and beckon with a 
 look of insinuation, do not stop to 
 talk with them ; otherwise you will 
 get entangled in a thousand scrapes. 
 You will be left in the lurch, while 
 they go to intrigue with some other 
 person. Avoid all this, and come of- 
 ten back to visit me," said the prae- 
 tor's wife, laying her hand upon his 
 shoulder : " Be assured I will prove 
 as good a friend as can be met with in 
 Rome." 
 
 Agenor was a good deal astonished. 
 Perhaps he would have been at a loss 
 what to say ; but the praetor himself 
 was that moment heard lumbering up 
 stairs, and hemming at intervals, in a
 
 ONE NIGHT IN ROME. 91 
 
 state of intoxication. His wife start- 
 ed up, and bade Agenor goodnight. 
 She then opened a private passage 
 down to the street, and gently push- 
 ed him out, saying, with a smile, 
 " Farewell at present ; come back to- 
 morrow, and I shall introduce you to 
 the praetor, who is a very worthy 
 man." 
 
 When Agenor came away, the 
 streets were still as crowded as ever ; 
 but afforded more examples of the de- 
 baucheries and vices of Rome. The 
 town which Cato loved was now sad- 
 ly altered. Every god and every vir- 
 tue had left the place ; and although 
 their temples remained as beautiful as 
 in better times, they were filled with 
 scoffing instead of prayer. Agenor 
 had lived as yet uncontaminated j and
 
 92 ONE NIGHT IN ROME. 
 
 the conduct of the praetor's wife that 
 night had not seduced him, because 
 he thought of Phrosine. Phrosine's 
 image engrossed his attention so much 
 that he could scarcely find the house 
 where he meant to sleep ; and when 
 he lay down, the fantastic dreams of 
 youth continued hovering about his 
 pillow. 
 
 Next morning he took a walk thro* 
 the town. Reviewed the public build- 
 ings, the places noted in history, the 
 books of the Sybils, which he could 
 not understand, and the charming 
 productions of the fine arts, worth all 
 the rest put together. Many a beau- 
 teous head, and many a voluptuous 
 form of alabaster, awoke in him the 
 softest feeling of delight ; many a 
 groupe of Bacchanals taught him a
 
 ONE NIGHT IN ROME. 93 
 
 jovial indifference ; and many a pic- 
 ture bore a motto from the songs of 
 Horace, which told him that life is 
 short, and that we should gather its 
 roses while fate leaves them in our 
 power. Xeno's philosophy had once' 
 been his pride ; but a softness of 
 heart now crept in upon him ; and 
 the feelings of the Stoics died away 
 before other feelings, which rendered 
 him a fitter inhabitant for modern 
 Rome. In the morning he had scru. 
 pled about returning to the praetor's 
 house j but now he said, " I must go 
 back to see Phrosine." 
 
 In the meantime, as it was yet early 
 in the forenoon, he repaired to the cir- 
 cus, where he found the citizens al- 
 ready placed in thousands along its 
 far-spreading benches, and some of
 
 94 ONE NIGHT IN ROME. 
 
 them distinguished by very magnifi- 
 cent attire. The games began. Ra- 
 cers and combatants appeared on the 
 vast arena. Trumpets were sounded. 
 A number of tigers, newly brought 
 from confinement, scattered the dust 
 in their terrific gambols. Blood be- 
 gan to be shed, and acclamations to 
 rise from the populace* The wild ani- 
 mals increased the noise in receiving 
 their mortal stabs, and the gladiators 
 fought and died with enthusiasm ; for 
 the sweet music of applause rung in 
 their ears until they could not hear it 
 any longer. 
 
 Agenor grew much interested in 
 these fatal sports. Nevertheless, he fell 
 sometimes into reveries about Phro- 
 sine ; and in glancing his eye over the 
 long rows of the circus, observed the
 
 ONE NIGHT IN ROME. QS 
 
 praetor's wife attended not only by 
 her husband, who was a corpulent 
 figure with a red nose, and a counte- 
 nance full of good-natured sensuality, 
 but also by some of the handsomest 
 men in Rome. 
 
