A Journey from This World to the Next

A JOURNEY FROM THIS WORLD TO THE NEXT

By Henry Fielding

CONTENTS:

INTRODUCTION

BOOK I

CHAPTER I.

The author dies, meets with Mercury, and is by him conducted to

the stage which sets out for the other world

CHAPTER II.

In which the author first refutes some idle opinions concerning

spirits, and then the passengers relate their several deaths.

CHAPTER III.

The adventures we met with in the City of Diseases

CHAPTER IV.

Discourses on the road, and a description of the palace of Death

CHAPTER V.

The travelers proceed on their journey, and meet several spirits

who are coming into the flesh

CHAPTER VI.

An account of the wheel of fortune, with a method of preparing a

spirit for this world

CHAPTER VII.

The proceedings of judge Minos at the gate of Elysium

CHAPTER VIII.

The adventures which the author met on his first entrance into Elysium

CHAPTER IX.

More adventures in Elysium

CHAPTER X.

The author is surprised at meeting Julian the apostate in Elysium;

but is satisfied by him by what means he procured his entrance there.

Julian relates his adventures in the character of a slave

CHAPTER XI.

In which Julian relates his adventures in the character of an

avaricious Jew

CHAPTER XII.

What happened to Julian in the characters of a general, an heir,

a carpenter, and a beau

CHAPTER XIII.

Julian passes into a fop

CHAPTER XIV.

Adventures in the person of a monk

CHAPTER XV.

Julian passes into the character of a fiddler

CHAPTER XVI.

The history of the wise man

CHAPTER XVII.

Julian enters into the person of a king

CHAPTER XVIII.

Julian passes into a fool

CHAPTER XIX.

Julian appears in the character of a beggar

CHAPTER XX.

Julian performs the part of a statesman

CHAPTER XXI.

Julian’s adventures in the post of a soldier

CHAPTER XXII.

What happened to Julian in the person of a tailor

CHAPTER XXIII.

The life of alderman Julian

CHAPTER XXIV.

Julian recounts what happened to him while he was a poet

CHAPTER XXV.

Julian performs the parts of a knight and a dancing-master

BOOK II.

CHAPTER VII.

Wherein Anna Boleyn relates the history of her life

A JOURNEY FROM THIS WORLD TO THE NEXT

INTRODUCTION

Whether the ensuing pages were really the dream or vision of some very

pious and holy person; or whether they were really written in the other

world, and sent back to this, which is the opinion of many (though

I think too much inclining to superstition); or lastly, whether, as

infinitely the greatest part imagine, they were really the production

of some choice inhabitant of New Bethlehem, is not necessary nor easy

to determine. It will be abundantly sufficient if I give the reader an

account by what means they came into my possession. Mr. Robert Powney,

stationer, who dwells opposite to Catherine-street in the Strand, a

very honest man and of great gravity of countenance; who, among other

excellent stationery commodities, is particularly eminent for his pens,

which I am abundantly bound to acknowledge, as I owe to their peculiar

goodness that my manuscripts have by any means been legible: this

gentleman, I say, furnished me some time since with a bundle of those

pens, wrapped up with great care and caution, in a very large sheet of

paper full of characters, written as it seemed in a very bad hand.

Now, I have a surprising curiosity to read everything which is almost

illegible; partly perhaps from the sweet remembrance of the dear

Scrawls, Skrawls, or Skrales (for the word is variously spelled), which

I have in my youth received from that lovely part of the creation for

which I have the tenderest regard; and partly from that temper of mind

which makes men set an immense value on old manuscripts so effaced,

bustoes so maimed, and pictures so black that no one can tell what to

make of them. I therefore perused this sheet with wonderful application,

and in about a day’s time discovered that I could not understand it. I

immediately repaired to Mr. Powney, and inquired very eagerly whether

he had not more of the same manuscript? He produced about one hundred

pages, acquainting me that he had saved no more; but that the book was

originally a huge folio, had been left in his garret by a gentleman

who lodged there, and who had left him no other satisfaction for nine

months’ lodging. He proceeded to inform me that the manuscript had been

hawked about (as he phrased it) among all the booksellers, who refused

to meddle; some alleged that they could not read, others that they could

not understand it. Some would haze it to be an atheistical book, and

some that it was a libel on the government; for one or other of which

reasons they all refused to print it. That it had been likewise shown to

the R--l Society, but they shook their heads, saying, there was nothing

in it wonderful enough for them. That, hearing the gentleman was gone

to the West-Indies, and believing it to be good for nothing else, he had

used it as waste paper. He said I was welcome to what remained, and he

was heartily sorry for what was missing, as I seemed to set some value

on it.

I desired him much to name a price: but he would receive no

consideration farther than the payment of a small bill I owed him, which

at that time he said he looked on as so much money given him.

I presently communicated this manuscript to my friend parson Abraham

Adams, who, after a long and careful perusal, returned it me with his

opinion that there was more in it than at first appeared; that the

author seemed not entirely unacquainted with the writings of Plato; but

he wished he had quoted him sometimes in his margin, that I might be

sure (said he) he had read him in the original: for nothing, continued

the parson, is commoner than for men now-a-days to pretend to have read

Greek authors, who have met with them only in translations, and cannot

conjugate a verb in mi.

To deliver my own sentiments on the occasion, I think the author

discovers a philosophical turn of thinking, with some little knowledge

of the world, and no very inadequate value of it. There are some indeed

who, from the vivacity of their temper and the happiness of their

station, are willing to consider its blessings as more substantial, and

the whole to be a scene of more consequence than it is here represented:

but, without controverting their opinions at present, the number of wise

and good men who have thought with our author are sufficient to keep him

in countenance: nor can this be attended with any ill inference, since

he everywhere teaches this moral: That the greatest and truest happiness

which this world affords, is to be found only in the possession of

goodness and virtue; a doctrine which, as it is undoubtedly true, so

hath it so noble and practical a tendency, that it can never be too

often or too strongly inculcated on the minds of men.

BOOK I

CHAPTER I

The author dies, meets with Mercury, and is by him conducted

to the stage which sets out for the other world.

On the first day of December 1741 [1] I departed this life at my

lodgings in Cheapside. My body had been some time dead before I was at

liberty to quit it, lest it should by any accident return to life: this

is an injunction imposed on all souls by the eternal law of fate, to

prevent the inconveniences which would follow. As soon as the destined

period was expired (being no longer than till the body is become

perfectly cold and stiff) I began to move; but found myself under a

difficulty of making my escape, for the mouth or door was shut, so that

it was impossible for me to go out at it; and the windows, vulgarly

called the eyes, were so closely pulled down by the fingers of a nurse,

that I could by no means open them. At last I perceived a beam of light

glimmering at the top of the house (for such I may call the body I had

been inclosed in), whither ascending, I gently let myself down through a

kind of chimney, and issued out at the nostrils.

No prisoner discharged from a long confinement ever tasted the sweets

of liberty with a more exquisite relish than I enjoyed in this delivery

from a dungeon wherein I had been detained upwards of forty years, and

with much the same kind of regard I cast my eyes [2] backwards upon it.

My friends and relations had all quitted the room, being all (as I

plainly overheard) very loudly quarreling below stairs about my

will; there was only an old woman left above to guard the body, as I

apprehend. She was in a fast sleep, occasioned, as from her savor it

seemed, by a comfortable dose of gin. I had no pleasure in this company,

and, therefore, as the window was wide open, I sallied forth into the

open air: but, to my great astonishment, found myself unable to fly,

which I had always during my habitation in the body conceived of

spirits; however, I came so lightly to the ground that I did not hurt

myself; and, though I had not the gift of flying (owing probably to

my having neither feathers nor wings), I was capable of hopping such a

prodigious way at once, that it served my turn almost as well. I had

not hopped far before I perceived a tall young gentleman in a silk

waistcoat, with a wing on his left heel, a garland on his head, and a

caduceus in his right hand. [3] I thought I had seen this person before,

but had not time to recollect where, when he called out to me and asked

me how long I had been departed. I answered I was just come forth. “You

must not stay here,” replied he, “unless you had been murdered: in which

case, indeed, you might have been suffered to walk some time; but if you

died a natural death you must set out for the other world immediately.”

I desired to know the way. “O,” cried the gentleman, “I will show you

to the inn whence the stage proceeds; for I am the porter. Perhaps you

never heard of me--my name is Mercury.” “Sure, sir,” said I, “I

have seen you at the play-house.” Upon which he smiled, and, without

satisfying me as to that point, walked directly forward, bidding me hop

after him. I obeyed him, and soon found myself in Warwick-lane; where

Mercury, making a full stop, pointed at a particular house, where he

bade me enquire for the stage, and, wishing me a good journey, took his

leave, saying he must go seek after other customers.

I arrived just as the coach was setting out, and found I had no reason

for inquiry; for every person seemed to know my business the moment I

appeared at the door: the coachman told me his horses were to, but

that he had no place left; however, though there were already six, the

passengers offered to make room for me. I thanked them, and ascended

without much ceremony. We immediately began our journey, being seven in

number; for, as the women wore no hoops, three of them were but equal to

two men. Perhaps, reader, thou mayest be pleased with an account of

this whole equipage, as peradventure thou wilt not, while alive, see any

such. The coach was made by an eminent toyman, who is well known to

deal in immaterial substance, that being the matter of which it was

compounded. The work was so extremely fine, that it was entirely

invisible to the human eye. The horses which drew this extraordinary

vehicle were all spiritual, as well as the passengers. They had,

indeed, all died in the service of a certain postmaster; and as for the

coachman, who was a very thin piece of immaterial substance, he had the

honor while alive of driving the Great Peter, or Peter the Great, in

whose service his soul, as well as body, was almost starved to death.

Such was the vehicle in which I set out, and now, those who are not

willing to travel on with me may, if they please, stop here; those who

are, must proceed to the subsequent chapters, in which this journey is

continued.

CHAPTER II

In which the author first refutes some idle opinions

concerning spirits, and then the passengers relate their

several deaths.

It is the common opinion that spirits, like owls, can see in the dark;

nay, and can then most easily be perceived by others. For which reason,

many persons of good understanding, to prevent being terrified with

such objects, usually keep a candle burning by them, that the light may

prevent their seeing. Mr. Locke, in direct opposition to this, hath not

doubted to assert that you may see a spirit in open daylight full as

well as in the darkest night.

It was very dark when we set out from the inn, nor could we see any

more than if every soul of us had been alive. We had traveled a good way

before any one offered to open his mouth; indeed, most of the company

were fast asleep, [4] but, as I could not close my own eyes, and

perceived the spirit who sat opposite to me to be likewise awake, I

began to make overtures of conversation, by complaining HOW DARK IT WAS.

“And extremely cold too,” answered my fellow traveler; “though, I thank

God, as I have no body, I feel no inconvenience from it: but you will

believe, sir, that this frosty air must seem very sharp to one just

issued forth out of an oven; for such was the inflamed habitation I am

lately departed from.” “How did you come to your end, sir?” said I.

“I was murdered, sir,” answered the gentleman. “I am surprised then,”

replied I, “that you did not divert yourself by walking up and down and

playing some merry tricks with the murderer.” “Oh, sir,” returned he,

“I had not that privilege, I was lawfully put to death. In short,

a physician set me on fire, by giving me medicines to throw out my

distemper. I died of a hot regimen, as they call it, in the small-pox.”

One of the spirits at that word started up and cried out, “The

small-pox! bless me! I hope I am not in company with that distemper,

which I have all my life with such caution avoided, and have so happily

escaped hitherto!” This fright set all the passengers who were awake

into a loud laughter; and the gentleman, recollecting himself, with some

confusion, and not without blushing, asked pardon, crying, “I protest

I dreamed that I was alive.” “Perhaps, sir,” said I, “you died of that

distemper, which therefore made so strong an impression on you.” “No,

sir,” answered he, “I never had it in my life; but the continual and

dreadful apprehension it kept me so long under cannot, I see, be so

immediately eradicated. You must know, sir, I avoided coming to London

for thirty years together, for fear of the small-pox, till the most

urgent business brought me thither about five days ago. I was so

dreadfully afraid of this disease that I refused the second night of

my arrival to sup with a friend whose wife had recovered of it several

months before, and the same evening got a surfeit by eating too many

muscles, which brought me into this good company.”

“I will lay a wager,” cried the spirit who sat next him, “there is not

one in the coach able to guess my distemper.” I desired the favor of him

to acquaint us with it, if it was so uncommon. “Why, sir,” said he, “I

died of honor.”--“Of honor, sir!” repeated I, with some surprise. “Yes,

sir,” answered the spirit, “of honor, for I was killed in a duel.”

“For my part,” said a fair spirit, “I was inoculated last summer, and

had the good fortune to escape with a very few marks on my face. I

esteemed myself now perfectly happy, as I imagined I had no restraint

to a full enjoyment of the diversions of the town; but within a few days

after my coming up I caught cold by overdancing myself at a ball, and

last night died of a violent fever.”

After a short silence which now ensued, the fair spirit who spoke last,

it being now daylight, addressed herself to a female who sat next her,

and asked her to what chance they owed the happiness of her company. She

answered, she apprehended to a consumption, but the physicians were not

agreed concerning her distemper, for she left two of them in a very hot

dispute about it when she came out of her body. “And pray, madam,” said

the same spirit to the sixth passenger, “How came you to leave the other

world?” But that female spirit, screwing up her mouth, answered, she

wondered at the curiosity of some people; that perhaps persons had

already heard some reports of her death, which were far from being true;

that, whatever was the occasion of it, she was glad at being delivered

from a world in which she had no pleasure, and where there was nothing

but nonsense and impertinence; particularly among her own sex, whose

loose conduct she had long been entirely ashamed of.

The beauteous spirit, perceiving her question gave offense, pursued it

no farther. She had indeed all the sweetness and good-humor which are

so extremely amiable (when found) in that sex which tenderness most

exquisitely becomes. Her countenance displayed all the cheerfulness, the

good-nature, and the modesty, which diffuse such brightness round the

beauty of Seraphina, [5] awing every beholder with respect, and, at the

same time, ravishing him with admiration. Had it not been indeed for

our conversation on the small-pox, I should have imagined we had been

honored with her identical presence. This opinion might have been

heightened by the good sense she uttered whenever she spoke, by the

delicacy of her sentiments, and the complacence of her behavior,

together with a certain dignity which attended every look, word, and

gesture; qualities which could not fail making an impression on a heart

[6] so capable of receiving it as mine, nor was she long in raising in

me a very violent degree of seraphic love. I do not intend by this, that

sort of love which men are very properly said to make to women in the

lower world, and which seldom lasts any longer than while it is

making. I mean by seraphic love an extreme delicacy and tenderness of

friendship, of which, my worthy reader, if thou hast no conception, as

it is probable thou mayest not, my endeavor to instruct thee would be as

fruitless as it would be to explain the most difficult problems of Sir

Isaac Newton to one ignorant of vulgar arithmetic.

To return therefore to matters comprehensible by all understandings:

the discourse now turned on the vanity, folly, and misery of the lower

world, from which every passenger in the coach expressed the highest

satisfaction in being delivered; though it was very remarkable that,

notwithstanding the joy we declared at our death, there was not one of

us who did not mention the accident which occasioned it as a thing we

would have avoided if we could. Nay, the very grave lady herself, who

was the forwardest in testifying her delight, confessed inadvertently

that she left a physician by her bedside; and the gentleman who died

of honor very liberally cursed both his folly and his fencing. While

we were entertaining ourselves with these matters, on a sudden a most

offensive smell began to invade our nostrils. This very much resembled

the savor which travelers in summer perceive at their approach to that

beautiful village of the Hague, arising from those delicious canals

which, as they consist of standing water, do at that time emit odors

greatly agreeable to a Dutch taste, but not so pleasant to any other.

Those perfumes, with the assistance of a fair wind, begin to affect

persons of quick olfactory nerves at a league’s distance, and increase

gradually as you approach. In the same manner did the smell I have just

mentioned, more and more invade us, till one of the spirits, looking out

of the coach-window, declared we were just arrived at a very large

city; and indeed he had scarce said so before we found ourselves in the

suburbs, and, at the same time, the coachman, being asked by another,

informed us that the name of this place was the City of Diseases. The

road to it was extremely smooth, and, excepting the above-mentioned

savor, delightfully pleasant. The streets of the suburbs were lined

with bagnios, taverns, and cooks’ shops: in the first we saw several

beautiful women, but in tawdry dresses, looking out at the windows; and

in the latter were visibly exposed all kinds of the richest dainties;

but on our entering the city we found, contrary to all we had seen in

the other world, that the suburbs were infinitely pleasanter than the

city itself. It was indeed a very dull, dark, and melancholy place. Few

people appeared in the streets, and these, for the most part, were old

women, and here and there a formal grave gentleman, who seemed to be

thinking, with large tie-wigs on, and amber-headed canes in their hands.

We were all in hopes that our vehicle would not stop here; but, to our

sorrow, the coach soon drove into an inn, and we were obliged to alight.

CHAPTER III

The adventures we met with in the City of Diseases.

We had not been long arrived in our inn, where it seems we were to spend

the remainder of the day, before our host acquainted us that it was

customary for all spirits, in their passage through that city, to pay

their respects to that lady Disease, to whose assistance they had owed

their deliverance from the lower world. We answered we should not

fail in any complacence which was usual to others; upon which our host

replied he would immediately send porters to conduct us. He had not long

quitted the room before we were attended by some of those grave persons

whom I have before described in large tie-wigs with amber-headed canes.

These gentlemen are the ticket-porters in the city, and their canes are

the insignia, or tickets, denoting their office. We informed them of

the several ladies to whom we were obliged, and were preparing to follow

them, when on a sudden they all stared at one another, and left us in

a hurry, with a frown on every countenance. We were surprised at this

behavior, and presently summoned the host, who was no sooner acquainted

with it than he burst into an hearty laugh, and told us the reason was,

because we did not fee the gentlemen the moment they came in, according

to the custom of the place. We answered, with some confusion, we had

brought nothing with us from the other world, which we had been all our

lives informed was not lawful to do. “No, no, master,” replied the host;

“I am apprised of that, and indeed it was my fault. I should have first

sent you to my lord Scrape, [7] who would have supplied you with what

you want.” “My lord Scrape supply us!” said I, with astonishment: “sure

you must know we cannot give him security; and I am convinced he never

lent a shilling without it in his life.” “No, sir,” answered the host,

“and for that reason he is obliged to do it here, where he is sentenced

to keep a bank, and to distribute money gratis to all passengers. This

bank originally consisted of just that sum, which he had miserably

hoarded up in the other world, and he is to perceive it decrease visibly

one shilling a-day, till it is totally exhausted; after which he is to

return to the other world, and perform the part of a miser for seventy

years; then, being purified in the body of a hog, he is to enter the

human species again, and take a second trial.” “Sir,” said I, “you tell

me wonders: but if his bank be to decrease only a shilling a day, how

can he furnish all passengers?” “The rest,” answered the host, “is

supplied again; but in a manner which I cannot easily explain to you.”

“I apprehend,” said I, “this distribution of his money is inflicted on

him as a punishment; but I do not see how it can answer that end, when

he knows it is to be restored to him again. Would it not serve the

purpose as well if he parted only with the single shilling, which it

seems is all he is really to lose?” “Sir,” cries the host, “when you

observe the agonies with which he parts with every guinea, you will

be of another opinion. No prisoner condemned to death ever begged so

heartily for transportation as he, when he received his sentence, did

to go to hell, provided he might carry his money with him. But you will

know more of these things when you arrive at the upper world; and now,

if you please, I will attend you to my lord’s, who is obliged to supply

you with whatever you desire.”

We found his lordship sitting at the upper end of a table, on which was

an immense sum of money, disposed in several heaps, every one of which

would have purchased the honor of some patriots and the chastity of

some prudes. The moment he saw us he turned pale, and sighed, as well

apprehending our business. Mine host accosted him with a familiar air,

which at first surprised me, who so well remembered the respect I had

formerly seen paid this lord by men infinitely superior in quality to

the person who now saluted him in the following manner: “Here, you lord,

and be dam--d to your little sneaking soul, tell out your money, and

supply your betters with what they want. Be quick, sirrah, or I’ll fetch

the beadle to you. Don’t fancy yourself in the lower world again, with

your privilege at your a--.” He then shook a cane at his lordship, who

immediately began to tell out his money, with the same miserable air

and face which the miser on our stage wears while he delivers his

bank-bills. This affected some of us so much that we had certainly

returned with no more than what would have been sufficient to fee the

porters, had not our host, perceiving our compassion, begged us not to

spare a fellow who, in the midst of immense wealth, had always refused

the least contribution to charity. Our hearts were hardened with this

reflection, and we all filled our pockets with his money. I remarked a

poetical spirit, in particular, who swore he would have a hearty gripe

at him: “For,” says he, “the rascal not only refused to subscribe to

my works, but sent back my letter unanswered, though I am a better

gentleman than himself.” We now returned from this miserable object,

greatly admiring the propriety as well as justice of his punishment,

which consisted, as our host informed us, merely in the delivering forth

his money; and, he observed, we could not wonder at the pain this gave

him, since it was as reasonable that the bare parting with money should

make him miserable as that the bare having money without using it should

have made him happy. Other tie-wig porters (for those we had summoned

before refused to visit us again) now attended us; and we having fee’d

them the instant they entered the room, according to the instructions of

our host, they bowed and smiled, and offered to introduce us to whatever

disease we pleased.

We set out several ways, as we were all to pay our respects to different

ladies. I directed my porter to show me to the Fever on the Spirits,

being the disease which had delivered me from the flesh. My guide and I

traversed many streets, and knocked at several doors, but to no purpose.

At one, we were told, lived the Consumption; at another, the Maladie

Alamode, a French lady; at the third, the Dropsy; at the fourth, the

Rheumatism; at the fifth, Intemperance; at the sixth, Misfortune. I was

tired, and had exhausted my patience, and almost my purse; for I gave my

porter a new fee at every blunder he made: when my guide, with a solemn

countenance, told me he could do no more; and marched off without any

farther ceremony.

He was no sooner gone than I met another gentleman with a ticket, i. e.,

an amber-headed cane in his hand. I first fee’d him, and then acquainted

him with the name of the disease. He cast himself for two or three

minutes into a thoughtful posture, then pulled a piece of paper out

of his pocket, on which he wrote something in one of the Oriental

languages, I believe, for I could not read a syllable: he bade me carry

it to such a particular shop, and, telling me it would do my business,

he took his leave.

Secure, as I now thought myself, of my direction, I went to the shop,

which very much resembled an apothecary’s. The person who officiated,

having read the paper, took down about twenty different jars, and,

pouring something out of every one of them, made a mixture, which he

delivered to me in a bottle, having first tied a paper round the neck

of it, on which were written three or four words, the last containing

eleven syllables. I mentioned the name of the disease I wanted to

find out, but received no other answer than that he had done as he was

ordered, and the drugs were excellent. I began now to be enraged, and,

quitting the shop with some anger in my countenance, I intended to find

out my inn, but, meeting in the way a porter whose countenance had in it

something more pleasing than ordinary, I resolved to try once more, and

clapped a fee into his hand. As soon as I mentioned the disease to him

he laughed heartily, and told me I had been imposed on, for in reality

no such disease was to be found in that city. He then inquired into the

particulars of my case, and was no sooner acquainted with them than he

informed me that the Maladie Alamode was the lady to whom I was obliged.

I thanked him, and immediately went to pay my respects to her. The

house, or rather palace, of this lady was one of the most beautiful

and magnificent in the city. The avenue to it was planted with sycamore

trees, with beds of flowers on each side; it was extremely pleasant but

short. I was conducted through a magnificent hall, adorned with several

statues and bustoes, most of them maimed, whence I concluded them all

to be true antiques; but was informed they were the figures of several

modern heroes, who had died martyrs to her ladyship’s cause. I next

mounted through a large painted staircase, where several persons were

depicted in caricatura; and, upon inquiry, was told they were the

portraits of those who had distinguished themselves against the lady

in the lower world. I suppose I should have known the faces of many

physicians and surgeons, had they not been so violently distorted by

the painter. Indeed, he had exerted so much malice in his work, that I

believe he had himself received some particular favors from the lady of

this mansion: it is difficult to conceive a group of stranger figures. I

then entered a long room, hung round with the pictures of women of such

exact shapes and features that I should have thought myself in a gallery

of beauties, had not a certain sallow paleness in their complexions

given me a more distasteful idea. Through this I proceeded to a second

apartment, adorned, if I may so call it, with the figures of old ladies.

Upon my seeming to admire at this furniture, the servant told me with

a smile that these had been very good friends of his lady, and had done

her eminent service in the lower world. I immediately recollected the

faces of one or two of my acquaintance, who had formerly kept bagnios;

but was very much surprised to see the resemblance of a lady of great

distinction in such company. The servant, upon my mentioning this, made

no other answer than that his lady had pictures of all degrees. I was

now introduced into the presence of the lady herself. She was a thin, or

rather meager, person, very wan in the countenance, had no nose and many

pimples in her face. She offered to rise at my entrance, but could not

stand. After many compliments, much congratulation on her side, and

the most fervent expressions of gratitude on mine, she asked me many

questions concerning the situation of her affairs in the lower world;

most of which I answered to her entire satisfaction. At last, with

a kind of forced smile, she said, “I suppose the pill and drop go on

swimmingly?” I told her they were reported to have done great cures.

