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diff --git a/652-0.txt b/652-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..4d92110 --- /dev/null +++ b/652-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,4473 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Rasselas, by Samuel Johnson, Edited by Henry +Morley + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Rasselas + Prince of Abyssinia + + +Author: Samuel Johnson + +Editor: Henry Morley + +Release Date: January 31, 2013 [eBook #652] +[This file was first posted on September 17, 1996] +[Last updated September 8, 2020] + + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RASSELAS*** + + +Transcribed from the 1889 Cassell & Company edition by David Price, email +ccx074@pglaf.org + + [Picture: Book cover] + + CASSELL’S NATIONAL LIBRARY. + + * * * * * + + + + + + RASSELAS + PRINCE OF ABYSSINIA + + + * * * * * + + BY + + SAMUEL JOHNSON, LL.D. + + [Picture: Decorative image] + + CASSELL & COMPANY, LIMITED: + LONDON, PARIS & MELBOURNE. + 1889. + + + + +INTRODUCTION. + + +RASSELAS was written by Samuel Johnson in the year 1759, when his age was +fifty. He had written his _London_ in 1738; his _Vanity of Human Wishes_ +in 1740; his _Rambler_ between March, 1750, and March, 1752. In 1755 his +_Dictionary_ had appeared, and Dublin, by giving him its honorary LL.D., +had enabled his friends to call him “Doctor” Johnson. His friends were +many, and his honour among men was great. He owed them to his union of +intellectual power with unflinching probity. But he had worked hard, +battling against the wolf without, and the black dog within—poverty and +hypochondria. He was still poor, though his personal wants did not +exceed a hundred pounds a year. His wife had been seven years dead, and +he missed her sorely. His old mother, who lived to the age of ninety, +died poor in January of this year, 1759. In her old age, Johnson had +sought to help her from his earnings. At her death there were some +little debts, and there were costs of burial. That he might earn enough +to pay them he wrote _Rasselas_. + +_Rasselas_ was written in the evenings of one week, and sent to press +while being written. Johnson earned by it a hundred pounds, with +twenty-five pounds more for a second edition. It was published in March +or April; Johnson never read it after it had been published until more +than twenty years afterwards. Then, finding it in a chaise with Boswell, +he took it up and read it eagerly. + +This is one of Johnson’s letters to his mother, written after he knew +that her last illness had come upon her. It is dated about ten days +before her death. The “Miss” referred to in it was a faithful friend. +“Miss” was his home name for an affectionate step-daughter, Lucy Porter:— + + “HONOURED MADAM,— + + “The account which Miss gives me of your health pierces my heart. + God comfort and preserve you, and save you, for the sake of Jesus + Christ. + + “I would have Miss read to you from time to time the Passion of our + Saviour; and sometimes the sentences in the Communion Service + beginning—’Come unto me, all ye that travail and are heavy laden, and + I will give you rest.’ + + “I have just now read a physical book which inclines me to think that + a strong infusion of the bark would do you good. Do, dear mother, + try it. + + “Pray, send me your blessing, and forgive all that I have done amiss + to you. And whatever you would have done, and what debts you would + have paid first, or anything else that you would direct, let Miss put + it down; I shall endeavour to obey you. + + “I have got twelve guineas to send you” [six were borrowed. There + was a note in Johnson’s Diary of six guineas repaid to Allen, the + printer, who had lent them when he wanted to send money to his dying + mother], “but unhappily am at a loss how to send it to-night. If I + cannot send it to-night, it will come by the next post. + + “Pray, do not omit anything mentioned in this letter. God bless you + for ever and ever. + + “I am, + “Your dutiful Son, + “SAM. JOHNSON. + + “_Jan._ 13, 1759.” + +That is the personal side of the tale of _Rasselas_. In that way Johnson +suddenly, on urgent pressure, carried out a design that had been in his +mind. The success of Eastern tales, written as a form of moral essay, in +the _Rambler_ and _Adventurer_, upon suggestion, no doubt, of Addison’s +_Vision of Mirza_, had prompted him to express his view of life more +fully than in essay form by way of Oriental apologue; and his early work +on Father Lobo’s Voyage to Abyssinia, caused him to choose Abyssinia for +the land in which to lay his fable. + +But Johnson’s _Rasselas_ has also a close relation to the time when it +was written, as Johnson himself had to the time in which he lived. From +the beginning of the century—and especially, in England, since the +beginning of the reign of George the Second—there had been a growing +sense of the ills of life, associated in some minds with doubt whether +there could be a just God ruling this unhappy world. Hard problems of +humanity pressed more and more on earnest minds. The feeling expressed +in Johnson’s _Vanity of Human __Wishes_ had deepened everywhere by the +year 1759. This has intense expression in _Rasselas_, where all the joys +of life, without active use of the energies of life, can give no joy; and +where all uses of the energies of men are for the attainment of ideals +worthless or delusive. This life was to Johnson, and to almost all the +earnest thinkers of his time, unhappy in itself—a school-house where the +rod was ever active. But in its unhappiness Johnson found no power that +could overthrow his faith. To him this world was but a place of +education for the happiness that would be to the faithful in the world to +come. There was a great dread for him in the question, Who shall be +found faithful? But there was no doubt in his mind that the happiness of +man is to be found only beyond the grave. This was a feeling spread +through Europe in the darkness gathering before the outburst of the storm +of the great French Revolution. Even Gray, in his _Ode on a Distant +Prospect of Eton College_, regarded Eton boys at their sports as “little +victims,” unconscious of the doom of miseries awaiting them in life. +Thus Johnson’s _Rasselas_ is a book doubly typical. We have in it the +spirit of the writer when it best expressed the spirit of his time. + + H. M. + + + + +CHAPTER I +DESCRIPTION OF A PALACE IN A VALLEY. + + +YE who listen with credulity to the whispers of fancy, and pursue with +eagerness the phantoms of hope; who expect that age will perform the +promises of youth, and that the deficiencies of the present day will be +supplied by the morrow, attend to the history of Rasselas, Prince of +Abyssinia. + +Rasselas was the fourth son of the mighty Emperor in whose dominions the +father of waters begins his course—whose bounty pours down the streams of +plenty, and scatters over the world the harvests of Egypt. + +According to the custom which has descended from age to age among the +monarchs of the torrid zone, Rasselas was confined in a private palace, +with the other sons and daughters of Abyssinian royalty, till the order +of succession should call him to the throne. + +The place which the wisdom or policy of antiquity had destined for the +residence of the Abyssinian princes was a spacious valley in the kingdom +of Amhara, surrounded on every side by mountains, of which the summits +overhang the middle part. The only passage by which it could be entered +was a cavern that passed under a rock, of which it had long been disputed +whether it was the work of nature or of human industry. The outlet of +the cavern was concealed by a thick wood, and the mouth which opened into +the valley was closed with gates of iron, forged by the artificers of +ancient days, so massive that no man, without the help of engines, could +open or shut them. + +From the mountains on every side rivulets descended that filled all the +valley with verdure and fertility, and formed a lake in the middle, +inhabited by fish of every species, and frequented by every fowl whom +nature has taught to dip the wing in water. This lake discharged its +superfluities by a stream, which entered a dark cleft of the mountain on +the northern side, and fell with dreadful noise from precipice to +precipice till it was heard no more. + +The sides of the mountains were covered with trees, the banks of the +brooks were diversified with flowers; every blast shook spices from the +rocks, and every month dropped fruits upon the ground. All animals that +bite the grass or browse the shrubs, whether wild or tame, wandered in +this extensive circuit, secured from beasts of prey by the mountains +which confined them. On one part were flocks and herds feeding in the +pastures, on another all the beasts of chase frisking in the lawns, the +sprightly kid was bounding on the rocks, the subtle monkey frolicking in +the trees, and the solemn elephant reposing in the shade. All the +diversities of the world were brought together, the blessings of nature +were collected, and its evils extracted and excluded. + +The valley, wide and fruitful, supplied its inhabitants with all the +necessaries of life, and all delights and superfluities were added at the +annual visit which the Emperor paid his children, when the iron gate was +opened to the sound of music, and during eight days every one that +resided in the valley was required to propose whatever might contribute +to make seclusion pleasant, to fill up the vacancies of attention, and +lessen the tediousness of time. Every desire was immediately granted. +All the artificers of pleasure were called to gladden the festivity; the +musicians exerted the power of harmony, and the dancers showed their +activity before the princes, in hopes that they should pass their lives +in blissful captivity, to which those only were admitted whose +performance was thought able to add novelty to luxury. Such was the +appearance of security and delight which this retirement afforded, that +they to whom it was new always desired that it might be perpetual; and as +those on whom the iron gate had once closed were never suffered to +return, the effect of longer experience could not be known. Thus every +year produced new scenes of delight, and new competitors for +imprisonment. + +The palace stood on an eminence, raised about thirty paces above the +surface of the lake. It was divided into many squares or courts, built +with greater or less magnificence according to the rank of those for whom +they were designed. The roofs were turned into arches of massive stone, +joined by a cement that grew harder by time, and the building stood from +century to century, deriding the solstitial rains and equinoctial +hurricanes, without need of reparation. + +This house, which was so large as to be fully known to none but some +ancient officers, who successively inherited the secrets of the place, +was built as if Suspicion herself had dictated the plan. To every room +there was an open and secret passage; every square had a communication +with the rest, either from the upper storeys by private galleries, or by +subterraneous passages from the lower apartments. Many of the columns +had unsuspected cavities, in which a long race of monarchs had deposited +their treasures. They then closed up the opening with marble, which was +never to be removed but in the utmost exigences of the kingdom, and +recorded their accumulations in a book, which was itself concealed in a +tower, not entered but by the Emperor, attended by the prince who stood +next in succession. + + + + +CHAPTER II +THE DISCONTENT OF RASSELAS IN THE HAPPY VALLEY. + + +HERE the sons and daughters of Abyssinia lived only to know the soft +vicissitudes of pleasure and repose, attended by all that were skilful to +delight, and gratified with whatever the senses can enjoy. They wandered +in gardens of fragrance, and slept in the fortresses of security. Every +art was practised to make them pleased with their own condition. The +sages who instructed them told them of nothing but the miseries of public +life, and described all beyond the mountains as regions of calamity, +where discord was always racing, and where man preyed upon man. To +heighten their opinion of their own felicity, they were daily entertained +with songs, the subject of which was the Happy Valley. Their appetites +were excited by frequent enumerations of different enjoyments, and +revelry and merriment were the business of every hour, from the dawn of +morning to the close of the evening. + +These methods were generally successful; few of the princes had ever +wished to enlarge their bounds, but passed their lives in full conviction +that they had all within their reach that art or nature could bestow, and +pitied those whom nature had excluded from this seat of tranquillity as +the sport of chance and the slaves of misery. + +Thus they rose in the morning and lay down at night, pleased with each +other and with themselves, all but Rasselas, who, in the twenty-sixth +year of his age, began to withdraw himself from the pastimes and +assemblies, and to delight in solitary walks and silent meditation. He +often sat before tables covered with luxury, and forgot to taste the +dainties that were placed before him; he rose abruptly in the midst of +the song, and hastily retired beyond the sound of music. His attendants +observed the change, and endeavoured to renew his love of pleasure. He +neglected their officiousness, repulsed their invitations, and spent day +after day on the banks of rivulets sheltered with trees, where he +sometimes listened to the birds in the branches, sometimes observed the +fish playing in the streams, and anon cast his eyes upon the pastures and +mountains filled with animals, of which some were biting the herbage, and +some sleeping among the bushes. The singularity of his humour made him +much observed. One of the sages, in whose conversation he had formerly +delighted, followed him secretly, in hope of discovering the cause of his +disquiet. Rasselas, who knew not that any one was near him, having for +some time fixed his eyes upon the goats that were browsing among the +rocks, began to compare their condition with his own. + +“What,” said he, “makes the difference between man and all the rest of +the animal creation? Every beast that strays beside me has the same +corporal necessities with myself: he is hungry, and crops the grass; he +is thirsty, and drinks the stream; his thirst and hunger are appeased; he +is satisfied, and sleeps; he rises again, and is hungry; he is again fed, +and is at rest. I am hungry and thirsty, like him, but when thirst and +hunger cease, I am not at rest. I am, like him, pained with want, but am +not, like him, satisfied with fulness. The intermediate hours are +tedious and gloomy; I long again to be hungry that I may again quicken +the attention. The birds peck the berries or the corn, and fly away to +the groves, where they sit in seeming happiness on the branches, and +waste their lives in tuning one unvaried series of sounds. I likewise +can call the lutist and the singer; but the sounds that pleased me +yesterday weary me to-day, and will grow yet more wearisome to-morrow. I +can discover in me no power of perception which is not glutted with its +proper pleasure, yet I do not feel myself delighted. Man surely has some +latent sense for which this place affords no gratification; or he has +some desire distinct from sense, which must be satisfied before he can be +happy.” + +After this he lifted up his head, and seeing the moon rising, walked +towards the palace. As he passed through the fields, and saw the animals +around him, “Ye,” said he, “are happy, and need not envy me that walk +thus among you, burdened with myself; nor do I, ye gentle beings, envy +your felicity; for it is not the felicity of man. I have many distresses +from which you are free; I fear pain when I do not feel it; I sometimes +shrink at evils recollected, and sometimes start at evils anticipated: +surely the equity of Providence has balanced peculiar sufferings with +peculiar enjoyments.” + +With observations like these the Prince amused himself as he returned, +uttering them with a plaintive voice, yet with a look that discovered him +to feel some complacence in his own perspicacity, and to receive some +solace of the miseries of life from consciousness of the delicacy with +which he felt and the eloquence with which he bewailed them. He mingled +cheerfully in the diversions of the evening, and all rejoiced to find +that his heart was lightened. + + + + +CHAPTER III +THE WANTS OF HIM THAT WANTS NOTHING. + + +ON the next day, his old instructor, imagining that he had now made +himself acquainted with his disease of mind, was in hope of curing it by +counsel, and officiously sought an opportunity of conference, which the +Prince, having long considered him as one whose intellects were +exhausted, was not very willing to afford. “Why,” said he, “does this +man thus intrude upon me? Shall I never be suffered to forget these +lectures, which pleased only while they were new, and to become new again +must be forgotten?” He then walked into the wood, and composed himself +to his usual meditations; when, before his thoughts had taken any settled +form, he perceived his pursuer at his side, and was at first prompted by +his impatience to go hastily away; but being unwilling to offend a man +whom he had once reverenced and still loved, he invited him to sit down +with him on the bank. + +The old man, thus encouraged, began to lament the change which had been +lately observed in the Prince, and to inquire why he so often retired +from the pleasures of the palace to loneliness and silence. “I fly from +pleasure,” said the Prince, “because pleasure has ceased to please: I am +lonely because I am miserable, and am unwilling to cloud with my presence +the happiness of others.” “You, sir,” said the sage, “are the first who +has complained of misery in the Happy Valley. I hope to convince you +that your complaints have no real cause. You are here in full possession +of all the Emperor of Abyssinia can bestow; here is neither labour to be +endured nor danger to be dreaded, yet here is all that labour or danger +can procure or purchase. Look round and tell me which of your wants is +without supply: if you want nothing, how are you unhappy?” + +“That I want nothing,” said the Prince, “or that I know not what I want, +is the cause of my complaint: if I had any known want, I should have a +certain wish; that wish would excite endeavour, and I should not then +repine to see the sun move so slowly towards the western mountains, or to +lament when the day breaks, and sleep will no longer hide me from myself. +When I see the kids and the lambs chasing one another, I fancy that I +should be happy if I had something to pursue. But, possessing all that I +can want, I find one day and one hour exactly like another, except that +the latter is still more tedious than the former. Let your experience +inform me how the day may now seem as short as in my childhood, while +nature was yet fresh, and every moment showed me what I never had +observed before. I have already enjoyed too much: give me something to +desire.” The old man was surprised at this new species of affliction, +and knew not what to reply, yet was unwilling to be silent. “Sir,” said +he, “if you had seen the miseries of the world, you would know how to +value your present state.” “Now,” said the Prince, “you have given me +something to desire. I shall long to see the miseries of the world, +since the sight of them is necessary to happiness.” + + + + +CHAPTER IV +THE PRINCE CONTINUES TO GRIEVE AND MUSE. + + +AT this time the sound of music proclaimed the hour of repast, and the +conversation was concluded. The old man went away sufficiently +discontented to find that his reasonings had produced the only conclusion +which they were intended to prevent. But in the decline of life, shame +and grief are of short duration: whether it be that we bear easily what +we have borne long; or that, finding ourselves in age less regarded, we +less regard others; or that we look with slight regard upon afflictions +to which we know that the hand of death is about to put an end. + +The Prince, whose views were extended to a wider space, could not +speedily quiet his emotions. He had been before terrified at the length +of life which nature promised him, because he considered that in a long +time much must be endured: he now rejoiced in his youth, because in many +years much might be done. The first beam of hope that had been ever +darted into his mind rekindled youth in his cheeks, and doubled the +lustre of his eyes. He was fired with the desire of doing something, +though he knew not yet, with distinctness, either end or means. He was +now no longer gloomy and unsocial; but considering himself as master of a +secret stock of happiness, which he could only enjoy by concealing it, he +affected to be busy in all the schemes of diversion, and endeavoured to +make others pleased with the state of which he himself was weary. But +pleasures can never be so multiplied or continued as not to leave much of +life unemployed; there were many hours, both of the night and day, which +he could spend without suspicion in solitary thought. The load of life +was much lightened; he went eagerly into the assemblies, because he +supposed the frequency of his presence necessary to the success of his +purposes; he retired gladly to privacy, because he had now a subject of +thought. His chief amusement was to picture to himself that world which +he had never seen, to place himself in various conditions, to be +entangled in imaginary difficulties, and to be engaged in wild +adventures; but, his benevolence always