 Agenor thought there was no need 
 of increasing the number. He there- 
 fore left the circus, and went to see 
 if Phrosine had been left at home. 
 Fortunately this was the case. He 
 found her watering some plants in 
 an open gallery, and removing such 
 of their leaves as had withered by 
 too powerful a sun. She recognised 
 him with blushes of gladness ; and, 
 after a short time, Agenor enga- 
 ged in dressing the flowers along with 
 her. These young people found this 
 occupation a very pleasing one. Their
 
 96 ONE NIGHT IN ROME. 
 
 smiles met every moment over hya- 
 cinths and myrtles j and their words 
 were breathed in a low voice among 
 exhalations of perfume. When Phro- 
 sine thought the jars were ill arran- 
 ged, Agenor transposed them so as 
 to produce a finer grouping of the 
 blossom? ; and when their pitcher of 
 water was exhausted, this languishing 
 boy and girl, who had already forgot- 
 ten all conventional forms of behavi- 
 our, went, arm in arm, to the foun- 
 tain down in the garden, to get more. 
 There, at a basin of marble, which 
 foamed to the brim, they replenished 
 their vessel. Some drops of the spray 
 came dashing on Phrosine's white 
 shoulders ; and Agenor used the free- 
 dom to wipe them off with a corner of 
 her garment. Phrosine submitted
 
 ONE NIGHT IN ROME. 97 
 
 with a slight *struggle ; but all this 
 took place in silence, for the feelings 
 of the parties were by far too serious 
 to suit with jests and compliments. 
 Afterwards, they leant for a long time, 
 side by side, against the trunk of a 
 chesnut. Their souls were lost in 
 musing, and their eyes were fixed on 
 the shadows of branches that played 
 over the sunny ground before them 
 '* Ah ! how pleasing is a country life," 
 said Phrosine, ' I sometimes wish that 
 I could get leave to spend my time in 
 Calabria, or Apulea, or some of those 
 delightful provinces, where the ground 
 is covered with yellow sheaves, and 
 where the days are so beautiful, that 
 if a person merely walks about in the 
 open air, it is enough to make him re- 
 gardless of all other pleasures. I do
 
 98 .ONE NIGHT IN ROME. 
 
 -not like the town, or its inhabitants. 
 Our visitors are so coldhearted, that 
 I am treated as a child if I behave 
 kindly to them. They laugh at any 
 person who is simple enough to feel at- 
 tachment even for themselves. Again, 
 there is no peace or security in Rome j 
 for every one is afraid of being cruelly 
 insulted by the emperor, or some of 
 his favourites ; and their brutality 
 renders so many precautions neces- 
 sary, that 1 am inclined more and 
 more to envy the inhabitants of those 
 distant provinces, who are out of its 
 reach. Pray, from what province do 
 you come ?" " From no other than 
 Calabria," replied Agenor. " I have 
 a small farm there ; but a country life 
 is sometimes insipid, and I came to 
 Rome from curiosity and desire of
 
 ONE NIGHT IN ROME. 99 
 
 change. Ah, Phrosine ! if I had not 
 come to Rome, I should never have 
 enjoyed the happiness of being near 
 you ; and now, if I go back to Cala- 
 bria, I shall not know what to do with 
 my heart." 
 
 " Keep your heart with sufficient 
 care," said Phrosine, blushing, " and 
 it will give you no trouble. Those 
 deep and lasting attachments which' 
 have been described by the poets, are 
 no longer to be found in Rome. It 
 is now the fashion to change rapidly 
 from one object of admiration to an- 
 other, and, indeed, never to allow the 
 feelings to be seriously engaged at 
 all. The example of Nero, and his 
 detestable court, has annihilated every 
 thing amiable, and left us nothing 
 i 2
 
 100 ONE NIGHT IN ROME. 
 
 but selfishness, profligacy, and indif- 
 ference." 
 
 " Then you must seek elsewhere," 
 said Agenor, " for a heart which is 
 worthy of you. Rome, as you describe 
 it, can never be the theatre of you* 
 happiness." 
 
 " Oh ! I could endure it well enough," 
 said Phrosine, " provided I were a- 
 greeably situated at home. But the 
 praetor's wife is jealous of the attention 
 I receive from her visitors, and some- 
 times treats me with a degree of harsh- 
 ness which it is difficult to support. 
 She is still fond of admiration, as you 
 may observe, and imagines that I wish 
 to encroach upon her share." 
 
 " There can be no doubt of it," 
 replied Agenor. " It is evident she 
 wishes you out of her family."
 
 ONE NIGHT IN ROME. 10 1 
 
 " But what is worse," said Phrosine, 
 with tears in her eyes, and at the same 
 time laying her hand upon his shoul- 
 der, " Would you believe it, Agenor ? 
 I can hardly be sure that my own 
 uncle, if circumstances should entice 
 him, will not deliver me up to this 
 monster who calls himself the Empe- 
 ror. It seems he had observed me 
 with particular attention somewhere 
 in public, and has repeatedly enquired 
 about me since. The praetor is at 
 present in favour ; but if he were to 
 evade any of Nero's orders, there 
 would at once be an end to his far- 
 ther good fortune, and perhaps to 
 his life." 
 