She replied she could apprehend no danger from any person who was not

of regular practice; “for, however simple mankind are,” said she, “or

however afraid they are of death, they prefer dying in a regular manner

to being cured by a nostrum.” She then expressed great pleasure at the

account I gave her of the beau monde. She said she had herself removed

the hundreds of Drury to the hundreds of Charing-cross, and was very

much delighted to find they had spread into St. James’s; that she

imputed this chiefly to several of her dear and worthy friends, who had

lately published their excellent works, endeavoring to extirpate all

notions of religion and virtue; and particularly to the deserving author

of the Bachelor’s Estimate; “to whom,” said she, “if I had not reason to

think he was a surgeon, and had therefore written from mercenary views,

I could never sufficiently own my obligations.” She spoke likewise

greatly in approbation of the method, so generally used by parents, of

marrying children very young, and without the least affection between

the parties; and concluded by saying that, if these fashions continued

to spread, she doubted not but she should shortly be the only disease

who would ever receive a visit from any person of considerable rank.

While we were discoursing her three daughters entered the room. They

were all called by hard names; the eldest was named Lepra, the second

Chaeras, and the third Scorbutia. [8] They were all genteel, but ugly.

I could not help observing the little respect they paid their parent,

which the old lady remarking in my countenance, as soon as they quitted

the room, which soon happened, acquainted me with her unhappiness in her

offspring, every one of which had the confidence to deny themselves to

be her children, though she said she had been a very indulgent mother

and had plentifully provided for them all. As family complaints

generally as much tire the hearer as they relieve him who makes them,

when I found her launching farther into this subject I resolved to put

an end to my visit, and, taking my leave with many thanks for the

favor she had done me, I returned to the inn, where I found my

fellow-travelers just mounting into their vehicle. I shook hands with

my host and accompanied them into the coach, which immediately after

proceeded on its journey.

CHAPTER IV

Discourses on the road, and a description of the palace of

Death.

We were all silent for some minutes, till, being well shaken into our

several seats, I opened my mouth first, and related what had happened to

me after our separation in the city we had just left.

The rest of the company, except the grave female spirit whom our reader

may remember to have refused giving an account of the distemper which

occasioned her dissolution, did the same. It might be tedious to relate

these at large; we shall therefore only mention a very remarkable

inveteracy which the Surfeit declared to all the other diseases,

especially to the Fever, who, she said, by the roguery of the porters,

received acknowledgments from numberless passengers which were due to

herself. “Indeed,” says she, “those cane-headed fellows” (for so she

called them, alluding, I suppose, to their ticket) “are constantly

making such mistakes; there is no gratitude in those fellows; for I

am sure they have greater obligations to me than to any other disease,

except the Vapors.” These relations were no sooner over than one of the

company informed us we were approaching to the most noble building he

had ever beheld, and which we learned from our coachman was the palace

of Death. Its outside, indeed, appeared extremely magnificent. Its

structure was of the Gothic order; vast beyond imagination, the

whole pile consisting of black marble. Rows of immense yews form an

amphitheater round it of such height and thickness that no ray of the

sun ever perforates this grove, where black eternal darkness would reign

was it not excluded by innumerable lamps which are placed in pyramids

round the grove; so that the distant reflection they cast on the palace,

which is plentifully gilt with gold on the outside, is inconceivably

solemn. To this I may add the hollow murmur of winds constantly heard

from the grove, and the very remote sound of roaring waters. Indeed,

every circumstance seems to conspire to fill the mind with horror and

consternation as we approach to this palace, which we had scarce time

to admire before our vehicle stopped at the gate, and we were desired

to alight in order to pay our respects to his most mortal majesty (this

being the title which it seems he assumes). The outward court was full

of soldiers, and, indeed, the whole very much resembled the state of an

earthly monarch, only more magnificent. We passed through several courts

into a vast hall, which led to a spacious staircase, at the bottom of

which stood two pages, with very grave countenances, whom I recollected

afterwards to have formerly been very eminent undertakers, and were in

reality the only dismal faces I saw here; for this palace, so awful and

tremendous without, is all gay and sprightly within; so that we soon

lost all those dismal and gloomy ideas we had contracted in approaching

it. Indeed, the still silence maintained among the guards and attendants

resembled rather the stately pomp of eastern courts; but there was on

every face such symptoms of content and happiness that diffused an air

of cheerfulness all round. We ascended the staircase and passed

through many noble apartments whose walls were adorned with various

battle-pieces in tapistry, and which we spent some time in observing.

These brought to my mind those beautiful ones I had in my lifetime seen

at Blenheim, nor could I prevent my curiosity from inquiring where

the Duke of Marlborough’s victories were placed (for I think they were

almost the only battles of any eminence I had read of which I did not

meet with); when the skeleton of a beef-eater, shaking his head, told me

a certain gentleman, one Lewis XIV, who had great interest with his

most mortal majesty, had prevented any such from being hung up there.

“Besides,” says he, “his majesty hath no great respect for that duke,

for he never sent him a subject he could keep from him, nor did he ever

get a single subject by his means but he lost 1000 others for him.” We

found the presence-chamber at our entrance very full, and a buzz ran

through it, as in all assemblies, before the principal figure enters;

for his majesty was not yet come out. At the bottom of the room were two

persons in close conference, one with a square black cap on his head,

and the other with a robe embroidered with flames of fire. These, I was

informed, were a judge long since dead, and an inquisitor-general. I

overheard them disputing with great eagerness whether the one had hanged

or the other burned the most. While I was listening to this dispute,

which seemed to be in no likelihood of a speedy decision, the emperor

entered the room and placed himself between two figures, one of which

was remarkable for the roughness, and the other for the beauty of his

appearance. These were, it seems, Charles XII of Sweden and Alexander of

Macedon. I was at too great a distance to hear any of the conversation,

so could only satisfy my curiosity by contemplating the several

personages present, of whose names I informed myself by a page, who

looked as pale and meager as any court-page in the other world, but was

somewhat more modest. He showed me here two or three Turkish emperors,

to whom his most mortal majesty seemed to express much civility. Here

were likewise several of the Roman emperors, among whom none seemed so

much caressed as Caligula, on account, as the page told me, of his pious

wish that he could send all the Romans hither at one blow. The reader

may be perhaps surprised that I saw no physicians here; as indeed I

was myself, till informed that they were all departed to the city

of Diseases, where they were busy in an experiment to purge away the

immortality of the soul.

It would be tedious to recollect the many individuals I saw here, but

I cannot omit a fat figure, well dressed in the French fashion, who

was received with extraordinary complacence by the emperor, and whom I

imagined to be Lewis XIV himself; but the page acquainted me he was

a celebrated French cook. We were at length introduced to the royal

presence, and had the honor to kiss hands. His majesty asked us a few

questions, not very material to relate, and soon after retired. When we

returned into the yard we found our caravan ready to set out, at which

we all declared ourselves well pleased; for we were sufficiently tired

with the formality of a court, notwithstanding its outward splendor and

magnificence.

CHAPTER V

The travelers proceed on their journey, and meet several

spirits who are coming into the flesh.

We now came to the banks of the great river Cocytus, where we quitted

our vehicle, and passed the water in a boat, after which we were obliged

to travel on foot the rest of our journey; and now we met, for the

first time, several passengers traveling to the world we had left, who

informed us they were souls going into the flesh.

The two first we met were walking arm-in-arm, in very close and friendly

conference; they informed us that one of them was intended for a duke,

and the other for a hackney-coachman. As we had not yet arrived at the

place where we were to deposit our passions, we were all surprised

at the familiarity which subsisted between persons of such different

degrees; nor could the grave lady help expressing her astonishment

at it. The future coachman then replied, with a laugh, that they had

exchanged lots; for that the duke had with his dukedom drawn a shrew for

a wife, and the coachman only a single state.

As we proceeded on our journey we met a solemn spirit walking alone

with great gravity in his countenance: our curiosity invited us,

notwithstanding his reserve, to ask what lot he had drawn.

He answered, with a smile, he was to have the reputation of a wise man

with L100,000 in his pocket, and was practicing the solemnity which he

was to act in the other world. A little farther we met a company of very

merry spirits, whom we imagined by their mirth to have drawn some mighty

lot, but, on inquiry, they informed us they were to be beggars.

The farther we advanced, the greater numbers we met; and now we

discovered two large roads leading different ways, and of very different

appearance; the one all craggy with rocks, full as it seemed of boggy

grounds, and everywhere beset with briars, so that it was impossible to

pass through it without the utmost danger and difficulty; the other, the

most delightful imaginable, leading through the most verdant meadows,

painted and perfumed with all kinds of beautiful flowers; in short,

the most wanton imagination could imagine nothing more lovely.

Notwithstanding which, we were surprised to see great numbers crowding

into the former, and only one or two solitary spirits choosing the

latter.

On inquiry, we were acquainted that the bad road was the way to

greatness, and the other to goodness. When we expressed our surprise at

the preference given to the former we were acquainted that it was chosen

for the sake of the music of drums and trumpets, and the perpetual

acclamations of the mob, with which those who traveled this way were

constantly saluted. We were told likewise that there were several noble

palaces to be seen, and lodged in, on this road, by those who had passed

through the difficulties of it (which indeed many were not able to

surmount), and great quantities of all sorts of treasure to be found in

it; whereas the other had little inviting more than the beauty of the

way, scarce a handsome building, save one greatly resembling a certain

house by the Bath, to be seen during that whole journey; and, lastly,

that it was thought very scandalous and mean-spirited to travel through

this, and as highly honorable and noble to pass by the other. We now

heard a violent noise, when, casting our eyes forwards, we perceived a

vast number of spirits advancing in pursuit of one whom they mocked

and insulted with all kinds of scorn. I cannot give my reader a more

adequate idea of this scene than by comparing it to an English mob

conducting a pickpocket to the water; or by supposing that an incensed

audience at a playhouse had unhappily possessed themselves of the

miserable damned poet. Some laughed, some hissed, some squalled, some

groaned, some bawled, some spit at him, some threw dirt at him. It was

impossible not to ask who or what the wretched spirit was whom they

treated in this barbarous manner; when, to our great surprise, we were

informed that it was a king: we were likewise told that this manner

of behavior was usual among the spirits to those who drew the lots of

emperors, kings, and other great men, not from envy or anger, but mere

derision and contempt of earthly grandeur; that nothing was more common

than for those who had drawn these great prizes (as to us they seemed)

to exchange them with tailors and cobblers; and that Alexander the

Great and Diogenes had formerly done so; he that was afterwards Diogenes

having originally fallen on the lot of Alexander. And now, on a sudden,

the mockery ceased, and the king-spirit, having obtained a hearing,

began to speak as follows; for we were now near enough to hear him

distinctly:--

“GENTLEMEN,--I am justly surprised at your treating me in this manner,

since whatever lot I have drawn, I did not choose: if, therefore, it

be worthy of derision, you should compassionate me, for it might have

fallen to any of your shares. I know in how low a light the station to

which fate hath assigned me is considered here, and that, when ambition

doth not support it, it becomes generally so intolerable, that there

is scarce any other condition for which it is not gladly exchanged: for

what portion, in the world to which we are going, is so miserable as

that of care? Should I therefore consider myself as become by this lot

essentially your superior, and of a higher order of being than the rest

of my fellow-creatures; should I foolishly imagine myself without wisdom

superior to the wise, without knowledge to the learned, without courage

to the brave, and without goodness and virtue to the good and virtuous;

surely so preposterous, so absurd a pride, would justly render me the

object of ridicule. But far be it from me to entertain it. And yet,

gentlemen, I prize the lot I have drawn, nor would I exchange it with

any of yours, seeing it is in my eye so much greater than the rest.

Ambition, which I own myself possessed of, teaches me this; ambition,

which makes me covet praise, assures me that I shall enjoy a much larger

proportion of it than can fall within your power either to deserve or

obtain. I am then superior to you all, when I am able to do more good,

and when I execute that power. What the father is to the son, the

guardian to the orphan, or the patron to his client, that am I to you.

You are my children, to whom I will be a father, a guardian, and a

patron. Not one evening in my long reign (for so it is to be) will

I repose myself to rest without the glorious, the heart-warming

consideration, that thousands that night owe their sweetest rest to me.

What a delicious fortune is it to him whose strongest appetite is doing

good, to have every day the opportunity and the power of satisfying it!

If such a man hath ambition, how happy is it for him to be seated so on

high, that every act blazes abroad, and attracts to him praises tainted

with neither sarcasm nor adulation, but such as the nicest and most

delicate mind may relish! Thus, therefore, while you derive your good

from me, I am your superior. If to my strict distribution of justice

you owe the safety of your property from domestic enemies; if by my

vigilance and valor you are protected from foreign foes; if by my

encouragement of genuine industry, every science, every art which can

embellish or sweeten life, is produced and flourishes among you; will

any of you be so insensible or ungrateful as to deny praise and respect

to him by whose care and conduct you enjoy these blessings? I wonder not

at the censure which so frequently falls on those in my station; but I

wonder that those in my station so frequently deserve it. What strange

perverseness of nature! What wanton delight in mischief must taint his

composition, who prefers dangers, difficulty, and disgrace, by doing

evil, to safety, ease, and honor, by doing good! who refuses happiness

in the other world, and heaven in this, for misery there and hell here!

But, be assured, my intentions are different. I shall always endeavor

the ease, the happiness, and the glory of my people, being confident

that, by so doing, I take the most certain method of procuring them

all to myself.”--He then struck directly into the road of goodness,

and received such a shout of applause as I never remember to have

heard equaled. He was gone a little way when a spirit limped after him,

swearing he would fetch him back.

This spirit, I was presently informed, was one who had drawn the lot of

his prime minister.

CHAPTER VI

An account of the wheel of fortune, with a method of

preparing a spirit for this world.

We now proceeded on our journey, without staying to see whether he

fulfilled his word or no; and without encountering anything worth

mentioning, came to the place where the spirits on their passage to the

other world were obliged to decide by lot the station in which every

one was to act there. Here was a monstrous wheel, infinitely larger than

those in which I had formerly seen lottery-tickets deposited. This was

called the WHEEL OF FORTUNE.

The goddess herself was present. She was one of the most deformed

females I ever beheld; nor could I help observing the frowns she

expressed when any beautiful spirit of her own sex passed by her, nor

the affability which smiled in her countenance on the approach of any

handsome male spirits. Hence I accounted for the truth of an observation

I had often made on earth, that nothing is more fortunate than handsome

men, nor more unfortunate than handsome women. The reader may be perhaps

pleased with an account of the whole method of equipping a spirit for

his entrance into the flesh.

First, then, he receives from a very sage person, whose look much

resembled that of an apothecary (his warehouse likewise bearing an

affinity to an apothecary’s shop), a small phial inscribed, THE PATHETIC

POTION, to be taken just before you are born. This potion is a mixture

of all the passions, but in no exact proportion, so that sometimes one

predominates, and sometimes another; nay, often in the hurry of making

up, one particular ingredient is, as we were informed, left out. The

spirit receiveth at the same time another medicine called the NOUSPHORIC

DECOCTION, of which he is to drink ad libitum. This decoction is an

extract from the faculties of the mind, sometimes extremely strong and

spirituous, and sometimes altogether as weak; for very little care is

taken in the preparation. This decoction is so extremely bitter and

unpleasant, that, notwithstanding its wholesomeness, several spirits

will not be persuaded to swallow a drop of it, but throw it away, or

give it to any other who will receive it; by which means some who were

not disgusted by the nauseousness drank double and treble portions.

I observed a beautiful young female, who, tasting it immediately from

curiosity, screwed up her face and cast it from her with great disdain,

whence advancing presently to the wheel, she drew a coronet, which

she clapped up so eagerly that I could not distinguish the degree; and

indeed I observed several of the same sex, after a very small sip, throw

the bottles away. As soon as the spirit is dismissed by the operator,

or apothecary, he is at liberty to approach the wheel, where he hath a

right to extract a single lot: but those whom Fortune favors she permits

sometimes secretly to draw three or four. I observed a comical kind of

figure who drew forth a handful, which, when he opened, were a bishop,

a general, a privy-counselor, a player, and a poet-laureate, and,

returning the three first, he walked off, smiling, with the two last.

Every single lot contained two more articles, which were generally

disposed so as to render the lots as equal as possible to each other; on

one was written, EARL, RICHES, HEALTH, DISQUIETUDE; on another, COBLER,

SICKNESS, GOOD-HUMOR; on a third, POET, CONTEMPT, SELF-SATISFACTION; on

a fourth, GENERAL, HONOR, DISCONTENT; on a fifth, COTTAGE, HAPPY LOVE;

on a sixth, COACH AND SIX, IMPOTENT JEALOUS HUSBAND; on a seventh,

PRIME MINISTER, DISGRACE; on an eighth, PATRIOT, GLORY; on a ninth,

PHILOSOPHER, POVERTY, EASE; on a tenth, MERCHANT, RICHES, CARE. And

indeed the whole seemed to contain such a mixture of good and evil, that

it would have puzzled me which to choose. I must not omit here that

in every lot was directed whether the drawer should marry or remain in

celibacy, the married lots being all marked with a large pair of horns.

We were obliged, before we quitted this place, to take each of us an

emetic from the apothecary, which immediately purged us of all our

earthly passions, and presently the cloud forsook our eyes, as it doth

those of Aeneas in Virgil, when removed by Venus; and we discerned

things in a much clearer light than before. We began to compassionate

those spirits who were making their entry into the flesh, whom we had

till then secretly envied, and to long eagerly for those delightful

plains which now opened themselves to our eyes, and to which we now

hastened with the utmost eagerness. On our way we met with several

spirits with very dejected countenances; but our expedition would not

suffer us to ask any questions. At length we arrived at the gate of

Elysium. Here was a prodigious crowd of spirits waiting for admittance,

some of whom were admitted, and some were rejected; for all were

strictly examined by the porter, whom I soon discovered to be the

celebrated judge Minos.

CHAPTER VII

The proceedings of judge Minos at the gate of Elysium.

I now got near enough to the gate to hear the several claims of those

who endeavored to pass. The first among other pretensions, set forth

that he had been very liberal to an hospital; but Minos answered,

“Ostentation,” and repulsed him. The second exhibited that he had

constantly frequented his church, been a rigid observer of fast-days: he

likewise represented the great animosity he had shown to vice in others,

which never escaped his severest censure; and as to his own behavior, he

had never been once guilty of whoring, drinking, gluttony, or any other

excess. He said he had disinherited his son for getting a bastard. “Have

you so?” said Minos; “then pray return into the other world and beget

another; for such an unnatural rascal shall never pass this gate.” A

dozen others, who had advanced with very confident countenances, seeing

him rejected, turned about of their own accord, declaring, if he could

not pass, they had no expectation, and accordingly they followed him

back to earth; which was the fate of all who were repulsed, they being

obliged to take a further purification, unless those who were guilty

of some very heinous crimes, who were hustled in at a little back gate,

whence they tumbled immediately into the bottomless pit.

The next spirit that came up declared he had done neither good nor evil

in the world; for that since his arrival at man’s estate he had spent

his whole time in search of curiosities; and particularly in the study

of butterflies, of which he had collected an immense number. Minos made

him no answer, but with great scorn pushed him back. There now advanced

a very beautiful spirit indeed. She began to ogle Minos the moment she

saw him. She said she hoped there was some merit in refusing a great

number of lovers, and dying a maid, though she had had the choice of

a hundred. Minos told her she had not refused enow yet, and turned her

back.

She was succeeded by a spirit who told the judge he believed his works

would speak for him. “What works?” answered Minos. “My dramatic works,”

replied the other, “which have done so much good in recommending virtue

and punishing vice.” “Very well,” said the judge; “if you please to

stand by, the first person who passes the gate by your means shall

carry you in with him; but, if you will take my advice, I think, for

expedition sake, you had better return, and live another life upon

earth.” The bard grumbled at this, and replied that, besides his

poetical works, he had done some other good things: for that he had once

lent the whole profits of a benefit-night to a friend, and by that means

had saved him and his family from destruction. Upon this the gate flew

open, and Minos desired him to walk in, telling him, if he had mentioned

this at first, he might have spared the remembrance of his plays. The

poet answered, he believed, if Minos had read his works, he would set a

higher value on them. He was then beginning to repeat, but Minos pushed

him forward, and, turning his back to him, applied himself to the next

passenger, a very genteel spirit, who made a very low bow to Minos, and

then threw himself into an erect attitude, and imitated the motion of

taking snuff with his right hand. Minos asked him what he had to say

for himself. He answered, he would dance a minuet with any spirit in

Elysium: that he could likewise perform all his other exercises very

well, and hoped he had in his life deserved the character of a perfect

fine gentleman. Minos replied it would be great pity to rob the world of

so fine a gentleman, and therefore desired him to take the other trip.

The beau bowed, thanked the judge, and said he desired no better.

Several spirits expressed much astonishment at this his satisfaction;

but we were afterwards informed he had not taken the emetic above

mentioned.

A miserable old spirit now crawled forwards, whose face I thought I had

formerly seen near Westminster Abbey. He entertained Minos with a long

harangue of what he had done when in the HOUSE; and then proceeded to

inform him how much he was worth, without attempting to produce a

single instance of any one good action. Minos stopped the career of his

discourse, and acquainted him he must take a trip back again.

“What! to S---- house?” said the spirit in an ecstasy; but the judge,

without making him any answer, turned to another, who with a very

solemn air and great dignity, acquainted him he was a duke. “To the

right-about, Mr. Duke,” cried Minos, “you are infinitely too great a

man for Elysium;” and then, giving him a kick on the b--ch, he addressed

himself to a spirit who, with fear and trembling, begged he might not

go to the bottomless pit: he said he hoped Minos would consider that,

though he had gone astray, he had suffered for it--that it was necessity

which drove him to the robbery of eighteenpence, which he had committed,

and for which he was hanged--that he had done some good actions in his

life--that he had supported an aged parent with his labor--that he had

been a very tender husband and a kind father--and that he had ruined

himself by being bail for his friend. At which words the gate opened,

and Minos bade him enter, giving him a slap on the back as he passed by

him. A great number of spirits now came forwards, who all declared

they had the same claim, and that the captain should speak for them.

He acquainted the judge that they had been all slain in the service of

their country. Minos was going to admit them, but had the curiosity to

ask who had been the invader, in order, as he said, to prepare the

back gate for him. The captain answered they had been the invaders

themselves--that they had entered the enemy’s country, and burned and

plundered several cities. “And for what reason?” said Minos. “By the

command of him who paid us,” said the captain; “that is the reason of a

soldier. We are to execute whatever we are commanded, or we should be a

disgrace to the army, and very little deserve our pay.” “You are brave

fellows indeed,” said Minos; “but be pleased to face about, and obey my

command for once, in returning back to the other world: for what should

such fellows as you do where there are no cities to be burned, nor

people to be destroyed? But let me advise you to have a stricter regard

to truth for the future, and not call the depopulating other countries

the service of your own.” The captain answered, in a rage, “D--n me! do

you give me the lie?” and was going to take Minos by the nose had

not his guards prevented him, and immediately turned him and all his

followers back the same road they came.

Four spirits informed the judge that they had been starved to death

through poverty--being the father, mother, and two children; that

they had been honest and as industrious as possible, till sickness had

prevented the man from labor. “All that is very true,” cried a grave

spirit who stood by. “I know the fact; for these poor people were under

my cure.” “You was, I suppose, the parson of the parish,” cries Minos;

“I hope you had a good living, sir.” “That was but a small one,” replied

the spirit; “but I had another a little better.”--“Very well,” said

Minos; “let the poor people pass.” At which the parson was stepping

forwards with a stately gait before them; but Minos caught hold of him

and pulled him back, saying, “Not so fast, doctor--you must take one

step more into the other world first; for no man enters that gate

without charity.” A very stately figure now presented himself, and,

informing Minos he was a patriot, began a very florid harangue on public

virtue and the liberties of his country. Upon which Minos showed him the

utmost respect, and ordered the gate to be opened. The patriot was not

contented with this applause; he said he had behaved as well in place

as he had done in the opposition; and that, though he was now obliged

to embrace the court measures, yet he had behaved very honestly to his

friends, and brought as many in as was possible. “Hold a moment,” says

Minos: “on second consideration, Mr. Patriot, I think a man of your

great virtue and abilities will be so much missed by your country, that,

if I might advise you, you should take a journey back again. I am

sure you will not decline it; for I am certain you will, with great

readiness, sacrifice your own happiness to the public good.” The patriot

smiled, and told Minos he believed he was in jest; and was offering to

enter the gate, but the judge laid fast hold of him and insisted on his

return, which the patriot still declining, he at last ordered his guards

to seize him and conduct him back.

A spirit now advanced, and the gate was immediately thrown open to him

before he had spoken a word. I heard some whisper, “That is our last

lord mayor.”

It now came to our company’s turn. The fair spirit which I mentioned

with so much applause in the beginning of my journey passed through very

easily; but the grave lady was rejected on her first appearance, Minos

declaring there was not a single prude in Elysium.