terminated his projects in the +relief of distress, the detection of fraud, the defeat of oppression, and +the diffusion of happiness. + +Thus passed twenty months of the life of Rasselas. He busied himself so +intensely in visionary bustle that he forgot his real solitude; and +amidst hourly preparations for the various incidents of human affairs, +neglected to consider by what means he should mingle with mankind. + +One day, as he was sitting on a bank, he feigned to himself an orphan +virgin robbed of her little portion by a treacherous lover, and crying +after him for restitution. So strongly was the image impressed upon his +mind that he started up in the maid’s defence, and ran forward to seize +the plunderer with all the eagerness of real pursuit. Fear naturally +quickens the flight of guilt. Rasselas could not catch the fugitive with +his utmost efforts; but, resolving to weary by perseverance him whom he +could not surpass in speed, he pressed on till the foot of the mountain +stopped his course. + +Here he recollected himself, and smiled at his own useless impetuosity. +Then raising his eyes to the mountain, “This,” said he, “is the fatal +obstacle that hinders at once the enjoyment of pleasure and the exercise +of virtue. How long is it that my hopes and wishes have flown beyond +this boundary of my life, which yet I never have attempted to surmount?” + +Struck with this reflection, he sat down to muse, and remembered that +since he first resolved to escape from his confinement, the sun had +passed twice over him in his annual course. He now felt a degree of +regret with which he had never been before acquainted. He considered how +much might have been done in the time which had passed, and left nothing +real behind it. He compared twenty months with the life of man. “In +life,” said he, “is not to be counted the ignorance of infancy or +imbecility of age. We are long before we are able to think, and we soon +cease from the power of acting. The true period of human existence may +be reasonably estimated at forty years, of which I have mused away the +four-and-twentieth part. What I have lost was certain, for I have +certainly possessed it; but of twenty months to come, who can assure me?” + +The consciousness of his own folly pierced him deeply, and he was long +before he could be reconciled to himself. “The rest of my time,” said +he, “has been lost by the crime or folly of my ancestors, and the absurd +institutions of my country; I remember it with disgust, yet without +remorse: but the months that have passed since new light darted into my +soul, since I formed a scheme of reasonable felicity, have been +squandered by my own fault. I have lost that which can never be +restored; I have seen the sun rise and set for twenty months, an idle +gazer on the light of heaven; in this time the birds have left the nest +of their mother, and committed themselves to the woods and to the skies; +the kid has forsaken the teat, and learned by degrees to climb the rocks +in quest of independent sustenance. I only have made no advances, but am +still helpless and ignorant. The moon, by more than twenty changes, +admonished me of the flux of life; the stream that rolled before my feet +upbraided my inactivity. I sat feasting on intellectual luxury, +regardless alike of the examples of the earth and the instructions of the +planets. Twenty months are passed: who shall restore them?” + +These sorrowful meditations fastened upon his mind; he passed four months +in resolving to lose no more time in idle resolves, and was awakened to +more vigorous exertion by hearing a maid, who had broken a porcelain cup, +remark that what cannot be repaired is not to be regretted. + +This was obvious; and Rasselas reproached himself that he had not +discovered it—having not known, or not considered, how many useful hints +are obtained by chance, and how often the mind, hurried by her own ardour +to distant views, neglects the truths that lie open before her. He for a +few hours regretted his regret, and from that time bent his whole mind +upon the means of escaping from the Valley of Happiness. + + + + +CHAPTER V +THE PRINCE MEDITATES HIS ESCAPE. + + +HE now found that it would be very difficult to effect that which it was +very easy to suppose effected. When he looked round about him, he saw +himself confined by the bars of nature, which had never yet been broken, +and by the gate through which none that had once passed it were ever able +to return. He was now impatient as an eagle in a grate. He passed week +after week in clambering the mountains to see if there was any aperture +which the bushes might conceal, but found all the summits inaccessible by +their prominence. The iron gate he despaired to open for it was not only +secured with all the power of art, but was always watched by successive +sentinels, and was, by its position, exposed to the perpetual observation +of all the inhabitants. + +He then examined the cavern through which the waters of the lake were +discharged; and, looking down at a time when the sun shone strongly upon +its mouth, he discovered it to be full of broken rocks, which, though +they permitted the stream to flow through many narrow passages, would +stop any body of solid bulk. He returned discouraged and dejected; but +having now known the blessing of hope, resolved never to despair. + +In these fruitless researches he spent ten months. The time, however, +passed cheerfully away—in the morning he rose with new hope; in the +evening applauded his own diligence; and in the night slept soundly after +his fatigue. He met a thousand amusements, which beguiled his labour and +diversified his thoughts. He discerned the various instincts of animals +and properties of plants, and found the place replete with wonders, of +which he proposed to solace himself with the contemplation if he should +never be able to accomplish his flight—rejoicing that his endeavours, +though yet unsuccessful, had supplied him with a source of inexhaustible +inquiry. But his original curiosity was not yet abated; he resolved to +obtain some knowledge of the ways of men. His wish still continued, but +his hope grew less. He ceased to survey any longer the walls of his +prison, and spared to search by new toils for interstices which he knew +could not be found, yet determined to keep his design always in view, and +lay hold on any expedient that time should offer. + + + + +CHAPTER VI +A DISSERTATION ON THE ART OF FLYING. + + +AMONG the artists that had been allured into the Happy Valley, to labour +for the accommodation and pleasure of its inhabitants, was a man eminent +for his knowledge of the mechanic powers, who had contrived many engines +both of use and recreation. By a wheel which the stream turned he forced +the water into a tower, whence it was distributed to all the apartments +of the palace. He erected a pavilion in the garden, around which he kept +the air always cool by artificial showers. One of the groves, +appropriated to the ladies, was ventilated by fans, to which the rivulets +that ran through it gave a constant motion; and instruments of soft music +were played at proper distances, of which some played by the impulse of +the wind, and some by the power of the stream. + +This artist was sometimes visited by Rasselas who was pleased with every +kind of knowledge, imagining that the time would come when all his +acquisitions should be of use to him in the open world. He came one day +to amuse himself in his usual manner, and found the master busy in +building a sailing chariot. He saw that the design was practicable upon +a level surface, and with expressions of great esteem solicited its +completion. The workman was pleased to find himself so much regarded by +the Prince, and resolved to gain yet higher honours. “Sir,” said he, +“you have seen but a small part of what the mechanic sciences can +perform. I have been long of opinion that, instead of the tardy +conveyance of ships and chariots, man might use the swifter migration of +wings, that the fields of air are open to knowledge, and that only +ignorance and idleness need crawl upon the ground.” + +This hint rekindled the Prince’s desire of passing the mountains. Having +seen what the mechanist had already performed, he was willing to fancy +that he could do more, yet resolved to inquire further before he suffered +hope to afflict him by disappointment. “I am afraid,” said he to the +artist, “that your imagination prevails over your skill, and that you now +tell me rather what you wish than what you know. Every animal has his +element assigned him; the birds have the air, and man and beasts the +earth.” “So,” replied the mechanist, “fishes have the water, in which +yet beasts can swim by nature and man by art. He that can swim needs not +despair to fly; to swim is to fly in a grosser fluid, and to fly is to +swim in a subtler. We are only to proportion our power of resistance to +the different density of matter through which we are to pass. You will +be necessarily up-borne by the air if you can renew any impulse upon it +faster than the air can recede from the pressure.” + +“But the exercise of swimming,” said the Prince, “is very laborious; the +strongest limbs are soon wearied. I am afraid the act of flying will be +yet more violent; and wings will be of no great use unless we can fly +further than we can swim.” + +“The labour of rising from the ground,” said the artist, “will be great, +as we see it in the heavier domestic fowls; but as we mount higher the +earth’s attraction and the body’s gravity will be gradually diminished, +till we shall arrive at a region where the man shall float in the air +without any tendency to fall; no care will then be necessary but to move +forward, which the gentlest impulse will effect. You, sir, whose +curiosity is so extensive, will easily conceive with what pleasure a +philosopher, furnished with wings and hovering in the sky, would see the +earth and all its inhabitants rolling beneath him, and presenting to him +successively, by its diurnal motion, all the countries within the same +parallel. How must it amuse the pendent spectator to see the moving +scene of land and ocean, cities and deserts; to survey with equal +security the marts of trade and the fields of battle; mountains infested +by barbarians, and fruitful regions gladdened by plenty and lulled by +peace. How easily shall we then trace the Nile through all his passages, +pass over to distant regions, and examine the face of nature from one +extremity of the earth to the other.” + +“All this,” said the Prince, “is much to be desired, but I am afraid that +no man will be able to breathe in these regions of speculation and +tranquillity. I have been told that respiration is difficult upon lofty +mountains, yet from these precipices, though so high as to produce great +tenuity of air, it is very easy to fall; therefore I suspect that from +any height where life can be supported, there may be danger of too quick +descent.” + +“Nothing,” replied the artist, “will ever be attempted if all possible +objections must be first overcome. If you will favour my project, I will +try the first flight at my own hazard. I have considered the structure +of all volant animals, and find the folding continuity of the bat’s wings +most easily accommodated to the human form. Upon this model I shall +begin my task to-morrow, and in a year expect to tower into the air +beyond the malice and pursuit of man. But I will work only on this +condition, that the art shall not be divulged, and that you shall not +require me to make wings for any but ourselves.” + +“Why,” said Rasselas, “should you envy others so great an advantage? All +skill ought to be exerted for universal good; every man has owed much to +others, and ought to repay the kindness that he has received.” + +“If men were all virtuous,” returned the artist, “I should with great +alacrity teach them to fly. But what would be the security of the good +if the bad could at pleasure invade them from the sky? Against an army +sailing through the clouds neither walls, mountains, nor seas could +afford security. A flight of northern savages might hover in the wind +and light with irresistible violence upon the capital of a fruitful +reason. Even this valley, the retreat of princes, the abode of +happiness, might be violated by the sudden descent of some of the naked +nations that swarm on the coast of the southern sea!” + +The Prince promised secrecy, and waited for the performance, not wholly +hopeless of success. He visited the work from time to time, observed its +progress, and remarked many ingenious contrivances to facilitate motion +and unite levity with strength. The artist was every day more certain +that he should leave vultures and eagles behind him, and the contagion of +his confidence seized upon the Prince. In a year the wings were +finished; and on a morning appointed the maker appeared, furnished for +flight, on a little promontory; he waved his pinions awhile to gather +air, then leaped from his stand, and in an instant dropped into the lake. +His wings, which were of no use in the air, sustained him in the water; +and the Prince drew him to land half dead with terror and vexation. + + + + +CHAPTER VII +THE PRINCE FINDS A MAN OF LEARNING. + + +THE Prince was not much afflicted by this disaster, having suffered +himself to hope for a happier event only because he had no other means of +escape in view. He still persisted in his design to leave the Happy +Valley by the first opportunity. + +His imagination was now at a stand; he had no prospect of entering into +the world, and, notwithstanding all his endeavours to support himself, +discontent by degrees preyed upon him, and he began again to lose his +thoughts in sadness when the rainy season, which in these countries is +periodical, made it inconvenient to wander in the woods. + +The rain continued longer and with more violence than had ever been +known; the clouds broke on the surrounding mountains, and the torrents +streamed into the plain on every side, till the cavern was too narrow to +discharge the water. The lake overflowed its banks, and all the level of +the valley was covered with the inundation. The eminence on which the +palace was built, and some other spots of rising ground, were all that +the eye could now discover. The herds and flocks left the pasture, and +both the wild beasts and the tame retreated to the mountains. + +This inundation confined all the princes to domestic amusements, and the +attention of Rasselas was particularly seized by a poem (which Imlac +rehearsed) upon the various conditions of humanity. He commanded the +poet to attend him in his apartment, and recite his verses a second time; +then entering into familiar talk, he thought himself happy in having +found a man who knew the world so well, and could so skilfully paint the +scenes of life. He asked a thousand questions about things to which, +though common to all other mortals, his confinement from childhood had +kept him a stranger. The poet pitied his ignorance, and loved his +curiosity, and entertained him from day to day with novelty and +instruction so that the Prince regretted the necessity of sleep, and +longed till the morning should renew his pleasure. + +As they were sitting together, the Prince commanded Imlac to relate his +history, and to tell by what accident he was forced, or by what motive +induced, to close his life in the Happy Valley. As he was going to begin +his narrative, Rasselas was called to a concert, and obliged to restrain +his curiosity till the evening. + + + + +CHAPTER VIII +THE HISTORY OF IMLAC. + + +THE close of the day is, in the regions of the torrid zone, the only +season of diversion and entertainment, and it was therefore midnight +before the music ceased and the princesses retired. Rasselas then called +for his companion, and required him to begin the story of his life. + +“Sir,” said Imlac, “my history will not be long: the life that is devoted +to knowledge passes silently away, and is very little diversified by +events. To talk in public, to think in solitude, to read and to hear, to +inquire and answer inquiries, is the business of a scholar. He wanders +about the world without pomp or terror, and is neither known nor valued +but by men like himself. + +“I was born in the kingdom of Goiama, at no great distance from the +fountain of the Nile. My father was a wealthy merchant, who traded +between the inland countries of Africa and the ports of the Red Sea. He +was honest, frugal, and diligent, but of mean sentiments and narrow +comprehension; he desired only to be rich, and to conceal his riches, +lest he should be spoiled by the governors of the province.” + +“Surely,” said the Prince, “my father must be negligent of his charge if +any man in his dominions dares take that which belongs to another. Does +he not know that kings are accountable for injustice permitted as well as +done? If I were Emperor, not the meanest of my subjects should be +oppressed with impunity. My blood boils when I am told that a merchant +durst not enjoy his honest gains for fear of losing them by the rapacity +of power. Name the governor who robbed the people that I may declare his +crimes to the Emperor!” + +“Sir,” said Imlac, “your ardour is the natural effect of virtue animated +by youth. The time will come when you will acquit your father, and +perhaps hear with less impatience of the governor. Oppression is, in the +Abyssinian dominions, neither frequent nor tolerated; but no form of +government has been yet discovered by which cruelty can be wholly +prevented. Subordination supposes power on one part and subjection on +the other; and if power be in the hands of men it will sometimes be +abused. The vigilance of the supreme magistrate may do much, but much +will still remain undone. He can never know all the crimes that are +committed, and can seldom punish all that he knows.” + +“This,” said the Prince, “I do not understand; but I had rather hear thee +than dispute. Continue thy narration.” + +“My father,” proceeded Imlac, “originally intended that I should have no +other education than such as might qualify me for commerce; and +discovering in me great strength of memory and quickness of apprehension, +often declared his hope that I should be some time the richest man in +Abyssinia.” + +“Why,” said the Prince, “did thy father desire the increase of his wealth +when it was already greater than he durst discover or enjoy? I am +unwilling to doubt thy veracity, yet inconsistencies cannot both be +true.” + +“Inconsistencies,” answered Imlac, “cannot both be right; but, imputed to +man, they may both be true. Yet diversity is not inconsistency. My +father might expect a time of greater security. However, some desire is +necessary to keep life in motion; and he whose real wants are supplied +must admit those of fancy.” + +“This,” said the Prince, “I can in some measure conceive. I repent that +I interrupted thee.” + +“With this hope,” proceeded Imlac, “he sent me to school. But when I had +once found the delight of knowledge, and felt the pleasure of +intelligence and the pride of invention, I began silently to despise +riches, and determined to disappoint the purposes of my father, whose +grossness of conception raised my pity. I was twenty years old before +his tenderness would expose me to the fatigue of travel; in which time I +had been instructed, by successive masters, in all the literature of my +native country. As every hour taught me something new, I lived in a +continual course of gratification; but as I advanced towards manhood, I +lost much of the reverence with which I had been used to look on my +instructors; because when the lessons were ended I did not find them +wiser or better than common men. + +“At length my father resolved to initiate me in commerce; and, opening +one of his subterranean treasuries, counted out ten thousand pieces of +gold. ‘This, young man,’ said he, ‘is the stock with which you must +negotiate. I began with less than a fifth part, and you see how +diligence and parsimony have increased it. This is your own, to waste or +improve. If you squander it by negligence or caprice, you must wait for +my death before you will be rich; if in four years you double your stock, +we will thenceforward let subordination cease, and live together as +friends and partners, for he shall be always equal with me who is equally +skilled in the art of growing rich.’ + +“We laid out our money upon camels, concealed in bales of cheap goods, +and travelled to the shore of the Red Sea. When I cast my eye on the +expanse of waters, my heart bounded like that of a prisoner escaped. I +felt an inextinguishable curiosity kindle in my mind, and resolved to +snatch this opportunity of seeing the manners of other nations, and of +learning sciences unknown in Abyssinia. + +“I remembered that my father had obliged me to the improvement of my +stock, not by a promise, which I ought not to violate, but by a penalty, +which I was at liberty to incur; and therefore determined to gratify my +predominant desire, and, by drinking at the fountain of knowledge, to +quench the thirst of curiosity. + +“As I was supposed to trade without connection with my father, it was +easy for me to become acquainted with the master of a ship, and procure a +passage to some other country. I had no motives of choice to regulate my +voyage. It was sufficient for me that, wherever I wandered, I should see +a country which I had not seen before. I therefore entered a ship bound +for Surat, having left a letter for my father declaring my intention.” + + + + +CHAPTER IX +THE HISTORY OF IMLAC (_continued_). + + +“WHEN I first entered upon the world of waters, and lost sight of land, I +looked round about me in pleasing terror, and thinking my soul enlarged +by the boundless prospect, imagined that I could gaze around me for ever +without satiety; but in a short time I grew weary of looking on barren +uniformity, where I could only see again what I had already seen. I then +descended into the ship, and doubted for awhile whether all my future +pleasures would not end, like this, in disgust and disappointment. ‘Yet +surely,’ said I, ‘the ocean and the land are very different. The only +variety of water is rest and motion. But the earth has mountains and +valleys, deserts and cities; it is inhabited by men of different customs +and contrary opinions; and I may hope to find variety in life, though I +should miss it in nature.’ + +“With this thought I quieted my mind, and amused myself during the +voyage, sometimes by learning from the sailors the art of navigation, +which I have never practised, and sometimes by forming schemes for my +conduct in different situations, in not one of which I have been ever +placed. + +“I was almost weary of my naval amusements when we safely landed at +Surat. I secured my money and, purchasing some commodities for show, +joined myself to a caravan that was passing into the inland country. My +companions, for some reason or other, conjecturing that I was rich, and, +by my inquiries and admiration, finding that I was ignorant, considered +me as a novice whom they had a right to cheat, and who was to learn, at +the usual expense, the art of fraud. They exposed me to the theft of +servants and the exaction of officers, and saw me plundered upon false +pretences, without any advantage to themselves but that of rejoicing in +the superiority of their own knowledge.” + +“Stop a moment,” said the Prince; “is there such depravity in man as that +he should injure another without benefit to himself? I can easily +conceive that all are pleased with superiority; but your ignorance was +merely accidental, which, being neither your crime nor your folly, could +afford them no reason to applaud themselves; and the knowledge which they +had, and which you wanted, they might as effectually have shown by +warning as betraying you.” + +“Pride,” said Imlac, “is seldom delicate; it will please itself with very +mean advantages, and envy feels not its own happiness but when it may be +compared with the misery of others. They were my enemies because they +grieved to think me rich, and my oppressors because they delighted to +find me weak.” + +“Proceed,” said the Prince; “I doubt not of the facts which you relate, +but imagine that you impute them to mistaken motives.” + +“In this company,” said Imlac, “I arrived at Agra, the capital of +Hindostan, the city in which the Great Mogul commonly resides. I applied +myself to the language of the country, and in a few months was able to +converse with the learned men; some of whom I found morose and reserved, +and others easy and communicative; some were unwilling to teach another +what they had with difficulty learned themselves; and some showed that +the end of their studies was to gain the dignity of instructing. + +“To the tutor of the young princes I recommended myself so much that I +was presented to the Emperor as a man of uncommon knowledge. The Emperor +asked me many questions concerning my country and my travels, and though +I cannot now recollect anything that he uttered above the power of a +common man, he dismissed me astonished at his wisdom and enamoured of his +goodness. + +“My credit was now so high that the merchants with whom I had travelled +applied to me for recommendations to the ladies of the Court. I was +surprised at their confidence of solicitation and greatly reproached them +with their practices on the road. They heard me with cold indifference, +and showed no tokens of shame or sorrow. + +“They then urged their request with the offer of a bribe, but what I +would not do for kindness I would not do for money, and refused them, not +because they had injured me, but because I would not enable them to +injure others; for I knew they would have made use of my credit to cheat +those who should buy their wares. + +“Having resided at Agra till there was no more to be learned, I travelled +into Persia, where I saw many remains of ancient magnificence and +observed many new accommodations of life. The Persians are a nation +eminently social, and their assemblies afforded me daily opportunities of +remarking characters and manners, and of tracing human nature through all +its variations. + +“From Persia I passed into Arabia, where I saw a nation pastoral and +warlike, who lived without any settled habitation, whose wealth is their +flocks and herds, and who have carried on through ages an hereditary war +with mankind, though they neither covet nor envy their possessions.” + + + + +CHAPTER X +IMLAC’S HISTORY (_continued_)—A DISSERTATION UPON POETRY. + + +“WHEREVER I went I found that poetry was considered as the highest +learning, and regarded with a veneration somewhat approaching to that +which man would pay to angelic nature. And yet it fills me with wonder +that in almost all countries the most ancient poets are considered as the +best; whether it be that every other kind of knowledge is an acquisition +greatly attained, and poetry is a gift conferred at once; or that the +first poetry of every nation surprised them as a novelty, and retained +the credit by consent which it received by accident at first; or whether, +as the province of poetry is to describe nature and passion, which are +always the same, the first writers took possession of the most striking +objects for description and the most probable occurrences for fiction, +and left nothing to those that followed them but transcription of the +same events and new combinations of the same images. Whatever be the +reason, it is commonly observed that the early writers are in possession +of nature, and their followers of art; that the first excel in strength +and invention, and the latter in elegance and refinement. + +“I was desirous to add my name to this illustrious fraternity. I read +all the poets of Persia and Arabia, and was able to repeat by memory the +volumes that are suspended in the mosque of Mecca. But I soon found that +no man was ever great by imitations. My desire of excellence impelled me +to transfer my attention to nature and to life. Nature was to be my +subject, and men to be my auditors. I could never describe what I had +not seen. I could not hope to move those with delight or terror whose +interests and opinions I did not understand. + +“Being now resolved to be a poet, I saw everything with a new purpose; my +sphere of attention was suddenly magnified; no kind of knowledge was to +be overlooked. I ranged mountains and deserts for images and +resemblances, and pictured upon my mind every tree of the forest and +flower of the valley. I observed with equal care the crags of the rock +and the pinnacles of the palace. Sometimes I wandered along the mazes of +the rivulet, and sometimes watched the changes of the summer clouds. To +a poet nothing can be useless. Whatever is beautiful and whatever is +dreadful must be familiar to his imagination; he must be conversant with +all that is awfully vast or elegantly little. The plants of the garden, +the animals of the wood, the minerals of the earth, and meteors of the +sky, must all concur to store his mind with inexhaustible variety; for +every idea is useful for the enforcement or decoration of moral or +religious truth, and he who knows most will have most power of +diversifying his scenes and of gratifying his reader with remote +allusions and unexpected instruction. + +“All the appearances of nature I was therefore careful to study, and +every country which I have surveyed has contributed something to my +poetical powers.” + +“In so wide a survey,” said the Prince, “you must surely have left much +unobserved. I have lived till now within the circuit of the mountains, +and yet cannot walk abroad without the sight of something which I had +never beheld before, or never heeded.” + +“This business of a poet,” said Imlac, “is to examine, not the +individual, but the species; to remark general properties and large +appearances. He does not number the streaks of the tulip, or describe +the different shades of the verdure of the forest. He is to exhibit in +his portraits of nature such prominent and striking features as recall +the original to every mind, and must neglect the minuter discriminations, +which one may have remarked and another have neglected, for those +characteristics which are alike obvious to vigilance and carelessness. + +“But the knowledge of nature is only half the task of a poet; he must be +acquainted likewise with all the modes of life. His character requires +that he estimate the happiness and misery of every condition, observe the +power of all the passions in all their combinations, and trace the +changes of the human mind, as they are modified by various institutions +and accidental influences of climate or custom, from the sprightliness of +infancy to the despondence of decrepitude. He must divest himself of the +prejudices of his age and country; he must consider right and wrong in +their abstracted and invariable state; he must disregard present laws and +opinions, and rise to general and transcendental truths, which will +always be the same. He must, therefore, content himself with the slow +progress of his name, contemn the praise of his own time, and commit his +claims to the justice of posterity. He must write as the interpreter of +nature and the legislator of mankind, and consider himself as presiding +over the thoughts and manners of future generations, as a being superior +to time and place. + +“His labour is not yet at an end. He must know many languages and many +sciences, and, that his style may be worthy of his thoughts, must by +incessant practice familiarise to himself every delicacy of speech and +grace of harmony.” + + + + +CHAPTER XI +IMLAC’S NARRATIVE (_continued_)—A HINT OF PILGRIMAGE. + + +IMLAC now felt the enthusiastic fit, and was proceeding to aggrandise his +own profession, when then Prince cried out: “Enough! thou hast convinced +me that no human being can ever be a poet. Proceed with thy narration.” + +“To be a poet,” said Imlac, “is indeed very difficult.” + +“So difficult,” returned the Prince, “that I will at present hear no more +of his labours. Tell me whither you went when you had seen Persia.” + +“From Persia,” said the poet, “I travelled through Syria, and for three +years resided in Palestine, where I conversed with great numbers of the +northern and western nations of Europe, the nations which are now in +possession of all power and all knowledge, whose armies are irresistible, +and whose fleets command the remotest parts of the globe. When I +compared these men with the natives of our own kingdom and those that +surround us, they appeared almost another order of beings. In their +countries it is difficult to wish for anything that may not be obtained; +a thousand arts, of which we never heard, are continually labouring for +their convenience and pleasure, and whatever their own climate has denied +them is supplied by their commerce.” + +“By what means,” said the Prince, “are the Europeans thus powerful? or +why, since they can so easily visit Asia and Africa for trade or +conquest, cannot the Asiatics and Africans invade their coast, plant +colonies in their ports, and give laws to their natural princes? The +same wind that carries them back would bring us thither.” + +“They are more powerful, sir, than we,” answered Imlac, “because they are +wiser; knowledge will always predominate over ignorance, as man governs +the other animals. But why their knowledge is more than ours I know not +what reason can be given but the unsearchable will of the Supreme Being.” + +“When,” said the Prince with a sigh, “shall I be able to visit Palestine, +and mingle with this mighty confluence of nations? Till that happy +moment shall arrive, let me fill up the time with such representations as +thou canst give me. I am not ignorant of the motive that assembles such +numbers in that place, and cannot but consider it as the centre of wisdom +and piety, to which the best and wisest men of every land must be +continually resorting.” + +“There are some nations,” said Imlac, “that send few visitants to +Palestine; for many numerous and learned sects in Europe concur to +censure pilgrimage as superstitious, or deride it as ridiculous.” + +“You know,” said the Prince, “how little my life has made me acquainted +with diversity of opinions; it will be too long to hear the arguments on +both sides; you, that have considered them, tell me the result.” + +“Pilgrimage,” said Imlac, “like many other acts of piety, may be +reasonable or superstitious, according to the principles upon which it is +performed. Long journeys in search of truth are not commanded. Truth, +such as is necessary to the regulation of life, is always found where it +is honestly sought. Change of place is no natural cause of the increase +of piety, for it inevitably produces dissipation of mind. Yet, since men +go every day to view the fields where great actions have been performed, +and return with stronger impressions of the event, curiosity of the same +kind may naturally dispose us to view that country whence our religion +had its beginning, and I believe no man surveys those awful scenes +without some confirmation of holy resolutions. That the Supreme Being +may be more easily propitiated in one place than in another is the dream +of idle superstition, but that some places may operate upon our own minds +in an uncommon manner is an opinion which hourly experience will justify. +He who supposes that his vices may be more successfully combated in +Palestine, will perhaps find himself mistaken; yet he may go thither +without folly; he who thinks they will be more freely pardoned, +dishonours at once his reason and religion.” + +“These,” said the Prince, “are European distinctions. I will consider +them another time. What have you found to be the effect of knowledge? +Are those nations happier than we?” + +“There is so much infelicity,” said the poet, “in the world, that scarce +any man has leisure from his own distresses to estimate the comparative +happiness of others. Knowledge is certainly one of the means of +pleasure, as is confessed by the natural desire which every mind feels of +increasing its ideas. Ignorance is mere privation, by which nothing can +be produced; it is a vacuity in which the soul sits motionless and torpid +for want of attraction, and, without knowing why, we always rejoice when +we learn, and grieve when we forget. I am therefore inclined to conclude +that if nothing counteracts the natural consequence of learning, we grow +more happy as out minds take a wider range. + +“In enumerating the particular comforts of life, we shall find many +advantages on the side of the Europeans. They cure wounds and diseases +with which we languish and perish. We suffer inclemencies of weather +which they can obviate. They have engines for the despatch of many +laborious works, which we must perform by manual industry. There is such +communication between distant places that one friend can hardly be said +to be absent from another. Their policy removes all public +inconveniences; they have roads cut through the mountains, and bridges +laid over their rivers. And, if we descend to the privacies of life, +their habitations are more commodious and their possessions are more +secure.” + +“They are surely happy,” said the Prince, “who have all these +conveniences, of which I envy none so much as the facility with which +separated friends interchange their thoughts.” + +“The Europeans,” answered Imlac, “are less unhappy than we, but they are +not happy. Human life is everywhere a state in which much is to be +endured and little to be enjoyed.” + + + + +CHAPTER XII +THE STORY OF IMLAC (_continued_). + + +“I AM not willing,” said the Prince, “to suppose that happiness is so +parsimoniously distributed to mortals, nor can I believe but that, if I +had the choice of life, I should be able to fill every day with pleasure. +I would injure no man, and should provoke no resentments; I would relieve +every distress, and should enjoy the benedictions of gratitude. I would +choose my friends among the wise and my wife among the virtuous, and +therefore should be in no danger from treachery or unkindness. My +children should by my care be learned and pious, and would repay to my +age what their childhood had received. What would dare to molest him who +might call on every side to thousands enriched by his bounty or assisted +by his power? And why should not life glide away in the soft +reciprocation of protection and reverence? All this may be done without +the help of European refinements, which appear by their effects to be +rather specious than useful. Let us leave them and pursue our journey.” + +“From Palestine,” said Imlac, “I passed through many regions of Asia; in +the more civilised kingdoms as a trader, and among the barbarians of the +mountains as a pilgrim. At last I began to long for my native country, +that I might repose after my travels and fatigues in the places where I +had spent my earliest years, and gladden my old companions with the +recital of my adventures. Often did I figure to myself those with whom I +had sported away the gay hours of dawning life, sitting round me in its +evening, wondering at my tales and listening to my counsels. + +“When this thought had taken possession of my mind, I considered every +moment as wasted which did not bring me nearer to Abyssinia. I hastened +into Egypt, and, notwithstanding my impatience, was detained ten months +in the contemplation of its ancient magnificence and in inquiries after +the remains of its ancient learning. I found in Cairo a mixture of all +nations: some brought thither by the love of knowledge, some by the hope +of gain; many by the desire of living after their own manner without +observation, and of lying hid in the obscurity of multitudes; for in a +city populous as Cairo it is possible to obtain at the same time the +gratifications of society and the secrecy of solitude. + +“From Cairo I travelled to Suez, and embarked on the Red Sea, passing +along the coast till I arrived at the port from which I had departed +twenty years before. Here I joined myself to a caravan, and re-entered +my native country. + +“I now expected the caresses of my kinsmen and the congratulations of my +friends, and was not without hope that my father, whatever value he had +set upon riches, would own with gladness and pride a son who was able to +add to the felicity and honour of the nation. But I was soon convinced +that my thoughts were vain. My father had been dead fourteen years, +having divided his wealth among my brothers, who were removed to some +other provinces. Of my companions, the greater part was in the grave; of +the rest, some could with difficulty remember me, and some considered me +as one corrupted by foreign manners. + +“A man used to vicissitudes is not easily dejected. I forgot, after a +time, my disappointment, and endeavoured to recommend myself to the +nobles of the kingdom; they admitted me to their tables, heard my story, +and dismissed me. I opened a school, and was prohibited to teach. I +then resolved to sit down in the quiet of domestic life, and addressed a +lady that was fond of my conversation, but rejected my suit because my +father was a merchant. + +“Wearied at last with solicitation and repulses, I resolved to hide +myself for ever from the world, and depend no longer on the opinion or +caprice of others. I waited for the time when the gate of the Happy +Valley should open, that I might bid farewell to hope and fear; the day +came, my performance was distinguished with favour, and I resigned myself +with joy to perpetual confinement.” + +“Hast thou here found happiness at last?” said Rasselas. “Tell me, +without reserve, art thou content with thy condition, or dost thou wish +to be again wandering and inquiring? All the inhabitants of this valley +celebrate their lot, and at the annual visit of the Emperor invite others +to partake of their felicity.” + +“Great Prince,” said Imlac, “I shall speak the truth. I know not one of +all your attendants who does not lament the hour when he entered this +retreat. I am less unhappy than the rest, because I have a mind replete +with images, which I can vary and combine at pleasure. I can amuse my +solitude by the renovation of the knowledge which begins to fade from my +memory, and by recollection of the accidents of my past life. Yet all +this ends in the sorrowful consideration that my acquirements are now +useless, and that none of my pleasures can be again enjoyed. The rest, +whose minds have no impression but of the present moment, are either +corroded by malignant passions or sit stupid in the gloom of perpetual +vacancy.” + +“What passions can infest those,” said the Prince, “who have no rivals? +We are in a place where impotence precludes malice, and where all envy is +repressed by community of enjoyments.” + +“There may be community,” said Imlac, “of material possessions, but there +can never be community of love or of esteem. It must happen that one +will please more than another; he that knows himself despised will always +be envious, and still more envious and malevolent if he is condemned to +live in the presence of those who despise him. The invitations by which +they allure others to a state which they feel to be wretched, proceed +from the natural malignity of hopeless misery. They are weary of +themselves and of each other, and expect to find relief in new +companions. They envy the liberty which their folly has forfeited, and +would gladly see all mankind imprisoned like themselves. + +“From this crime, however, I am wholly free. No man can say