 " Then why, my beautiful Phro- 
 sine," said our youth, gently encir- 
 eling her waist, " why do you remain 
 i 3
 
 102 ONE NIGHT IN ROME, 
 
 here to endanger your uncle's life? 
 Would it not be much wiser, and 
 more consistent with your duty, to 
 marry a poor husbandman who adores 
 you, and set out for Calabria, where 
 you will enjoy all the pleasures of a 
 charming climate, and never hear of 
 this wicked Emperor any more ? Surely 
 this proposal need only be stated, to 
 make you at once perceive its pro- 
 priety." 
 
 " Oh but my aunt," said Phrosine* 
 sobbing, in great agitation," she 
 would not approve of my conduct." 
 
 " Nor would you approve of hers, 
 if you knew all the particulars of it," 
 replied Agenor. " Wrap your veil 
 about your head, and we shall get out 
 by the garden door, which opens into 
 some of the back lanes. A couple of
 
 ONE NIGHT IN ROME. 103 
 
 mules can soon be purchased j and in 
 a short time we will be far from 
 Rome." 
 
 " Oh no, it is impossible," said 
 Phrosine, " I cannot go just now." 
 
 " Just now is the very best time," 
 replied Agenor. " Every person is 
 at present in the circus, where Nero 
 performs as a charioteer; and neither 
 the praetor nor his wife can return till 
 the games are finished. Come along," 
 said our youth, employing a little gen 
 tie violence. 
 
 " Oh no, it is impossible," said 
 Phrosine, weeping and struggling, and 
 gradually allowing herself to be drag- 
 ged away. 
 
 - .
 
 104> ONE NIGHT IN ROME. 
 
 MORAL. 
 
 The moral is, that a great deal may 
 be done with young ladies, if they are 
 taJcen by surprise. 
 
 old
 
 105 
 
 - 
 
 THE NECROMANCER S 
 NOVICIATE, 
 
 - . . =ggg 
 i . 
 
 JACOBUS ALDROVANDUS was an al- 
 chemist of the fifteenth century, and 
 spent his days and part of his nights 
 over the furnace, with a degree of ar- 
 dour which no disappointments were 
 able to quench. Being subject to 
 many annoyances from the bad tem- 
 per of his wife, he sought, in his labo- 
 ratory, that enjoyment which was de- 
 fied him every where else. It was,
 
 106 NECROMANCER'S NOVICIATE. 
 
 indeed, an unfortunate circumstance 
 for his peace, that his wife had brought 
 him a considerable dowry, and that 
 this dowry had ere long been devour- 
 ed by the crucible. She now frequent- 
 ly lamented, that so much had gone 
 to the making of a philosopher's stone 
 which gave her no returns ; and find- 
 ing that remonstrances were entirely 
 thrown away upon her infatuated hus- 
 band, she betook herself to devotional 
 habits, and was closeted for a long 
 time every day with a pious confes- 
 sor. 
 
 Under these trials, Jacobus did not 
 fail to exhibit a becoming forbearance 
 of temper. Enthusiasm, when it is 
 sufficiently strong, supplies consola- 
 tions and antidotes against all the evils 
 of life 5 and, it cannot be denied, that
 
 NECROMANCER.* S NOVICIATE. 107 
 
 the progress of philosophy, at the 
 same time that it has undeceived us 
 in many respects, has also diminished 
 the number of mental opiates which 
 enabled mankind to forget their suf- 
 ferings. 
 
 One day, while examining a dusty 
 shelf of his library, Jacobus stumbled 
 upon a book of magic, which by some 
 accident had crept in among the rest. 
 The mysteries of its pages had an ir- 
 resistible charm for his imagination. 
 He rose and shut the door ; for his 
 wife's confessor was then descending 
 from a morning visit, and the flapping 
 of the holy man's garments put our al- 
 chymist in mind, that there was such a 
 thing as a bundle of faggots reserved for 
 those who dealt in forbidden lore. Af- 
 ter this precaution, he once mere drew
 
 108 
 
 forth the volume, and became so 
 deeply interested in its contents, that 
 he resolved to become an adept. Ma- 
 gic and alchemy seemed to throw a re- 
 ciprocal light OB each other. Jacobus 
 thought, that if he could once get as 
 thoroughly engaged among the differ- 
 ent classes of devils as he was already 
 among the different bottles of his la- 
 boratory, he would not have a single 
 spare moment left on his hands, and 
 would acquire such an accession of 
 new powers, as might enable him to 
 set his wife and the confessor at de- 
 fiance. 
 