The judge then addressed himself to me, who little expected to pass this

fiery trial. I confessed I had indulged myself very freely with wine and

women in my youth, but had never done an injury to any man living, nor

avoided an opportunity of doing good; that I pretended to very little

virtue more than general philanthropy and private friendship. I was

proceeding, when Minos bade me enter the gate, and not indulge myself

with trumpeting forth my virtues. I accordingly passed forward with my

lovely companion, and, embracing her with vast eagerness, but spiritual

innocence, she returned my embrace in the same manner, and we both

congratulated ourselves on our arrival in this happy region, whose

beauty no painting of the imagination can describe.

CHAPTER VIII

The adventures which the author met on his first entrance

into Elysium.

We pursued our way through a delicious grove of orange-trees, where I

saw infinite numbers of spirits, every one of whom I knew, and was known

by them (for spirits here know one another by intuition). I presently

met a little daughter whom I had lost several years before. Good gods!

what words can describe the raptures, the melting passionate tenderness,

with which we kissed each other, continuing in our embrace, with the

most ecstatic joy, a space which, if time had been measured here as on

earth, could not be less than half a year.

The first spirit with whom I entered into discourse was the famous

Leonidas of Sparta. I acquainted him with the honors which had been done

him by a celebrated poet of our nation; to which he answered he was very

much obliged to him. We were presently afterwards entertained with the

most delicious voice I had ever heard, accompanied by a violin, equal to

Signior Piantinida. I presently discovered the musician and songster to

be Orpheus and Sappho.

Old Homer was present at this concert (if I may so call it), and Madam

Dacier sat in his lap. He asked much after Mr. Pope, and said he was

very desirous of seeing him; for that he had read his Iliad in his

translation with almost as much delight as he believed he had given

others in the original. I had the curiosity to inquire whether he had

really writ that poem in detached pieces, and sung it about as ballads

all over Greece, according to the report which went of him. He smiled at

my question, and asked me whether there appeared any connection in

the poem; for if there did he thought I might answer myself. I then

importuned him to acquaint me in which of the cities which contended for

the honor of his birth he was really born? To which he answered, “Upon

my soul I can’t tell.”

Virgil then came up to me, with Mr. Addison under his arm. “Well, sir,”

said he, “how many translations have these few last years produced of

my Aeneid?” I told him I believed several, but I could not possibly

remember; for that I had never read any but Dr. Trapp’s. “Ay,” said

he, “that is a curious piece indeed!” I then acquainted him with the

discovery made by Mr. Warburton of the Elusinian mysteries couched in

his sixth book. “What mysteries?” said Mr. Addison. “The Elusinian,”

answered Virgil, “which I have disclosed in my sixth book.” “How!”

replied Addison. “You never mentioned a word of any such mysteries to

me in all our acquaintance.” “I thought it was unnecessary,” cried the

other, “to a man of your infinite learning: besides, you always told

me you perfectly understood my meaning.” Upon this I thought the critic

looked a little out of countenance, and turned aside to a very merry

spirit, one Dick Steele, who embraced him, and told him he had been the

greatest man upon earth; that he readily resigned up all the merit of

his own works to him. Upon which Addison gave him a gracious smile, and,

clapping him on the back with much solemnity, cried out, “Well said,

Dick!”

I then observed Shakespeare standing between Betterton and Booth, and

deciding a difference between those two great actors concerning the

placing an accent in one of his lines: this was disputed on both sides

with a warmth which surprised me in Elysium, till I discovered by

intuition that every soul retained its principal characteristic, being,

indeed, its very essence. The line was that celebrated one in Othello--

PUT OUT THE LIGHT, AND THEN PUT OUT THE LIGHT. according to Betterton.

Mr. Booth contended to have it thus:--

Put out the light, and then put out THE light. I could not help offering

my conjecture on this occasion, and suggested it might perhaps be--

Put out the light, and then put out THY light. Another hinted a reading

very sophisticated in my opinion--

Put out the light, and then put out THEE, light, making light to be the

vocative case. Another would have altered the last word, and read--

PUT OUT THY LIGHT, AND THEN PUT OUT THY SIGHT. But Betterton said, if

the text was to be disturbed, he saw no reason why a word might not be

changed as well as a letter, and, instead of “put out thy light,” you

may read “put out thy eyes.” At last it was agreed on all sides to refer

the matter to the decision of Shakespeare himself, who delivered his

sentiments as follows: “Faith, gentlemen, it is so long since I wrote

the line, I have forgot my meaning. This I know, could I have dreamed

so much nonsense would have been talked and writ about it, I would

have blotted it out of my works; for I am sure, if any of these be my

meaning, it doth me very little honor.”

He was then interrogated concerning some other ambiguous passages in his

works; but he declined any satisfactory answer; saying, if Mr. Theobald

had not writ about it sufficiently, there were three or four more new

editions of his plays coming out, which he hoped would satisfy every

one: concluding, “I marvel nothing so much as that men will gird

themselves at discovering obscure beauties in an author. Certes the

greatest and most pregnant beauties are ever the plainest and most

evidently striking; and when two meanings of a passage can in the

least balance our judgments which to prefer, I hold it matter of

unquestionable certainty that neither of them is worth a farthing.”

From his works our conversation turned on his monument; upon which,

Shakespeare, shaking his sides, and addressing himself to Milton, cried

out, “On my word, brother Milton, they have brought a noble set of poets

together; they would have been hanged erst have [ere they had] convened

such a company at their tables when alive.” “True, brother,” answered

Milton, “unless we had been as incapable of eating then as we are now.”

CHAPTER IX

More adventures in Elysium.

A crowd of spirits now joined us, whom I soon perceived to be the

heroes, who here frequently pay their respects to the several bards the

recorders of their actions. I now saw Achilles and Ulysses addressing

themselves to Homer, and Aeneas and Julius Caesar to Virgil: Adam went

up to Milton, upon which I whispered Mr. Dryden that I thought the devil

should have paid his compliments there, according to his opinion. Dryden

only answered, “I believe the devil was in me when I said so.” Several

applied themselves to Shakespeare, amongst whom Henry V made a very

distinguishing appearance. While my eyes were fixed on that monarch a

very small spirit came up to me, shook me heartily by the hand, and told

me his name was THOMAS THUMB. I expressed great satisfaction in seeing

him, nor could I help speaking my resentment against the historian, who

had done such injustice to the stature of this great little man, which

he represented to be no bigger than a span, whereas I plainly perceived

at first sight he was full a foot and a half (and the 37th part of an

inch more, as he himself informed me), being indeed little shorter than

some considerable beaux of the present age. I asked this little hero

concerning the truth of those stories related of him, viz., of the

pudding, and the cow’s belly. As to the former, he said it was a

ridiculous legend, worthy to be laughed at; but as to the latter, he

could not help owning there was some truth in it: nor had he any reason

to be ashamed of it, as he was swallowed by surprise; adding, with great

fierceness, that if he had had any weapon in his hand the cow should

have as soon swallowed the devil.

He spoke the last word with so much fury, and seemed so confounded,

that, perceiving the effect it had on him, I immediately waived the

story, and, passing to other matters, we had much conversation touching

giants. He said, so far from killing any, he had never seen one alive;

that he believed those actions were by mistake recorded of him, instead

of Jack the giant-killer, whom he knew very well, and who had, he

fancied, extirpated the race. I assured him to the contrary, and told

him I had myself seen a huge tame giant, who very complacently stayed in

London a whole winter, at the special request of several gentlemen and

ladies; though the affairs of his family called him home to Sweden.

I now beheld a stern-looking spirit leaning on the shoulder of another

spirit, and presently discerned the former to be Oliver Cromwell, and

the latter Charles Martel. I own I was a little surprised at seeing

Cromwell here, for I had been taught by my grandmother that he was

carried away by the devil himself in a tempest; but he assured me, on

his honor, there was not the least truth in that story. However, he

confessed he had narrowly escaped the bottomless pit; and, if the former

part of his conduct had not been more to his honor than the latter, he

had been certainly soused into it. He was, nevertheless, sent back to

the upper world with this lot:--ARMY, CAVALIER, DISTRESS.

He was born, for the second time, the day of Charles II’s restoration,

into a family which had lost a very considerable fortune in the service

of that prince and his father, for which they received the reward very

often conferred by princes on real merit, viz.--000. At 16 his father

bought a small commission for him in the army, in which he served

without any promotion all the reigns of Charles II and of his brother.

At the Revolution he quitted his regiment, and followed the fortunes

of his former master, and was in his service dangerously wounded at the

famous battle of the Boyne, where he fought in the capacity of a private

soldier. He recovered of this wound, and retired after the unfortunate

king to Paris, where he was reduced to support a wife and seven children

(for his lot had horns in it) by cleaning shoes and snuffing candles at

the opera. In which situation, after he had spent a few miserable years,

he died half-starved and broken-hearted. He then revisited Minos, who,

compassionating his sufferings by means of that family, to whom he had

been in his former capacity so bitter an enemy, suffered him to enter

here.

My curiosity would not refrain asking him one question, i. e., whether

in reality he had any desire to obtain the crown? He smiled, and said,

“No more than an ecclesiastic hath to the miter, when he cries Nolo

episcopari.” Indeed, he seemed to express some contempt at the question,

and presently turned away.

A venerable spirit appeared next, whom I found to be the great historian

Livy. Alexander the Great, who was just arrived from the palace of

death, passed by him with a frown. The historian, observing it, said,

“Ay, you may frown; but those troops which conquered the base Asiatic

slaves would have made no figure against the Romans.” We then privately

lamented the loss of the most valuable part of his history; after which

he took occasion to commend the judicious collection made by Mr. Hook,

which, he said, was infinitely preferable to all others; and at my

mentioning Echard’s he gave a bounce, not unlike the going off of

a squib, and was departing from me, when I begged him to satisfy my

curiosity in one point--whether he was really superstitious or no? For

I had always believed he was till Mr. Leibnitz had assured me to the

contrary. He answered sullenly, “Doth Mr. Leibnitz know my mind better

than myself?” and then walked away.

CHAPTER X

The author is surprised at meeting Julian the apostate in

Elysium; but is satisfied by him by what means he procured

his entrance there. Julian relates his adventures in the

character of a slave.

As he was departing I heard him salute a spirit by the name of Mr.

Julian the apostate. This exceedingly amazed me; for I had concluded

that no man ever had a better title to the bottomless pit than he. But

I soon found that this same Julian the apostate was also the very

individual archbishop Latimer. He told me that several lies had been

raised on him in his former capacity, nor was he so bad a man as he had

been represented. However, he had been denied admittance, and forced

to undergo several subsequent pilgrimages on earth, and to act in the

different characters of a slave, a Jew, a general, an heir, a carpenter,

a beau, a monk, a fiddler, a wise man, a king, a fool, a beggar, a

prince, a statesman, a soldier, a tailor, an alderman, a poet, a knight,

a dancing-master, and three times a bishop, before his martyrdom, which,

together with his other behavior in this last character, satisfied the

judge, and procured him a passage to the blessed regions.

I told him such various characters must have produced incidents

extremely entertaining; and if he remembered all, as I supposed he did,

and had leisure, I should be obliged to him for the recital. He answered

he perfectly recollected every circumstance; and as to leisure, the only

business of that happy place was to contribute to the happiness of each

other. He therefore thanked me for adding to his, in proposing to him

a method of increasing mine. I then took my little darling in one hand,

and my favorite fellow-traveler in the other, and, going with him to

a sunny bank of flowers, we all sat down, and he began as follows:--“I

suppose you are sufficiently acquainted with my story during the time I

acted the part of the emperor Julian, though I assure you all which hath

been related of me is not true, particularly with regard to the many

prodigies forerunning my death. However, they are now very little worth

disputing; and if they can serve any purpose of the historian they

are extremely at his service. My next entrance into the world was at

Laodicea, in Syria, in a Roman family of no great note; and, being of

a roving disposition, I came at the age of seventeen to Constantinople,

where, after about a year’s stay, I set out for Thrace, at the time when

the emperor Valens admitted the Goths into that country. I was there so

captivated with the beauty of a Gothic lady, the wife of one Rodoric, a

captain, whose name, out of the most delicate tenderness for her lovely

sex, I shall even at this distance conceal; since her behavior to me was

more consistent with good-nature than with that virtue which women are

obliged to preserve against every assailant. In order to procure an

intimacy with this woman I sold myself a slave to her husband, who,

being of a nation not over-inclined to jealousy, presented me to his

wife, for those very reasons which would have induced one of a jealous

complexion to have withheld me from her, namely, for that I was young

and handsome.

“Matters succeeded so far according to my wish, and the sequel answered

those hopes which this beginning had raised. I soon perceived my service

was very acceptable to her; I often met her eyes, nor did she withdraw

them without a confusion which is scarce consistent with entire purity

of heart. Indeed, she gave me every day fresh encouragement; but the

unhappy distance which circumstances had placed between us deterred me

long from making any direct attack; and she was too strict an observer

of decorum to violate the severe rules of modesty by advancing first;

but passion at last got the better of my respect, and I resolved to make

one bold attempt, whatever was the consequence. Accordingly, laying hold

of the first kind opportunity, when she was alone and my master abroad,

I stoutly assailed the citadel and carried it by storm. Well may I say

by storm; for the resistance I met was extremely resolute, and indeed

as much as the most perfect decency would require. She swore often she

would cry out for help; but I answered it was in vain, seeing there was

no person near to assist her; and probably she believed me, for she did

not once actually cry out, which if she had, I might very likely have

been prevented.

“When she found her virtue thus subdued against her will she patiently

submitted to her fate, and quietly suffered me a long time to enjoy the

most delicious fruits of my victory; but envious fortune resolved to

make me pay a dear price for my pleasure. One day in the midst of our

happiness we were suddenly surprised by the unexpected return of her

husband, who, coming directly into his wife’s apartment, just allowed

me time to creep under the bed. The disorder in which he found his wife

might have surprised a jealous temper; but his was so far otherwise,

that possibly no mischief might have happened had he not by a cross

accident discovered my legs, which were not well hid. He immediately

drew me out by them, and then, turning to his wife with a stern

countenance, began to handle a weapon he wore by his side, with which

I am persuaded he would have instantly dispatched her, had I not very

gallantly, and with many imprecations, asserted her innocence and my

own guilt; which, however, I protested had hitherto gone no farther than

design. She so well seconded my plea (for she was a woman of wonderful

art), that he was at length imposed upon; and now all his rage was

directed against me, threatening all manner of tortures, which the

poor lady was in too great a fright and confusion to dissuade him from

executing; and perhaps, if her concern for me had made her attempt it,

it would have raised a jealousy in him not afterwards to be removed.

“After some hesitation Roderic cried out he had luckily hit on the most

proper punishment for me in the world, by a method which would at once

do severe justice on me for my criminal intention, and at the same time

prevent me from any danger of executing my wicked purpose hereafter.

This cruel resolution was immediately executed, and I was no longer

worthy the name of a man.

“Having thus disqualified me from doing him any future injury, he still

retained me in his family; but the lady, very probably repenting of what

she had done, and looking on me as the author of her guilt, would never

for the future give me either a kind word or look: and shortly after, a

great exchange being made between the Romans and the Goths of dogs for

men, my lady exchanged me with a Roman widow for a small lap-dog, giving

a considerable sum of money to boot.

“In this widow’s service I remained seven years, during all which time I

was very barbarously treated. I was worked without the least mercy, and

often severely beat by a swinging maid-servant, who never called me by

any other names than those of the Thing and the Animal. Though I used

my utmost industry to please, it never was in my power. Neither the lady

nor her woman would eat anything I touched, saying they did not believe

me wholesome. It is unnecessary to repeat particulars; in a word, you

can imagine no kind of ill usage which I did not suffer in this family.

“At last an heathen priest, an acquaintance of my lady’s, obtained me of

her for a present. The scene was now totally changed, and I had as much

reason to be satisfied with my present situation as I had to lament my

former. I was so absolutely my master’s favorite, that the rest of the

slaves paid me almost as much regard as they showed to him, well knowing

that it was entirely in my power to command and treat them as I pleased.

I was intrusted with all my master’s secrets, and used to assist him in

privately conveying away by night the sacrifices from the altars, which

the people believed the deities themselves devoured. Upon these we

feasted very elegantly, nor could invention suggest a rarity which we

did not pamper ourselves with. Perhaps you may admire at the close union

between this priest and his slave, but we lived in an intimacy which

the Christians thought criminal; but my master, who knew the will of

the gods, with whom he told me he often conversed, assured me it was

perfectly innocent.

“This happy life continued about four years, when my master’s death,

occasioned by a surfeit got by overfeeding on several exquisite

dainties, put an end to it.

“I now fell into the hands of one of a very different disposition, and

this was no other than the celebrated St. Chrysostom, who dieted me with

sermons instead of sacrifices, and filled my ears with good things, but

not my belly. Instead of high food to fatten and pamper my flesh, I had

receipts to mortify and reduce it. With these I edified so well, that

within a few months I became a skeleton. However, as he had converted

me to his faith, I was well enough satisfied with this new manner of

living, by which he taught me I might insure myself an eternal reward in

a future state. The saint was a good-natured man, and never gave me

an ill word but once, which was occasioned by my neglecting to place

Aristophanes, which was his constant bedfellow, on his pillow. He was,

indeed, extremely fond of that Greek poet, and frequently made me read

his comedies to him. When I came to any of the loose passages he would

smile, and say, ‘It was pity his matter was not as pure as his style;’

of which latter he was so immoderately fond that, notwithstanding the

detestation he expressed for obscenity, he hath made me repeat those

passages ten times over. The character of this good man hath been very

unjustly attacked by his heathen contemporaries, particularly with

regard to women; but his severe invectives against that sex are his

sufficient justification.

“From the service of this saint, from whom I received manumission, I

entered into the family of Timasius, a leader of great eminence in

the imperial army, into whose favor I so far insinuated myself that he

preferred me to a good command, and soon made me partaker of both his

company and his secrets. I soon grew intoxicated with this preferment,

and the more he loaded me with benefits the more he raised my opinion of

my own merit, which, still outstripping the rewards he conferred on me,

inspired me rather with dissatisfaction than gratitude. And thus,

by preferring me beyond my merit or first expectation, he made me an

envious aspiring enemy, whom perhaps a more moderate bounty would have

preserved a dutiful servant.

“I fell now acquainted with one Lucilius, a creature of the prime

minister Eutropius, who had by his favor been raised to the post of

a tribune; a man of low morals, and eminent only in that meanest of

qualities, cunning. This gentleman, imagining me a fit tool for the

minister’s purpose, having often sounded my principles of honor and

honesty, both which he declared to me were words without meaning,

and finding my ready concurrence in his sentiments, recommended me

to Eutropius as very proper to execute some wicked purposes he had

contrived against my frend Timasius. The minister embraced this

recommendation, and I was accordingly acquainted by Lucilius (after some

previous accounts of the great esteem Eutropius entertained of me, from

the testimony he had borne of my parts) that he would introduce me to

him; adding that he was a great encourager of merit, and that I might

depend upon his favor.

“I was with little difficulty prevailed on to accept of this invitation.

A late hour therefore the next evening being appointed, I attended my

friend Lucilius to the minister’s house.

“He received me with the utmost civility and cheerfulness, and affected

so much regard to me, that I, who knew nothing of these high scenes of

life, concluded I had in him a most disinterested friend, owing to the

favorable report which Lucilius had made of me. I was however soon cured

of this opinion; for immediately after supper our discourse turned on

the injustice which the generality of the world were guilty of in their

conduct to great men, expecting that they should reward their private

merit, without ever endeavoring to apply it to their use. ‘What avail,’

said Eutropius, ‘the learning, wit, courage, or any virtue which a man

may be possessed of, to me, unless I receive some benefit from them?

Hath he not more merit to me who doth my business and obeys my commands,

without any of these qualities?’ I gave such entire satisfaction in

my answers on this head, that both the minister and his creature grew

bolder, and after some preface began to accuse Timasius. At last,

finding I did not attempt to defend him, Lucilius swore a great oath

that he was not fit to live, and that he would destroy him. Eutropius

answered that it would be too dangerous a task: ‘Indeed,’ says he, ‘his

crimes are of so black a dye, and so well known to the emperor, that his

death must be a very acceptable service, and could not fail meeting a

proper reward: but I question whether you are capable of executing

it.’ ‘If he is not,’ cried I, ‘I am; and surely no man can have greater

motives to destroy him than myself: for, besides his disloyalty to my

prince, for whom I have so perfect a duty, I have private disobligations

to him. I have had fellows put over my head, to the great scandal of

the service in general, and to my own prejudice and disappointment

in particular.’ I will not repeat you my whole speech; but, to be as

concise as possible, when we parted that evening the minister squeezed

me heartily by the hand, and with great commendation of my honesty and

assurances of his favor, he appointed me the next evening to come to

him alone; when, finding me, after a little more scrutiny, ready for his

purpose, he proposed to me to accuse Timasius of high treason, promising

me the highest rewards if I would undertake it. The consequence to him,

I suppose you know, was ruin; but what was it to me? Why, truly, when

I waited on Eutropius for the fulfilling his promises, received me

with great distance and coldness; and, on my dropping some hints of

my expectations from him, he affected not to understand me; saying

he thought impunity was the utmost I could hope for on discovering my

accomplice, whose offense was only greater than mine, as he was in

a higher station; and telling me he had great difficulty to obtain a

pardon for me from the emperor, which he said, he had struggled very

hardly for, as he had worked the discovery out of me. He turned away,

and addressed himself to another person.

“I was so incensed at this treatment, that I resolved revenge, and

should certainly have pursued it, had he not cautiously prevented me by

taking effectual means to despatch me soon after out of the world.

“You will, I believe, now think I had a second good chance for the

bottomless pit, and indeed Minos seemed inclined to tumble me in, till

he was informed of the revenge taken on me by Roderic, and my seven

years’ subsequent servitude to the widow; which he thought sufficient to

make atonement for all the crimes a single life could admit of, and so

sent me back to try my fortune a third time.”

CHAPTER XI

In which Julian relates his adventures in the character of

an avaricious Jew.

“The next character in which I was destined to appear in the flesh was

that of an avaricious Jew. I was born in Alexandria in Egypt. My name

was Balthazar. Nothing very remarkable happened to me till the year

of the memorable tumult in which the Jews of that city are reported in

history to have massacred more Christians than at that time dwelt in it.

Indeed, the truth is, they did maul the dogs pretty handsomely; but I

myself was not present, for as all our people were ordered to be armed,

I took that opportunity of selling two swords, which probably I might

otherwise never have disposed of, they being extremely old and rusty; so

that, having no weapon left, I did not care to venture abroad. Besides,

though I really thought it an act meriting salvation to murder the

Nazarenes, as the fact was to be committed at midnight, at which time,

to avoid suspicion, we were all to sally from our own houses, I could

not persuade myself to consume so much oil in sitting up to that hour:

for these reasons therefore I remained at home that evening.

“I was at this time greatly enamored with one Hypatia, the daughter of a

philosopher; a young lady of the greatest beauty and merit: indeed, she

had every imaginable ornament both of mind and body. She seemed not

to dislike my person; but there were two obstructions to our marriage,

viz., my religion and her poverty: both which might probably have been

got over, had not those dogs the Christians murdered her; and, what is

worse, afterwards burned her body: worse, I say, because I lost by that

means a jewel of some value, which I had presented to her, designing, if

our nuptials did not take place, to demand it of her back again.

“Being thus disappointed in my love, I soon after left Alexandria and

went to the imperial city, where I apprehended I should find a good

market for jewels on the approaching marriage of the emperor with

Athenais. I disguised myself as a beggar on this journey, for these

reasons: first, as I imagined I should thus carry my jewels with greater

safety; and, secondly, to lessen my expenses; which latter expedient

succeeded so well, that I begged two oboli on my way more than my

traveling cost me, my diet being chiefly roots, and my drink water.

“But perhaps, it had been better for me if I had been more lavish

and more expeditious; for the ceremony was over before I reached

Constantinople; so that I lost that glorious opportunity of disposing of

my jewels with which many of our people were greatly enriched.

“The life of a miser is very little worth relating, as it is one

constant scheme of getting or saving money. I shall therefore repeat to

you some few only of my adventures, without regard to any order.

“A Roman Jew, who was a great lover of Falernian wine, and who indulged

himself very freely with it, came to dine at my house; when, knowing he

should meet with little wine, and that of the cheaper sort, sent me in

half-a-dozen jars of Falernian. Can you believe I would not give this

man his own wine? Sir, I adulterated it so that I made six jars

of [them] three, which he and his friend drank; the other three I

afterwards sold to the very person who originally sent them me, knowing

he would give a better price than any other.

“A noble Roman came one day to my house in the country, which I had

purchased, for half the value, of a distressed person. My neighbors paid

him the compliment of some music, on which account, when he departed,

he left a piece of gold with me to be distributed among them. I pocketed

this money, and ordered them a small vessel of sour wine, which I could

not have sold for above two drachms, and afterwards made them pay in

work three times the value of it.