that he is +wretched by my persuasion. I look with pity on the crowds who are +annually soliciting admission to captivity, and wish that it were lawful +for me to warn them of their danger.” + +“My dear Imlac,” said the Prince, “I will open to thee my whole heart. I +have long meditated an escape from the Happy Valley. I have examined the +mountain on every side, but find myself insuperably barred—teach me the +way to break my prison; thou shalt be the companion of my flight, the +guide of my rambles, the partner of my fortune, and my sole director in +the _choice of life_. + +“Sir,” answered the poet, “your escape will be difficult, and perhaps you +may soon repent your curiosity. The world, which you figure to yourself +smooth and quiet as the lake in the valley, you will find a sea foaming +with tempests and boiling with whirlpools; you will be sometimes +overwhelmed by the waves of violence, and sometimes dashed against the +rocks of treachery. Amidst wrongs and frauds, competitions and +anxieties, you will wish a thousand times for these seats of quiet, and +willingly quit hope to be free from fear.” + +“Do not seek to deter me from my purpose,” said the Prince. “I am +impatient to see what thou hast seen; and since thou art thyself weary of +the valley, it is evident that thy former state was better than this. +Whatever be the consequence of my experiment, I am resolved to judge with +mine own eyes of the various conditions of men, and then to make +deliberately my _choice of life_.” + +“I am afraid,” said Imlac, “you are hindered by stronger restraints than +my persuasions; yet, if your determination is fixed, I do not counsel you +to despair. Few things are impossible to diligence and skill.” + + + + +CHAPTER XIII +RASSELAS DISCOVERS THE MEANS OF ESCAPE. + + +THE Prince now dismissed his favourite to rest; but the narrative of +wonders and novelties filled his mind with perturbation. He revolved all +that he had heard, and prepared innumerable questions for the morning. + +Much of his uneasiness was now removed. He had a friend to whom he could +impart his thoughts, and whose experience could assist him in his +designs. His heart was no longer condemned to swell with silent +vexation. He thought that even the Happy Valley might be endured with +such a companion, and that if they could range the world together he +should have nothing further to desire. + +In a few days the water was discharged, and the ground dried. The Prince +and Imlac then walked out together, to converse without the notice of the +rest. The Prince, whose thoughts were always on the wing, as he passed +by the gate said, with a countenance of sorrow, “Why art thou so strong, +and why is man so weak?” + +“Man is not weak,” answered his companion; “knowledge is more than +equivalent to force. The master of mechanics laughs at strength. I can +burst the gate, but cannot do it secretly. Some other expedient must be +tried.” + +As they were walking on the side of the mountain they observed that the +coneys, which the rain had driven from their burrows, had taken shelter +among the bushes, and formed holes behind them tending upwards in an +oblique line. “It has been the opinion of antiquity,” said Imlac, “that +human reason borrowed many arts from the instinct of animals; let us, +therefore, not think ourselves degraded by learning from the coney. We +may escape by piercing the mountain in the same direction. We will begin +where the summit hangs over the middle part, and labour upward till we +shall issue out beyond the prominence.” + +The eyes of the Prince, when he heard this proposal, sparkled with joy. +The execution was easy and the success certain. + +No time was now lost. They hastened early in the morning to choose a +place proper for their mine. They clambered with great fatigue among +crags and brambles, and returned without having discovered any part that +favoured their design. The second and the third day were spent in the +same manner, and with the same frustration; but on the fourth day they +found a small cavern concealed by a thicket, where they resolved to make +their experiment. + +Imlac procured instruments proper to hew stone and remove earth, and they +fell to their work on the next day with more eagerness than vigour. They +were presently exhausted by their efforts, and sat down to pant upon the +grass. The Prince for a moment appeared to be discouraged. “Sir,” said +his companion, “practice will enable us to continue our labour for a +longer time. Mark, however, how far we have advanced, and ye will find +that our toil will some time have an end. Great works are performed not +by strength, but perseverance; yonder palace was raised by single stones, +yet you see its height and spaciousness. He that shall walk with vigour +three hours a day, will pass in seven years a space equal to the +circumference of the globe.” + +They returned to their work day after day, and in a short time found a +fissure in the rock, which enabled them to pass far with very little +obstruction. This Rasselas considered as a good omen. “Do not disturb +your mind,” said Imlac, “with other hopes or fears than reason may +suggest; if you are pleased with the prognostics of good, you will be +terrified likewise with tokens of evil, and your whole life will be a +prey to superstition. Whatever facilitates our work is more than an +omen; it is a cause of success. This is one of those pleasing surprises +which often happen to active resolution. Many things difficult to design +prove easy to performance.” + + + + +CHAPTER XIV +RASSELAS AND IMLAC RECEIVE AN UNEXPECTED VISIT. + + +THEY had now wrought their way to the middle, and solaced their toil with +the approach of liberty, when the Prince, coming down to refresh himself +with air, found his sister Nekayah standing at the mouth of the cavity. +He started, and stood confused, afraid to tell his design, and yet +hopeless to conceal it. A few moments determined him to repose on her +fidelity, and secure her secrecy by a declaration without reserve. + +“Do not imagine,” said the Princess, “that I came hither as a spy. I had +long observed from my window that you and Imlac directed your walk every +day towards the same point, but I did not suppose you had any better +reason for the preference than a cooler shade or more fragrant bank, nor +followed you with any other design than to partake of your conversation. +Since, then, not suspicion, but fondness, has detected you, let me not +lose the advantage of my discovery. I am equally weary of confinement +with yourself, and not less desirous of knowing what is done or suffered +in the world. Permit me to fly with you from this tasteless +tranquillity, which will yet grow more loathsome when you have left me. +You may deny me to accompany you, but cannot hinder me from following.” + +The Prince, who loved Nekayah above his other sisters, had no inclination +to refuse her request, and grieved that he had lost an opportunity of +showing his confidence by a voluntary communication. It was, therefore, +agreed that she should leave the valley with them; and that in the +meantime she should watch, lest any other straggler should, by chance or +curiosity, follow them to the mountain. + +At length their labour was at an end. They saw light beyond the +prominence, and, issuing to the top of the mountain, beheld the Nile, yet +a narrow current, wandering beneath them. + +The Prince looked round with rapture, anticipated all the pleasures of +travel, and in thought was already transported beyond his father’s +dominions. Imlac, though very joyful at his escape, had less expectation +of pleasure in the world, which he had before tried and of which he had +been weary. + +Rasselas was so much delighted with a wider horizon, that he could not +soon be persuaded to return into the valley. He informed his sister that +the way was now open, and that nothing now remained but to prepare for +their departure. + + + + +CHAPTER XV +THE PRINCE AND PRINCESS LEAVE THE VALLEY, AND SEE MANY WONDERS. + + +THE Prince and Princess had jewels sufficient to make them rich whenever +they came into a place of commerce, which, by Imlac’s direction, they hid +in their clothes, and on the night of the next full moon all left the +valley. The Princess was followed only by a single favourite, who did +not know whither she was going. + +They clambered through the cavity, and began to go down on the other +side. The Princess and her maid turned their eyes toward every part, and +seeing nothing to bound their prospect, considered themselves in danger +of being lost in a dreary vacuity. They stopped and trembled. “I am +almost afraid,” said the Princess, “to begin a journey of which I cannot +perceive an end, and to venture into this immense plain where I may be +approached on every side by men whom I never saw.” The Prince felt +nearly the same emotions, though he thought it more manly to conceal +them. + +Imlac smiled at their terrors, and encouraged them to proceed. But the +Princess continued irresolute till she had been imperceptibly drawn +forward too far to return. + +In the morning they found some shepherds in the field, who set some milk +and fruits before them. The Princess wondered that she did not see a +palace ready for her reception and a table spread with delicacies; but +being faint and hungry, she drank the milk and ate the fruits, and +thought them of a higher flavour than the products of the valley. + +They travelled forward by easy journeys, being all unaccustomed to toil +and difficulty, and knowing that, though they might be missed, they could +not be pursued. In a few days they came into a more populous region, +where Imlac was diverted with the admiration which his companions +expressed at the diversity of manners, stations, and employments. Their +dress was such as might not bring upon them the suspicion of having +anything to conceal; yet the Prince, wherever he came, expected to be +obeyed, and the Princess was frighted because those who came into her +presence did not prostrate themselves. Imlac was forced to observe them +with great vigilance, lest they should betray their rank by their unusual +behaviour, and detained them several weeks in the first village to +accustom them to the sight of common mortals. + +By degrees the royal wanderers were taught to understand that they had +for a time laid aside their dignity, and were to expect only such regard +as liberality and courtesy could procure. And Imlac having by many +admonitions prepared them to endure the tumults of a port and the +ruggedness of the commercial race, brought them down to the sea-coast. + +The Prince and his sister, to whom everything was new, were gratified +equally at all places, and therefore remained for some months at the port +without any inclination to pass further. Imlac was content with their +stay, because he did not think it safe to expose them, unpractised in the +world, to the hazards of a foreign country. + +At last he began to fear lest they should be discovered, and proposed to +fix a day for their departure. They had no pretensions to judge for +themselves, and referred the whole scheme to his direction. He therefore +took passage in a ship to Suez, and, when the time came, with great +difficulty prevailed on the Princess to enter the vessel. They had a +quick and prosperous voyage, and from Suez travelled by land to Cairo. + + + + +CHAPTER XVI +THEY ENTER CAIRO, AND FIND EVERY MAN HAPPY. + + +AS they approached the city, which filled the strangers with +astonishment, “This,” said Imlac to the Prince, “is the place where +travellers and merchants assemble from all corners of the earth. You +will here find men of every character and every occupation. Commerce is +here honourable. I will act as a merchant, and you shall live as +strangers who have no other end of travel than curiosity; it will soon be +observed that we are rich. Our reputation will procure us access to all +whom we shall desire to know; you shall see all the conditions of +humanity, and enable yourselves at leisure to make your _choice of +life_.” + +They now entered the town, stunned by the noise and offended by the +crowds. Instruction had not yet so prevailed over habit but that they +wondered to see themselves pass undistinguished along the streets, and +met by the lowest of the people without reverence or notice. The +Princess could not at first bear the thought of being levelled with the +vulgar, and for some time continued in her chamber, where she was served +by her favourite Pekuah, as in the palace of the valley. + +Imlac, who understood traffic, sold part of the jewels the next day, and +hired a house, which he adorned with such magnificence that he was +immediately considered as a merchant of great wealth. His politeness +attracted many acquaintances, and his generosity made him courted by many +dependants. His companions, not being able to mix in the conversation, +could make no discovery of their ignorance or surprise, and were +gradually initiated in the world as they gained knowledge of the +language. + +The Prince had by frequent lectures been taught the use and nature of +money; but the ladies could not for a long time comprehend what the +merchants did with small pieces of gold and silver, or why things of so +little use should be received as an equivalent to the necessaries of +life. + +They studied the language two years, while Imlac was preparing to set +before them the various ranks and conditions of mankind. He grew +acquainted with all who had anything uncommon in their fortune or +conduct. He frequented the voluptuous and the frugal, the idle and the +busy, the merchants and the men of learning. + +The Prince now being able to converse with fluency, and having learned +the caution necessary to be observed in his intercourse with strangers, +began to accompany Imlac to places of resort, and to enter into all +assemblies, that he might make his _choice of life_. + +For some time he thought choice needless, because all appeared to him +really happy. Wherever he went he met gaiety and kindness, and heard the +song of joy or the laugh of carelessness. He began to believe that the +world overflowed with universal plenty, and that nothing was withheld +either from want or merit; that every hand showered liberality and every +heart melted with benevolence: “And who then,” says he, “will be suffered +to be wretched?” + +Imlac permitted the pleasing delusion, and was unwilling to crush the +hope of inexperience: till one day, having sat awhile silent, “I know +not,” said the Prince, “what can be the reason that I am more unhappy +than any of our friends. I see them perpetually and unalterably +cheerful, but feel my own mind restless and uneasy. I am unsatisfied +with those pleasures which I seem most to court. I live in the crowds of +jollity, not so much to enjoy company as to shun myself, and am only loud +and merry to conceal my sadness.” + +“Every man,” said Imlac, “may by examining his own mind guess what passes +in the minds of others. When you feel that your own gaiety is +counterfeit, it may justly lead you to suspect that of your companions +not to be sincere. Envy is commonly reciprocal. We are long before we +are convinced that happiness is never to be found, and each believes it +possessed by others, to keep alive the hope of obtaining it for himself. +In the assembly where you passed the last night there appeared such +sprightliness of air and volatility of fancy as might have suited beings +of a higher order, formed to inhabit serener regions, inaccessible to +care or sorrow; yet, believe me, Prince, was there not one who did not +dread the moment when solitude should deliver him to the tyranny of +reflection.” + +“This,” said the Prince, “may be true of others since it is true of me; +yet, whatever be the general infelicity of man, one condition is more +happy than another, and wisdom surely directs us to take the least evil +in the _choice of life_.” + +“The causes of good and evil,” answered Imlac, “are so various and +uncertain, so often entangled with each other, so diversified by various +relations, and so much subject to accidents which cannot be foreseen, +that he who would fix his condition upon incontestable reasons of +preference must live and die inquiring and deliberating.” + +“But, surely,” said Rasselas, “the wise men, to whom we listen with +reverence and wonder, chose that mode of life for themselves which they +thought most likely to make them happy.” + +“Very few,” said the poet, “live by choice. Every man is placed in the +present condition by causes which acted without his foresight, and with +which he did not always willingly co-operate, and therefore you will +rarely meet one who does not think the lot of his neighbour better than +his own.” + +“I am pleased to think,” said the Prince, “that my birth has given me at +least one advantage over others by enabling me to determine for myself. +I have here the world before me. I will review it at leisure: surely +happiness is somewhere to be found.” + + + + +CHAPTER XVII +THE PRINCE ASSOCIATES WITH YOUNG MEN OF SPIRIT AND GAIETY. + + +RASSELAS rose next day, and resolved to begin his experiments upon life. +“Youth,” cried he, “is the time of gladness: I will join myself to the +young men whose only business is to gratify their desires, and whose time +is all spent in a succession of enjoyments.” + +To such societies he was readily admitted, but a few days brought him +back weary and disgusted. Their mirth was without images, their laughter +without motive; their pleasures were gross and sensual, in which the mind +had no part; their conduct was at once wild and mean—they laughed at +order and at law, but the frown of power dejected and the eye of wisdom +abashed them. + +The Prince soon concluded that he should never be happy in a course of +life of which he was ashamed. He thought it unsuitable to a reasonable +being to act without a plan, and to be sad or cheerful only by chance. +“Happiness,” said he, “must be something solid and permanent, without +fear and without uncertainty.” + +But his young companions had gained so much of his regard by their +frankness and courtesy that he could not leave them without warning and +remonstrance. “My friends,” said he, “I have seriously considered our +manners and our prospects, and find that we have mistaken our own +interest. The first years of man must make provision for the last. He +that never thinks, never can be wise. Perpetual levity must end in +ignorance; and intemperance, though it may fire the spirits for an hour, +will make life short or miserable. Let us consider that youth is of no +long duration, and that in mature age, when the enchantments of fancy +shall cease, and phantoms of delight dance no more about us, we shall +have no comforts but the esteem of wise men and the means of doing good. +Let us therefore stop while to stop is in our power: let us live as men +who are some time to grow old, and to whom it will be the most dreadful +of all evils to count their past years by follies, and to be reminded of +their former luxuriance of health only by the maladies which riot has +produced.” + +They stared awhile in silence one upon another, and at last drove him +away by a general chorus of continued laughter. + +The consciousness that his sentiments were just and his intention kind +was scarcely sufficient to support him against the horror of derision. +But he recovered his tranquillity and pursued his search. + + + + +CHAPTER XVIII +THE PRINCE FINDS A WISE AND HAPPY MAN. + + +AS he was one day walking in the street he saw a spacious building which +all were by the open doors invited to enter. He followed the stream of +people, and found it a hall or school of declamation, in which professors +read lectures to their auditory. He fixed his eye upon a sage raised +above the rest, who discoursed with great energy on the government of the +passions. His look was venerable, his action graceful, his pronunciation +clear, and his diction elegant. He showed with great strength of +sentiment and variety of illustration that human nature is degraded and +debased when the lower faculties predominate over the higher; that when +fancy, the parent of passion, usurps the dominion of the mind, nothing +ensues but the natural effect of unlawful government, perturbation, and +confusion; that she betrays the fortresses of the intellect to rebels, +and excites her children to sedition against their lawful sovereign. He +compared reason to the sun, of which the light is constant, uniform, and +lasting; and fancy to a meteor, of bright but transitory lustre, +irregular in its motion and delusive in its direction. + +He then communicated the various precepts given from time to time for the +conquest of passion, and displayed the happiness of those who had +obtained the important victory, after which man is no longer the slave of +fear nor the fool of hope; is no more emaciated by envy, inflamed by +anger, emasculated by tenderness, or depressed by grief; but walks on +calmly through the tumults or privacies of life, as the sun pursues alike +his course through the calm or the stormy sky. + +He enumerated many examples of heroes immovable by pain or pleasure, who +looked with indifference on those modes or accidents to which the vulgar +give the names of good and evil. He exhorted his hearers to lay aside +their prejudices, and arm themselves against the shafts of malice or +misfortune, by invulnerable patience: concluding that this state only was +happiness, and that this happiness was in every one’s power. + +Rasselas listened to him with the veneration due to the instructions of a +superior being, and waiting for him at the door, humbly implored the +liberty of visiting so great a master of true wisdom. The lecturer +hesitated a moment, when Rasselas put a purse of gold