 When twilight came on, therefore, 
 he would frequently retire to a soli- 
 tary walk among some old trees, at 
 the back of his house, and endeavour 
 to prepare for a trial of his art, by in.-
 
 109 
 
 uring himself to recite the most 
 profane and horrible incantations. 
 In the mean time, the leaves would 
 whisper above him in a mysterious 
 manner, and the bats come flapping 
 about his ears, like so many imps of 
 darkness. Jacobus was aware how 
 much courage it requires to retain 
 possession of one's faculties, in the 
 presence of a bad angel. Firmness is 
 indispensible in these interviews, and 
 the want of it has sometimes been 
 attended by very disastrous conse- 
 quences, as will be seen from the se- 
 quel of this narrative. 
 
 Near the town where Jacobus lived 
 there was a deserted building, which 
 had once been the residence of a noted 
 sorcerer. The last act of this man's 
 life was to raise a disagreeable smell 
 X
 
 110 NECROMANCER'S NOVICIATE. 
 
 in the public market place, a feat 
 which he performed with the assist- 
 ance of some dry wood, and much 
 against his will, although it gratified 
 a numerous body of spectators. As 
 the fiends who had served him were 
 still supposed to lurk about his for- 
 mer mansion, no person w r ould ap- 
 proach it, even in day light ; and the 
 magistrates of the burgh had repeat- 
 edly spoken of having it razed to the 
 ground. Jacobus thought that, in this 
 building, he would at least be sure of 
 privacy; and on that account resolved 
 to make it the scene of his first ex- 
 periment. 
 
 Accordingly, one tempestuous even- 
 ing, having wrapt himself up in a 
 cloak, he appeared in presence of his 
 wife. " My dear," said he, " I have
 
 NECROMANCElt's NOVICIATE. Ill 
 
 just received a message, intimating 
 that a certain friend of mine has re- 
 ceived the extreme unction, and wishes 
 to let me into a valuable secret before 
 he dies. Do not be alarmed, there- 
 fore, although some time should e- 
 lapse before I return. It will pro- 
 bably be morning before you see me 
 again." 
 
 " Truly, husband, that will be no 
 loss," replied his wife. " Begone, and 
 hunt after your good for nothing 
 secrets ; but beware of coming back 
 in the middle of the night, to knock 
 up my servants. I will not allow 
 them to be disturbed with impu- 
 nity. 
 
 Jacobus Aldrovandus departed with- 
 out attempting to make any reply. 
 Darkness had already gathered. The 
 Kg
 
 12 NECROMANCERS NOVICIATE. 
 
 merchants were shutting up their stalls, 
 and only a scattered light gleamed 
 here and there across the wet pave- 
 ment. According to solemn usage, 
 an official drummer was performing 
 his evening rounds ; while many a fat 
 burgher hastened home to a comfort- 
 able repast, and enjoyed the pleasure 
 of mentally counting over the profits 
 of the day. This was more than Ja- 
 cobus, or any other alchemist, could 
 pretend to. He accordingly picked 
 his steps as fast as he could, until he 
 had left the city-gates behind him, 
 and saw the necromancer's house ris- 
 ing at some distance against the ho- 
 rizon. 
 
 This necromancer's house, as might 
 naturally be expected, was a tall, 
 frightful, and unornamented building.
 
 113 
 
 A single tree grew before the door, 
 and from one of its branches was sus- 
 pended the withered carcase of a dog, 
 which had been hanged there at the 
 same time as its master was burnt in 
 the market-place. A certain magis- 
 trate conceived that the dog must have 
 seen so many improper sights, as to 
 render him unfit for any longer holding 
 a place in the social system ; and there- 
 fore gave orders that the magician's 
 own accursed elm-tree might be em- 
 ployed in putting an end to the ani- 
 mal's existence. It was now current- 
 ly believed, that young imps were in 
 the habit of procuring themselves a 
 swing, by taking hold of his legs on 
 a windy night. Aldrovandus hurried 
 past, without letting the carcase touch
 
 114 NECROMANCER'S NOVICIATE. 
 
 him. He found the door open, struck 
 a light, and ascended the staircase. 
 No spectre delayed his progress, no 
 arm started from the wall j but he could 
 not help feeling appalled at the silence 
 of the place, and recollected that the 
 last sounds which had been uttered 
 in that staircase, were the groans of 
 the old wizard as he was dragged away 
 to his trial. Jacobus arrived at a large 
 unfurnished apartment. One or two 
 pictures hung on the walls, but their 
 colouring was so very sombre that 
 their subjects could not be unriddled. 
 In the middle of the floor he saw the 
 fragments of a wand, and at one end 
 of the room was placed a death's head, 
 wearing the cap of the departed ma- 
 gician. 
 