“As I was not entirely void of religion, though I pretended to

infinitely more than I had, so I endeavored to reconcile my transactions

to my conscience as well as possible. Thus I never invited any one to

eat with me, but those on whose pockets I had some design. After our

collation it was constantly my method to set down in a book I kept for

that purpose, what I thought they owed me for their meal. Indeed, this

was generally a hundred times as much as they could have dined elsewhere

for; but, however, it was quid pro quo, if not ad valorem. Now, whenever

the opportunity offered of imposing on them I considered it only as

paying myself what they owed me: indeed, I did not always confine myself

strictly to what I had set down, however extravagant that was; but I

reconciled taking the overplus to myself as usance.

“But I was not only too cunning for others--I sometimes overreached

myself. I have contracted distempers for want of food and warmth, which

have put me to the expense of a physician; nay, I once very narrowly

escaped death by taking bad drugs, only to save one seven-eighth per

cent in the price.

“By these and such like means, in the midst of poverty and every kind of

distress, I saw myself master of an immense fortune, the casting up and

ruminating on which was my daily and only pleasure. This was, however,

obstructed and embittered by two considerations, which against my will

often invaded my thoughts. One, which would have been intolerable (but

that indeed seldom troubled me), was, that I must one day leave my

darling treasure.

“The other haunted me continually, viz., that my riches were no greater.

However, I comforted myself against this reflection by an assurance that

they would increase daily: on which head my hopes were so extensive that

I may say with Virgil--

‘His ego nec metas rerum nec tempora pono.’

Indeed I am convinced that, had I possessed the whole globe of earth,

save one single drachma, which I had been certain never to be master

of--I am convinced, I say, that single drachma would have given me more

uneasiness than all the rest could afford me pleasure.

“To say the truth, between my solicitude in contriving schemes to

procure money and my extreme anxiety in preserving it, I never had one

moment of ease while awake nor of quiet when in my sleep.

“In all the characters through which I have passed, I have never

undergone half the misery I suffered in this; and, indeed, Minos seemed

to be of the same opinion; for while I stood trembling and shaking in

expectation of my sentence he bid me go back about my business, for that

nobody was to be d--n’d in more worlds than one. And, indeed, I have

since learned that the devil will not receive a miser.”

CHAPTER XII

What happened to Julian in the characters of a general, an

heir, a carpenter, and a beau.

“The next step I took into the world was at Apollonia, in Thrace, where

I was born of a beautiful Greek slave, who was the mistress of Eutyches,

a great favorite of the emperor Zeno. That prince, at his restoration,

gave me the command of a cohort, I being then but fifteen years of age;

and a little afterwards, before I had even seen an army, preferred me,

over the heads of all the old officers, to be a tribune.

“As I found an easy access to the emperor, by means of my father’s

intimacy with him, he being a very good courtier--or, in other words, a

most prostitute flatterer--so I soon ingratiated myself with Zeno, and

so well imitated my father in flattering him, that he would never part

with me from about his person. So that the first armed force I ever

beheld was that with which Marcian surrounded the palace, where I was

then shut up with the rest of the court.

“I was afterwards put at the head of a legion and ordered to march into

Syria with Theodoric the Goth; that is, I mean my legion was so ordered;

for, as to myself, I remained at court, with the name and pay of a

general, without the labor or the danger.

“As nothing could be more gay, i. e., debauched, than Zeno’s

court, so the ladies of gay disposition had great sway in it;

particularly one, whose name was Fausta, who, though not extremely

handsome, was by her wit and sprightliness very agreeable to the

emperor. With her I lived in good correspondence, and we together

disposed of all kinds of commissions in the army, not to those who had

most merit, but who would purchase at the highest rate. My levee was now

prodigiously thronged by officers who returned from the campaigns, who,

though they might have been convinced by daily example how ineffectual

a recommendation their services were, still continued indefatigable in

attendance, and behaved to me with as much observance and respect as I

should have been entitled to for making their fortunes, while I suffered

them and their families to starve.

“Several poets, likewise, addressed verses to me, in which they

celebrated my achievements; and what, perhaps, may seem strange to us

at present, I received all this incense with most greedy vanity, without

once reflecting that, as I did not deserve these compliments, they

should rather put me in mind of my defects.

“My father was now dead, and I became so absolute in the emperor’s grace

that one unacquainted with courts would scarce believe the servility

with which all kinds of persons who entered the walls of the palace

behaved towards me. A bow, a smile, a nod from me, as I passed through

cringing crowds, were esteemed as signal favors; but a gracious word

made any one happy; and, indeed, had this real benefit attending it,

that it drew on the person on whom it was bestowed a very great degree

of respect from all others; for these are of current value in courts,

and, like notes in trading communities, are assignable from one to the

other. The smile of a court favorite immediately raises the person

who receives it, and gives a value to his smile when conferred on an

inferior: thus the smile is transferred from one to the other, and the

great man at last is the person to discount it. For instance, a very

low fellow hath a desire for a place. To whom is he to apply? Not to the

great man; for to him he hath no access. He therefore applies to A, who

is the creature of B, who is the tool of C, who is the flatterer of D,

who is the catamite of E, who is the pimp of F, who is the bully of G,

who is the buffoon of I, who is the husband of K, who is the whore of

L, who is the bastard of M, who is the instrument of the great man. Thus

the smile descending regularly from the great man to A, is discounted

back again, and at last paid by the great man.

“It is manifest that a court would subsist as difficultly without this

kind of coin as a trading city without paper credit. Indeed, they differ

in this, that their value is not quite so certain, and a favorite may

protest his smile without the danger of bankruptcy.

“In the midst of all this glory the emperor died, and Anastasius was

preferred to the crown. As it was yet uncertain whether I should not

continue in favor, I was received as usual at my entrance into the

palace to pay my respects to the new emperor; but I was no sooner rumped

by him than I received the same compliment from all the rest; the whole

room, like a regiment of soldiers, turning their backs to me all at

once: my smile now was become of equal value with the note of a broken

banker, and every one was as cautious not to receive it.

“I made as much haste as possible from the court, and shortly after

from the city, retreating to the place of my nativity, where I spent the

remainder of my days in a retired life in husbandry, the only amusement

for which I was qualified, having neither learning nor virtue.

“When I came to the gate Minos again seemed at first doubtful, but at

length dismissed me; saying though I had been guilty of many heinous

crimes, in as much as I had, though a general, never been concerned in

spilling human blood, I might return again to earth.

“I was now again born in Alexandria, and, by great accident, entering

into the womb of my daughter-in-law, came forth my own grandson,

inheriting that fortune which I had before amassed.

“Extravagance was now as notoriously my vice as avarice had been

formerly; and I spent in a very short life what had cost me the labor

of a very long one to rake together. Perhaps you will think my present

condition was more to be envied than my former: but upon my word it was

very little so; for, by possessing everything almost before I desired

it, I could hardly ever say I enjoyed my wish: I scarce ever knew the

delight of satisfying a craving appetite. Besides, as I never once

thought, my mind was useless to me, and I was an absolute stranger to

all the pleasures arising from it. Nor, indeed, did my education qualify

me for any delicacy in other enjoyments; so that in the midst of plenty

I loathed everything. Taste for elegance I had none; and the greatest of

corporeal blisses I felt no more from than the lowest animal. In a word,

as while a miser I had plenty without daring to use it, so now I had it

without appetite.

“But if I was not very happy in the height of my enjoyment, so I

afterwards became perfectly miserable; being soon overtaken by disease,

and reduced to distress, till at length, with a broken constitution and

broken heart, I ended my wretched days in a jail: nor can I think the

sentence of Minos too mild, who condemned me, after having taken a large

dose of avarice, to wander three years on the banks of Cocytus, with

the knowledge of having spent the fortune in the person of the grandson

which I had raised in that of the grandfather.

“The place of my birth, on my return to the world, was Constantinople,

where my father was a carpenter. The first thing I remember was, the

triumph of Belisarius, which was, indeed, most noble show; but nothing

pleased me so much as the figure of Gelimer, king of the African

Vandals, who, being led captive on this occasion, reflecting with

disdain on the mutation of his own fortune, and on the ridiculous empty

pomp of the conqueror, cried out, VANITY, VANITY, ALL IS MERE VANITY.’

“I was bred up to my father’s trade, and you may easily believe so low a

sphere could produce no adventures worth your notice. However, I married

a woman I liked, and who proved a very tolerable wife. My days were

passed in hard labor, but this procured me health, and I enjoyed a

homely supper at night with my wife with more pleasure than I apprehend

greater persons find at their luxurious meals. My life had scarce any

variety in it, and at my death I advanced to Minos with great confidence

of entering the gate: but I was unhappily obliged to discover some

frauds I had been guilty of in the measure of my work when I worked

by the foot, as well as my laziness when I was employed by the day. On

which account, when I attempted to pass, the angry judge laid hold on

me by the shoulders, and turned me back so violently, that, had I had a

neck of flesh and bone, I believe he would have broke it.”

CHAPTER XIII

Julian passes into a fop.

“My scene of action was Rome. I was born into a noble family, and heir

to a considerable fortune. On which my parents, thinking I should not

want any talents, resolved very kindly and wisely to throw none away

upon me. The only instructors of my youth were therefore one Saltator,

who taught me several motions for my legs; and one Ficus, whose business

was to show me the cleanest way (as he called it) of cutting off a man’s

head. When I was well accomplished in these sciences, I thought nothing

more wanting, but what was to be furnished by the several mechanics in

Rome, who dealt in dressing and adorning the pope. Being therefore well

equipped with all which their art could produce, I became at the age

of twenty a complete finished beau. And now during forty-five years I

dressed, I sang and danced, and danced and sang, I bowed and ogled, and

ogled and bowed, till, in the sixty-sixth year of my age, I got cold by

overheating myself with dancing, and died.

“Minos told me, as I was unworthy of Elysium, so I was too insignificant

to be damned, and therefore bade me walk back again.”

CHAPTER XIV

Adventures in the person of a monk.

“Fortune now placed me in the character of a younger brother of a good

house, and I was in my youth sent to school; but learning was now at so

low an ebb, that my master himself could hardly construe a sentence

of Latin; and as for Greek, he could not read it. With very little

knowledge therefore, and with altogether as little virtue, I was set

apart for the church, and at the proper age commenced monk. I lived many

years retired in a cell, a life very agreeable to the gloominess of my

temper, which was much inclined to despise the world; that is, in other

words, to envy all men of superior fortune and qualifications, and in

general to hate and detest the human species. Notwithstanding which,

I could, on proper occasions, submit to flatter the vilest fellow in

nature, which I did one Stephen, an eunuch, a favorite of the emperor

Justinian II, one of the wickedest wretches whom perhaps the world ever

saw. I not only wrote a panegyric on this man, but I commended him as

a pattern to all others in my sermons; by which means I so greatly

ingratiated myself with him, that he introduced me to the emperor’s

presence, where I prevailed so far by the same methods, that I was

shortly taken from my cell, and preferred to a place at court. I was no

sooner established in the favor of Justinian than I prompted him to all

kind of cruelty. As I was of a sour morose temper, and hated nothing

more than the symptoms of happiness appearing in any countenance, I

represented all kind of diversion and amusement as the most horrid sins.

I inveighed against cheerfulness as levity, and encouraged nothing but

gravity, or, to confess the truth to you, hypocrisy. The unhappy

emperor followed my advice, and incensed the people by such repeated

barbarities, that he was at last deposed by them and banished.

“I now retired again to my cell (for historians mistake in saying I was

put to death), where I remained safe from the danger of the irritated

mob, whom I cursed in my own heart as much as they could curse me.

“Justinian, after three years of his banishment, returned to

Constantinople in disguise, and paid me a visit. I at first affected

not to know him, and without the least compunction of gratitude for his

former favors, intended not to receive him, till a thought immediately

suggested itself to me how I might convert him to my advantage, I

pretended to recollect him; and, blaming the shortness of my memory

and badness of my eyes, I sprung forward and embraced him with great

affection.

“My design was to betray him to Apsimar, who, I doubted not, would

generously reward such a service. I therefore very earnestly requested

him to spend the whole evening with me; to which he consented. I formed

an excuse for leaving him a few minutes, and ran away to the palace to

acquaint Apsimar with the guest whom I had then in my cell. He presently

ordered a guard to go with me and seize him; but, whether the length of

my stay gave him any suspicion, or whether he changed his purpose after

my departure, I know not; for at my return we found he had given us the

slip; nor could we with the most diligent search discover him.

“Apsimar, being disappointed of his prey, now raged at me; at first

denouncing the most dreadful vengeance if I did not produce the deposed

monarch. However, by soothing his passion when at the highest, and

afterwards by canting and flattery, I made a shift to escape his fury.

“When Justinian was restored I very confidently went to wish him joy

of his restoration: but it seems he had unfortunately heard of my

treachery, so that he at first received me coldly, and afterwards

upbraided me openly with what I had done. I persevered stoutly in

denying it, as I knew no evidence could be produced against me; till,

finding him irreconcilable, I betook myself to reviling him in my

sermons, and on every other occasion, as an enemy to the church and good

men, and as an infidel, a heretic, an atheist, a heathen, and an Arian.

This I did immediately on his return, and before he gave those flagrant

proofs of his inhumanity which afterwards sufficiently verified all I

had said.

“Luckily I died on the same day when a great number of those forces

which Justinian had sent against the Thracian Bosphorus, and who had

executed such unheard-of cruelties there, perished. As every one

of these was cast into the bottomless pit, Minos was so tired with

condemnation, that he proclaimed that all present who had not been

concerned in that bloody expedition might, if they pleased, return to

the other world. I took him at his word, and, presently turning about,

began my journey.”

CHAPTER XV

Julian passes into the character of a fiddler.

“Rome was now the seat of my nativity. My mother was an African, a woman

of no great beauty, but a favorite, I suppose from her piety, of

pope Gregory II. Who was my father I know not, but I believe no very

considerable man; for after the death of that pope, who was, out of his

religion, a very good friend of my mother, we fell into great distress,

and were at length reduced to walk the streets of Rome; nor had either

of us any other support but a fiddle, on which I played with pretty

tolerable skill; for, as my genius turned naturally to music, so I had

been in my youth very early instructed at the expense of the good pope.

This afforded us but a very poor livelihood: for, though I had often

a numerous crowd of hearers, few ever thought themselves obliged to

contribute the smallest pittance to the poor starving wretch who had

given them pleasure. Nay, some of the graver sort, after an hour’s

attention to my music, have gone away shaking their heads, and crying it

was a shame such vagabonds were suffered to stay in the city.

“To say the truth, I am confident the fiddle would not have kept us

alive had we entirely depended on the generosity of my hearers. My

mother therefore was forced to use her own industry; and while I was

soothing the ears of the crowd, she applied to their pockets, and that

generally with such good success that we now began to enjoy a very

comfortable subsistence; and indeed, had we had the least prudence or

forecast, might have soon acquired enough to enable us to quit this

dangerous and dishonorable way of life: but I know not what is the

reason that money got with labor and safety is constantly preserved,

while the produce of danger and ease is commonly spent as easily, and

often as wickedly, as acquired. Thus we proportioned our expenses rather

by what we had than what we wanted or even desired; and on obtaining a

considerable booty we have even forced nature into the most profligate

extravagance, and have been wicked without inclination.

“We carried on this method of thievery for a long time without

detection: but, as Fortune generally leaves persons of extraordinary

ingenuity in the lurch at last, so did she us; for my poor mother was

taken in the fact, and, together with myself, as her accomplice, hurried

before a magistrate.

“Luckily for us, the person who was to be our judge was the greatest

lover of music in the whole city, and had often sent for me to play

to him, for which, as he had given me very small rewards, perhaps his

gratitude now moved him: but, whatever was his motive, he browbeat the

informers against us, and treated their evidence with so little favor,

that their mouths were soon stopped, and we dismissed with honor;

acquitted, I should rather have it said, for we were not suffered to

depart till I had given the judge several tunes on the fiddle.

“We escaped the better on this occasion because the person robbed

happened to be a poet; which gave the judge, who was a facetious person,

many opportunities of jesting. He said poets and musicians should agree

together, seeing they had married sisters; which he afterwards explained

to be the sister arts. And when the piece of gold was produced he burst

into a loud laugh, and said it must be the golden age, when poets had

gold in their pockets, and in that age there could be no robbers. He

made many more jests of the same kind, but a small taste will suffice.

“It is a common saying that men should take warning by any signal

delivery; but I cannot approve the justice of it; for to me it seems

that the acquittal of a guilty person should rather inspire him with

confidence, and it had this effect on us: for we now laughed at the law,

and despised its punishments, which we found were to be escaped even

against positive evidence. We imagined the late example was rather a

warning to the accuser than the criminal, and accordingly proceeded in

the most impudent and flagitious manner.

“Among other robberies, one night, being admitted by the servants into

the house of an opulent priest, my mother took an opportunity, whilst

the servants were dancing to my tunes, to convey away a silver vessel;

this she did without the least sacrilegious intention; but it seems the

cup, which was a pretty large one, was dedicated to holy uses, and only

borrowed by the priest on an entertainment which he made for some of his

brethren. We were immediately pursued upon this robbery (the cup being

taken in our possession), and carried before the same magistrate, who

had before behaved to us with so much gentleness: but his countenance

was now changed, for the moment the priest appeared against us, his

severity was as remarkable as his candor had been before, and we were

both ordered to be stripped and whipped through the streets.

“This sentence was executed with great severity, the priest himself

attending and encouraging the executioner, which he said he did for the

good of our souls; but, though our backs were both flayed, neither

my mother’s torments nor my own afflicted me so much as the indignity

offered to my poor fiddle, which was carried in triumph before me, and

treated with a contempt by the multitude, intimating a great scorn

for the science I had the honor to profess; which, as it is one of

the noblest inventions of men, and as I had been always in the highest

degree proud of my excellence in it, I suffered so much from the

ill-treatment my fiddle received, that I would have given all my

remainder of skin to have preserved it from this affront.

“My mother survived the whipping a very short time; and I was now

reduced to great distress and misery, till a young Roman of considerable

rank took a fancy to me, received me into his family, and conversed with

me in the utmost familiarity. He had a violent attachment to music, and

would learn to play on the fiddle; but, through want of genius for the

science, he never made any considerable progress. However, I flattered

his performance, and he grew extravagantly fond of me for so doing.

Had I continued this behavior I might possibly have reaped the greatest

advantages from his kindness; but I had raised his own opinion of his

musical abilities so high, that he now began to prefer his skill to

mine, a presumption I could not bear. One day as we were playing in

concert he was horribly out; nor was it possible, as he destroyed the

harmony, to avoid telling him of it. Instead of receiving my correction,

he answered it was my blunder and not his, and that I had mistaken the

key. Such an affront from my own scholar was beyond human patience; I

flew into a violent passion, I flung down my instrument in a rage, and

swore I was not to be taught music at my age. He answered, with as much

warmth, nor was he to be instructed by a strolling fiddler. The dispute

ended in a challenge to play a prize before judges. This wager was

determined in my favor; but the purchase was a dear one, for I lost my

friend by it, who now, twitting me with all his kindness, with my former

ignominious punishment, and the destitute condition from which I had

been by his bounty relieved, discarded me for ever.

“While I lived with this gentleman I became known, among others, to

Sabina, a lady of distinction, and who valued herself much on her taste

for music. She no sooner heard of my being discarded than she took

me into her house, where I was extremely well clothed and fed.

Notwithstanding which, my situation was far from agreeable; for I was

obliged to submit to her constant reprehensions before company, which

gave me the greater uneasiness because they were always wrong; nor am I

certain that she did not by these provocations contribute to my death:

for, as experience had taught me to give up my resentment to my bread,

so my passions, for want of outward vent, preyed inwardly on my vitals,

and perhaps occasioned the distemper of which I sickened.

“The lady, who, amidst all the faults she found, was very fond of

me, nay, probably was the fonder of me the more faults she found,

immediately called in the aid of three celebrated physicians. The

doctors (being well fee’d) made me seven visits in three days, and

two of them were at the door to visit me the eighth time, when, being

acquainted that I was just dead, they shook their heads and departed.

“When I came to Minos he asked me with a smile whether I had brought my

fiddle with me; and, receiving an answer in the negative, he bid me get

about my business, saying it was well for me that the devil was no lover

of music.”

CHAPTER XVI

The history of the wise man.

“I now returned to Rome, but in a very different character. Fortune had

now allotted me a serious part to act. I had even in my infancy a grave

disposition, nor was I ever seen to smile, which infused an opinion into

all about me that I was a child of great solidity; some foreseeing that

I should be a judge, and others a bishop. At two years old my father

presented me with a rattle, which I broke to pieces with great

indignation. This the good parent, being extremely wise, regarded as an

eminent symptom of my wisdom, and cried out in a kind of ecstasy, ‘Well

said, boy! I warrant thou makest a great man.’

“At school I could never be persuaded to play with my mates; not that

I spent my hours in learning, to which I was not in the least addicted,

nor indeed had I any talents for it. However, the solemnity of my

carriage won so much on my master, who was a most sagacious person,

that I was his chief favorite, and my example on all occasions was

recommended to the other boys, which filled them with envy, and me with

pleasure; but, though they envied me, they all paid me that involuntary

respect which it is the curse attending this passion to bear towards its

object.

“I had now obtained universally the character of a very wise young man,

which I did not altogether purchase without pains; for the restraint I

laid on myself in abstaining from the several diversions adapted to my

years cost me many a yearning; but the pride which I inwardly enjoyed in

the fancied dignity of my character made me some amends.

“Thus I passed on, without anything very memorable happening to me,

till I arrived at the age of twenty-three, when unfortunately I fell

acquainted with a young Neapolitan lady whose name was Ariadne. Her

beauty was so exquisite that her first sight made a violent impression

on me; this was again improved by her behavior, which was most genteel,

easy, and affable: lastly, her conversation completed the conquest. In

this she discovered a strong and lively understanding, with the sweetest

and most benign temper. This lovely creature was about eighteen when I

first unhappily beheld her at Rome, on a visit to a relation with whom I

had great intimacy. As our interviews at first were extremely frequent,

my passions were captivated before I apprehended the least danger; and

the sooner probably, as the young lady herself, to whom I consulted

every method of recommendation, was not displeased with my being her

admirer.

“Ariadne, having spent three months at Rome, now returned to Naples,

bearing my heart with her: on the other hand, I had all the assurances

consistent with the constraint under which the most perfect modesty lays

a young woman, that her own heart was not entirely unaffected. I soon

found her absence gave me an uneasiness not easy to be borne or

to remove. I now first applied to diversions (of the graver sort,

particularly to music), but in vain; they rather raised my desires and

heightened my anguish. My passion at length grew so violent, that I

began to think of satisfying it. As the first step to this, I cautiously

inquired into the circumstances of Ariadne’s parents, with which I was

hitherto unacquainted: though, indeed, I did not apprehend they were

extremely great, notwithstanding the handsome appearance of their

daughter at Rome. Upon examination, her fortune exceeded my expectation,

but was not sufficient to justify my marriage with her, in the opinion

of the wise and prudent. I had now a violent struggle between wisdom

and happiness, in which, after several grievous pangs, wisdom got

the better. I could by no means prevail with myself to sacrifice that

character of profound wisdom, which I had with such uniform conduct

obtained, and with such caution hitherto preserved. I therefore resolved

to conquer my affection, whatever it cost me; and indeed it did not cost

me a little.

“While I was engaged in this conflict (for it lasted a long time)

Ariadne returned to Rome: her presence was a terrible enemy to my

wisdom, which even in her absence had with great difficulty stood

its ground. It seems (as she hath since told me in Elysium with much

merriment) I had made the same impressions on her which she had made on

me. Indeed, I believe my wisdom would have been totally subdued by this

surprise, had it not cunningly suggested to me a method of satisfying my

passion without doing any injury to my reputation. This was by engaging

her privately as a mistress, which was at that time reputable enough

at Rome, provided the affair was managed with an air of slyness and

gravity, though the secret was known to the whole city.

“I immediately set about this project, and employed every art and engine

to effect it. I had particularly bribed her priest, and an old female

acquaintance and distant relation of hers, into my interest: but all

was in vain; her virtue opposed the passion in her breast as strongly as

wisdom had opposed it in mine. She received my proposals with the utmost

disdain, and presently refused to see or hear from me any more.

“She returned again to Naples, and left me in a worse condition than

before. My days I now passed with the most irksome uneasiness, and

my nights were restless and sleepless. The story of our amour was now

pretty public, and the ladies talked of our match as certain; but my

acquaintance denied their assent, saying, ‘No, no, he is too wise to

marry so imprudently.’ This their opinion gave me, I own, very great

pleasure; but, to say the truth, scarce compensated the pangs I suffered

to preserve it.

“One day, while I was balancing with myself, and had almost resolved

to enjoy my happiness at the price of my character, a friend brought

me word that Ariadne was married. This news struck me to the soul; and

though I had resolution enough to maintain my gravity before him (for

which I suffered not a little the more), the moment I was alone I threw

myself into the most violent fit of despair, and would willingly have

parted with wisdom, fortune, and everything else, to have retrieved her;

but that was impossible, and I had now nothing but time to hope a cure

from. This was very tedious in performing it, and the longer as Ariadne

had married a Roman cavalier, was now become my near neighbor, and I had

the mortification of seeing her make the best of wives, and of having

the happiness which I had lost, every day before my eyes.