into his hand, +which he received with a mixture of joy and wonder. + +“I have found,” said the Prince at his return to Imlac, “a man who can +teach all that is necessary to be known; who, from the unshaken throne of +rational fortitude, looks down on the scenes of life changing beneath +him. He speaks, and attention watches his lips. He reasons, and +conviction closes his periods. This man shall be my future guide: I will +learn his doctrines and imitate his life.” + +“Be not too hasty,” said Imlac, “to trust or to admire the teachers of +morality: they discourse like angels, but they live like men.” + +Rasselas, who could not conceive how any man could reason so forcibly +without feeling the cogency of his own arguments, paid his visit in a few +days, and was denied admission. He had now learned the power of money, +and made his way by a piece of gold to the inner apartment, where he +found the philosopher in a room half darkened, with his eyes misty and +his face pale. “Sir,” said he, “you are come at a time when all human +friendship is useless; what I suffer cannot be remedied: what I have lost +cannot be supplied. My daughter, my only daughter, from whose tenderness +I expected all the comforts of my age, died last night of a fever. My +views, my purposes, my hopes, are at an end: I am now a lonely being, +disunited from society.” + +“Sir,” said the Prince, “mortality is an event by which a wise man can +never be surprised: we know that death is always near, and it should +therefore always be expected.” “Young man,” answered the philosopher, +“you speak like one that has never felt the pangs of separation.” “Have +you then forgot the precepts,” said Rasselas, “which you so powerfully +enforced? Has wisdom no strength to arm the heart against calamity? +Consider that external things are naturally variable, but truth and +reason are always the same.” “What comfort,” said the mourner, “can +truth and reason afford me? Of what effect are they now, but to tell me +that my daughter will not be restored?” + +The Prince, whose humanity would not suffer him to insult misery with +reproof, went away, convinced of the emptiness of rhetorical sounds, and +the inefficacy of polished periods and studied sentences. + + + + +CHAPTER XIX +A GLIMPSE OF PASTORAL LIFE. + + +HE was still eager upon the same inquiry; and having heard of a hermit +that lived near the lowest cataract of the Nile, and filled the whole +country with the fame of his sanctity, resolved to visit his retreat, and +inquire whether that felicity which public life could not afford was to +be found in solitude, and whether a man whose age and virtue made him +venerable could teach any peculiar art of shunning evils or enduring +them. + +Imlac and the Princess agreed to accompany him, and after the necessary +preparations, they began their journey. Their way lay through the +fields, where shepherds tended their flocks and the lambs were playing +upon the pasture. “This,” said the poet, “is the life which has been +often celebrated for its innocence and quiet; let us pass the heat of the +day among the shepherds’ tents, and know whether all our searches are not +to terminate in pastoral simplicity.” + +The proposal pleased them; and they induced the shepherds, by small +presents and familiar questions, to tell the opinion of their own state. +They were so rude and ignorant, so little able to compare the good with +the evil of the occupation, and so indistinct in their narratives and +descriptions, that very little could be learned from them. But it was +evident that their hearts were cankered with discontent; that they +considered themselves as condemned to labour for the luxury of the rich, +and looked up with stupid malevolence towards those that were placed +above them. + +The Princess pronounced with vehemence that she would never suffer these +envious savages to be her companions, and that she should not soon be +desirous of seeing any more specimens of rustic happiness; but could not +believe that all the accounts of primeval pleasures were fabulous, and +was in doubt whether life had anything that could be justly preferred to +the placid gratification of fields and woods. She hoped that the time +would come when, with a few virtuous and elegant companions, she should +gather flowers planted by her own hands, fondle the lambs of her own ewe, +and listen without care, among brooks and breezes, to one of her maidens +reading in the shade. + + + + +CHAPTER XX +THE DANGER OF PROSPERITY. + + +ON the next day they continued their journey till the heat compelled them +to look round for shelter. At a small distance they saw a thick wood, +which they no sooner entered than they perceived that they were +approaching the habitations of men. The shrubs were diligently cut away +to open walks where the shades ware darkest; the boughs of opposite trees +were artificially interwoven; seats of flowery turf were raised in vacant +spaces; and a rivulet that wantoned along the side of a winding path had +its banks sometimes opened into small basins, and its stream sometimes +obstructed by little mounds of stone heaped together to increase its +murmurs. + +They passed slowly through the wood, delighted with such unexpected +accommodations, and entertained each other with conjecturing what or who +he could be that in those rude and unfrequented regions had leisure and +art for such harmless luxury. + +As they advanced they heard the sound of music, and saw youths and +virgins dancing in the grove; and going still farther beheld a stately +palace built upon a hill surrounded by woods. The laws of Eastern +hospitality allowed them to enter, and the master welcomed them like a +man liberal and wealthy. + +He was skilful enough in appearances soon to discern that they were no +common guests, and spread his table with magnificence. The eloquence of +Imlac caught his attention, and the lofty courtesy of the Princess +excited his respect. When they offered to depart, he entreated their +stay, and was the next day more unwilling to dismiss them than before. +They were easily persuaded to stop, and civility grew up in time to +freedom and confidence. + +The Prince now saw all the domestics cheerful and all the face of nature +smiling round the place, and could not forbear to hope that he should +find here what he was seeking; but when he was congratulating the master +upon his possessions he answered with a sigh, “My condition has indeed +the appearance of happiness, but appearances are delusive. My prosperity +puts my life in danger; the Bassa of Egypt is my enemy, incensed only by +my wealth and popularity. I have been hitherto protected against him by +the princes of the country; but as the favour of the great is uncertain I +know not how soon my defenders may be persuaded to share the plunder with +the Bassa. I have sent my treasures into a distant country, and upon the +first alarm am prepared to follow them. Then will my enemies riot in my +mansion, and enjoy the gardens which I have planted.” + +They all joined in lamenting his danger and deprecating his exile; and +the Princess was so much disturbed with the tumult of grief and +indignation that she retired to her apartment. They continued with their +kind inviter a few days longer, and then went to find the hermit. + + + + +CHAPTER XXI +THE HAPPINESS OF SOLITUDE—THE HERMIT’S HISTORY. + + +THEY came on the third day, by the direction of the peasants, to the +hermit’s cell. It was a cavern in the side of a mountain, overshadowed +with palm trees, at such a distance from the cataract that nothing more +was heard than a gentle uniform murmur, such as composes the mind to +pensive meditation, especially when it was assisted by the wind whistling +among the branches. The first rude essay of Nature had been so much +improved by human labour that the cave contained several apartments +appropriated to different uses, and often afforded lodging to travellers +whom darkness or tempests happened to overtake. + +The hermit sat on a bench at the door, to enjoy the coolness of the +evening. On one side lay a book with pens and paper; on the other +mechanical instruments of various kinds. As they approached him +unregarded, the Princess observed that he had not the countenance of a +man that had found or could teach the way to happiness. + +They saluted him with great respect, which he repaid like a man not +unaccustomed to the forms of Courts. “My children,” said he, “if you +have lost your way, you shall be willingly supplied with such +conveniences for the night as this cavern will afford. I have all that +Nature requires, and you will not expect delicacies in a hermit’s cell.” + +They thanked him; and, entering, were pleased with the neatness and +regularity of the place. The hermit set flesh and wine before them, +though he fed only upon fruits and water. His discourse was cheerful +without levity, and pious without enthusiasm. He soon gained the esteem +of his guests, and the Princess repented her hasty censure. + +At last Imlac began thus: “I do not now wonder that your reputation is so +far extended: we have heard at Cairo of your wisdom, and came hither to +implore your direction for this young man and maiden in the _choice of +life_.” + +“To him that lives well,” answered the hermit, “every form of life is +good; nor can I give any other rule for choice than to remove all +apparent evil.” + +“He will most certainly remove from evil,” said the Prince, “who shall +devote himself to that solitude which you have recommended by your +example.” + +“I have indeed lived fifteen years in solitude,” said the hermit, “but +have no desire that my example should gain any imitators. In my youth I +professed arms, and was raised by degrees to the highest military rank. +I have traversed wide countries at the head of my troops, and seen many +battles and sieges. At last, being disgusted by the preferments of a +younger officer, and feeling that my vigour was beginning to decay, I +resolved to close my life in peace, having found the world full of +snares, discord, and misery. I had once escaped from the pursuit of the +enemy by the shelter of this cavern, and therefore chose it for my final +residence. I employed artificers to form it into chambers, and stored it +with all that I was likely to want. + +“For some time after my retreat I rejoiced like a tempest-beaten sailor +at his entrance into the harbour, being delighted with the sudden change +of the noise and hurry of war to stillness and repose. When the pleasure +of novelty went away, I employed my hours in examining the plants which +grow in the valley, and the minerals which I collected from the rocks. +But that inquiry is now grown tasteless and irksome. I have been for +some time unsettled and distracted: my mind is disturbed with a thousand +perplexities of doubt and vanities of imagination, which hourly prevail +upon me, because I have no opportunities of relaxation or diversion. I +am sometimes ashamed to think that I could not secure myself from vice +but by retiring from the exercise of virtue, and begin to suspect that I +was rather impelled by resentment than led by devotion into solitude. My +fancy riots in scenes of folly, and I lament that I have lost so much, +and have gained so little. In solitude, if I escape the example of bad +men, I want likewise the counsel and conversation of the good. I have +been long comparing the evils with the advantages of society, and resolve +to return into the world to-morrow. The life of a solitary man will be +certainly miserable, but not certainly devout.” + +They heard his resolution with surprise, but after a short pause offered +to conduct him to Cairo. He dug up a considerable treasure which he had +hid among the rocks, and accompanied them to the city, on which, as he +approached it, he gazed with rapture. + + + + +CHAPTER XXII +THE HAPPINESS OF A LIFE LED ACCORDING TO NATURE. + + +RASSELAS went often to an assembly of learned men, who met at stated +times to unbend their minds and compare their opinions. Their manners +were somewhat coarse, but their conversation was instructive, and their +disputations acute, though sometimes too violent, and often continued +till neither controvertist remembered upon what question he began. Some +faults were almost general among them: every one was pleased to hear the +genius or knowledge of another depreciated. + +In this assembly Rasselas was relating his interview with the hermit, and +the wonder with which he heard him censure a course of life which he had +so deliberately chosen and so laudably followed. The sentiments of the +hearers were various. Some were of opinion that the folly of his choice +had been justly punished by condemnation to perpetual perseverance. One +of the youngest among them, with great vehemence, pronounced him a +hypocrite. Some talked of the right of society to the labour of +individuals, and considered retirement as a desertion of duty. Others +readily allowed that there was a time when the claims of the public were +satisfied, and when a man might properly sequester himself, to review his +life and purify his heart. + +One who appeared more affected with the narrative than the rest thought +it likely that the hermit would in a few years go back to his retreat, +and perhaps, if shame did not restrain or death intercept him, return +once more from his retreat into the world. “For the hope of happiness,” +said he, “is so strongly impressed that the longest experience is not +able to efface it. Of the present state, whatever it be, we feel and are +forced to confess the misery; yet when the same state is again at a +distance, imagination paints it as desirable. But the time will surely +come when desire will no longer be our torment and no man shall be +wretched but by his own fault. + +“This,” said a philosopher who had heard him with tokens of great +impatience, “is the present condition of a wise man. The time is already +come when none are wretched but by their own fault. Nothing is more idle +than to inquire after happiness which Nature has kindly placed within our +reach. The way to be happy is to live according to Nature, in obedience +to that universal and unalterable law with which every heart is +originally impressed; which is not written on it by precept, but engraven +by destiny; not instilled by education, but infused at our nativity. He +that lives according to Nature will suffer nothing from the delusions of +hope or importunities of desire; he will receive and reject with +equability of temper; and act or suffer as the reason of things shall +alternately prescribe. Other men may amuse themselves with subtle +definitions or intricate ratiocination. Let them learn to be wise by +easier means: let them observe the hind of the forest and the linnet of +the grove: let them consider the life of animals, whose motions are +regulated by instinct; they obey their guide, and are happy. Let us +therefore at length cease to dispute, and learn to live: throw away the +encumbrance of precepts, which they who utter them with so much pride and +pomp do not understand, and carry with us this simple and intelligible +maxim: that deviation from Nature is deviation from happiness.” + +When he had spoken he looked round him with a placid air, and enjoyed the +consciousness of his own beneficence. + +“Sir,” said the Prince with great modesty, “as I, like all the rest of +mankind, am desirous of felicity, my closest attention has been fixed +upon your discourse: I doubt not the truth of a position which a man so +learned has so confidently advanced. Let me only know what it is to live +according to Nature.” + +“When I find young men so humble and so docile,” said the philosopher, “I +can deny them no information which my studies have enabled me to afford. +To live according to Nature is to act always with due regard to the +fitness arising from the relations and qualities of causes and effects; +to concur with the great and unchangeable scheme of universal felicity; +to co-operate with the general disposition and tendency of the present +system of things.” + +The Prince soon found that this was one of the sages whom he should +understand less as he heard him longer. He therefore bowed and was +silent; and the philosopher, supposing him satisfied and the rest +vanquished, rose up and departed with the air of a man that had +co-operated with the present system. + + + + +CHAPTER XXIII +THE PRINCE AND HIS SISTER DIVIDE BETWEEN THEM THE WORK OF OBSERVATION. + + +RASSELAS returned home full of reflections, doubting how to direct his +future steps. Of the way to happiness he found the learned and simple +equally ignorant; but as he was yet young, he flattered himself that he +had time remaining for more experiments and further inquiries. He +communicated to Imlac his observations and his doubts, but was answered +by him with new doubts and remarks that gave him no comfort. He +therefore discoursed more frequently and freely with his sister, who had +yet the same hope with himself, and always assisted him to give some +reason why, though he had been hitherto frustrated, he might succeed at +last. + +“We have hitherto,” said she, “known but little of the world; we have +never yet been either great or mean. In our own country, though we had +royalty, we had no power; and in this we have not yet seen the private +recesses of domestic peace. Imlac favours not our search, lest we should +in time find him mistaken. We will divide the task between us; you shall +try what is to be found in the splendour of Courts, and I will range the +shades of humbler life. Perhaps command and authority may be the supreme +blessings, as they afford the most opportunities of doing good; or +perhaps what this world can give may be found in the modest habitations +of middle fortune—too low for great designs, and too high for penury and +distress.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXIV +THE PRINCE EXAMINES THE HAPPINESS OF HIGH STATIONS. + + +RASSELAS applauded the design, and appeared next day with a splendid +retinue at the Court of the Bassa. He was soon distinguished for his +magnificence, and admitted, as a Prince whose curiosity had brought him +from distant countries, to an intimacy with the great officers and +frequent conversation with the Bassa himself. + +He was at first inclined to believe that the man must be pleased with his +own condition whom all approached with reverence and heard with +obedience, and who had the power to extend his edicts to a whole kingdom. +“There can be no pleasure,” said he, “equal to that of feeling at once +the joy of thousands all made happy by wise administration. Yet, since +by the law of subordination this sublime delight can be in one nation but +the lot of one, it is surely reasonable to think that there is some +satisfaction more popular and accessible, and that millions can hardly be +subjected to the will of a single man, only to fill his particular breast +with incommunicable content.” + +These thoughts were often in his mind, and he found no solution of the +difficulty. But as presents and civilities gained him more familiarity, +he found that almost every man who stood high in his employment hated all +the rest and was hated by them, and that their lives were a continual +succession of plots and detections, stratagems and escapes, faction and +treachery. Many of those who surrounded the Bassa were sent only to +watch and report his conduct: every tongue was muttering censure, and +every eye was searching for a fault. + +At last the letters of revocation arrived: the Bassa was carried in +chains to Constantinople, and his name was mentioned no more. + +“What are we now to think of the prerogatives of power?” said Rasselas to +his sister: “is it without efficacy to good, or is the subordinate degree +only dangerous, and the supreme safe and glorious? Is the Sultan the +only happy man in his dominions, or is the Sultan himself subject to the +torments of suspicion and the dread of enemies?” + +In a short time the second Bassa was deposed. The Sultan that had +advanced him was murdered by the Janissaries, and his successor had other +views or different favourites. + + + + +CHAPTER XXV +THE PRINCESS PURSUES HER INQUIRY WITH MORE DILIGENCE THAN SUCCESS. + + +THE Princess in the meantime insinuated herself into many families; for +there are few doors through which liberality, joined with good humour, +cannot find its way. The daughters of many houses were airy and +cheerful; but Nekayah had been too long accustomed to the conversation of +Imlac and her brother to be much pleased with childish levity and prattle +which had no meaning. She found their thoughts narrow, their wishes low, +and their merriment often artificial. Their pleasures, poor as they +were, could not be preserved pure, but were embittered by petty +competitions and worthless emulation. They were always jealous of the +beauty of each other, of a quality to which solicitude can add nothing, +and from which detraction can take nothing away. Many were in love with +triflers like themselves, and many fancied that they were in love when in +truth they were only idle. Their affection was not fixed on sense or +virtue, and therefore seldom ended but in vexation. Their grief, +however, like their joy, was transient; everything floated in their mind +unconnected with the past or future, so that one desire easily gave way +to another, as a second stone, cast into the water, effaces and confounds +the circles of the first. + +With these girls she played as with inoffensive animals, and found them +proud of her countenance and weary of her company. + +But her purpose was to examine more deeply, and her affability easily +persuaded the hearts that were swelling with sorrow to discharge their +secrets in her ear, and those whom hope flattered or prosperity delighted +often courted her to partake their pleasure. + +The Princess and her brother commonly met in the evening in a private +summerhouse on the banks of the Nile, and related to each other the +occurrences of the day. As they were sitting together the Princess cast +her eyes upon the river that flowed before her. “Answer,” said she, +“great father of waters, thou that rollest thy goods through eighty +nations, to the invocations of the daughter of thy native king. Tell me +if thou waterest through all thy course a single habitation from which +thou dost not hear the murmurs of complaint.” + +“You are then,” said Rasselas, “not more successful in private houses +than I have been in Courts.” “I have, since the last partition of our +provinces,” said the Princess, “enabled myself to enter familiarly into +many families, where there was the fairest show of prosperity and peace, +and know not one house that is not haunted by some fury that destroys +their quiet. + +“I did not seek ease among the poor, because I concluded that there it +could not be found. But I saw many poor whom I had supposed to live in +affluence. Poverty has in large cities very different appearances. It +is often concealed in splendour and often in extravagance. It is the +care of a very great part of mankind to conceal their indigence from the +rest. They support themselves by temporary expedients, and every day is +lost in contriving for the morrow. + +“This, however, was an evil which, though frequent, I saw with less pain, +because I could relieve it. Yet some have refused my bounties; more +offended with my quickness to detect their wants than pleased with my +readiness to succour them; and others, whose exigencies compelled them to +admit my kindness, have never been able to forgive their benefactress. +Many, however, have been sincerely grateful without the ostentation of +gratitude or the hope of other favours.