 Meantime, the wind howled in a
 
 NECROMANCER'S NOVICIATE. 115 
 
 most outrageous manner through the 
 broken panes. Jacobus hastened to 
 accomplish the object of his journey. 
 With the tremulous caution of a no- 
 vice, he unfolded and arranged the 
 different implements, which he had 
 brought along with him, and endea- 
 vouredto collecthis scattered thoughts, 
 in order that no fiend, however quick- 
 sighted, might be able to discover 
 the least flaw in so delicate a process. 
 When these things were accomplished, 
 he read, recited, and paused for a reply. 
 Finding, however, that some words of 
 importance had been omitted, he was 
 obliged to wipe his forehead, and be- 
 gin a second time. Presently a low 
 creaking spread over the room, the 
 glass-vials rung, and quivered in their 
 places, and a smoke began to ascend
 
 116 NECROMANCER'S NOVICIATE. 
 
 from the magical circle. The hair of 
 Jacobus Aldrovandus stood on end ; 
 but he continued to read out his Latin 
 with sufficient distinctness, although 
 his senses had almost left him. In the 
 meantime the preternatural symptoms 
 increased, and the experiment advan- 
 ced nearer and nearer to a crisis. At 
 length there was a crash. A mon- 
 strous devil started from the floor, and 
 asked him what was the reason of so 
 pressing a summons. Jacobus had 
 lost the power of articulation ; he spoke 
 not a syllable. The demon, having 
 again and again repeated his question 
 without receiving any answer, grew 
 dreadfully importunate, and stretched 
 forward his long neck with such per- 
 severance, that his nose almost came 
 in contact with that of our unhappy
 
 NECROMANCER'S NOVICIATE. 117 
 
 magician. Jacobus drew backwards 
 precipitately, and in so doing stepped 
 out of his own circle. The demon 
 followed up his advantage. Jacobus 
 turned and ran, but he was pursued 
 with a frightful degree of agility. 
 Three times did he glide round the 
 chamber, with this horrible fiend ca- 
 reering at his back. On the fourth 
 time Jacobus bolted through the door, 
 ran down stairs, and left the house. 
 It was to no purpose ; the chace was 
 continued over a fine level country. 
 Jacobus, after several doublings and 
 windings, took the road to the city, 
 and his pursuer, who was never far be- 
 hind, emitted such a glare of light, 
 that both parties were able to choose 
 their way with equal precision, as if it
 
 118 
 
 had been a summer's forenoon. They 
 enter the city. Jacobus turns a coi> 
 ner and stumbles upon the watch, who 
 endeavour to stop him. Presently the 
 fiend comes up, and makes a clear so- 
 merset over their heads. The watch- 
 men roll into the kennel, and break 
 their Ian thorns ; while Jacobus, pres- 
 sing on towards his own house, reaches 
 the door, and drives it open with a 
 noise which brings his wife and the 
 whole family to the head of the stair- 
 case. 
 
 They came only to gaze and tremble. 
 No one would venture down to assist 
 him ; and while Jacobus, pale, breath- 
 less, and covered with perspiration, 
 mounted the steps, and joined his fa- 
 mily, the demon followed and took 
 possession of the landing place, which
 
 NECROMANCER'S NOVICIATE. 110 
 
 was part of an extensive gallery, sur- 
 rounded by the doors of different apart- 
 ments. A solemn pause ensued. The 
 demon stooped, and with his red-hot 
 finger drew a circle round himself, 
 which occupied the whole breadth of 
 the floor, so that it was impossible for 
 any one to pass without stepping into 
 it. ' * Now," said he, " whoever comes 
 here is mine. I am determined not 
 to vanish without receiving something 
 for my trouble." 
 