“If I suffered so much on account of my wisdom in having refused

Ariadne, I was not much more obliged to it for procuring me a rich

widow, who was recommended to me by an old friend as a very prudent

match; and, indeed, so it was, her fortune being superior to mine in

the same proportion as that of Ariadne had been inferior. I therefore

embraced this proposal, and my character of wisdom soon pleaded so

effectually for me with the widow, who was herself a woman of great

gravity and discretion, that I soon succeeded; and as soon as decency

would permit (of which this lady was the strictest observer) we were

married, being the second day of the second week of the second year

after her husband’s death; for she said she thought some period of time

above the year had a great air of decorum.

“But, prudent as this lady was, she made me miserable. Her person was

far from being lovely, but her temper was intolerable.

“During fifteen years’ habitation, I never passed a single day without

heartily cursing her, and the hour in which we came together. The only

comfort I received, in the midst of the highest torments, was from

continually hearing the prudence of my match commended by all my

acquaintance.

“Thus you see, in the affairs of love, I bought the reputation of

wisdom pretty dear. In other matters I had it somewhat cheaper; not that

hypocrisy, which was the price I gave for it, gives one no pain. I have

refused myself a thousand little amusements with a feigned contempt,

while I have really had an inclination to them. I have often almost

choked myself to restrain from laughing at a jest, and (which was

perhaps to myself the least hurtful of all my hypocrisy) have heartily

enjoyed a book in my closet which I have spoken with detestation of in

public. To sum up my history in short, as I had few adventures worth

remembering, my whole life was one constant lie; and happy would it have

been for me if I could as thoroughly have imposed on myself as I did on

others: for reflection, at every turn, would often remind me I was

not so wise as people thought me; and this considerably embittered the

pleasure I received from the public commendation of my wisdom. This

self-admonition, like a memento mori or mortalis es, must be, in my

opinion, a very dangerous enemy to flattery: indeed, a weight sufficient

to counterbalance all the false praise of the world. But whether it be

that the generality of wise men do not reflect at all, or whether they

have, from a constant imposition on others, contracted such a habit of

deceit as to deceive themselves, I will not determine: it is, I believe,

most certain that very few wise men know themselves what fools they are,

more than the world doth. Good gods! could one but see what passes in

the closet of wisdom! how ridiculous a sight must it be to behold the

wise man, who despises gratifying his palate, devouring custard; the

sober wise man with his dram-bottle; or, the anti-carnalist (if I may

be allowed the expression) chuckling over a b--dy book or picture, and

perhaps caressing his house-maid!

“But to conclude a character in which I apprehend I made as absurd a

figure as in any in which I trod the stage of earth, my wisdom at last

but an end to itself, that is, occasioned my dissolution.

“A relation of mine in the eastern part of the empire disinherited his

son, and left me his heir. This happened in the depth of winter, when

I was in my grand climacteric, and had just recovered of a dangerous

disease. As I had all the reason imaginable to apprehend the family of

the deceased would conspire against me, and embezzle as much as they

could, I advised with a grave and wise friend what was proper to be

done; whether I should go myself, or employ a notary on this occasion,

and defer my journey to the spring. To say the truth, I was most

inclined to the latter; the rather as my circumstances were extremely

flourishing, as I was advanced in years, and had not one person in the

world to whom I should with pleasure bequeath any fortune at my death.

“My friend told me he thought my question admitted of no manner of

doubt or debate; that common prudence absolutely required my immediate

departure; adding, that if the same good luck had happened to him he

would have been already on his journey; ‘for,’ continued he, ‘a man who

knows the world so well as you, would be inexcusable to give persons

such an opportunity of cheating you, who, you must be assured, will

be too well inclined; and as for employing a notary, remember that

excellent maxim, Ne facias per alium, quod fieri potest per te. I

own the badness of the season and your very late recovery are unlucky

circumstances; but a wise man must get over difficulties when necessity

obliges him to encounter them.’

“I was immediately determined by this opinion. The duty of a wise man

made an irresistible impression, and I took the necessity for granted

without examination. I accordingly set forward the next morning; very

tempestuous weather soon overtook me; I had not traveled three days

before I relapsed into my fever, and died.

“I was now as cruelly disappointed by Minos as I had formerly been

happily so. I advanced with the utmost confidence to the gate, and

really imagined I should have been admitted by the wisdom of my

countenance, even without any questions asked: but this was not my case;

and, to my great surprise, Minos, with a menacing voice, called out to

me, ‘You Mr. there, with the grave countenance, whither so fast, pray?

Will you please, before you move any farther forwards, to give me a

short account of your transactions below?’ I then began, and recounted

to him my whole history, still expecting at the end of every period that

the gate would be ordered to fly open; but I was obliged to go quite

through with it, and then Minos after some little consideration spoke to

me as follows:--

“‘You, Mr. Wiseman, stand forth if you please. Believe me, sir, a trip

back again to earth will be one of the wisest steps you ever took,

and really more to the honor of your wisdom than any you have hitherto

taken. On the other side, nothing could be simpler than to endeavor at

Elysium; for who but a fool would carry a commodity, which is of such

infinite value in one place, into another where it is of none? But,

without attempting to offend your gravity with a jest, you must return

to the place from whence you came, for Elysium was never designed for

those who are too wise to be happy.’

“This sentence confounded me greatly, especially as it seemed to

threaten me with carrying my wisdom back again to earth. I told the

judge, though he would not admit me at the gate, I hoped I had committed

no crime while alive which merited my being wise any longer. He answered

me, I must take my chance as to that matter, and immediately we turned

our backs to each other.”

CHAPTER XVII

Julian enters into the person of a king.

“I was now born at Oviedo in Spain. My father’s name was Veremond, and I

was adopted by my uncle king Alphonso the chaste.

“I don’t recollect in all the pilgrimages I have made on earth that I

ever passed a more miserable infancy than now; being under the utmost

confinement and restraint, and surrounded with physicians who were

ever dosing me, and tutors who were continually plaguing me with their

instructions; even those hours of leisure which my inclination would

have spent in play were allotted to tedious pomp and ceremony, which,

at an age wherein I had no ambition to enjoy the servility of courtiers,

enslaved me more than it could the meanest of them. However, as I

advanced towards manhood, my condition made me some amends; for the most

beautiful women of their own accord threw out lures for me, and I had

the happiness, which no man in an inferior degree can arrive at, of

enjoying the most delicious creatures, without the previous and

tiresome ceremonies of courtship, unless with the most simple, young and

unexperienced. As for the court ladies, they regarded me rather as men

do the most lovely of the other sex; and, though they outwardly retained

some appearance of modesty, they in reality rather considered themselves

as receiving than conferring favors.

“Another happiness I enjoyed was in conferring favors of another sort;

for, as I was extremely good-natured and generous, so I had daily

opportunities of satisfying those passions. Besides my own princely

allowance, which was very bountiful, and with which I did many liberal

and good actions, I recommended numberless persons of merit in distress

to the king’s notice, most of whom were provided for. Indeed, had I

sufficiently known my blessed situation at this time, I should have

grieved at nothing more than the death of Alphonso, by which the burden

of government devolved upon me; but, so blindly fond is ambition, and

such charms doth it fancy in the power and pomp and splendor of a

crown, that, though I vehemently loved that king, and had the greatest

obligations to him, the thoughts of succeeding him obliterated my regret

at his loss, and the wish for my approaching coronation dried my eyes at

his funeral.

“But my fondness for the name of king did not make me forgetful of those

over whom I was to reign. I considered them in the light in which a

tender father regards his children, as persons whose wellbeing God

had intrusted to my care; and again, in that in which a prudent lord

respects his tenants, as those on whose wealth and grandeur he is to

build his own. Both these considerations inspired me with the greatest

care for their welfare, and their good was my first and ultimate

concern.

“The usurper Mauregas had impiously obliged himself and his successors

to pay to the Moors every year an infamous tribute of an hundred young

virgins: from this cruel and scandalous imposition I resolved to relieve

my country. Accordingly, when their emperor Abderames the second had the

audaciousness to make this demand of me, instead of complying with it I

ordered his ambassadors to be driven away with all imaginable ignominy,

and would have condemned them to death, could I have done it without a

manifest violation of the law of nations.

“I now raised an immense army; at the levying of which I made a speech

from my throne, acquainting my subjects with the necessity and the

reasons of the war in which I was going to engage: which I convinced

them I had undertaken for their ease and safety, and not for satisfying

any wanton ambition, or revenging any private pique of my own. They all

declared unanimously that they would venture their lives and everything

dear to them in my defense, and in the support of the honor of my crown.

Accordingly, my levies were instantly complete, sufficient numbers

being only left to till the land; churchmen, even bishops themselves,

enlisting themselves under my banners.

“The armies met at Alvelda, where we were discomfited with immense loss,

and nothing but the lucky intervention of the night could have saved our

whole army.

“I retreated to the summit of a hill, where I abandoned myself to the

highest agonies of grief, not so much for the danger in which I then saw

my crown, as for the loss of those miserable wretches who had exposed

their lives at my command. I could not then avoid this reflection--that,

if the deaths of these people in a war undertaken absolutely for their

protection could give me such concern, what horror must I have felt if,

like princes greedy of dominion, I had sacrificed such numbers to my own

pride, vanity, and ridiculous lust of power.

“After having vented my sorrows for some time in this manner, I began

to consider by what means I might possibly endeavor to retrieve this

misfortune; when, reflecting on the great number of priests I had in

my army, and on the prodigious force of superstition, a thought luckily

suggested itself to me, to counterfeit that St. James had appeared to me

in a vision, and had promised me the victory. While I was ruminating on

this the bishop of Najara came opportunely to me. As I did not intend

to communicate the secret to him, I took another method, and, instead

of answering anything the bishop said to me, I pretended to talk to St.

James, as if he had been really present; till at length, after having

spoke those things which I thought sufficient, and thanked the saint

aloud for his promise of the victory, I turned about to the bishop, and,

embracing him with a pleased countenance, protested I did not know he

was present; and then, informing him of this supposed vision, I asked

him if he had not himself seen the saint? He answered me he had; and

afterwards proceeded to assure me that this appearance of St. James was

entirely owing to his prayers; for that he was his tutelar saint. He

added he had a vision of him a few hours before, when he promised him

a victory over the infidels, and acquainted him at the same time of the

vacancy of the see of Toledo. Now, this news being really true, though

it had happened so lately that I had not heard of it (nor, indeed, was

it well possible I should, considering the great distance of the way),

when I was afterwards acquainted with it, a little staggered me, though

far from being superstitious; till being informed that the bishop had

lost three horses on a late expedition, I was satisfied.

“The next morning, the bishop, at my desire, mounted the rostrum, and

trumpeted forth this vision so effectually, which he said he had that

evening twice seen with his own eyes, that a spirit began to be infused

through the whole army which rendered them superior to almost any force:

the bishop insisted that the least doubt of success was giving the lie

to the saint, and a damnable sin, and he took upon him in his name to

promise them victory.

“The army being drawn out, I soon experienced the effect of enthusiasm,

for, having contrived another stratagem [9] to strengthen what the

bishop had said, the soldiers fought more like furies than men. My

stratagem was this: I had about me a dexterous fellow, who had been

formerly a pimp in my amours. Him I dressed up in a strange antic dress,

with a pair of white colors in his right hand, a red cross in his left,

and having disguised him so that no one could know him, I placed him on

a white horse, and ordered him to ride to the head of the army, and cry

out, ‘Follow St. James!’ These words were reiterated by all the troops,

who attacked the enemy with such intrepidity, that, notwithstanding our

inferiority of numbers, we soon obtained a complete victory.

“The bishop was come up by the time that the enemy was routed, and,

acquainting us that he had met St. James by the way, and that he had

informed him of what had passed, he added that he had express orders

from the saint to receive a considerable sum for his use, and that a

certain tax on corn and wine should be settled on his church for ever;

and lastly, that a horseman’s pay should be allowed for the future

to the saint himself, of which he and his successors were appointed

receivers. The army received these demands with such acclamations that

I was obliged to comply with them, as I could by no means discover the

imposition, nor do I believe I should have gained any credit if I had.

“I had now done with the saint, but the bishop had not; for about a week

afterwards lights were seen in a wood near where the battle was fought;

and in a short time afterwards they discovered his tomb at the same

place. Upon this the bishop made me a visit, and forced me to go

thither, to build a church to him, and largely endow it. In a word, the

good man so plagued me with miracle after miracle, that I was forced to

make interest with the pope to convey him to Toledo, to get rid of him.

“But to proceed to other matters.--There was an inferior officer,

who had behaved very bravely in the battle against the Moors, and had

received several wounds, who solicited me for preferment; which I was

about to confer on him, when one of my ministers came to me in a fright,

and told me that he had promised the post I designed for this man to the

son of count Alderedo; and that the count, who was a powerful person,

would be greatly disobliged at the refusal, as he had sent for his son

from school to take possession of it. I was obliged to agree with my

minister’s reasons, and at the same time recommended the wounded soldier

to be preferred by him, which he faithfully promised he would; but I

met the poor wretch since in Elysium, who informed me he was afterwards

starved to death.

“None who hath not been himself a prince, nor any prince till his death,

can conceive the impositions daily put on them by their favorites and

ministers; so that princes are often blamed for the faults of others.

The count of Saldagne had been long confined in prison, when his son, D.

Bernard del Carpio, who had performed the greatest actions against

the Moors, entreated me, as a reward for his service, to grant him his

father’s liberty. The old man’s punishment had been so tedious, and

the services of the young one so singularly eminent, that I was very

inclinable to grant the request; but my ministers strongly opposed it;

they told me my glory demanded revenge for the dishonor offered to my

family; that so positive a demand carried with it rather the air of

menace than entreaty; that the vain detail of his services, and the

recompense due to them, was an injurious reproach; that to grant what

had been so haughtily demanded would argue in the monarch both weakness

and timidity; in a word, that to remit the punishment inflicted by my

predecessors would be to condemn their judgment. Lastly, one told me in

a whisper, ‘His whole family are enemies to your house.’ By these means

the ministers prevailed. The young lord took the refusal so ill, that he

retired from court, and abandoned himself to despair, whilst the old one

languished in prison. By which means, as I have since discovered, I lost

the use of two of my best subjects.

“To confess the truth, I had, by means of my ministers, conceived a very

unjust opinion of my whole people, whom I fancied to be daily conspiring

against me, and to entertain the most disloyal thoughts, when, in

reality (as I have known since my death), they held me in universal

respect and esteem. This is a trick, I believe, too often played with

sovereigns, who, by such means, are prevented from that open intercourse

with their subjects which, as it would greatly endear the person of the

prince to the people, so might it often prove dangerous to a minister

who was consulting his own interest only at the expense of both. I

believe I have now recounted to you the most material passages of my

life; for I assure you there are some incidents in the lives of kings

not extremely worth relating. Everything which passes in their minds

and families is not attended with the splendor which surrounds their

throne--indeed, there are some hours wherein the naked king and the

naked cobbler can scarce be distinguished from each other.

“Had it not been, however, for my ingratitude to Bernard del Carpio, I

believe this would have been my last pilgrimage on earth; for, as to the

story of St. James, I thought Minos would have burst his sides at it;

but he was so displeased with me on the other account, that, with a

frown, he cried out, ‘Get thee back again, king.’ Nor would he suffer me

to say another word.”

CHAPTER XVIII

Julian passes into a fool.

“The next visit I made to the world was performed in France, where I

was born in the court of Lewis III, and had afterwards the honor to be

preferred to be fool to the prince, who was surnamed Charles the Simple.

But, in reality, I know not whether I might so properly be said to have

acted the fool in his court as to have made fools of all others in it.

Certain it is, I was very far from being what is generally understood by

that word, being a most cunning, designing, arch knave. I knew very well

the folly of my master, and of many others, and how to make my advantage

of this knowledge.

“I was as dear to Charles the Simple as the player Paris was to

Domitian, and, like him, bestowed all manner of offices and honors

on whom I pleased. This drew me a great number of followers among

the courtiers, who really mistook me for a fool, and yet flattered my

understanding. There was particularly in the court a fellow who had

neither honor, honesty, sense, wit, courage, beauty, nor indeed any one

good quality, either of mind or body, to recommend him; but was at the

same time, perhaps, as cunning a monster as ever lived. This gentleman

took it into his head to list under my banner, and pursued me so very

assiduously with flattery, constantly reminding me of my good sense,

that I grew immoderately fond of him; for though flattery is not most

judiciously applied to qualities which the persons flattered possess,

yet as, notwithstanding my being well assured of my own parts, I passed

in the whole court for a fool, this flattery was a very sweet morsel to

me. I therefore got this fellow preferred to a bishopric, but I lost my

flatterer by it; for he never afterwards said a civil thing to me.

“I never balked my imagination for the grossness of the reflection on

the character of the greatest noble--nay, even the king himself; of

which I will give you a very bold instance. One day his simple majesty

told me he believed I had so much power that his people looked on me as

the king, and himself as my fool.

“At this I pretended to be angry, as with an affront. ‘Why, how now?’

says the king; ‘are you ashamed of being a king?’ ‘No, sir,’ says I,

‘but I am devilishly ashamed of my fool.’

“Herbert, earl of Vermandois, had by my means been restored to the favor

of the Simple (for so I used always to call Charles). He afterwards

prevailed with the king to take the city of Arras from earl Baldwin, by

which means, Herbert, in exchange for this city, had Peronne restored

to him by count Altmar. Baldwin came to court in order to procure

the restoration of his city; but, either through pride or ignorance,

neglected to apply to me. As I met him at court during his solicitation,

I told him he did not apply the right way; he answered roughly he should

not ask a fool’s advice. I replied I did not wonder at his prejudice,

since he had miscarried already by following a fool’s advice; but I told

him there were fools who had more interest than that he had brought with

him to court. He answered me surlily he had no fool with him, for that

he traveled alone. ‘Ay, my lord,’ says I, ‘I often travel alone, and yet

they will have it I always carry a fool with me.’ This raised a laugh

among the by-standers, on which he gave me a blow. I immediately

complained of this usage to the Simple, who dismissed the earl from

court with very hard words, instead of granting him the favor he

solicited.

“I give you these rather as a specimen of my interest and impudence than

of my wit--indeed, my jests were commonly more admired than they ought

to be; for perhaps I was not in reality much more a wit than a fool.

But, with the latitude of unbounded scurrility, it is easy enough

to attain the character of wit, especially in a court, where, as all

persons hate and envy one another heartily, and are at the same time

obliged by the constrained behavior of civility to profess the greatest

liking, so it is, and must be, wonderfully pleasant to them to see the

follies of their acquaintance exposed by a third person. Besides, the

opinion of the court is as uniform as the fashion, and is always

guided by the will of the prince or of the favorite. I doubt not that

Caligula’s horse was universally held in his court to be a good and

able consul. In the same manner was I universally acknowledged to be the

wittiest fool in the world. Every word I said raised laughter, and

was held to be a jest, especially by the ladies, who sometimes laughed

before I had discovered my sentiment, and often repeated that as a jest

which I did not even intend as one.

“I was as severe on the ladies as on the men, and with the same

impunity; but this at last cost me dear: for once having joked on the

beauty of a lady whose name was Adelaide, a favorite of the Simple’s,

she pretended to smile and be pleased at my wit with the rest of the

company; but in reality she highly resented it, and endeavored to

undermine me with the king. In which she so greatly succeeded (for what

cannot a favorite woman do with one who deserves the surname of Simple?)

that the king grew every day more reserved to me, and when I attempted

any freedom gave me such marks of his displeasure, that the courtiers

who have all hawks’ eyes at a slight from the sovereign, soon discerned

it: and indeed, had I been blind enough not to have discovered that I

had lost ground in the Simple’s favor by his own change in his carriage

towards me, I must have found it, nay even felt it, in the behavior of

the courtiers: for, as my company was two days before solicited with the

utmost eagerness, it was now rejected with as much scorn. I was now the

jest of the ushers and pages; and an officer of the guards, on whom I

was a little jocose, gave me a box on the ear, bidding me make free with

my equals. This very fellow had been my butt for many years, without

daring to lift his hand against me.

“But though I visibly perceived the alteration in the Simple, I was

utterly unable to make any guess at the occasion. I had not the least

suspicion of Adelaide; for, besides her being a very good-humored woman,

I had often made severe jests on her reputation, which I had all the

reason imaginable to believe had given her no offense. But I soon

perceived that a woman will bear the most bitter censures on her morals

easier than the smallest reflection on her beauty; for she now declared

publicly, that I ought to be dismissed from court, as the stupidest of

fools, and one in whom there was no diversion; and that she wondered how

any person could have so little taste as to imagine I had any wit.

This speech was echoed through the drawing-room, and agreed to by all

present. Every one now put on an unusual gravity on their countenance

whenever I spoke; and it was as much out of my power to raise a laugh as

formerly it had been for me to open my mouth without one.

“While my affairs were in this posture I went one day into the circle

without my fool’s dress. The Simple, who would still speak to me, cried

out, ‘So, fool, what’s the matter now?’ ‘Sir,’ answered I, ‘fools are

like to be so common a commodity at court, that I am weary of my coat.’

‘How dost thou mean?’ answered the Simple; ‘what can make them commoner

now than usual?’--‘O, sir,’ said I, ‘there are ladies here make your

majesty a fool every day of their lives.’ The Simple took no notice

of my jest, and several present said my bones ought to be broke for my

impudence; but it pleased the queen, who, knowing Adelaide, whom she

hated, to be the cause of my disgrace, obtained me of the king, and took

me into her service; so that I was henceforth called the queen’s fool,

and in her court received the same honor, and had as much wit, as I had

formerly had in the king’s. But as the queen had really no power

unless over her own domestics, I was not treated in general with that

complacence, nor did I receive those bribes and presents, which had once

fallen to my share.

“Nor did this confined respect continue long: for the queen, who had in

fact no taste for humor, soon grew sick of my foolery, and, forgetting

the cause for which she had taken me, neglected me so much, that her

court grew intolerable to my temper, and I broke my heart and died.

“Minos laughed heartily at several things in my story, and then, telling

me no one played the fool in Elysium, bid me go back again.”

CHAPTER XIX

Julian appears in the character of a beggar.

“I now returned to Rome, and was born into a very poor and numerous

family, which, to be honest with you, procured its livelihood by

begging. This, if you was never yourself of the calling, you do not

know, I suppose, to be as regular a trade as any other; to have its

several rules and secrets, or mysteries, which to learn require perhaps

as tedious an apprenticeship as those of any craft whatever.

“The first thing we are taught is the countenance miserable. This indeed

nature makes much easier to some than others; but there are none who

cannot accomplish it, if they begin early enough in youth, and before

the muscles are grown too stubborn.

“The second thing is the voice lamentable. In this qualification too,

nature must have her share in producing the most consummate excellence:

however, art will here, as in every other instance, go a great way

with industry and application, even without the assistance of genius,

especially if the student begins young.

“There are many other instructions, but these are the most considerable.

The women are taught one practice more than the men, for they are

instructed in the art of crying, that is, to have their tears ready on

all occasions: but this is attained very easily by most. Some indeed

arrive at the utmost perfection in this art with incredible facility.

“No profession requires a deeper insight into human nature than the

beggar’s. Their knowledge of the passions of men is so extensive, that

I have often thought it would be of no little service to a politician

to have his education among them. Nay, there is a much greater analogy

between these two characters than is imagined; for both concur in their

first and grand principle, it being equally their business to delude and

impose on mankind. It must be confessed that they differ widely in the

degree of advantage which they make by their deceit; for, whereas the

beggar is contented with a little, the politician leaves but a little

behind.

“A very great English philosopher hath remarked our policy, in taking

care never to address any one with a title inferior to what he really

claims. My father was of the same opinion; for I remember when I was a

boy, the pope happening to pass by, I tended him with ‘Pray, sir;’ ‘For

God’s sake, sir;’ ‘For the Lord’s sake, sir;’--To which he answered

gravely, ‘Sirrah, sirrah, you ought to be whipped for taking the Lord’s

name in vain;’ and in vain it was indeed, for he gave me nothing. My

father, overhearing this, took his advice, and whipped me very severely.

While I was under correction I promised often never to take the Lord’s

name in vain any more. My father then said, ‘Child, I do not whip you

for taking his name in vain; I whip you for not calling the pope his

holiness.’

“If all men were so wise and good to follow the clergy’s example, the

nuisance of beggars would soon be removed. I do not remember to have

been above twice relieved by them during my whole state of beggary. Once

was by a very well-looking man, who gave me a small piece of silver, and

declared he had given me more than he had left himself; the other was

by a spruce young fellow, who had that very day first put on his robes,

whom I attended with ‘Pray, reverend sir, good reverend sir, consider

your cloth.’ He answered, ‘I do, child, consider my office, and I hope

all our cloth do the same.’ He then threw down some money, and strutted

off with great dignity.

“With the women I had one general formulary: ‘Sweet pretty lady,’ ‘God

bless your ladyship,’ ‘God bless your handsome face.’ This generally

succeeded; but I observed the uglier the woman was, the surer I was of

success.

“It was a constant maxim among us, that the greater retinue any one

traveled with the less expectation we might promise ourselves from them;

but whenever we saw a vehicle with a single or no servant we imagined

our booty sure, and were seldom deceived.