 On hearing these words the domes- 
 tics fell a sobbing bitterly round their 
 master and mistress, and began to con- 
 sider who should be the victim. The 
 cook endeavoured to shove in the but- 
 ler, and the butler, on the other hand, 
 gave a sly push to the chambermaid. 
 " My dear wife," said Jacobus, " is
 
 120 NECROMANCER'S NOVICIATE. 
 
 there no dog or cat about the house, 
 which might be given him for a bribe. 
 What is become of the black pointer 
 which used to sleep every night on the 
 foot of your bed?" 
 
 So saying, he ran to open the door 
 of his wife's bedchamber; but the good 
 woman not having expected that her 
 husband would come so speedily back, 
 and being conscious that an unplea- 
 sant truth would come to light if Ja- 
 cobus went any farther, endeavoured 
 to retard his entrance. Jacobus would 
 notbe hindered, and pushed in. Forth- 
 with a sort of jostling is heard. In- 
 stead of a black pointer, out rushes 
 Father Joseph, the confessor, with his 
 gown wrapped about his head, in or- 
 der to conceal his features. So great 
 is his confusion, that he dares not look
 
 
 NECROMANCER'S NOVICIATE. 121 
 
 around, or see who is present, but 
 glides off towards the staircase. In so 
 doing, he approaches the circle, which 
 had been drawn by the demon, and 
 the domestics utter a loud cry. Ja- 
 cobus's wife runs after him, and takes 
 hold of his gown ; but the friar, ima- 
 gining that he is detained by her hus- 
 band, gives a violent spring, which 
 carries them both into the circle, and 
 the fiend immediately vanishes with 
 his prey. 
 
 Such was the lucky hit by which 
 our worthy necromancer got quit of a 
 disagreeable wife. Her gallant, at 
 the same time, found the reward of 
 his treachery ; and Jacobus Aldrovan- 
 dus having Cautioned his servants to 
 beware of circulating idle tales, which
 
 122 NECROMANCER'S NOVICIATE, 
 
 might attract the notice of the In- 
 quisition, gave out that Friar Joseph 
 had eloped with his wife to a foreign 
 country.
 
 123 
 
 
 
 CONFUCIANA : 
 
 OR, 
 
 WISE SAYINGS OF CONFUCIUS: 
 
 OMITTED IN OTHER COLLECTIONS. 
 
 DURING the last century, Chee was 
 in high repute over all Europe ; but, 
 unfortunately, no person was acquaint- 
 ed with a syllable of his doctrines. 
 They are now better known, and his 
 reputation has diminished. It is dif- 
 ficult to say, whether unjustly ; but I 
 am sure many a one will think so when 
 they read what follows. 

 
 124 CONFUCIANA. 
 
 Chee thought there should be two 
 doctrines with regard to matters of 
 religion ; namely, one for the people, 
 and another for the court. He said 
 that superstition ought to be encour- 
 aged among mankind, because it made 
 them quiet and manageable under 
 their governors. 
 
 Being asked, why there were no 
 men of real genius in China, Confu- 
 cius replied, That the Emperor was a 
 genius of such force as to make all 
 others despair. 
 
 Some person observed to him, that, 
 under a vigilant and arbitrary govern- 
 ment, men had not elbow-room to im- 
 prove their condition. Chee replied, 
 That he did not want them to improve 
 their condition, he wanted good mo- 
 rals. Being asked what constituted
 
 CO-NFUCUNA. 125 
 
 good morals, he replied, To remain 
 content with one's lot, and never gain- 
 say one's superiors. Being asked, how 
 men were to discriminate between su- 
 periors, whom it was really useful to 
 have in a state, and cheats and usurp- 
 ers, who arrogated a degree of power 
 which was of no advantage to any 
 person but themselves j Chee replied. 
 That this was an indelicate question- 
 He used to tell a good story of the 
 Emperor of China. One day the Em- 
 peror met with a certain demagogue, 
 and said to him,. " How can you be 
 so foolish as to declaim against the 
 harsh conduct of rulers. Every one 
 of my deputies protests that he finds 
 it absolute necessary. I could reason 
 with you on this topic ; but there is 
 nothing so convincing as personal ex-
 
 126 CONFUCIANA. 
 
 perience. I shall therefore appoint 
 you to be governor of a province, 
 where you can judge for yourself." 
 The demagogue having made trial, 
 for a few days, sent word that he be- 
 gan to perceive the propriety of des- 
 potism, and kept his post. In the 
 meantime, the courtiers were shed- 
 ding tears of enthusiasm over this mild 
 and lenient conduct of the Emperor. 
 Chee was governor of a province 
 himself, A Chinese artisan having 
 contrived a printing press, with move- 
 able types, like those of Europe, 
 brought it to Confucius for his appro- 
 bation. The wise man ordered the 
 machine to be broken in pieces, and 
 banished the contriver from China. 
 No person could perceive the meaning 
 of this judgment..
 
 CONFUCIAN A. 127 
 
 Chee gave annual dinners to the 
 mandarins, where certain toasts and 
 speeches were received with glowing 
 approbation. Before they got drunk, 
 nothing was talked of but mildness, 
 gentleness, and paternal affection for 
 the people. After they were drunk, 
 they began to speak of posts and dig- 
 nities, of deceiving mankind, of 
 checking all hopes of reform, and of 
 the useful darkness which they had 
 been able to spread over the country. 
 
 It is proper to mention, that Chee 
 was by no means averse to seeing the 
 populace break loose, if they only 
 committed a sufficient number of 
 cruelties and absurdities. He then 
 endeavoured to insinuate, that every 
 sort of resistance to an established
 
 128 CONFUCIAN A. 
 
 government must be conducted on 
 the same plan. 
 
 In short, he was a very plausible 
 dog, and contrived to bring many a 
 sensible Chinese over to his opinions. 
 Hence comes the present situation of 
 China. Its inhabitants are a set of 
 stupid, slavish, and wretched old wo- 
 men in silk gowns.
 
 129 
 
 * 
 - 
 
 ON THE 
 
 PRIDE OF SAGACITY, 
 
 AND THE 
 
 LOVE OF EMOTION. 
 
 
 
 THE Pride of Sagacity, and the Love 
 of Emotion, are two principles which, 
 in their influence over human con- 
 duct, have almost always an opposite 
 tendency. Simple views, cheap admi- 
 ration, and strong natural attachments, 
 undisturbed by analysis, are favour- 
 able to the warmth of our feelings* 
 On the other hand, knowledge, the 
 close inspection of objects, and the
 
 ISO PRIDE OF SAGACITY, 
 
 habit of judging and comparing, serve 
 to flatter our pride, while they dimi- 
 nish our enthusiasm. The love of 
 emotion prompts r us to lend a greedy 
 ear to those opinions which captivate 
 the imagination, and to adopt them, 
 without enquiring too narrowly into 
 their probability ; but if we desire to 
 support the credit of our sagacity, it 
 is necessary to scrutinize and sift e- 
 very opinion to the utmost, and to a- 
 bandon it, if untenable, although we 
 should be forced to resign the most 
 agreeable and valuable emotions along 
 with it. 
 
 In society, the pride of sagacity 
 predominates j in solitude, the love 
 of emotion. In society, the presence 
 of those who are our rivals in pene- 
 tration, keeps our pride awake, and
 
 AND LOVE OF EMOTION. 131 
 
 renders us cautious with regard to the 
 disposal of our admiration, belief, or 
 esteem. We know that every proof 
 of our shallowness or ignorance is to 
 them a source of triumph. In soli- 
 tude, the mind is relieved from acting 
 before a censor, and therefore pur- 
 sues whatever paths are found to be 
 most productive of agreeable feeling. 
 In society, our pleasure is derived 
 from assuming the appearance of in- 
 tellectual superiority, and from detec- 
 ting, or pretending to detect, the de- 
 lusions of other people. In solitude, 
 our pleasure is often derived from 
 yielding ourselves up to delusion. 
 
 The love of emotion and the pride 
 of sagacity, may be considered as 
 equally hostile to the establishment 
 of speculative truth. The former
 
 132 PRIDE OF SAGACITY, 
 
 patronizes chimeras, the latter denies 
 even what is probable, in order to dis- 
 parage the judgment of those who be- 
 lieve in it. The former is given to 
 self-deception, because it is sometimes 
 a luxury to be deceived ; the latter is 
 addicted to intentional falsehood, as 
 a means of gratifying its envy. The 
 lies of pretended sagacity are in gene- 
 ral successful, because they speak 
 home to our pride, which is the 
 strongest principle in human nature. 
 On the other hand, the lies of self- 
 deception are soon abandoned, if our 
 pride is once alarmed against them. 
 