“We observed great difference introduced by time and circumstance in the

same person; for instance, a losing gamester is sometimes generous, but

from a winner you will as easily obtain his soul as a single groat. A

lawyer traveling from his country seat to his clients at Rome, and a

physician going to visit a patient, were always worth asking; but the

same on their return were (according to our cant phrase) untouchable.

“The most general, and indeed the truest, maxim among us was, that those

who possessed the least were always the readiest to give. The chief art

of a beggar-man is, therefore, to discern the rich from the poor, which,

though it be only distinguishing substance from shadow, is by no

means attainable without a pretty good capacity and a vast degree of

attention; for these two are eternally industrious in endeavoring to

counterfeit each other. In this deceit the poor man is more heartily

in earnest to deceive you than the rich, who, amidst all the emblems

of poverty which he puts on, still permits some mark of his wealth to

strike the eye. Thus, while his apparel is not worth a groat, his finger

wears a ring of value, or his pocket a gold watch. In a word, he seems

rather to affect poverty to insult than impose on you. Now the poor man,

on the contrary, is very sincere in his desire of passing for rich; but

the eagerness of this desire hurries him to over-act his part, and he

betrays himself as one who is drunk by his overacted sobriety. Thus,

instead of being attended by one servant well mounted, he will have two;

and, not being able to purchase or maintain a second horse of value,

one of his servants at least is mounted on a hired rascallion. He is

not contented to go plain and neat in his clothes; he therefore claps on

some tawdry ornament, and what he adds to the fineness of his vestment

he detracts from the fineness of his linen. Without descending into more

minute particulars, I believe I may assert it as an axiom of indubitable

truth, that whoever shows you he is either in himself or his equipage

as gaudy as he can, convinces you he is more so than he can afford. Now,

whenever a man’s expense exceeds his income, he is indifferent in the

degree; we had therefore nothing more to do with such than to flatter

them with their wealth and splendor, and were always certain of success.

“There is, indeed, one kind of rich man who is commonly more liberal,

namely, where riches surprise him, as it were, in the midst of poverty

and distress, the consequence of which is, I own, sometimes excessive

avarice, but oftener extreme prodigality. I remember one of these who,

having received a pretty large sum of money, gave me, when I begged

an obolus, a whole talent; on which his friend having reproved him, he

answered, with an oath, ‘Why not? Have I not fifty left?’

“The life of a beggar, if men estimated things by their real essence,

and not by their outward false appearance, would be, perhaps, a more

desirable situation than any of those which ambition persuades us, with

such difficulty, danger, and often villainy, to aspire to. The wants of

a beggar are commonly as chimerical as the abundance of a nobleman;

for besides vanity, which a judicious beggar will always apply to with

wonderful efficacy, there are in reality very few natures so hardened as

not to compassionate poverty and distress, when the predominancy of some

other passion doth not prevent them.

“There is one happiness which attends money got with ease, namely, that

it is never hoarded; otherwise, as we have frequent opportunities of

growing rich, that canker care might prey upon our quiet, as it doth on

others; but our money stock we spend as fast as we acquire it; usually

at least, for I speak not without exception; thus it gives us mirth

only, and no trouble. Indeed, the luxury of our lives might introduce

diseases, did not our daily exercise prevent them. This gives us an

appetite and relish for our dainties, and at the same time an antidote

against the evil effects which sloth, united with luxury, induces on the

habit of a human body. Our women we enjoy with ecstasies at least equal

to what the greatest men feel in their embraces. I can, I am assured,

say of myself, that no mortal could reap more perfect happiness from

the tender passion than my fortune had decreed me. I married a charming

young woman for love; she was the daughter of a neighboring beggar, who,

with an improvidence too often seen, spent a very large income which he

procured by his profession, so that he was able to give her no

fortune down; however, at his death he left her a very well accustomed

begging-hut, situated on the side of a steep hill, where travelers

could not immediately escape from us, and a garden adjoining, being the

twenty-eighth part of an acre, well planted.

“She made the best of wives, bore me nineteen children, and never failed,

unless on her lying-in, which generally lasted three days, to get

my supper ready against my return home in an evening; this being my

favorite meal, and at which I, as well as my whole family, greatly

enjoyed ourselves; the principal subject of our discourse being

generally the boons we had that day obtained, on which occasions,

laughing at the folly of the donors made no inconsiderable part of

the entertainment; for, whatever might be their motive for giving, we

constantly imputed our success to our having flattered their vanity, or

overreached their understanding.

“But perhaps I have dwelt too long on this character; I shall conclude,

therefore, with telling you that after a life of 102 years’ continuance,

during all which I had never known any sickness or infirmity but that

which old age necessarily induced, I at last, without the least pain,

went out like the snuff of a candle.

“Minos, having heard my history, bid me compute, if I could, how

many lies I had told in my life. As we are here, by a certain fated

necessity, obliged to confine ourselves to truth, I answered, I believed

about 50,000,000. He then replied, with a frown, ‘Can such a wretch

conceive any hopes of entering Elysium?’ I immediately turned about,

and, upon the whole, was rejoiced at his not calling me back.”

CHAPTER XX

Julian performs the part of a statesman.

“It was now my fortune to be born of a German princess; but a

man-midwife, pulling my head off in delivering my mother, put a speedy

end to my princely life.

“Spirits who end their lives before they are at the age of five years

are immediately ordered into other bodies; and it was now my fortune

to perform several infancies before I could again entitle myself to an

examination of Minos.

“At length I was destined once more to play a considerable part on the

stage. I was born in England, in the reign of Ethelred II. My father’s

name was Ulnoth: he was earl or thane of Sussex. I was afterwards known

by the name of earl Goodwin, and began to make a considerable figure

in the world in the time of Harold Harefoot, whom I procured to be made

king of Wessex, or the West Saxons, in prejudice of Hardicanute, whose

mother Emma endeavored afterwards to set another of her sons on the

throne; but I circumvented her, and, communicating her design to the

king, at the same time acquainted him with a project which I had formed

for the murder of these two young princes. Emma had sent for these her

sons from Normandy, with the king’s leave, whom she had deceived by her

religious behavior, and pretended neglect of all worldly affairs; but I

prevailed with Harold to invite these princes to his court, and put

them to death. The prudent mother sent only Alfred, retaining Edward

to herself, as she suspected my ill designs, and thought I should not

venture to execute them on one of her sons, while she secured the other;

but she was deceived, for I had no sooner Alfred in my possession than

I caused him to be conducted to Ely, where I ordered his eyes to be put

out, and afterwards to be confined in a monastery.

“This was one of those cruel expedients which great men satisfy

themselves well in executing, by concluding them to be necessary to the

service of their prince, who is the support of their ambition.

“Edward, the other son of Emma, escaped again to Normandy; whence, after

the death of Harold and Hardicanute, he made no scruple of applying to

my protection and favor, though he had before prosecuted me with all the

vengeance he was able, for the murder of his brother; but in all great

affairs private relation must yield to public interest. Having therefore

concluded very advantageous terms for myself with him, I made no scruple

of patronizing his cause, and soon placed him on the throne. Nor did I

conceive the least apprehension from his resentment, as I knew my power

was too great for him to encounter.

“Among other stipulated conditions, one was to marry my daughter Editha.

This Edward consented to with great reluctance, and I had afterwards

no reason to be pleased with it; for it raised her, who had been my

favorite child, to such an opinion of greatness, that, instead of paying

me the usual respect, she frequently threw in my teeth (as often at

least as I gave her any admonition), that she was now a queen, and

that the character and title of father merged in that of subject. This

behavior, however, did not cure me of my affection towards her, nor

lessen the uneasiness which I afterwards bore on Edward’s dismissing her

from his bed.

“One thing which principally induced me to labor the promotion of Edward

was the simplicity or weakness of that prince, under whom I promised

myself absolute dominion under another name. Nor did this opinion

deceive me; for, during his whole reign, my administration was in the

highest degree despotic: I had everything of royalty but the outward

ensigns; no man ever applying for a place, or any kind of preferment,

but to me only. A circumstance which, as it greatly enriched my coffers,

so it no less pampered my ambition, and satisfied my vanity with a

numerous attendance; and I had the pleasure of seeing those who only

bowed to the king prostrating themselves before me.

“Edward the Confessor, or St. Edward, as some have called him, in

derision I suppose, being a very silly fellow, had all the faults

incident, and almost inseparable, to fools. He married my daughter

Editha from his fear of disobliging me; and afterwards, out of hatred to

me, refused even to consummate his marriage, though she was one of the

most beautiful women of her age. He was likewise guilty of the basest

ingratitude to his mother (a vice to which fools are chiefly, if not

only, liable); and, in return for her endeavors to procure him a throne

in his youth, confined her in a loathsome prison in her old age.

This, it is true, he did by my advice; but as to her walking over nine

plowshares red-hot, and giving nine manors, when she had not one in her

possession, there is not a syllable of veracity in it.

“The first great perplexity I fell into was on the account of my son

Swane, who had deflowered the abbess of Leon, since called Leominster,

in Herefordshire. After this fact he retired into Denmark, whence he

sent to me to obtain his pardon. The king at first refused it, being

moved thereto, as I afterwards found, by some churchmen, particularly by

one of his chaplains, whom I had prevented from obtaining a bishopric.

Upon this my son Swane invaded the coasts with several ships, and

committed many outrageous cruelties; which, indeed, did his business, as

they served me to apply to the fear of this king, which I had long

since discovered to be his predominant passion. And, at last, he who had

refused pardon to his first offense submitted to give it him after he

had committed many other more monstrous crimes; by which his pardon lost

all grace to the offended, and received double censure from all others.

“The king was greatly inclined to the Normans, had created a Norman

archbishop of Canterbury, and had heaped extraordinary favors on him.

I had no other objection to this man than that he rose without my

assistance; a cause of dislike which, in the reign of great and powerful

favorites, hath often proved fatal to the persons who have given it,

as the persons thus raised inspire us constantly with jealousies and

apprehensions. For when we promote any one ourselves, we take effectual

care to preserve such an ascendant over him, that we can at any time

reduce him to his former degree, should he dare to act in opposition to

our wills; for which reason we never suffer any to come near the

prince but such as we are assured it is impossible should be capable of

engaging or improving his affection; no prime minister, as I apprehend,

esteeming himself to be safe while any other shares the ear of his

prince, of whom we are as jealous as the fondest husband can be of his

wife. Whoever, therefore, can approach him by any other channel than

that of ourselves, is, in our opinion, a declared enemy, and one whom

the first principles of policy oblige us to demolish with the utmost

expedition. For the affection of kings is as precarious as that of

women, and the only way to secure either to ourselves is to keep all

others from them.

“But the archbishop did not let matters rest on suspicion. He soon gave

open proofs of his interest with the Confessor in procuring an office

of some importance for one Rollo, a Roman of mean extraction and very

despicable parts. When I represented to the king the indecency of

conferring such an honor on such a fellow, he answered me that he was

the archbishop’s relation. ‘Then, sir,’ replied I, ‘he is related to

your enemy.’ Nothing more passed at that time; but I soon perceived,

by the archbishop’s behavior, that the king had acquainted him with our

private discourse; a sufficient assurance of his confidence in him and

neglect of me.

“The favor of princes, when once lost, is recoverable only by the

gaining a situation which may make you terrible to them. As I had no

doubt of having lost all credit with this king, which indeed had been

originally founded and constantly supported by his fear, so I took the

method of terror to regain it.

“The earl of Boulogne coming over to visit the king gave me an

opportunity of breaking out into open opposition; for, as the earl was

on his return to France, one of his servants, who was sent before to

procure lodgings at Dover, and insisted on having them in the house of a

private man in spite of the owner’s teeth, was, in a fray which ensued,

killed on the spot; and the earl himself, arriving there soon after,

very narrowly escaped with his life. The earl, enraged at this affront,

returned to the king at Gloucester with loud complaints and demands

of satisfaction. Edward consented to his demands, and ordered me to

chastise the rioters, who were under my government as earl of Kent: but,

instead of obeying these orders, I answered, with some warmth, that the

English were not used to punish people unheard, nor ought their

rights and privileges to be violated; that the accused should be first

summoned--if guilty, should make satisfaction both with body and estate,

but, if innocent, should be discharged. Adding, with great ferocity,

that as earl of Kent it was my duty to protect those under my government

against the insults of foreigners.

“This accident was extremely lucky, as it gave my quarrel with the king

a popular color, and so ingratiated me with the people, that when I

set up my standard, which I soon after did, they readily and cheerfully

listed under my banners and embraced my cause, which I persuaded them

was their own; for that it was to protect them against foreigners that

I had drawn my sword. The word foreigners with an Englishman hath a kind

of magical effect, they having the utmost hatred and aversion to them,

arising from the cruelties they suffered from the Danes and some other

foreign nations. No wonder therefore they espoused my cause in a quarrel

which had such a beginning.

“But what may be somewhat more remarkable is, that when I afterwards

returned to England from banishment, and was at the head of an army of

the Flemish, who were preparing to plunder the city of London, I still

persisted that I was come to defend the English from the danger of

foreigners, and gained their credit. Indeed, there is no lie so gross

but it may be imposed on the people by those whom they esteem their

patrons and defenders.

“The king saved his city by being reconciled to me, and taking again my

daughter, whom he had put away from him; and thus, having frightened

the king into what concessions I thought proper, I dismissed my army and

fleet, with which I intended, could I not have succeeded otherwise, to

have sacked the city of London and ravaged the whole country.

“I was no sooner re-established in the king’s favor, or, what was

as well for me, the appearance of it, than I fell violently on the

archbishop. He had of himself retired to his monastery in Normandy; but

that did not content me: I had him formally banished, the see declared

vacant, and then filled up by another.

“I enjoyed my grandeur a very short time after my restoration to it; for

the king, hating and fearing me to a very great degree, and finding no

means of openly destroying me, at last effected his purpose by poison,

and then spread abroad a ridiculous story, of my wishing the next

morsel might choke me if I had had any hand in the death of Alfred; and,

accordingly, that the next morsel, by a divine judgment, stuck in my

throat and performed that office.

“This of a statesman was one of my worst stages in the other world. It

is a post subjected daily to the greatest danger and inquietude, and

attended with little pleasure and less ease. In a word, it is a pill

which, was it not gilded over by ambition, would appear nauseous and

detestable in the eye of every one; and perhaps that is one reason why

Minos so greatly compassionates the case of those who swallow it: for

that just judge told me he always acquitted a prime minister who could

produce one single good action in his whole life, let him have committed

ever so many crimes. Indeed, I understood him a little too largely,

and was stepping towards the gate; but he pulled me by the sleeve, and,

telling me no prime minister ever entered there, bid me go back again;

saying, he thought I had sufficient reason to rejoice in my escaping

the bottomless pit, which half my crimes committed in any other capacity

would have entitled me to.”

CHAPTER XXI

Julian’s adventures in the post of a soldier.

“I was born at Caen, in Normandy. My mother’s name was Matilda; as for

my father, I am not so certain, for the good woman on her death-bed

assured me she herself could bring her guess to no greater certainty

than to five of duke William’s captains. When I was no more than

thirteen (being indeed a surprising stout boy of my age) I enlisted into

the army of duke William, afterwards known by the name of William the

Conqueror, landed with him at Pemesey or Pemsey, in Sussex, and was

present at the famous battle of Hastings.

“At the first onset it was impossible to describe my consternation,

which was heightened by the fall of two soldiers who stood by me; but

this soon abated, and by degrees, as my blood grew warm, I thought no

more of my own safety, but fell on the enemy with great fury, and did a

good deal of execution; till, unhappily, I received a wound in my thigh,

which rendered me unable to stand any longer, so that I now lay among

the dead, and was constantly exposed to the danger of being trampled to

death, as well by my fellow-soldiers as by the enemy. However, I had the

fortune to escape it, and continued the remaining part of the day and

the night following on the ground.

“The next morning, the duke sending out parties to bring off the

wounded, I was found almost expiring with loss of blood; notwithstanding

which, as immediate care was taken to dress my wounds, youth and a

robust constitution stood my friends, and I recovered after a long and

tedious indisposition, and was again able to use my limbs and do my

duty.

“As soon as Dover was taken I was conveyed thither with all the rest of

the sick and wounded. Here I recovered of my wound; but fell afterwards

into a violent flux, which, when it departed, left me so weak that it

was long before I could regain my strength. And what most afflicted me

was, that during my whole illness, when I languished under want as well

as sickness, I had daily the mortification to see and hear the riots

and excess of my fellow-soldiers, who had happily escaped safe from the

battle.

“I was no sooner well than I was ordered into garrison at Dover Castle.

The officers here fared very indifferently, but the private men much

worse. We had great scarcity of provisions, and, what was yet more

intolerable, were so closely confined for want of room (four of us being

obliged to lie on the same bundle of straw), that many died, and most

sickened.

“Here I had remained about four months, when one night we were alarmed

with the arrival of the earl of Boulogne, who had come over privily

from France, and endeavored to surprise the castle. The design proved

ineffectual; for the garrison making a brisk sally, most of his men

were tumbled down the precipice, and he returned with a very few back to

France. In this action, however, I had the misfortune to come off with a

broken arm; it was so shattered, that, besides a great deal of pain and

misery which I endured in my cure, I was disabled for upwards of three

months.

“Soon after my recovery I had contracted an amour with a young

woman whose parents lived near the garrison, and were in much better

circumstances than I had reason to expect should give their consent to

the match. However, as she was extremely fond of me (as I was indeed

distractedly enamored of her), they were prevailed on to comply with her

desires, and the day was fixed for our marriage.

“On the evening preceding, while I was exulting with the eager

expectation of the happiness I was the next day to enjoy, I received

orders to march early in the morning towards Windsor, where a large army

was to be formed, at the head of which the king intended to march into

the west. Any person who hath ever been in love may easily imagine what

I felt in my mind on receiving those orders; and what still heightened

my torments was, that the commanding officer would not permit any one

to go out of the garrison that evening; so that I had not even an

opportunity of taking leave of my beloved.

“The morning came which was to have put me in the possession of my

wishes; but, alas! the scene was now changed, and all the hopes which I

had raised were now so many ghosts to haunt, and furies to torment me.

“It was now the midst of winter, and very severe weather for the season;

when we were obliged to make very long and fatiguing marches, in which

we suffered all the inconveniences of cold and hunger. The night in

which I expected to riot in the arms of my beloved mistress I was

obliged to take up with a lodging on the ground, exposed to the

inclemencies of a rigid frost; nor could I obtain the least comfort of

sleep, which shunned me as its enemy.

“In short, the horrors of that night are not to be described, or perhaps

imagined. They made such an impression on my soul, that I was forced to

be dipped three times in the river Lethe to prevent my remembering it in

the characters which I afterwards performed in the flesh.”

Here I interrupted Julian for the first time, and told him no such

dipping had happened to me in my voyage from one world to the other:

but he satisfied me by saying “that this only happened to those spirits

which returned into the flesh, in order to prevent that reminiscence

which Plato mentions, and which would otherwise cause great confusion in

the other world.”

He then proceeded as follows: “We continued a very laborious march to

Exeter, which we were ordered to besiege. The town soon surrendered, and

his majesty built a castle there, which he garrisoned with his Normans,

and unhappily I had the misfortune to be one of the number.

“Here we were confined closer than I had been at Dover; for, as the

citizens were extremely disaffected, we were never suffered to go

without the walls of the castle; nor indeed could we, unless in large

bodies, without the utmost danger. We were likewise kept to continual

duty, nor could any solicitations prevail with the commanding officer

to give me a month’s absence to visit my love, from whom I had no

opportunity of hearing in all my long absence.

“However, in the spring, the people being more quiet, and another

officer of a gentler temper succeeding to the principal command, I

obtained leave to go to Dover; but alas! what comfort did my long

journey bring me? I found the parents of my darling in the utmost misery

at her loss; for she had died, about a week before my arrival, of a

consumption, which they imputed to her pining at my sudden departure.

“I now fell into the most violent and almost raving fit of despair. I

cursed myself, the king, and the whole world, which no longer seemed

to have any delight for me. I threw myself on the grave of my deceased

love, and lay there without any kind of sustenance for two whole days.

At last hunger, together with the persuasions of some people who took

pity on me, prevailed with me to quit that situation, and refresh myself

with food. They then persuaded me to return to my post, and abandon a

place where almost every object I saw recalled ideas to my mind which,

as they said, I should endeavor with my utmost force to expel from it.

This advice at length succeeded; the rather, as the father and mother of

my beloved refused to see me, looking on me as the innocent but certain

cause of the death of their only child.

“The loss of one we tenderly love, as it is one of the most bitter and

biting evils which attend human life, so it wants the lenitive which

palliates and softens every other calamity; I mean that great reliever,

hope. No man can be so totally undone, but that he may still cherish

expectation: but this deprives us of all such comfort, nor can anything

but time alone lessen it. This, however, in most minds, is sure to

work a slow but effectual remedy; so did it in mine: for within a

twelve-month I was entirely reconciled to my fortune, and soon after

absolutely forgot the object of a passion from which I had promised

myself such extreme happiness, and in the disappointment of which I had

experienced such inconceivable misery.

“At the expiration of the month I returned to my garrison at Exeter;

where I was no sooner arrived than I was ordered to march into the

north, to oppose a force there levied by the earls of Chester and

Northumberland. We came to York, where his majesty pardoned the heads of

the rebels, and very severely punished some who were less guilty. It was

particularly my lot to be ordered to seize a poor man who had never been

out of his house, and convey him to prison. I detested this barbarity,

yet was obliged to execute it; nay, though no reward would have bribed

me in a private capacity to have acted such a part, yet so much sanctity

is there in the commands of a monarch or general to a soldier, that

I performed it without reluctance, nor had the tears of his wife and

family any prevalence with me.

“But this, which was a very small piece of mischief in comparison with

many of my barbarities afterwards, was however, the only one which

ever gave me any uneasiness; for when the king led us afterwards into

Northumberland to revenge those people’s having joined with Osborne the

Dane in his invasion, and orders were given us to commit what ravages

we could, I was forward in fulfilling them, and, among some lesser

cruelties (I remember it yet with sorrow), I ravished a woman, murdered

a little infant playing in her lap, and then burned her house. In short,

for I have no pleasure in this part of my relation, I had my share

in all the cruelties exercised on those poor wretches; which were so

grievous, that for sixty miles together, between York and Durham, not a

single house, church, or any other public or private edifice, was left

standing.

“We had pretty well devoured the country, when we were ordered to march

to the Isle of Ely, to oppose Hereward, a bold and stout soldier, who

had under him a very large body of rebels, who had the impudence to rise

against their king and conqueror (I talk now in the same style I did

then) in defense of their liberties, as they called them. These were

soon subdued; but as I happened (more to my glory than my comfort) to

be posted in that part through which Hereward cut his way, I received

a dreadful cut on the forehead, a second on the shoulder, and was run

through the body with a pike.

“I languished a long time with these wounds, which made me incapable of

attending the king into Scotland. However, I was able to go over with

him afterwards into Normandy, in his expedition against Philip, who

had taken the opportunity of the troubles in England to invade that

province. Those few Normans who bad survived their wounds, and had

remained in the Isle of Ely, were all of our nation who went, the rest

of his army being all composed of English. In a skirmish near the town

of Mans my leg was broke and so shattered that it was forced to be cut

off.

“I was now disabled from serving longer in the army; and accordingly,

being discharged from the service, I retired to the place of my

nativity, where, in extreme poverty, and frequent bad health from the

many wounds I had received, I dragged on a miserable life to the age of

sixty-three; my only pleasure being to recount the feats of my youth, in

which narratives I generally exceeded the truth.

“It would be tedious and unpleasant to recount to you the several

miseries I suffered after my return to Caen; let it suffice, they

were so terrible that they induced Minos to compassionate me, and,

notwithstanding the barbarities I had been guilty of in Northumberland,

to suffer me to go once more back to earth.”

CHAPTER XXII

What happened to Julian in the person of a tailor.

“Fortune now stationed me in a character which the ingratitude of

mankind hath put them on ridiculing, though they owe to it not only a

relief from the inclemencies of cold, to which they would otherwise be

exposed, but likewise a considerable satisfaction of their vanity. The

character I mean was that of a tailor; which, if we consider it with due

attention, must be confessed to have in it great dignity and importance.

For, in reality, who constitutes the different degrees between men but

the tailor? the prince indeed gives the title, but it is the tailor who

makes the man. To his labors are owing the respect of crowds, and the

awe which great men inspire into their beholders, though these are too

often unjustly attributed to other motives. Lastly, the admiration of

the fair is most commonly to be placed to his account.

“I was just set up in my trade when I made three suits of fine clothes

for king Stephen’s coronation. I question whether the person who wears

the rich coat hath so much pleasure and vanity in being admired in it,

as we tailors have from that admiration; and perhaps a philosopher

would say he is not so well entitled to it. I bustled on the day of the

ceremony through the crowd, and it was with incredible delight I heard

several say, as my clothes walked by, ‘Bless me, was ever anything so

fine as the earl of Devonshire? Sure he and Sir Hugh Bigot are the two

best dressed men I ever saw.’ Now both those suits were of my making.

“There would indeed be infinite pleasure in working for the courtiers,

as they are generally genteel men, and show one’s clothes to the best

advantage, was it not for one small discouragement; this is, that they

never pay. I solemnly protest, though I lost almost as much by the court

in my life as I got by the city, I never carried a suit into the latter

with half the satisfaction which I have done to the former; though from

that I was certain of ready money, and from this almost as certain of no

money at all.