 Nothing can better exemplify the 
 effects of these two principles than 
 the history of religious faith. It shews 
 us that truth and falsehood have never 
 been allowed to rise or sink accord-
 
 AND LOVE OF EMOTION. l3 
 
 ing to their own weight. The most 
 fantastic and absurd opinions have 
 been embraced with eagerness for the 
 sake of emotion. The most rational 
 ones have been belied and ridiculed, 
 in order that certain individuals might 
 raise themselves a character of pene- 
 tration out of their overthrow. When 
 the incitements to falsification are so 
 strong on both sides, we ought to be- 
 ware how we give either the one par- 
 ty or the other any credit for impar- 
 tiality or integrity. 
 
 Strength of emotion, however, does 
 not always proceed from rawness or 
 ignorance. It sometimes proceeds 
 from a superior cultivation of mind, 
 which enables us to perceive causes 
 of feeling where others do not. This, 
 for example, is the case in the fine 
 M
 
 134> PRIDE OF SAGACIIY, 
 
 arts. No person is laughed at for be- 
 ing intensely affected by a good pic- 
 ture. It is not emotion itself which 
 attracts our ridicule ; it is that want 
 of intellectual maturity, and that over- 
 rated estimate of things, which are so 
 often found to be the cause of emo- 
 tion, and of course the ridicule ceases 
 whenever we can prove the absence 
 of these circumstances. Men of ac- 
 knowledged shrewdness sometimes af- 
 fect tobe childish in their amusements. 
 Shallow youths, on the other hand, 
 make haste to abandon the feelings 
 natural to their age, and attempt to 
 purchase the appearance of sagacity, 
 by voluntarily sacrificing what the 
 hand of time has not yet taken away by 
 force. The real interest of every in- 
 dividual is to enjoy as much emotion
 
 AND LOVE OF EMOTION. 135 
 
 as possible. The fear of being thought 
 simple is what prevents him from pur- 
 suing it. But, if he shews before- 
 hand familiar acquaintance with all 
 the ideas which tend to destroy any 
 particular emotion, he will, by that 
 means, take the scoffs out of the 
 mouths of the bystanders, and defeat 
 their malignity by anticipating their 
 observations. 
 
 The natural progress of society is, 
 at first, towards sagacity, at the ex- 
 pence of emotion ; but after some 
 time, a revulsion takes place among 
 the more enlightened part of man- 
 kind, and almost every feeling which 
 can occur in life comes to be consi- 
 dered as an object of taste. Emotions 
 are no longer submitted to from ig- 
 norance, but adopted and encouraged 
 M 3
 
 136 PRIDE OF SAGACITY, 
 
 from choice and calculation. It 
 does not appear that such an aera 
 ever arrived among the nations of an- 
 tiquity. Their ignorance of the art 
 of printing, and the barbarism which 
 overwhelmed them at a certain stage 
 of their progress, were causes suffi- 
 cient to prevent it. Such an aera, 
 however, may be anticipated among 
 ourselves, and is indeed already be- 
 gun among persons who unite mild- 
 ness of character to a comprehensive 
 understanding. At the same time, it 
 may be remarked, that the number of 
 philosophical amateurs in emotion will 
 at no time be very large. Mankind 
 are, for the most part, restless and 
 malignant by nature, and must always 
 continue so, since this part of their 
 character results not from any opinion
 
 AND LOVE OF EMOTION. 137 
 
 or association that may be altered, 
 but from certain original instincts 
 which defy the efforts of philosophy. 
 The leopard cannot change his spots, 
 nor the Ethiopian his skin. 
 
 Whatever use mankind may make 
 of their increasing knowledge, litera- 
 ture is rendering them every day 
 more acquainted with the extent and 
 variety of their own feelings. Each 
 fictitious narrative or book of poetry, 
 throws light upon some new depart- 
 ment of emotion. In barbarous times, 
 no individual is apprised of the range 
 of his feelings, any farther than they 
 happen to be drawn out by external 
 circumstances. The chord sounds 
 only when the key is struck j and a 
 person of the richest and finest moral 
 structure often dies without knowing
 
 138 PRIDE OF SAGACITY, &C. 
 
 what beautiful harmonies were lying 
 dormant in his own mind. The use 
 of books removes this ignorance, and 
 gives every man a chance of discover- 
 ing what are the best enjoyments of 
 his individual nature. Besides, by 
 teaching us successively to adopt 
 and relinquish all sorts of emotion, 
 it diminishes the tenacity and unto- 
 wardness of the passions when they 
 occur in real life. Thus we are ena- 
 bled to chuse the easiest method of 
 getting through the world, and to a- 
 void the miserable error of sacrificing 
 a great deal for nothing. 
 
 THE END. 
 
 Printed by John Moir, 
 Edinburgh, 1817.
 
 
 
 
 
 
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