“Courtiers may, however, be divided into two sorts, very essentially

different from each other; into those who never intend to pay for their

clothes; and those who do intend to pay for them, but never happen to be

able. Of the latter sort are many of those young gentlemen whom we equip

out for the army, and who are, unhappily for us, cut off before they

arrive at preferment. This is the reason that tailors, in time of war,

are mistaken for politicians by their inquisitiveness into the event of

battles, one campaign very often proving the ruin of half-a-dozen of us.

I am sure I had frequent reason to curse that fatal battle of Cardigan,

where the Welsh defeated some of king Stephen’s best troops, and where

many a good suit of mine unpaid for, fell to the ground.

“The gentlemen of this honorable calling have fared much better in later

ages than when I was of it; for now it seems the fashion is, when they

apprehend their customer is not in the best circumstances, if they are

not paid as soon as they carry home the suit, they charge him in their

book as much again as it is worth, and then send a gentleman with a

small scrip of parchment to demand the money. If this be not immediately

paid the gentleman takes the beau with him to his house, where he locks

him up till the tailor is contented: but in my time these scrips of

parchment were not in use; and if the beau disliked paying for his

clothes, as very often happened, we had no method of compelling him.

“In several of the characters which I have related to you, I apprehend I

have sometimes forgot myself, and considered myself as really interested

as I was when I personated them on earth. I have just now caught myself

in the fact; for I have complained to you as bitterly of my customers

as I formerly used to do when I was the tailor: but in reality, though

there were some few persons of very great quality, and some others, who

never paid their debts, yet those were but a few, and I had a method of

repairing this loss. My customers I divided under three heads: those who

paid ready money, those who paid slow, and those who never paid at all.

The first of these I considered apart by themselves, as persons by whom

I got a certain but small profit. The two last I lumped together, making

those who paid slow contribute to repair my losses by those who did not

pay at all. Thus, upon the whole, I was a very inconsiderable loser, and

might have left a fortune to my family, had I not launched forth into

expenses which swallowed up all my gains. I had a wife and two children.

These indeed I kept frugally enough, for I half starved them; but I kept

a mistress in a finer way, for whom I had a country-house, pleasantly

situated on the Thames, elegantly fitted up and neatly furnished.

This woman might very properly be called my mistress, for she was most

absolutely so; and though her tenure was no higher than by my will,

she domineered as tyrannically as if my chains had been riveted in the

strongest manner. To all this I submitted, not through any adoration of

her beauty, which was indeed but indifferent. Her charms consisted in

little wantonnesses, which she knew admirably well to use in hours of

dalliance, and which, I believe, are of all things the most delightful

to a lover.

“She was so profusely extravagant, that it seemed as if she had an

actual intent to ruin me. This I am sure of, if such had been her real

intention, she could have taken no properer way to accomplish it; nay,

I myself might appear to have had the same view: for, besides this

extravagant mistress and my country-house, I kept likewise a brace of

hunters, rather for that it was fashionable so to do than for any great

delight I took in the sport, which I very little attended; not for want

of leisure, for few noblemen had so much. All the work I ever did was

taking measure, and that only of my greatest and best customers. I scare

ever cut a piece of cloth in my life, nor was indeed much more able to

fashion a coat than any gentleman in the kingdom. This made a skillful

servant too necessary to me. He knew I must submit to any terms with, or

any treatment from, him.

“He knew it was easier for him to find another such a tailor as me

than for me to procure such another workman as him: for this reason he

exerted the most notorious and cruel tyranny, seldom giving me a civil

word; nor could the utmost condescension on my side, though attended

with continual presents and rewards, and raising his wages, content or

please him. In a word, he was as absolutely my master as was ever an

ambitious, industrious prime minister over an indolent and voluptuous

king. All my other journeymen paid more respect to him than to me; for

they considered my favor as a necessary consequence of obtaining his.

“These were the most remarkable occurrences while I acted this part.

Minos hesitated a few moments, and then bid me get back again, without

assigning any reason.”

CHAPTER XXIII

The life of alderman Julian.

“I now revisited England, and was born at London. My father was one of

the magistrates of that city. He had eleven children, of whom I was the

eldest. He had great success in trade, and grew extremely rich, but the

largeness of his family rendered it impossible for him to leave me

a fortune sufficient to live well on independent of business. I was

accordingly brought up to be a fishmonger, in which capacity I myself

afterwards acquired very considerable wealth.

“The same disposition of mind which in princes is called ambition is in

subjects named faction. To this temper I was greatly addicted from my

youth. I was, while a boy, a great partisan of prince John’s against his

brother Richard, during the latter’s absence in the holy war and in his

captivity. I was no more than one-and-twenty when I first began to make

political speeches in public, and to endeavor to foment disquietude and

discontent in the city. As I was pretty well qualified for this office,

by a great fluency of words, an harmonious accent, a graceful delivery,

and above all an invincible assurance, I had soon acquired some

reputation among the younger citizens, and some of the weaker and more

inconsiderate of a riper age. This, co-operating with my own natural

vanity, made me extravagantly proud and supercilious. I soon began to

esteem myself a man of some consequence, and to overlook persons every

way my superiors.

“The famous Robin Hood, and his companion Little John, at this time made

a considerable figure in Yorkshire. I took upon me to write a letter

to the former, in the name of the city, inviting him to come to London,

where I assured him of very good reception, signifying to him my own

great weight and consequence, and how much I had disposed the citizens

in his favor. Whether he received this letter or no I am not certain;

but he never gave me any answer to it.

“A little afterwards one William Fitz-Osborn, or, as he was nicknamed,

William Long-Beard, began to make a figure in the city. He was a bold

and an impudent fellow, and had raised himself to great popularity with

the rabble, by pretending to espouse their cause against the rich. I

took this man’s part, and made a public oration in his favor, setting

him forth as a patriot, and one who had embarked in the cause

of liberty: for which service he did not receive me with the

acknowledgments I expected. However, as I thought I should easily gain

the ascendant over this fellow, I continued still firm on his side, till

the archbishop of Canterbury, with an armed force, put an end to his

progress: for he was seized in Bowchurch, where he had taken refuge, and

with nine of his accomplices hanged in chains.

“I escaped narrowly myself; for I was seized in the same church with the

rest, and, as I had been very considerably engaged in the enterprise,

the archbishop was inclined to make me an example; but my father’s

merit, who had advanced a considerable sum to queen Eleanor towards the

king’s ransom, preserved me.

“The consternation my danger had occasioned kept me some time quiet, and

I applied myself very assiduously to my trade. I invented all manner

of methods to enhance the price of fish, and made use of my utmost

endeavors to engross as much of the business as possible in my own

hands. By these means I acquired a substance which raised me to some

little consequence in the city, but far from elevating me to that degree

which I had formerly flattered myself with possessing at a time when

I was totally insignificant; for, in a trading society, money must at

least lay the foundation of all power and interest.

“But as it hath been remarked that the same ambition which sent

Alexander into Asia brings the wrestler on the green; and as this same

ambition is as incapable as quicksilver of lying still; so I, who was

possessed perhaps of a share equal to what hath fired the blood of any

of the heroes of antiquity, was no less restless and discontented

with ease and quiet. My first endeavors were to make myself head of

my company, which Richard I had just published, and soon afterwards I

procured myself to be chosen alderman.

“Opposition is the only state which can give a subject an opportunity of

exerting the disposition I was possessed of. Accordingly, king John

was no sooner seated on his throne than I began to oppose his measures,

whether right or wrong. It is true that monarch had faults enow. He was

so abandoned to lust and luxury, that he addicted himself to the most

extravagant excesses in both, while he indolently suffered the king of

France to rob him of almost all his foreign dominions: my opposition

therefore was justifiable enough, and if my motive from within had been

as good as the occasion from without I should have had little to excuse;

but, in truth, I sought nothing but my own preferment, by making myself

formidable to the king, and then selling to him the interest of that

party by whose means I had become so. Indeed, had the public good been

my care, however zealously I might have opposed the beginning of his

reign, I should not have scrupled to lend him my utmost assistance in

this struggle between him and pope Innocent the third, in which he was

so manifestly in the right; nor have suffered the insolence of that

pope, and the power of the king of France, to have compelled him in

the issue, basely to resign his crown into the hands of the former, and

receive it again as a vassal; by means of which acknowledgment the pope

afterwards claimed this kingdom as a tributary fief to be held of

the papal chair; a claim which occasioned great uneasiness to many

subsequent princes, and brought numberless calamities on the nation.

“As the king had, among other concessions, stipulated to pay an

immediate sum of money to Pandulph, which he had great difficulty to

raise, it was absolutely necessary for him to apply to the city, where

my interest and popularity were so high that he had no hopes without my

assistance. As I knew this, I took care to sell myself and country

as high as possible. The terms I demanded, therefore, were a place, a

pension, and a knighthood. All those were immediately consented to. I

was forthwith knighted, and promised the other two.

“I now mounted the hustings, and, without any regard to decency or

modesty, made as emphatical a speech in favor of the king as before

I had done against him. In this speech I justified all those measures

which I had before condemned, and pleaded as earnestly with my

fellow-citizens to open their purses, as I had formerly done to prevail

with them to keep them shut. But, alas! my rhetoric had not the effect

I proposed. The consequence of my arguments was only contempt to

myself. The people at first stared on one another, and afterwards began

unanimously to express their dislike. An impudent fellow among

them, reflecting on my trade, cried out, ‘Stinking fish;’ which was

immediately reiterated through the whole crowd. I was then forced to

slink away home; but I was not able to accomplish my retreat without

being attended by the mob, who huzza’d me along the street with the

repeated cries of ‘Stinking fish.’

“I now proceeded to court, to inform his majesty of my faithful service,

and how much I had suffered in his cause. I found by my first reception

he had already heard of my success. Instead of thanking me for my

speech, he said the city should repent of their obstinacy, for that he

would show them who he was: and so saying, he immediately turned that

part to me to which the toe of man hath so wonderful an affection, that

it is very difficult, whenever it presents itself conveniently, to keep

our toes from the most violent and ardent salutation of it.

“I was a little nettled at this behavior, and with some earnestness

claimed the king’s fulfilling his promise; but he retired without

answering me. I then applied to some of the courtiers, who had lately

professed great friendship to me, had eat at my house, and invited me to

theirs: but not one would return me any answer, all running away from me

as if I had been seized with some contagious distemper. I now found by

experience, that as none can be so civil, so none can be ruder than a

courtier.

“A few moments after the king’s retiring I was left alone in the room to

consider what I should do or whither I should turn myself. My reception

in the city promised itself to be equal at least with what I found at

court. However, there was my home, and thither it was necessary I should

retreat for the present.

“But, indeed, bad as I apprehended my treatment in the city would be,

it exceeded my expectation. I rode home on an ambling pad through crowds

who expressed every kind of disregard and contempt; pelting me not

only with the most abusive language, but with dirt. However, with much

difficulty I arrived at last at my own house, with my bones whole, but

covered over with filth.

“When I was got within my doors, and had shut them against the mob, who

had pretty well vented their spleen, and seemed now contented to retire,

my wife, whom I found crying over her children, and from whom I

had hoped some comfort in my afflictions, fell upon me in the most

outrageous manner. She asked me why I would venture on such a step,

without consulting her; she said her advice might have been civilly

asked, if I was resolved not to have been guided by it. That, whatever

opinion I might have conceived of her understanding, the rest of the

world thought better of it. That I had never failed when I had asked

her counsel, nor ever succeeded without it;--with much more of the

same kind, too tedious to mention; concluding that it was a monstrous

behavior to desert my party and come over to the court.

“An abuse which I took worse than all the rest, as she had been

constantly for several years assiduous in railing at the opposition,

in siding with the court-party, and begging me to come over to it; and

especially after my mentioning the offer of knighthood to her, since

which time she had continually interrupted my repose with dinning in

my ears the folly of refusing honors and of adhering to a party and to

principles by which I was certain of procuring no advantage to myself

and my family.

“I had now entirely lost my trade, so that I had not the least

temptation to stay longer in a city where I was certain of receiving

daily affronts and rebukes. I therefore made up my affairs with the

utmost expedition, and, scraping together all I could, retired into the

country, where I spent the remainder of my days in universal contempt,

being shunned by everybody, perpetually abused by my wife, and not much

respected by my children.

“Minos told me, though I had been a very vile fellow, he thought my

sufferings made some atonement, and so bid me take the other trial.”

CHAPTER XXIV

Julian recounts what happened to him while he was a poet.

“Rome was now the seat of my nativity, where I was born of a family more

remarkable for honor than riches. I was intended for the church, and

had a pretty good education; but my father dying while I was young, and

leaving me nothing, for he had wasted his whole patrimony, I was forced

to enter myself in the order of mendicants.

“When I was at school I had a knack of rhyming, which I unhappily

mistook for genius, and indulged to my cost; for my verses drew on me

only ridicule, and I was in contempt called the poet.

“This humor pursued me through my life. My first composition after I

left school was a panegyric on pope Alexander IV, who then pretended a

project of dethroning the king of Sicily. On this subject I composed a

poem of about fifteen thousand lines, which with much difficulty I got

to be presented to his holiness, of whom I expected great preferment as

my reward; but I was cruelly disappointed: for when I had waited a year,

without hearing any of the commendations I had flattered myself with

receiving, and being now able to contain no longer, I applied to a

Jesuit who was my relation, and had the pope’s ear, to know what his

holiness’s opinion was of my work: he coldly answered me that he was

at that time busied in concerns of too much importance to attend the

reading of poems.

“However dissatisfied I might be, and really was, with this reception,

and however angry I was with the pope? for whose understanding I

entertained an immoderate contempt, I was not yet discouraged from

a second attempt. Accordingly, I soon after produced another work,

entitled, The Trojan Horse. This was an allegorical work, in which the

church was introduced into the world in the same manner as that machine

had been into Troy. The priests were the soldiers in its belly, and the

heathen superstition the city to be destroyed by them. This poem was

written in Latin. I remember some of the lines:--

Mundanos scandit fatalis machina muros,

Farta sacerdotum turmis: exinde per alvum

Visi exire omnes, maguo cum murmure olentes.

Non aliter quam cum llumanis furibundus ab antris

It sonus et nares simul aura invadit hiantes.

Mille scatent et mille alii; trepidare timore

Ethnica gens coepit: falsi per inane volantes

Effugere Dei--Desertaque templa relinquunt.

Jam magnum crepitavit equus, mox orbis et alti

Ingemuere poli: tunc tu pater, ultimus omnium

Maxime Alexander, ventrem maturus equinum

Deseris, heu proles meliori digne parente.”

“I believe Julian, had I not stopped him, would have gone through the

whole poem (for, as I observed in most of the characters he related, the

affections he had enjoyed while he personated them on earth still made

some impression on him); but I begged him to omit the sequel of the

poem, and proceed with his history. He then recollected himself, and,

smiling at the observation which by intuition he perceived I had made,

continued his narration as follows:--

“I confess to you,” says he, “that the delight in repeating our own

works is so predominant in a poet, that I find nothing can totally root

it out of the soul. Happy would it be for those persons if their hearers

could be delighted in the same manner: but alas! hence that ingens

solitudo complained of by Horace: for the vanity of mankind is so much

greedier and more general than their avarice, that no beggar is so ill

received by them as he who solicits their praise.

“This I sufficiently experienced in the character of a poet; for my

company was shunned (I believe on this account chiefly) by my whole

house: nay, there were few who would submit to hearing me read my

poetry, even at the price of sharing in my provisions. The only

person who gave me audience was a brother poet; he indeed fed me with

commendation very liberally: but, as I was forced to hear and commend in

my turn, I perhaps bought his attention dear enough.

“Well, sir, if my expectations of the reward I hoped from my first poem

had balked me, I had now still greater reason to complain; for, instead

of being preferred or commended for the second, I was enjoined a very

severe penance by my superior, for ludicrously comparing the pope to a

f--t. My poetry was now the jest of every company, except some few who

spoke of it with detestation; and I found that, instead of recommending

me to preferment, it had effectually barred me from all probability of

attaining it.

“These discouragements had now induced me to lay down my pen and write

no more. But, as Juvenal says,

--Si discedas, Laqueo tenet ambitiosi

Consuetudo mali.

“I was an example of the truth of this assertion, for I soon betook

myself again to my muse. Indeed, a poet hath the same happiness with a

man who is dotingly fond of an ugly woman. The one enjoys his muse, and

the other his mistress, with a pleasure very little abated by the esteem

of the world, and only undervalues their taste for not corresponding

with his own.

“It is unnecessary to mention any more of my poems; they had all the

same fate; and though in reality some of my latter pieces deserved (I

may now speak it without the imputation of vanity) a better success,

as I had the character of a bad writer, I found it impossible ever to

obtain the reputation of a good one. Had I possessed the merit of Homer

I could have hoped for no applause; since it must have been a profound

secret; for no one would now read a syllable of my writings.

“The poets of my age were, as I believe you know, not very famous.

However, there was one of some credit at that time, though I have the

consolation to know his works are all perished long ago. The malice,

envy, and hatred I bore this man are inconceivable to any but an author,

and an unsuccessful one; I never could bear to hear him well spoken

of, and writ anonymous satires against him, though I had received

obligations from him; indeed I believe it would have been an absolute

impossibility for him at any rate to have made me sincerely his friend.

“I have heard an observation which was made by some one of later days,

that there are no worse men than bad authors. A remark of the same kind

hath been made on ugly women, and the truth of both stands on one and

the same reason, viz., that they are both tainted with that cursed and

detestable vice of envy; which, as it is the greatest torment to the

mind it inhabits, so is it capable of introducing into it a total

corruption, and of inspiring it to the commission of the most horrid

crimes imaginable.

“My life was but short; for I soon pined myself to death with the vice I

just now mentioned. Minos told me I was infinitely too bad for Elysium;

and as for the other place, the devil had sworn he would never entertain

a poet for Orpheus’s sake: so I was forced to return again to the place

from whence I came.”

CHAPTER XXV

Julian performs the parts of a knight and a dancing-master.

“I now mounted the stage in Sicily, and became a knight-templar; but,

as my adventures differ so little from those I have recounted you in the

character of a common soldier, I shall not tire you with repetition. The

soldier and the captain differ in reality so little from one another,

that it requires an accurate judgment to distinguish them; the latter

wears finer clothes, and in times of success lives somewhat more

delicately; but as to everything else, they very nearly resemble one

another.

“My next step was into France, where fortune assigned me the part of a

dancing-master. I was so expert in my profession that I was brought to

court in my youth, and had the heels of Philip de Valois, who afterwards

succeeded Charles the Fair, committed to my direction.

“I do not remember that in any of the characters in which I appeared on

earth I ever assumed to myself a greater dignity, or thought myself

of more real importance, than now. I looked on dancing as the greatest

excellence of human nature, and on myself as the greatest proficient

in it. And, indeed, this seemed to be the general opinion of the whole

court; for I was the chief instructor of the youth of both sexes, whose

merit was almost entirely defined by the advances they made in that

science which I had the honor to profess. As to myself, I was so fully

persuaded of this truth, that I not only slighted and despised those who

were ignorant of dancing, but I thought the highest character I

could give any man was that he made a graceful bow: for want of which

accomplishment I had a sovereign contempt for most persons of learning;

nay, for some officers in the army, and a few even of the courtiers

themselves.

“Though so little of my youth had been thrown away in what they call

literature that I could hardly write and read, yet I composed a treatise

on education; the first rudiments of which, as I taught, were to

instruct a child in the science of coming handsomely into a room. In

this I corrected many faults of my predecessors, particularly that of

being too much in a hurry, and instituting a child in the sublimer parts

of dancing before they are capable of making their honors.

“But as I have not now the same high opinion of my profession which I

had then, I shall not entertain you with a long history of a life which

consisted of borees and coupees. Let it suffice that I lived to a very

old age and followed my business as long as I could crawl. At length I

revisited my old friend Minos, who treated me with very little respect

and bade me dance back again to earth.

“I did so, and was now once more born an Englishman, bred up to

the church, and at length arrived to the station of a bishop.

“Nothing was so remarkable in this character as my always voting--

[10].”

BOOK XIX

CHAPTER VII

Wherein Anna Boleyn relates the history of her life.

“I am going now truly to recount a life which from the time of its

ceasing has been, in the other world, the continual subject of the

cavils of contending parties; the one making me as black as hell, the

other as pure and innocent as the inhabitants of this blessed place; the

mist of prejudice blinding their eyes, and zeal for what they themselves

profess, making everything appear in that light which they think most

conduces to its honor.

“My infancy was spent in my father’s house, in those childish plays

which are most suitable to that state, and I think this was one of the

happiest parts of my life; for my parents were not among the number

of those who look upon their children as so many objects of a tyrannic

power, but I was regarded as the dear pledge of a virtuous love, and all

my little pleasures were thought from their indulgence their greatest

delight. At seven years old I was carried into France with the king’s

sister, who was married to the French king, where I lived with a person

of quality, who was an acquaintance of my father’s. I spent my time

in learning those things necessary to give young persons of fashion a

polite education, and did neither good nor evil, but day passed after

day in the same easy way till I was fourteen; then began my anxiety, my

vanity grew strong, and my heart fluttered with joy at every compliment

paid to my beauty: and as the lady with whom I lived was of a gay,

cheerful disposition, she kept a great deal of company, and my youth and

charms made me the continual object of their admiration. I passed some

little time in those exulting raptures which are felt by every woman

perfectly satisfied with herself and with the behavior of others

towards her: I was, when very young, promoted to be maid of honor to her

majesty. The court was frequented by a young nobleman whose beauty

was the chief subject of conversation in all assemblies of ladies. The

delicacy of his person, added to a great softness in his manner, gave

everything he said and did such an air of tenderness, that every woman

he spoke to flattered herself with being the object of his love. I was

one of those who was vain enough of my own charms to hope to make a

conquest of him whom the whole court sighed for. I now thought every

other object below my notice; yet the only pleasure I proposed to myself

in this design was, the triumphing over that heart which I plainly saw

all the ladies of the highest quality and the greatest beauty would have

been proud of possessing. I was yet too young to be very artful; but

nature, without any assistance, soon discovers to a man who is used

to gallantry a woman’s desire to be liked by him, whether that desire

arises from any particular choice she makes of him, or only from

vanity. He soon perceived my thoughts, and gratified my utmost wishes by

constantly preferring me before all other women, and exerting his utmost

gallantry and address to engage my affections. This sudden happiness,

which I then thought the greatest I could have had, appeared visible in

all my actions; I grew so gay and so full of vivacity that it made

my person appear still to a better advantage, all my acquaintance

pretending to be fonder of me than ever: though, young as I was, I

plainly saw it was but pretense, for through all their endeavors to the

contrary envy would often break forth in sly insinuations and

malicious sneers, which gave me fresh matter of triumph, and frequent

opportunities of insulting them, which I never let slip, for now first

my female heart grew sensible of the spiteful pleasure of seeing another

languish for what I enjoyed. Whilst I was in the height of my happiness

her majesty fell ill of a languishing distemper, which obliged her to go

into the country for the change of air: my place made it necessary for

me to attend her, and which way he brought it about I can’t imagine, but

my young hero found means to be one of that small train that waited on

my royal mistress, although she went as privately as possible. Hitherto

all the interviews I had ever had with him were in public, and I only

looked on him as the fitter object to feed that pride which had no other

view but to show its power; but now the scene was quite changed. My

rivals, were all at a distance: the place we went to was as charming

as the most agreeable natural situation, assisted by the greatest art,

could make it; the pleasant solitary walks the singing of birds, the

thousand pretty romantic scenes this delightful place afforded, gave a

sudden turn to my mind; my whole soul was melted into softness, and all

my vanity was fled. My spark was too much used to affairs of this nature

not to perceive this change; at first the profuse transports of his joy

made me believe him wholly mine, and this belief gave me such happiness

that no language affords words to express it, and can be only known to

those who have felt it. But this was of a very short duration, for

I soon found I had to do with one of those men whose only end in the

pursuit of a woman is to make her fall a victim to an insatiable desire

to be admired. His designs had succeeded, and now he every day grew

colder, and, as if by infatuation, my passion every day increased; and,

notwithstanding all my resolutions and endeavors to the contrary, my

rage at the disappointment at once both of my love and pride, and at the

finding a passion fixed in my breast I knew not how to conquer, broke

out into that inconsistent behavior which must always be the consequence

of violent passions. One moment I reproached him, the next I grew to

tenderness and blamed myself, and thought I fancied what was not true:

he saw my struggle and triumphed in it; but, as he had not witnesses

enough there of his victory to give him the full enjoyment of it,

he grew weary of the country and returned to Paris, and left me in a

condition it is utterly impossible to describe. My mind was like a city

up in arms, all confusion; and every new thought was a fresh disturber

of my peace. Sleep quite forsook me, and the anxiety I suffered threw me

into a fever which had like to have cost me my life. With great care I

recovered, but the violence of the distemper left such a weakness on

my body that the disturbance of my mind was greatly assuaged; and now I

began to comfort myself in the reflection that this gentleman’s being

a finished coquette was very likely the only thing could have preserved

me; for he was the only man from whom I was ever in any danger. By that

time I was got tolerably well we returned to Paris; and I confess I both

wished and feared to see this cause of all my pain: however, I hoped,

by the help of my resentment, to be able to meet him with indifference.

This employed my thoughts till our arrival. The next day there was a

very full court to congratulate the queen on her recovery; and amongst

the rest my love appeared dressed and adorned as if he designed some

new conquest. Instead of seeing a woman he despised and slighted,

he approached me with that assured air which is common to successful

coxcombs. At the same time I perceived I was surrounded by all those

ladies who were on his account my greatest enemies, and, in revenge,

wished for nothing more than to see me make a ridiculous figure. This

situation so perplexed my thoughts, that when he came near enough to

speak to me, I fainted away in his arms. Had I studied which way I

could gratify him most, it was impossible to have done anything to have

pleased him more. Some that stood by brought smelling-bottles, and used

means for my recovery; and I was welcomed to returning life by all those

repartees which women enraged by envy are capable of venting. One cried

‘Well, I never thought my lord had anything so frightful in his person

or so fierce in his manner as to strike a young lady dead at the sight

of him.’ ‘No, no,’ says another, ‘some ladies’ senses are more apt to

be hurried by agreeable than disagreeable objects.’ With many more such

sort of speeches which showed more malice than wit. This not being able

to bear, trembling, and with but just strength enough to move, I crawled

to my coach and hurried home. When I was alone, and thought on what had

happened to me in a public court, I was at first driven to the utmost

despair; but afterwards, when I came to reflect, I believe this accident

contributed more to my being cured of my passion than any other could

have done. I began to think the only method to pique the man who had

used me so barbarously, and to be revenged on my spiteful rivals, was to

recover that beauty which was then languid and had lost its luster, to

let them see I had still charms enough to engage as many lovers as

I could desire, and that I could yet rival them who had thus cruelly

insulted me. These pleasing hopes revived my sinking spirits, and worked

a more effectual cure on me than all the philosophy and advice of the

wisest men could have done. I now employed all my time and care in

adorning my person, and studying the surest means of engaging the

affections of others, while I myself continued quite indifferent; for

I resolved for the future, if ever one soft thought made its way to my

heart, to fly the object of it, and by new lovers to drive the image

from my breast. I consulted my glass every morning, and got such a

command of my countenance that I could suit it to the different tastes

of variety of lovers; and though I was young, for I was not yet

above seventeen, yet my public way of life gave me such continual

opportunities of conversing with men, and the strong desire I now had

of pleasing them led me to make such constant observations on everything

they said or did, that I soon found out the different methods of dealing

with them. I observed that most men generally liked in women what was

most opposite to their own characters; therefore to the grave solid man

of sense I endeavored to appear sprightly and full of spirit; to the

witty and gay, soft and languishing; to the amorous (for they want

no increase of their passions), cold and reserved; to the fearful and

backward, warm and full of fire; and so of all the rest. As to beaux,

and all of those sort of men, whose desires are centered in the

satisfaction of their vanity, I had learned by sad experience the

only way to deal with them was to laugh at them and let their own good

opinion of themselves be the only support of their hopes. I knew, while

I could get other followers, I was sure of them; for the only sign of

modesty they ever give is that of not depending on their own judgments,

but following the opinions of the greatest number. Thus furnished with

maxims, and grown wise by past errors, I in a manner began the world

again: I appeared in all public places handsomer and more lively than

ever, to the amazement of every one who saw me and had heard of the

affair between me and my lord. He himself was much surprised and vexed

at this sudden change, nor could he account how it was possible for

me so soon to shake off those chains he thought he had fixed on me

for life; nor was he willing to lose his conquest in this manner. He

endeavored by all means possible to talk to me again of love, but I

stood fixed to my resolution (in which I was greatly assisted by the

crowd of admirers that daily surrounded me) never to let him explain

himself: for, notwithstanding all my pride, I found the first impression

the heart receives of love is so strong that it requires the most

vigilant care to prevent a relapse. Now I lived three years in a

constant round of diversions, and was made the perfect idol of all the

men that came to court of all ages and all characters. I had several

good matches offered me, but I thought none of them equal to my

merit; and one of my greatest pleasures was to see those women who had

pretended to rival me often glad to marry those whom I had refused. Yet,

notwithstanding this great success of my schemes, I cannot say I was

perfectly happy; for every woman that was taken the least notice of, and

every man that was insensible to my arts, gave me as much pain as all

the rest gave me pleasure; and sometimes little underhand plots which

were laid against my designs would succeed in spite of my care: so that

I really began to grow weary of this manner of life, when my father,

returning from his embassy in France, took me home with him, and carried

me to a little pleasant country-house, where there was nothing grand

or superfluous, but everything neat and agreeable. There I led a life

perfectly solitary. At first the time hung very heavy on my hands, and

I wanted all kind of employment, and I had very like to have fallen into

the height of the vapors, from no other reason but from want of knowing

what to do with myself. But when I had lived here a little time I found

such a calmness in my mind, and such a difference between this and the

restless anxieties I had experienced in a court, that I began to share

the tranquillity that visibly appeared in everything round me. I set

myself to do works of fancy, and to raise little flower-gardens, with

many such innocent rural amusements; which, although they are not

capable of affording any great pleasure, yet they give that serene turn

to the mind which I think much preferable to anything else human nature

is made susceptible of. I now resolved to spend the rest of my days

here, and that nothing should allure me from that sweet retirement, to

be again tossed about with tempestuous passions of any kind. Whilst

I was in this situation, my lord Percy, the earl of Northumberland’s

eldest son, by an accident of losing his way after a fox-chase, was met

by my father, about a mile from our house; he came home with him, only

with a design of dining with us, but was so taken with me that he stayed

three days. I had too much experience in all affairs of this kind not

to see presently the influence I had on him; but I was at that time

so entirely free from all ambition, that even the prospect of being a

countess had no effect on me; and I then thought nothing in the world

could have bribed me to have changed my way of life. This young lord,

who was just in his bloom, found his passion so strong, he could not

endure a long absence, but returned again in a week, and endeavored, by

all the means he could think of, to engage me to return his affection.

He addressed me with that tenderness and respect which women on earth

think can flow from nothing but real love; and very often told me that,

unless he could be so happy as by his assiduity and care to make himself

agreeable to me, although he knew my father would eagerly embrace any

proposal from him, yet he would suffer that last of miseries of never

seeing me more rather than owe his own happiness to anything that might

be the least contradiction to my inclinations. This manner of proceeding

had something in it so noble and generous, that by degrees it raised a

sensation in me which I know not how to describe, nor by what name

to call it: it was nothing like my former passion: for there was no

turbulence, no uneasy waking nights attending it, but all I could with

honor grant to oblige him appeared to me to be justly due to his truth

and love, and more the effect of gratitude than of any desire of my own.

The character I had heard of him from my father at my first returning

to England, in discoursing of the young nobility, convinced me that if

I was his wife I should have the perpetual satisfaction of knowing every

action of his must be approved by all the sensible part of mankind; so

that very soon I began to have no scruple left but that of leaving my

little scene of quietness, and venturing again into the world. But

this, by his continual application and submissive behavior, by degrees

entirely vanished, and I agreed he should take his own time to break

it to my father, whose consent he was not long in obtaining; for such

a match was by no means to be refused. There remained nothing now to be

done but to prevail with the earl of Northumberland to comply with what

his son so ardently desired; for which purpose he set out immediately

for London, and begged it as the greatest favor that I would accompany

my father, who was also to go thither the week following. I could not

refuse his request, and as soon as we arrived in town he flew to me with

the greatest raptures to inform me his father was so good that, finding

his happiness depended on his answer, he had given him free leave to

act in this affair as would best please himself, and that he had now no

obstacle to prevent his wishes. It was then the beginning of the winter,

and the time for our marriage was fixed for the latter end of March: the

consent of all parties made his access to me very easy, and we conversed

together both with innocence and pleasure. As his fondness was so great

that he contrived all the methods possible to keep me continually in his

sight, he told me one morning he was commanded by his father to attend

him to court that evening, and begged I would be so good as to meet

him there. I was now so used to act as he would have me that I made no

difficulty of complying with his desire. Two days after this, I was very

much surprised at perceiving such a melancholy in his countenance,

and alteration in his behavior, as I could no way account for; but,

by importunity, at last I got from him that cardinal Wolsey, for what

reason he knew not, had peremptorily forbid him to think any more of

me: and, when he urged that his father was not displeased with it, the

cardinal, in his imperious manner, answered him, he should give his

father such convincing reasons why it would be attended with great

inconveniences, that he was sure he could bring him to be of his

opinion. On which he turned from him, and gave him no opportunity of

replying. I could not imagine what design the cardinal could have in

intermeddling in this match, and I was still more perplexed to find that

my father treated my lord Percy with much more coldness than usual; he

too saw it, and we both wondered what could possibly be the cause of all

this. But it was not long before the mystery was all made clear by my

father, who, sending for me one day into his chamber, let me into a

secret which was as little wished for as expected. He began with the

surprising effects of youth and beauty, and the madness of letting go

those advantages they might procure us till it was too late, when we

might wish in vain to bring them back again. I stood amazed at this

beginning; he saw my confusion, and bid me sit down and attend to what

he was going to tell me, which was of the greatest consequence; and he

hoped I would be wise enough to take his advice, and act as he should

think best for my future welfare. He then asked me if I should not be

much pleased to be a queen? I answered, with the greatest earnestness,

that, so far from it, I would not live in a court again to be the

greatest queen in the world; that I had a lover who was both desirous

and able to raise my station even beyond my wishes. I found this

discourse was very displeasing; my father frowned, and called me a

romantic fool, and said if I would hearken to him he could make me a

queen; for the cardinal had told him that the king, from the time he

saw me at court the other night, liked me, and intended to get a divorce

from his wife, and to put me in her place; and ordered him to find some

method to make me a maid of honor to her present majesty, that in the

meantime he might have an opportunity of seeing me. It is impossible to

express the astonishment these words threw me into; and, notwithstanding

that the moment before, when it appeared at so great a distance, I was

very sincere in my declaration how much it was against my will to be

raised so high, yet now the prospect came nearer, I confess my heart

fluttered, and my eyes were dazzled with a view of being seated on a

throne.

“My imagination presented before me all the pomp, power and greatness

that attend a crown; and I was so perplexed I knew not what to answer,

but remained as silent as if I had lost the use of my speech. My father,

who guessed what it was that made me in this condition, proceeded to

bring all the arguments he thought most likely to bend me to his will;

at last I recovered from this dream of grandeur, and begged him, by all

the most endearing names I could think of, not to urge me dishonorably

to forsake the man who I was convinced would raise me to an empire if in

his power, and who had enough in his power to give me all I desired. But

he was deaf to all I could say, and insisted that by next week I should

prepare myself to go to court: he bid me consider of it, and not prefer

a ridiculous notion of honor to the real interest of my whole family;

but, above all things, not to disclose what he had trusted me with. On

which he left me to my own thoughts. When I was alone I reflected how

little real tenderness this behavior showed to me, whose happiness he

did not at all consult, but only looked on me as a ladder, on which

he could climb to the height of his own ambitious desires: and when

I thought on his fondness for me in my infancy I could impute it to

nothing but either the liking me as a plaything or the gratification of

his vanity in my beauty. But I was too much divided between a crown and

my engagement to lord Percy to spend much time in thinking of anything

else; and, although my father had positively forbid me, yet, when he

came next, I could not help acquainting him with all that had passed,

with the reserve only of the struggle in my own mind on the first

mention of being a queen. I expected he would have received the news

with the greatest agonies; but he showed no vast emotion: however, he

could not help turning pale, and, taking me by the hand, looked at me

with an air of tenderness, and said, ‘If being a queen would make you

happy, and it is in your power to be so, I would not for the world

prevent it, let me suffer what I will.’ This amazing greatness of mind

had on me quite the contrary effect from what it ought to have had; for,

instead of increasing my love for him it almost put an end to it, and I

began to think, if he could part with me, the matter was not much. And

I am convinced, when any man gives up the possession of a woman whose

consent he has once obtained, let his motive be ever so generous, he

will disoblige her. I could not help showing my dissatisfaction, and

told him I was very glad this affair sat so easily on him. He had

not power to answer, but was so suddenly struck with this unexpected

ill-natured turn I gave his behavior, that he stood amazed for some

time, and then bowed and left me. Now I was again left to my own

reflections; but to make anything intelligible out of them is quite

impossible: I wished to be a queen, and wished I might not be one: I

would have my lord Percy happy without me; and yet I would not have the

power of my charms be so weak that he could bear the thought of life

after being disappointed in my love. But the result of all these

confused thoughts was a resolution to obey my father. I am afraid there

was not much duty in the case, though at that time I was glad to take

hold of that small shadow to save me from looking on my own actions

in the true light. When my lover came again I looked on him with

that coldness that he could not bear, on purpose to rid myself of all

importunity: for since I had resolved to use him ill I regarded him as

the monument of my shame, and his every look appeared to me to upbraid

me. My father soon carried me to court; there I had no very hard part

to act; for, with the experience I had had of mankind, I could find no

great difficulty in managing a man who liked me, and for whom I not only

did not care but had an utter aversion to: but this aversion he believed

to be virtue; for how credulous is a man who has an inclination to

believe! And I took care sometimes to drop words of cottages and love,

and how happy the woman was who fixed her affections on a man in such a

station of life that she might show her love without being suspected of

hypocrisy or mercenary views. All this was swallowed very easily by the

amorous king, who pushed on the divorce with the utmost impetuosity,

although the affair lasted a good while, and I remained most part of

the time behind the curtain. Whenever the king mentioned it to me I used

such arguments against it as I thought the most likely to make him

the more eager for it; begging that, unless his conscience was really

touched, he would not on my account give any grief to his virtuous

queen; for in being her handmaid I thought myself highly honored; and

that I would not only forego a crown, but even give up the pleasure of

ever seeing him more, rather than wrong my royal mistress. This way of

talking, joined to his eager desire to possess my person, convinced the

king so strongly of my exalted merit, that he thought it a meritorious

act to displace the woman (whom he could not have so good an opinion of,

because he was tired of her), and to put me in her place. After about a

year’s stay at court, as the king’s love to me began to be talked of, it

was thought proper to remove me, that there might be no umbrage given

to the queen’s party. I was forced to comply with this, though greatly

against my will; for I was very jealous that absence might change the

king’s mind. I retired again with my father to his country-seat, but

it had no longer those charms for me which I once enjoyed there; for my

mind was now too much taken up with ambition to make room for any other

thoughts. During my stay here, my royal lover often sent gentlemen to

me with messages and letters, which I always answered in the manner I

thought would best bring about my designs, which were to come back again

to court. In all the letters that passed between us there was something

so kingly and commanding in his, and so deceitful and submissive in

mine, that I sometimes could not help reflecting on the difference

betwixt this correspondence and that with lord Percy; yet I was so

pressed forward by the desire of a crown, I could not think of turning

back. In all I wrote I continually praised his resolution of letting me

be at a distance from him, since at this time it conduced indeed to my

honor; but, what was of ten times more weight with me, I thought it was

necessary for his; and I would sooner suffer anything in the world than

be any means of hurt to him, either in his interest or reputation.

I always gave some hints of ill health, with some reflections how

necessary the peace of the mind was to that of the body. By these means

I brought him to recall me again by the most absolute command, which I,

for a little time, artfully delayed (for I knew the impatience of his

temper would not bear any contradictions), till he made my father in

a manner force me to what I most wished, with the utmost appearance of

reluctance on my side. When I had gained this point I began to think

which way I could separate the king from the queen, for hitherto they

lived in the same house. The lady Mary, the queen’s daughter, being

then about sixteen, I sought for emissaries of her own age that I could

confide in, to instill into her mind disrespectful thoughts of her

father, and make a jest of the tenderness of his conscience about the

divorce. I knew she had naturally strong passions, and that young people

of that age are apt to think those that pretend to be their friends are

really so, and only speak their minds freely. I afterwards contrived to

have every word she spoke of him carried to the king, who took it all

as I could wish, and fancied those things did not come at first from the

young lady, but from her mother. He would often talk of it to me, and

I agreed with him in his sentiments; but then, as a great proof of my

goodness, I always endeavored to excuse her, by saying a lady so long

time used to be a royal queen might naturally be a little exasperated

with those she fancied would throw her from that station she so justly

deserved. By these sort of plots I found the way to make the king angry

with the queen; for nothing is easier than to make a man angry with a

woman he wants to be rid of, and who stands in the way between him

and his pleasure; so that now the king, on the pretense of the queen’s

obstinacy in a point where his conscience was so tenderly concerned,

parted with her. Everything was now plain before me; I had nothing

farther to do but to let the king alone to his own desires; and I had no

reason to fear, since they had carried him so far, but that they would

urge him on to do everything I aimed at. I was created marchioness of

Pembroke. This dignity sat very easy on me; for the thoughts of a much

higher title took from me all feeling of this; and I looked upon being

a marchioness as a trifle, not that I saw the bauble in its true light,

but because it fell short of what I had figured to myself I should soon

obtain. The king’s desires grew very impatient, and it was not long

before I was privately married to him. I was no sooner his wife than I

found all the queen come upon me; I felt myself conscious of royalty,

and even the faces of my most intimate acquaintance seemed to me to be

quite strange. I hardly knew them: height had turned my head, and I was

like a man placed on a monument, to whose sight all creatures at a great

distance below him appear like so many little pigmies crawling about

on the earth; and the prospect so greatly delighted me, that I did not

presently consider that in both cases descending a few steps erected

by human hands would place us in the number of those very pigmies who

appeared so despicable. Our marriage was kept private for some time, for

it was not thought proper to make it public (the affair of the divorce

not being finished) till the birth of my daughter Elizabeth made it

necessary. But all who saw me knew it; for my manner of speaking and

acting was so much changed with my station, that all around me plainly

perceived I was sure I was a queen. While it was a secret I had yet

something to wish for; I could not be perfectly satisfied till all the

world was acquainted with my fortune: but when my coronation was over,

and I was raised to the height of my ambition, instead of finding myself

happy, I was in reality more miserable than ever; for, besides that

the aversion I had naturally to the king was much more difficult

to dissemble after marriage than before, and grew into a perfect

detestation, my imagination, which had thus warmly pursued a crown, grew

cool when I was in the possession of it, and gave me time to reflect

what mighty matter I had gained by all this bustle; and I often used to

think myself in the case of the fox-hunter, who, when he has toiled and

sweated all day in the chase as if some unheard-of blessing was to crown

his success, finds at last all he has got by his labor is a stinking

nauseous animal. But my condition was yet worse than his; for he leaves

the loathsome wretch to be torn by his hounds, whilst I was obliged to

fondle mine, and meanly pretend him to be the object of my love. For the

whole time I was in this envied, this exalted state, I led a continual

life of hypocrisy, which I now know nothing on earth can compensate. I

had no companion but the man I hated. I dared not disclose my sentiments

to any person about me, nor did any one presume to enter into any

freedom of conversation with me; but all who spoke to me talked to the

queen, and not to me; for they would have said just the same things to

a dressed-up puppet, if the king had taken a fancy to call it his wife.

And as I knew every woman in the court was my enemy, from thinking she

had much more right than I had to the place I filled, I thought myself

as unhappy as if I had been placed in a wild wood, where there was no

human creature for me to speak to, in a continual fear of leaving any

traces of my footsteps, lest I should be found by some dreadful monster,

or stung by snakes and adders; for such are spiteful women to the

objects of their envy. In this worst of all situations I was obliged to

hide my melancholy and appear cheerful. This threw me into an error the

other way, and I sometimes fell into a levity in my behavior that was

afterwards made use of to my disadvantage. I had a son deadborn, which I

perceived abated something of the king’s ardor; for his temper could

not brook the least disappointment. This gave me no uneasiness; for, not

considering the consequences, I could not help being best pleased when I

had least of his company. Afterwards I found he had cast his eyes on one

of my maids of honor; and, whether it was owing to any art of hers, or

only to the king’s violent passions, I was in the end used even worse

than my former mistress had been by my means. The decay of the

king’s affection was presently seen by all those court-sycophants who

continually watch the motions of royal eyes; and the moment they found

they could be heard against me they turned my most innocent actions and

words, nay, even my very looks, into proofs of the blackest crimes. The

king, who was impatient to enjoy his new love, lent a willing ear to all

my accusers, who found ways of making him jealous that I was false

to his bed. He would not so easily have believed anything against me

before, but he was now glad to flatter himself that he had found a

reason to do just what he had resolved upon without a reason; and on

some slight pretenses and hearsay evidence I was sent to the Tower,

where the lady who was my greatest enemy was appointed to watch me and

lie in the same chamber with me. This was really as bad a punishment as

my death, for she insulted me with those keen reproaches and spiteful

witticisms, which threw me into such vapors and violent fits that I

knew not what I uttered in this condition. She pretended I had confessed

talking ridiculous stuff with a set of low fellows whom I had hardly

ever taken notice of, as could have imposed on none but such as were

resolved to believe. I was brought to my trial, and, to blacken me the

more, accused of conversing criminally with my own brother, whom indeed

I loved extremely well, but never looked on him in any other light than

as my friend. However, I was condemned to be beheaded, or burnt, as the

king pleased; and he was graciously pleased, from the great remains of

his love, to choose the mildest sentence. I was much less shocked at

this manner of ending my life than I should have been in any other

station: but I had had so little enjoyment from the time I had been a

queen, that death was the less dreadful to me. The chief things that lay

on my conscience were the arts I made use of to induce the king to part

with the queen, my ill usage of lady Mary, and my jilting lord Percy.

However, I endeavored to calm my mind as well as I could, and hoped

these crimes would be forgiven me; for in other respects I had led a

very innocent life, and always did all the good-natured actions I found

any opportunity of doing. From the time I had it in my power, I gave a

great deal of money amongst the poor; I prayed very devoutly, and went

to my execution very composedly. Thus I lost my life at the age of

twenty-nine, in which short time I believe I went through more variety

of scenes than many people who live to be very old. I had lived in a

court, where I spent my time in coquetry and gayety; I had experienced

what it was to have one of those violent passions which makes the

mind all turbulence and anxiety; I had had a lover whom I esteemed and

valued, and at the latter part of my life I was raised to a station as

high as the vainest woman could wish. But in all these various changes

I never enjoyed any real satisfaction, unless in the little time I lived

retired in the country free from all noise and hurry, and while I was

conscious I was the object of the love and esteem of a man of sense and

honor.”

On the conclusion of this history Minos paused for a small time, and

then ordered the gate to be thrown open for Anna Boleyn’s admittance

on the consideration that whoever had suffered being the queen for four

years, and been sensible during all that time of the real misery which

attends that exalted station, ought to be forgiven whatever she had done

to obtain it. [11]

Footnotes:

[Footnote 1: Some doubt whether this should not be rather 1641, which

is a date more agreeable to the account given of it in the introduction:

but then there are some passages which seem to relate to transactions

infinitely later, even within this year or two. To say the truth there

are difficulties attending either conjecture; so the reader may take

which he pleases.]

[Footnote 2: Eyes are not perhaps so properly adapted to a spiritual

substance; but we are here, as in many other places, obliged to use

corporeal terms to make ourselves the better understood. ]

[Footnote 3: This is the dress in which the god appears to mortals at

the theaters. One of the offices attributed to this god by the ancients,

was to collect the ghosts as a shepherd doth a flock of sheep, and drive

them with his wand into the other world.]

[Footnote 4: Those who have read of the gods sleeping in Homer will not

be surprised at this happening to spirits.]

[Footnote 5: A particular lady of quality is meant here; but every

lady of quality, or no quality, are welcome to apply the character to

themselves.]

[Footnote 6: We have before made an apology for this language, which

we here repeat for the last time; though the heart may, we hope, be

metaphorically used here with more propriety than when we apply those

passions to the body which belong to the soul.]

[Footnote 7: That we may mention it once for all, in the panegyrical

part of this work some particular person is always meant: but, in the

satirical, nobody.]

[Footnote 8: These ladies, I believe, by their names, presided over the

leprosy, king’s-evil, and scurvy.]

[Footnote 9: This silly story is told as a solemn truth (i.e., that

St. James really appeared in the manner this fellow is described) by

Mariana, 1.7, Section 78.]

[Footnote 10: Here part of the manuscript is lost, and that a very

considerable one, as appears by the number of the next book and chapter,

which contains, I find, the history of Anna Boleyn; but as to the manner

in which it was introduced, or to whom the narrative is told, we are

totally left in the dark. I have only to remark, that this chapter is,

in the original, writ in a woman’s hand: and, though the observations in

it are, I think, as excellent as any in the whole volume, there seems to

be a difference in style between this and the preceding chapters; and,

as it is the character of a woman which is related, I am inclined to

fancy it was really written by one of that sex.]

[Footnote 11: Here ends this curious manuscript; the rest being

destroyed in rolling up pens, tobacco, &c. It is to be hoped heedless

people will henceforth be more cautious what they burn, or use to other

vile purposes; especially when they consider the fate which had likely

to have befallen the divine Milton, and that the works of Homer were

probably discovered in some chandlers shop in Greece.]

End of ’s From This World to the Next, by Henry Fielding