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXVI +THE PRINCESS CONTINUES HER REMARKS UPON PRIVATE LIFE. + + +NEKAYAH, perceiving her brother’s attention fixed, proceeded in her +narrative. + +“In families where there is or is not poverty there is commonly discord. +If a kingdom be, as Imlac tells us, a great family, a family likewise is +a little kingdom, torn with factions and exposed to revolutions. An +unpractised observer expects the love of parents and children to be +constant and equal. But this kindness seldom continues beyond the years +of infancy; in a short time the children become rivals to their parents. +Benefits are allowed by reproaches, and gratitude debased by envy. + +“Parents and children seldom act in concert; each child endeavours to +appropriate the esteem or the fondness of the parents; and the parents, +with yet less temptation, betray each other to their children. Thus, +some place their confidence in the father and some in the mother, and by +degrees the house is filled with artifices and feuds. + +“The opinions of children and parents, of the young and the old, are +naturally opposite, by the contrary effects of hope and despondency, of +expectation and experience, without crime or folly on either side. The +colours of life in youth and age appear different, as the face of Nature +in spring and winter. And how can children credit the assertions of +parents which their own eyes show them to be false? + +“Few parents act in such a manner as much to enforce their maxims by the +credit of their lives. The old man trusts wholly to slow contrivance and +gradual progression; the youth expects to force his way by genius, +vigour, and precipitance. The old man pays regard to riches, and the +youth reverences virtue. The old man deifies prudence; the youth commits +himself to magnanimity and chance. The young man, who intends no ill, +believes that none is intended, and therefore acts with openness and +candour; but his father; having suffered the injuries of fraud, is +impelled to suspect and too often allured to practise it. Age looks with +anger on the temerity of youth, and youth with contempt on the +scrupulosity of age. Thus parents and children for the greatest part +live on to love less and less; and if those whom Nature has thus closely +united are the torments of each other, where shall we look for tenderness +and consolations?” + +“Surely,” said the Prince, “you must have been unfortunate in your choice +of acquaintance. I am unwilling to believe that the most tender of all +relations is thus impeded in its effects by natural necessity.” + +“Domestic discord,” answered she, “is not inevitably and fatally +necessary, but yet it is not easily avoided. We seldom see that a whole +family is virtuous; the good and the evil cannot well agree, and the evil +can yet less agree with one another. Even the virtuous fall sometimes to +variance, when their virtues are of different kinds and tending to +extremes. In general, those parents have most reverence who most deserve +it, for he that lives well cannot be despised. + +“Many other evils infest private life. Some are the slaves of servants +whom they have trusted with their affairs. Some are kept in continual +anxiety by the caprice of rich relations, whom they cannot please and +dare not offend. Some husbands are imperious and some wives perverse, +and, as it is always more easy to do evil than good, though the wisdom or +virtue of one can very rarely make many happy, the folly or vice of one +makes many miserable.” + +“If such be the general effect of marriage,” said the Prince, “I shall +for the future think it dangerous to connect my interest with that of +another, lest I should be unhappy by my partner’s fault.” + +“I have met,” said the Princess, “with many who live single for that +reason, but I never found that their prudence ought to raise envy. They +dream away their time without friendship, without fondness, and are +driven to rid themselves of the day, for which they have no use, by +childish amusements or vicious delights. They act as beings under the +constant sense of some known inferiority that fills their minds with +rancour and their tongues with censure. They are peevish at home and +malevolent abroad, and, as the outlaws of human nature, make it their +business and their pleasure to disturb that society which debars them +from its privileges. To live without feeling or exciting sympathy, to be +fortunate without adding to the felicity of others, or afflicted without +tasting the balm of pity, is a state more gloomy than solitude; it is not +retreat but exclusion from mankind. Marriage has many pains, but +celibacy has no pleasures.” + +“What then is to be done?” said Rasselas. “The more we inquire the less +we can resolve. Surely he is most likely to please himself that has no +other inclination to regard.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXVII +DISQUISITION UPON GREATNESS. + + +THE conversation had a short pause. The Prince, having considered his +sister’s observation, told her that she had surveyed life with prejudice +and supposed misery where she did not find it. “Your narrative,” says +he, “throws yet a darker gloom upon the prospects of futurity. The +predictions of Imlac were but faint sketches of the evils painted by +Nekayah. I have been lately convinced that quiet is not the daughter of +grandeur or of power; that her presence is not to be bought by wealth nor +enforced by conquest. It is evident that as any man acts in a wider +compass he must be more exposed to opposition from enmity or miscarriage +from chance. Whoever has many to please or to govern must use the +ministry of many agents, some of whom will be wicked and some ignorant, +by some he will be misled and by others betrayed. If he gratifies one he +will offend another; those that are not favoured will think themselves +injured, and since favours can be conferred but upon few the greater +number will be always discontented.” + +“The discontent,” said the Princess, “which is thus unreasonable, I hope +that I shall always have spirit to despise and you power to repress.” + +“Discontent,” answered Rasselas, “will not always be without reason under +the most just and vigilant administration of public affairs. None, +however attentive, can always discover that merit which indigence or +faction may happen to obscure, and none, however powerful, can always +reward it. Yet he that sees inferior desert advanced above him will +naturally impute that preference to partiality or caprice, and indeed it +can scarcely be hoped that any man, however magnanimous by Nature or +exalted by condition, will be able to persist for ever in fixed and +inexorable justice of distribution; he will sometimes indulge his own +affections and sometimes those of his favourites; he will permit some to +please him who can never serve him; he will discover in those whom he +loves qualities which in reality they do not possess, and to those from +whom he receives pleasure he will in his turn endeavour to give it. Thus +will recommendations sometimes prevail which were purchased by money or +by the more destructive bribery of flattery and servility. + +“He that hath much to do will do something wrong, and of that wrong must +suffer the consequences, and if it were possible that he should always +act rightly, yet, when such numbers are to judge of his conduct, the bad +will censure and obstruct him by malevolence and the good sometimes by +mistake. + +“The highest stations cannot therefore hope to be the abodes of +happiness, which I would willingly believe to have fled from thrones and +palaces to seats of humble privacy and placid obscurity. For what can +hinder the satisfaction or intercept the expectations of him whose +abilities are adequate to his employments, who sees with his own eyes the +whole circuit of his influence, who chooses by his own knowledge all whom +he trusts, and whom none are tempted to deceive by hope or fear? Surely +he has nothing to do but to love and to be loved; to be virtuous and to +be happy.” + +“Whether perfect happiness would be procured by perfect goodness,” said +Nekayah, “this world will never afford an opportunity of deciding. But +this, at least, may be maintained, that we do not always find visible +happiness in proportion to visible virtue. All natural and almost all +political evils are incident alike to the bad and good; they are +confounded in the misery of a famine, and not much distinguished in the +fury of a faction; they sink together in a tempest and are driven +together from their country by invaders. All that virtue can afford is +quietness of conscience and a steady prospect of a happier state; this +may enable us to endure calamity with patience, but remember that +patience must oppose pain.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXVIII +RASSELAS AND NEKAYAH CONTINUE THEIR CONVERSATION. + + +“DEAR Princess,” said Rasselas, “you fall into the common errors of +exaggeratory declamation, by producing in a familiar disquisition +examples of national calamities and scenes of extensive misery which are +found in books rather than in the world, and which, as they are horrid, +are ordained to be rare. Let us not imagine evils which we do not feel, +nor injure life by misrepresentations. I cannot bear that querulous +eloquence which threatens every city with a siege like that of Jerusalem, +that makes famine attend on every flight of locust, and suspends +pestilence on the wing of every blast that issues from the south. + +“On necessary and inevitable evils which overwhelm kingdoms at once all +disputation is vain; when they happen they must be endured. But it is +evident that these bursts of universal distress are more dreaded than +felt; thousands and tens of thousands flourish in youth and wither in +age, without the knowledge of any other than domestic evils, and share +the same pleasures and vexations, whether their kings are mild or cruel, +whether the armies of their country pursue their enemies or retreat +before them. While Courts are disturbed with intestine competitions and +ambassadors are negotiating in foreign countries, the smith still plies +his anvil and the husbandman drives his plough forward; the necessaries +of life are required and obtained, and the successive business of the +season continues to make its wonted revolutions. + +“Let us cease to consider what perhaps may never happen, and what, when +it shall happen, will laugh at human speculation. We will not endeavour +to modify the motions of the elements or to fix the destiny of kingdoms. +It is our business to consider what beings like us may perform, each +labouring for his own happiness by promoting within his circle, however +narrow, the happiness of others. + +“Marriage is evidently the dictate of Nature; men and women were made to +be the companions of each other, and therefore I cannot be persuaded but +that marriage is one of the means of happiness.” + +“I know not,” said the Princess, “whether marriage be more than one of +the innumerable modes of human misery. When I see and reckon the various +forms of connubial infelicity, the unexpected causes of lasting discord, +the diversities of temper, the oppositions of opinion, the rude +collisions of contrary desire where both are urged by violent impulses, +the obstinate contest of disagreeing virtues where both are supported by +consciousness of good intention, I am sometimes disposed to think, with +the severer casuists of most nations, that marriage is rather permitted +than approved, and that none, but by the instigation of a passion too +much indulged, entangle themselves with indissoluble compact.” + +“You seem to forget,” replied Rasselas, “that you have, even now +represented celibacy as less happy than marriage. Both conditions may be +bad, but they cannot both be worse. Thus it happens, when wrong opinions +are entertained, that they mutually destroy each other and leave the mind +open to truth.” + +“I did not expect,” answered, the Princess, “to hear that imputed to +falsehood which is the consequence only of frailty. To the mind, as to +the eye, it is difficult to compare with exactness objects vast in their +extent and various in their parts. When we see or conceive the whole at +once, we readily note the discriminations and decide the preference, but +of two systems, of which neither can be surveyed by any human being in +its full compass of magnitude and multiplicity of complication, where is +the wonder that, judging of the whole by parts, I am alternately affected +by one and the other as either presses on my memory or fancy? We differ +from ourselves just as we differ from each other when we see only part of +the question, as in the multifarious relations of politics and morality, +but when we perceive the whole at once, as in numerical computations, all +agree in one judgment, and none ever varies in his opinion.” + +“Let us not add,” said the Prince, “to the other evils of life the +bitterness of controversy, nor endeavour to vie with each other in +subtilties of argument. We are employed in a search of which both are +equally to enjoy the success or suffer by the miscarriage; it is +therefore fit that we assist each other. You surely conclude too hastily +from the infelicity of marriage against its institution; will not the +misery of life prove equally that life cannot be the gift of Heaven? The +world must be peopled by marriage or peopled without it.” + +“How the world is to be peopled,” returned Nekayah, “is not my care and +need not be yours. I see no danger that the present generation should +omit to leave successors behind them; we are not now inquiring for the +world, but for ourselves.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXIX +THE DEBATE ON MARRIAGE (_continued_). + + +“THE good of the whole,” says Rasselas, “is the same with the good of all +its parts. If marriage be best for mankind, it must be evidently best +for individuals; or a permanent and necessary duty must be the cause of +evil, and some must be inevitably sacrificed to the convenience of +others. In the estimate which you have made of the two states, it +appears that the incommodities of a single life are in a great measure +necessary and certain, but those of the conjugal state accidental and +avoidable. I cannot forbear to flatter myself that prudence and +benevolence will make marriage happy. The general folly of mankind is +the cause of general complaint. What can be expected but disappointment +and repentance from a choice made in the immaturity of youth, in the +ardour of desire, without judgment, without foresight, without inquiry +after conformity of opinions, similarity of manners, rectitude of +judgment, or purity of sentiment? + +“Such is the common process of marriage. A youth and maiden, meeting by +chance or brought together by artifice, exchange glances, reciprocate +civilities, go home and dream of one another. Having little to divert +attention or diversify thought, they find themselves uneasy when they are +apart, and therefore conclude that they shall be happy together. They +marry, and discover what nothing but voluntary blindness before had +concealed; they wear out life in altercations, and charge Nature with +cruelty. + +“From those early marriages proceeds likewise the rivalry of parents and +children: the son is eager to enjoy the world before the father is +willing to forsake it, and there is hardly room at once for two +generations. The daughter begins to bloom before the mother can be +content to fade, and neither can forbear to wish for the absence of the +other. + +“Surely all these evils may be avoided by that deliberation and delay +which prudence prescribes to irrevocable choice. In the variety and +jollity of youthful pleasures, life may be well enough supported without +the help of a partner. Longer time will increase experience, and wider +views will allow better opportunities of inquiry and selection; one +advantage at least will be certain, the parents will be visibly older +than their children.” + +“What reason cannot collect,” said Nekayah, “and what experiment has not +yet taught, can be known only from the report of others. I have been +told that late marriages are not eminently happy. This is a question too +important to be neglected; and I have often proposed it to those whose +accuracy of remark and comprehensiveness of knowledge made their +suffrages worthy of regard. They have generally determined that it is +dangerous for a man and woman to suspend their fate upon each other at a +time when opinions are fixed and habits are established, when friendships +have been contracted on both sides, when life has been planned into +method, and the mind has long enjoyed the contemplation of its own +prospects. + +“It is scarcely possible that two travelling through the world under the +conduct of chance should have been both directed to the same path, and it +will not often happen that either will quit the track which custom has +made pleasing. When the desultory levity of youth has settled into +regularity, it is soon succeeded by pride ashamed to yield, or obstinacy +delighting to contend. And even though mutual esteem produces mutual +desire to please, time itself, as it modifies unchangeably the external +mien, determines likewise the direction of the passions, and gives an +inflexible rigidity to the manners. Long customs are not easily broken; +he that attempts to change the course of his own life very often labours +in vain, and how shall we do that for others which we are seldom able to +do for ourselves?” + +“But surely,” interposed the Prince, “you suppose the chief motive of +choice forgotten or neglected. Whenever I shall seek a wife, it shall be +my first question whether she be willing to be led by reason.” + +“Thus it is,” said Nekayah, “that philosophers are deceived. There are a +thousand familiar disputes which reason never can decide; questions that +elude investigation, and make logic ridiculous; cases where something +must be done, and where little can be said. Consider the state of +mankind, and inquire how few can be supposed to act upon any occasions, +whether small or great, with all the reasons of action present to their +minds. Wretched would be the pair, above all names of wretchedness, who +should be doomed to adjust by reason every morning all the minute details +of a domestic day. + +“Those who marry at an advanced age will probably escape the +encroachments of their children, but in the diminution of this advantage +they will be likely to leave them, ignorant and helpless, to a guardian’s +mercy; or if that should not happen, they must at least go out of the +world before they see those whom they love best either wise or great. + +“From their children, if they have less to fear, they have less also to +hope; and they lose without equivalent the joys of early love, and the +convenience of uniting with manners pliant and minds susceptible of new +impressions, which might wear away their dissimilitudes by long +cohabitation, as soft bodies by continual attrition conform their +surfaces to each other. + +“I believe it will be found that those who marry late are best pleased +with their children, and those who marry early with their partners.” + +“The union of these two affections,” said Rasselas, “would produce all +that could be wished. Perhaps there is a time when marriage might unite +them—a time neither too early for the father nor too late for the +husband.” + +“Every hour,” answered the Princess, “confirms my prejudice in favour of +the position so often uttered by the mouth of Imlac, that ‘Nature sets +her gifts on the right hand and on the left.’ Those conditions which +flatter hope and attract desire are so constituted that as we approach +one we recede from another. There are goods so opposed that we cannot +seize both, but by too much prudence may pass between them at too great a +distance to reach either. This is often the fate of long consideration; +he does nothing who endeavours to do more than is allowed to humanity. +Flatter not yourself with contrarieties of pleasure. Of the blessings +set before you make your choice, and be content. No man can taste the +fruits of autumn while he is delighting his scent with the flowers of the +spring; no man can at the same time fill his cup from the source and from +the mouth of the Nile.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXX +IMLAC ENTERS, AND CHANGES THE CONVERSATION. + + +HERE Imlac entered, and interrupted them. “Imlac,” said Rasselas, “I +have been taking from the Princess the dismal history of private life, +and am almost discouraged from further search.” + +“It seems to me,” said Imlac, “that while you are making the choice of +life you neglect to live. You wander about a single city, which, however +large and diversified, can now afford few novelties, and forget that you +are in a country famous among the earliest monarchies for the power and +wisdom of its inhabitants—a country where the sciences first dawned that +illuminate the world, and beyond which the arts cannot be traced of civil +society or domestic life. + +“The old Egyptians have left behind them monuments of industry and power +before which all European magnificence is confessed to fade away. The +ruins of their architecture are the schools of modern builders; and from +the wonders which time has spared we may conjecture, though uncertainly, +what it has destroyed.” + +“My curiosity,” said Rasselas, “does not very strongly lead me to survey +piles of stone or mounds of earth. My business is with man. I came +hither not to measure fragments of temples or trace choked aqueducts, but +to look upon the various scenes of the present world.” + +“The things that are now before us,” said the Princess, “require +attention, and deserve it. What have I to do with the heroes or the +monuments of ancient times—with times which can never return, and heroes +whose form of life was different from all that the present condition of +mankind requires or allows?” + +“To know anything,” returned the poet, “we must know its effects; to see +men, we must see their works, that we may learn what reason has dictated +or passion has excited, and find what are the most powerful motives of +action. To judge rightly of the present, we must oppose it to the past; +for all judgment is comparative, and of the future nothing can be known. +The truth is that no mind is much employed upon the present; recollection +and anticipation fill up almost all our moments. Our passions are joy +and grief, love and hatred, hope and fear. Of joy and grief, the past is +the object, and the future of hope and fear; even love and hatred respect +the past, for the cause must have been before the effect. + +“The present state of things is the consequence of the former; and it is +natural to inquire what were the sources of the good that we enjoy, or +the evils that we suffer. If we act only for ourselves, to neglect the +study of history is not prudent. If we are entrusted with the care of +others, it is not just. Ignorance, when it is voluntary, is criminal; +and he may properly be charged with evil who refused to learn how he +might prevent it. + +“There is no part of history so generally useful as that which relates to +the progress of the human mind, the gradual improvement of reason, the +successive advances of science, the vicissitudes of learning and +ignorance (which are the light and darkness of thinking beings), the +extinction and resuscitation of arts, and the revolutions of the +intellectual world. If accounts of battles and invasions are peculiarly +the business of princes, the useful or elegant arts are not to be +neglected; those who have kingdoms to govern have understandings to +cultivate. + +“Example is always more efficacious than precept. A soldier is formed in +war, and a painter must copy pictures. In this, contemplative life has +the advantage. Great actions are seldom seen, but the labours of art are +always at hand for those who desire to know what art has been able to +perform. + +“When the eye or the imagination is struck with any uncommon work, the +next transition of an active mind is to the means by which it was +performed. Here begins the true use of such contemplation. We enlarge +our comprehension by new ideas, and perhaps recover some art lost to +mankind, or learn what is less perfectly known in our own country. At +least we compare our own with former times, and either rejoice at our +improvements, or, what is the first motion towards good, discover our +defects.” + +“I am willing,” said the Prince, “to see all that can deserve my search.” + +“And I,” said the Princess, “shall rejoice to learn something of the +manners of antiquity.” + +“The most pompous monument of Egyptian greatness, and one of the most +bulky works of manual industry,” said Imlac, “are the Pyramids: fabrics +raised before the time of history, and of which the earliest narratives +afford us only uncertain traditions. Of these the greatest is still +standing, very little injured by time.” + +“Let us visit them to-morrow,” said Nekayah. “I have often heard of the +Pyramids, and shall not rest till I have seen them, within and without, +with my own eyes.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI +THEY VISIT THE PYRAMIDS. + + +THE resolution being thus taken, they set out the next day. They laid +tents upon their camels, being resolved to stay among the Pyramids till +their curiosity was fully satisfied. They travelled gently, turned aside +to everything remarkable, stopped from time to time and conversed with +the inhabitants, and observed the various appearances of towns ruined and +inhabited, of wild and cultivated nature. + +When they came to the Great Pyramid they were astonished at the extent of +the base and the height of the top. Imlac explained to them the +principles upon which the pyramidal form was chosen for a fabric intended +to co-extend its duration with that of the world: he showed that its +gradual diminution gave it such stability as defeated all the common +attacks of the elements, and could scarcely be overthrown by earthquakes +themselves, the least resistible of natural violence. A concussion that +should shatter the pyramid would threaten the dissolution of the +continent. + +They measured all its dimensions, and pitched their tents at its foot. +Next day they prepared to enter its interior apartments, and having hired +the common guides, climbed up to the first passage; when the favourite of +the Princess, looking into the cavity, stepped back and trembled. +“Pekuah,” said the Princess, “of what art thou afraid?” + +“Of the narrow entrance,” answered the lady, “and of the dreadful gloom. +I dare not enter a place which must surely be inhabited by unquiet souls. +The original possessors of these dreadful vaults will start up before us, +and perhaps shut us in for ever.” She spoke, and threw her arms round +the neck of her mistress. + +“If all your fear be of apparitions,” said the Prince, “I will promise +you safety. There is no danger from the dead: he that is once buried +will be seen no more.” + +“That the dead are seen no more,” said Imlac, “I will not undertake to +maintain against the concurrent and unvaried testimony of all ages and of +all nations. There is no people, rude or learned, among whom apparitions +of the dead are not related and believed. This opinion, which perhaps +prevails as far as human nature is diffused, could become universal only +by its truth: those that never heard of one another would not have agreed +in a tale which nothing but experience can make credible. That it is +doubted by single cavillers can very little weaken the general evidence, +and some who deny it with their tongues confess it by their fears. + +“Yet I do not mean to add new terrors to those which have already seized +upon Pekuah. There can be no reason why spectres should haunt the +Pyramid more than other places, or why they should have power or will to +hurt innocence and purity. Our entrance is no violation of their +privileges: we can take nothing from them; how, then, can we offend +them?” + +“My dear Pekuah,” said the Princess, “I will always go before you, and +Imlac shall follow you. Remember that you are the companion of the +Princess of Abyssinia.” + +“If the Princess is pleased that her servant should die,” returned the +lady, “let her command some death less dreadful than enclosure in this +horrid cavern. You know I dare not disobey you—I must go if you command +me; but if I once enter, I never shall come back.” + +The Princess saw that her fear was too strong for expostulation or +reproof, and, embracing her, told her that she should stay in the tent +till their return. Pekuah was not yet satisfied, but entreated the +Princess not to pursue so dreadful a purpose as that of entering the +recesses of the Pyramids. “Though I cannot teach courage,” said Nekayah, +“I must not learn cowardice, nor leave at last undone what I came hither +only to do.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII +THEY ENTER THE PYRAMID. + + +PEKUAH descended to the tents, and the rest entered the Pyramid. They +passed through the galleries, surveyed the vaults of marble, and examined +the chest in which the body of the founder is supposed to have been +deposited. They then sat down in one of the most spacious chambers to +rest awhile before they attempted to return. + +“We have now,” said Imlac, “gratified our minds with an exact view of the +greatest work of man, except the wall of China. + +“Of the wall it is very easy to assign the motive. It secured a wealthy +and timorous nation from the incursions of barbarians, whose +unskilfulness in the arts made it easier for them to supply their wants +by rapine than by industry, and who from time to time poured in upon the +inhabitants of peaceful commerce as vultures descend upon domestic fowl. +Their celerity and fierceness made the wall necessary, and their +ignorance made it efficacious. + +“But for the Pyramids, no reason has ever been given adequate to the cost +and labour of the work. The narrowness of the chambers proves that it +could afford no retreat from enemies, and treasures might have been +reposited at far less expense with equal security. It seems to have been +erected only in compliance with that hunger of imagination which preys +incessantly upon life, and must be always appeased by some employment. +Those who have already all that they can enjoy must enlarge their +desires. He that has built for use till use is supplied must begin to +build for vanity, and extend his plan to the utmost power of human +performance that he may not be soon reduced to form another wish. + +“I consider this mighty structure as a monument of the insufficiency of +human enjoyments. A king whose power is unlimited, and whose treasures +surmount all real and imaginary wants, is compelled to solace, by the +erection of a pyramid, the satiety of dominion and tastelessness of +pleasures, and to amuse the tediousness of declining life by seeing +thousands labouring without end, and one stone, for no purpose, laid upon +another. Whoever thou art that, not content with a moderate condition, +imaginest happiness in royal magnificence, and dreamest that command or +riches can feed the appetite of novelty with perpetual gratifications, +survey the Pyramids, and confess thy folly!” + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII +THE PRINCESS MEETS WITH AN UNEXPECTED MISFORTUNE. + + +THEY rose up, and returned through the cavity at which they had entered; +and the Princess prepared for her favourite a long narrative of dark +labyrinths and costly rooms, and of the different impressions which the +varieties of the way had made upon her. But when they came to their +train, they found every one silent and dejected: the men discovered shame +and fear in their countenances, and the women were weeping in their +tents. + +What had happened they did not try to conjecture, but immediately +inquired. “You had scarcely entered into the Pyramid,” said one of the +attendants, “when a troop of Arabs rushed upon us: we were too few to +resist them, and too slow to escape. They were about to search the +tents, set us on our camels, and drive us along before them, when the +approach of some Turkish horsemen put them to flight: but they seized the +Lady Pekuah with her two maids, and carried them away: the Turks are now +pursuing them by our instigation, but I fear they will not be able to +overtake them.” + +The Princess was overpowered with surprise and grief. Rasselas, in the +first heat of his resentment, ordered his servants to follow him, and +prepared to pursue the robbers with his sabre in his hand. “Sir,” said +Imlac, “what can you hope from violence or valour? The Arabs are mounted +on horses trained to battle and retreat; we have only beasts of burden. +By leaving our present station we may lose the Princess, but cannot hope +to regain Pekuah.” + +In a short time the Turks returned, having not been able to reach the +enemy. The Princess burst out into new lamentations, and Rasselas could +scarcely forbear to reproach them with cowardice; but Imlac was of +opinion that the escape of the Arabs was no addition to their misfortune, +for perhaps they would have killed their captives rather than have +resigned them. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV +THEY RETURN TO CAIRO WITHOUT PEKUAH. + + +THERE was nothing to be hoped from longer stay. They returned to Cairo, +repenting of their curiosity, censuring the negligence of the government, +lamenting their own rashness, which had neglected to procure a guard, +imagining many expedients by which the loss of Pekuah might have been +prevented, and resolving to do something for her recovery, though none +could find anything proper to be done. + +Nekayah retired to her chamber, where her women attempted to comfort her +by telling her that all had their troubles, and that Lady Pekuah had +enjoyed much happiness in the world for a long time, and might reasonably +expect a change of fortune. They hoped that some good would befall her +wheresoever she was, and that their mistress would find another friend +who might supply her place. + +The Princess made them no answer; and they continued the form of +condolence, not much grieved in their hearts that the favourite was lost. + +Next day the Prince presented to the Bassa a memorial of the wrong which +he had suffered, and a petition for redress. The Bassa threatened to +punish the robbers, but did not attempt to catch them; nor indeed could +any account or description be given by which he might direct the pursuit. + +It soon appeared that nothing would be done by authority. Governors +being accustomed to hear of more crimes than they can punish, and more +wrongs than they can redress, set themselves at ease by indiscriminate +negligence, and presently forget the request when they lose sight of the +petitioner. + +Imlac then endeavoured to gain some intelligence by private agents. He +found many who pretended to an exact knowledge of all the haunts of the +Arabs, and to regular correspondence with their chiefs, and who readily +undertook the recovery of Pekuah. Of these, some were furnished with +money for their journey, and came back no more; some were liberally paid +for accounts which a few days discovered to be false. But the Princess +would not suffer any means, however improbable, to be left untried. +While she was doing something, she kept her hope alive. As one expedient +failed, another was suggested; when one messenger returned unsuccessful, +another was despatched to a different quarter. + +Two months had now passed, and of Pekuah nothing had been heard; the +hopes which they had endeavoured to raise in each other grew more +languid; and the Princess, when she saw nothing more to be tried, sunk +down inconsolable in hopeless dejection. A thousand times she reproached +herself with the easy compliance by which she permitted her favourite to +stay behind her. “Had not my fondness,” said she, “lessened my +authority, Pekuah had not dared to talk of her terrors. She ought to +have feared me more than spectres. A severe look would have overpowered +her; a peremptory command would have compelled obedience. Why did +foolish indulgence prevail upon me? Why did I not speak, and refuse to +hear?” + +“Great Princess,” said Imlac, “do not reproach yourself for your virtue, +or consider that as blameable by which evil has accidentally been caused. +Your tenderness for the timidity of Pekuah was generous and kind. When +we act according to our duty, we commit the events to Him by whose laws +our actions are governed, and who will suffer none to be finally punished +for obedience. When, in prospect of some good, whether natural or moral, +we break the rules prescribed us, we withdraw from the direction of +superior wisdom, and take all consequences upon ourselves. Man cannot so +far know the connection of causes and events as that he may venture to do +wrong in order to do right. When we pursue our end by lawful means, we +may always console our miscarriage by the hope of future recompense. +When we consult only our own policy, and attempt to find a nearer way to +good by over-leaping the settled boundaries of right and wrong, we cannot +be happy even by success, because we cannot escape the consciousness of +our fault; but if we miscarry, the disappointment is irremediably +embittered. How comfortless is the sorrow of him who feels at once the +pangs of guilt and the vexation of calamity which guilt has brought upon +him! + +“Consider, Princess, what would have been your condition if the Lady +Pekuah had entreated to accompany you, and, being compelled to stay in +the tents, had been carried away; or how would you have borne the thought +if you had forced her into the Pyramid, and she had died before you in +agonies of terror?” + +“Had either happened,” said Nekayah, “I could not have endured life till +now; I should have been tortured to madness by the remembrance of such +cruelty, or must have pined away in abhorrence of myself.” + +“This, at least,” said Imlac, “is the present reward of virtuous conduct, +that no unlucky consequence can oblige us to repent it.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV +THE PRINCESS LANGUISHES FOR WANT OF PEKUAH. + + +NEKAYAH, being thus reconciled to herself, found that no evil is +insupportable but that which is accompanied with consciousness of wrong. +She was from that time delivered from the violence of tempestuous sorrow, +and sunk into silent pensiveness and gloomy tranquillity. She sat from +morning to evening recollecting all that had been done or said by her +Pekuah, treasured up with care every trifle on which Pekuah had set an +accidental value, and which might recall to mind any little incident or +careless conversation. The sentiments of her whom she now expected to +see no more were treasured in her memory as rules of life, and she +deliberated to no other end than to conjecture on any occasion what would +have been the opinion and counsel of Pekuah. + +The women by whom she was attended knew nothing of her real condition, +and therefore she could not talk to them but with caution and reserve. +She began to remit her curiosity, having no great desire to collect +notions which she had no convenience of uttering. Rasselas endeavoured +first to comfort and afterwards to divert her; he hired musicians, to +whom she seemed to listen, but did not hear them; and procured masters to +instruct her in various arts, whose lectures, when they visited her +again, were again to be repeated. She had lost her taste of pleasure and +her ambition of excellence; and her mind, though forced into short +excursions, always recurred to the image of her friend. + +Imlac was every morning earnestly enjoined to renew his inquiries, and +was asked every night whether he had yet heard of Pekuah; till, not being +able to return the Princess the answer that she desired, he was less and +less willing to come into her presence. She observed his backwardness, +and commanded him to attend her. “You are not,” said she, “to confound +impatience with resentment, or to suppose that I charge you with +negligence because I repine at your unsuccessfulness. I do not much +wonder at your absence. I know that the unhappy are never pleasing, and +that all naturally avoid the contagion of misery. To hear complaints is +wearisome alike to the wretched and the happy; for who would cloud by +adventitious grief the short gleams of gaiety which life allows us, or +who that is struggling under his own evils will add to them the miseries +of another? + +“The time is at hand when none shall be disturbed any longer by the sighs +of Nekayah: my search after happiness is now at an end. I am resolved to +retire from the world, with all its flatteries and deceits, and will hide +myself in solitude, without any other care than to compose my thoughts +and regulate my hours by a constant succession of innocent occupations, +till, with a mind purified from earthly desires, I shall enter into that +state to which all are hastening, and in which I hope again to enjoy the +friendship of Pekuah.” + +“Do not entangle your mind,” said Imlac, “by irrevocable determinations, +nor increase the burden of life by a voluntary accumulation of misery. +The weariness of retirement will continue to increase when the loss of +Pekuah is forgot. That you have been deprived of one pleasure is no very +good reason for rejection of the rest.” + +“Since Pekuah was taken from me,” said the Princess, “I have no pleasure +to reject or to retain. She that has no one to love or trust has little +to hope. She wants the radical principle of happiness. We may perhaps +allow that what satisfaction this world can afford must arise from the +conjunction of wealth, knowledge, and goodness. Wealth is nothing but as +it is bestowed, and knowledge nothing but as it is communicated. They +must therefore be imparted to others, and to whom could I now delight to +impart them? Goodness affords the only comfort which can be enjoyed +without a partner, and goodness may be practised in retirement.” + +“How far solitude may admit goodness or advance it, I shall not,” replied +Imlac, “dispute at present. Remember the confession of the pious hermit. +You will wish to return into the world when the image of your companion +has left your thoughts.” + +“That time,” said Nekayah, “will never come. The generous frankness, the +modest obsequiousness, and the faithful secrecy of my dear Pekuah will +always be more missed as I shall live longer to see vice and folly.” + +“The state of a mind oppressed with a sudden calamity,” said Imlac, “is +like that of the fabulous inhabitants of the new-created earth, who, when +the first night came upon them, supposed that day would never return. +When the clouds of sorrow gather over us, we see nothing beyond them, nor +can imagine how they will be dispelled; yet a new day succeeded to the +night, and sorrow is never long without a dawn of ease. But they who +restrain themselves from receiving comfort do as the savages would have +done had they put out their eyes when it was dark. Our minds, like our +bodies, are in continual flux; something is hourly lost, and something +acquired. To lose much at once is inconvenient to either, but while the +vital power remains uninjured, nature will find the means of reparation. +Distance has the same effect on the mind as on the eye; and while we +glide along the stream of time, whatever we leave behind us is always +lessening, and that which we approach increasing in magnitude. Do not +suffer life to stagnate: it will grow muddy for want of motion; commit +yourself again to the current of the world; Pekuah will vanish by +degrees; you will meet in your way some other favourite, or learn to +diffuse yourself in general conversation.” + +“At least,” said the Prince, “do not despair before all remedies have +been tried. The inquiry after the unfortunate lady is still continued, +and shall be carried on with yet greater diligence, on condition that you +will promise to wait a year for the event, without any unalterable +resolution.” + +Nekayah thought this a reasonable demand, and made the promise to her +brother, who had been obliged by Imlac to require it. Imlac had, indeed, +no great hope of regaining Pekuah; but he supposed that if he could +secure the interval of a year, the Princess would be then in no danger of +a cloister. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI +PEKUAH IS STILL REMEMBERED. THE PROGRESS OF SORROW. + + +NEKAYAH, seeing that nothing was omitted for the recovery of her +favourite, and having by her promise set her intention of retirement at a +distance, began imperceptibly to return to common cares and common +pleasures. She rejoiced without her own consent at the suspension of her +sorrows, and sometimes caught herself with indignation in the act of +turning away her mind from the remembrance of her whom yet she resolved +never to forget. + +She then appointed a certain hour of the day for meditation on the merits +and fondness of Pekuah, and for some weeks retired constantly at the time +fixed, and returned with her eyes swollen and her countenance clouded. +By degrees she grew less scrupulous, and suffered any important and +pressing avocation to delay the tribute of daily tears. She then yielded +to less occasions, and sometimes forgot what she was indeed afraid to +remember, and at last wholly released herself from the duty of periodical +affliction. + +Her real love of Pekuah was not yet diminished. A thousand occurrences +brought her back to memory, and a thousand wants, which nothing but the +confidence of friendship can supply, made her frequently regretted. She +therefore solicited Imlac never to desist from inquiry, and to leave no +art of intelligence untried, that at least she might have the comfort of +knowing that she did not suffer by negligence or sluggishness. “Yet +what,” said she, “is to be expected from our pursuit of happiness, when +we find the state of life to be such that happiness itself is the cause +of misery? Why should we endeavour to attain that of which the +possession cannot be secured? I shall henceforward fear to yield my +heart to excellence, however bright, or to fondness, however tender, lest +I should lose again what I have lost in Pekuah.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII +THE PRINCESS HEARS NEWS OF PEKUAH. + + +IN seven mouths one of the messengers who had been sent away upon the day +when the promise was drawn from the Princess, returned, after many +unsuccessful rambles, from the borders of Nubia, with an account that +Pekuah was in the hands of an Arab chief, who possessed a castle or +fortress on the extremity of Egypt. The Arab, whose revenue was plunder, +was willing to restore her, with her two attendants, for two hundred +ounces of gold. + +The price was no subject of debate. The Princess was in ecstasies when +she heard that her favourite was alive, and might so cheaply be ransomed. +She could not think of delaying for a moment Pekuah’s happiness or her +own, but entreated her brother to send back the messenger with the sum +required. Imlac, being consulted, was not very confident of the veracity +of the relater, and was still more doubtful of the Arab’s faith, who +might, if he were too liberally trusted, detain at once the money and the +captives. He thought it dangerous to put themselves in the power of the +Arab by going into his district; and could not expect that the rover +would so much expose himself as to come into the lower country, where he +might be seized by the forces of the Bassa. + +It is difficult to negotiate where neither will trust. But Imlac, after +some deliberation, directed the messenger to propose that Pekuah should +be conducted by ten horsemen to the monastery of St. Anthony, which is +situated in the deserts of Upper Egypt, where she should be met by the +same number, and her ransom should be paid. + +That no time might be lost, as they expected that the proposal would not +be refused, they immediately began their journey to the monastery; and +when they arrived, Imlac went forward with the former messenger to the +Arab’s fortress. Rasselas was desirous to go with them; but neither his +sister nor Imlac would consent. The Arab, according to the custom of his +nation, observed the laws of hospitality with great exactness to those +who put themselves into his power, and in a few days brought Pekuah, with +her maids, by easy journeys, to the place appointed, where, receiving the +stipulated price, he restored her, with great respect, to liberty and her +friends, and undertook to conduct them back towards Cairo beyond all +danger of robbery or violence. + +The Princess and her favourite embraced each other with transport too +violent to be expressed, and went out together to pour the tears of +tenderness in secret, and exchange professions of kindness and gratitude. +After a few hours they returned into the refectory of the convent, where, +in the presence of the prior and his brethren, the Prince required of +Pekuah the history of her adventures. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII +THE ADVENTURES OF THE LADY PEKUAH. + + +“AT what time and in what manner I was forced away,” said Pekuah, “your +servants have told you. The suddenness of the event struck me with +surprise, and I was at first rather stupefied than agitated with any +passion of either fear or sorrow. My confusion was increased by the +speed and tumult of our flight, while we were followed by the Turks, who, +as it seemed, soon despaired to overtake us, or were afraid of those whom +they made a show of menacing. + +“When the Arabs saw themselves out of danger, they slackened their +course; and as I was less harassed by external violence, I began to feel +more uneasiness in my mind. After some time we stopped near a spring +shaded with trees, in a pleasant meadow, where we were set upon the +ground, and offered such refreshments as our masters were partaking. I +was suffered to sit with my maids apart from the rest, and none attempted +to comfort or insult us. Here I first began to feel the full weight of +my misery. The girls sat weeping in silence, and from time to time +looked on me for succour. I knew not to what condition we were doomed, +nor could conjecture where would be the place of our captivity, or whence +to draw any hope of deliverance. I was in the hands of robbers and +savages, and had no reason to suppose that their pity was more than their +justice, or that they would forbear the gratification of any ardour of +desire or caprice of cruelty. I, however, kissed my maids, and +endeavoured to pacify them by remarking that we were yet treated with +decency, and that since we were now carried beyond pursuit, there was no +danger of violence to our lives. + +“When we were to be set again on horseback, my maids clung round me, and +refused to be parted; but I commanded them not to irritate those who had +us in their power. We travelled the remaining part of the day through an +unfrequented and pathless country, and came by moonlight to the side of a +hill, where the rest of the troop was stationed. Their tents were +pitched and their fires kindled, and our chief was welcomed as a man much +beloved by his dependents. + +“We were received into a large tent, where we found women who had +attended their husbands in the expedition. They set before us the supper +which they had provided, and I ate it rather to encourage my maids than +to comply with any appetite of my own. When the meat was taken away, +they spread the carpets for repose. I was weary, and hoped to find in +sleep that remission of distress which nature seldom denies. Ordering +myself, therefore, to be undressed, I observed that the women looked very +earnestly upon me, not expecting, I suppose, to see me so submissively +attended. When my upper vest was taken off, they were apparently struck +with the splendour of my clothes, and one of them timorously laid her +hand upon the embroidery. She then went out, and in a short time came +back with another woman, who seemed to be of higher rank and greater +authority. She did, at her entrance, the usual act of reverence, and, +taking me by the hand placed me in a smaller tent, spread with finer +carpets, where I spent the night quietly with my maids. + +“In the morning, as I was sitting on the grass, the chief of the troop +came towards me. I rose up to receive him, and he bowed with great +respect. ‘Illustrious lady,’ said he, ‘my fortune is better than I had +presumed to hope: I am told by my women that I have a princess in my +camp.’ ‘Sir,’ answered I, ‘your women have deceived themselves and you; +I am not a princess, but an unhappy stranger who intended soon to have +left this country, in which I am now to be imprisoned for ever.’ +‘Whoever or whencesoever you are,’ returned the Arab, ‘your dress and +that of your servants show your rank to be high and your wealth to be +great. Why should you, who can so easily procure your ransom, think +yourself in danger of perpetual captivity? The purpose of my incursions +is to increase my riches, or, more properly, to gather tribute. The sons +of Ishmael are the natural and hereditary lords of this part of the +continent, which is usurped by late invaders and low-born tyrants, from +whom we are compelled to take by the sword what is denied to justice. +The violence of war admits no distinction: the lance that is lifted at +guilt and power will sometimes fall on innocence and gentleness.’ + +“‘How little,’ said I, ‘did I expect that yesterday it should have fallen +upon me!’ + +“’Misfortunes,’ answered the Arab, ‘should always be expected. If the +eye of hostility could learn reverence or pity, excellence like yours had +been exempt from injury. But the angels of affliction spread their toils +alike for the virtuous and the wicked, for the mighty and the mean. Do +not be disconsolate; I am not one of the lawless and cruel rovers of the +desert; I know the rules of civil life; I will fix your ransom, give a +passport to your messenger, and perform my stipulation with nice +punctuality.’ + +“You will easily believe that I was pleased with his courtesy, and +finding that his predominant passion was desire for money, I began now to +think my danger less, for I knew that no sum would be thought too great +for the release of Pekuah. I told him that he should have no reason to +charge me with ingratitude if I was used with kindness, and that any +ransom which could be expected for a maid of common rank would be paid, +but that he must not persist to rate me as a princess. He said he would +consider what he should demand, and then, smiling, bowed and retired. + +“Soon after the women came about me, each contending to be more officious +than the other, and my maids themselves were served with reverence. We +travelled onward by short journeys. On the fourth day the chief told me +that my ransom must be two hundred ounces of gold, which I not only +promised him, but told him that I would add fifty more if I and my maids +were honourably treated. + +“I never knew the power of gold before. From that time I was the leader +of the troop. The march of every day was longer or shorter as I +commanded, and the tents were pitched where I chose to rest. We now had +camels and other conveniences for travel; my own women were always at my +side, and I amused myself with observing the manners of the vagrant +nations, and with viewing remains of ancient edifices, with which these +deserted countries appear to have been in some distant age lavishly +embellished. + +“The chief of the band was a man far from illiterate: he was able to +travel by the stars or the compass, and had marked in his erratic +expeditions such places as are most worthy the notice of a passenger. He +observed to me that buildings are always best preserved in places little +frequented and difficult of access; for when once a country declines from +its primitive splendour, the more inhabitants are left, the quicker ruin +will be made. Walls supply stones more easily than quarries; and palaces +and temples will be demolished to make stables of granite and cottages of +porphyry.’” + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX +THE ADVENTURES OF PEKUAH (_continued_). + + +“WE wandered about in this manner for some weeks, either, as our chief +pretended, for my gratification, or, as I rather suspected, for some +convenience of his own. I endeavoured to appear contented where +sullenness and resentment would have been of no use, and that endeavour +conduced much to the calmness of my mind; but my heart was always with +Nekayah, and the troubles of the night much overbalanced the amusements +of the day. My women, who threw all their cares upon their mistress, set +their minds at ease from the time when they saw me treated with respect, +and gave themselves up to the incidental alleviations of our fatigue +without solicitude or sorrow. I was pleased with their pleasure, and +animated with their confidence. My condition had lost much of its +terror, since I found that the Arab ranged the country merely to get +riches. Avarice is a uniform and tractable vice: other intellectual +distempers are different in different constitutions of mind; that which +soothes the pride of one will offend the pride of another; but to the +favour of the covetous there is a ready way—bring money, and nothing is +denied. + +“At last we came to the dwelling of our chief; a strong and spacious +house, built with stone in an island of the Nile, which lies, as I was +told, under the tropic. ‘Lady,’ said the Arab, ‘you shall rest after +your journey a few weeks in this place, where you are to consider +yourself as Sovereign. My occupation is war: I have therefore chosen +this obscure residence, from which I can issue unexpected, and to which I +can retire unpursued. You may now repose in security: here are few +pleasures, but here is no danger.’ He then led me into the inner +apartments, and seating me on the richest couch, bowed to the ground. + +“His women, who considered me as a rival, looked on me with malignity; +but being soon informed that I was a great lady detained only for my +ransom, they began to vie with each other in obsequiousness and +reverence. + +“Being again comforted with new assurances of speedy liberty, I was for +some days diverted from impatience by the novelty of the place. The +turrets overlooked the country to a great distance, and afforded a view +of many windings of the stream. In the day I wandered from one place to +another, as the course of the sun varied the splendour of the prospect, +and saw many things which I had never seen before. The crocodiles and +river-horses are common in this unpeopled region; and I often looked upon +them with terror, though I knew they could not hurt me. For some time I +expected to see mermaids and tritons, which, as Imlac has told me, the +European travellers have stationed in the Nile; but no such beings ever +appeared, and the Arab, when I inquired after them, laughed at my +credulity. + +“At night the Arab always attended me to a tower set apart for celestial +observations, where he endeavoured to teach me the names and courses of +the stars. I had no great inclination to this study; but an appearance +of attention was necessary to please my instructor, who valued himself +for his skill, and in a little while I found some employment requisite to +beguile the tediousness of time, which was to be passed always amidst the +same objects. I was weary of looking in the morning on things from which +I had turned away weary in the evening: I therefore was at last willing +to observe the stars rather than do nothing, but could not always compose +my thoughts, and was very often thinking on Nekayah when others imagined +me contemplating the sky. Soon after, the Arab went upon another +expedition, and then my only pleasure was to talk with my maids about the +accident by which we were carried away, and the happiness we should all +enjoy at the end of our captivity.” + +“There were women in your Arab’s fortress,” said the Princess; “why did +you not make them your companions, enjoy their conversation, and partake +their diversions? In a place where they found business or amusement, why +should you alone sit corroded with idle melancholy? or why could not you +bear for a few months that condition to which they were condemned for +life?” + +“The diversions of the women,” answered Pekuah, “were only childish play, +by which the mind accustomed to stronger operations could not be kept +busy. I could do all which they delighted in doing by powers merely +sensitive, while my intellectual faculties were flown to Cairo. They ran +from room to room, as a bird hops from wire to wire in his cage. They +danced for the sake of motion, as lambs frisk in a meadow. One sometimes +pretended to be hurt that the rest might be alarmed, or hid herself that +another might seek her. Part of their time passed in watching the +progress of light bodies that floated on the river, and part in marking +the various forms into which clouds broke in the sky. + +“Their business was only needlework, in which I and my maids sometimes +helped them; but you know that the mind will easily straggle from the +fingers, nor will you suspect that captivity and absence from Nekayah +could receive solace from silken flowers. + +“Nor was much satisfaction to be hoped from their conversation: for of +what could they be expected to talk? They had seen nothing, for they had +lived from early youth in that narrow spot: of what they had not seen +they could have no knowledge, for they could not read. They had no idea +but of the few things that were within their view, and had hardly names +for anything but their clothes and their food. As I bore a superior +character, I was often called to terminate their quarrels, which I +decided as equitably as I could. If it could have amused me to hear the +complaints of each against the rest, I might have been often detained by +long stories; but the motives of their animosity were so small that I +could not listen without interrupting the tale.” + +“How,” said Rasselas, “can the Arab, whom you represented as a man of +more than common accomplishments, take any pleasure in his seraglio, when +it is filled only with women like these? Are they exquisitely +beautiful?” + +“They do not,” said Pekuah, “want that unaffecting and ignoble beauty +which may subsist without sprightliness or sublimity, without energy of +thought or dignity of virtue. But to a man like the Arab such beauty was +only a flower casually plucked and carelessly thrown away. Whatever +pleasures he might find among them, they were not those of friendship or +society. When they were playing about him he looked on them with +inattentive superiority; when they vied for his regard he sometimes +turned away disgusted. As they had no knowledge, their talk could take +nothing from the tediousness of life; as they had no choice, their +fondness, or appearance of fondness, excited in him neither pride nor +gratitude. He was not exalted in his own esteem by the smiles of a woman +who saw no other man, nor was much obliged by that regard of which he +could never know the sincerity, and which he might often perceive to be +exerted not so much to delight him as to pain a rival. That which he +gave, and they received, as love, was only a careless distribution of +superfluous time, such love as man can bestow upon that which he +despises, such as has neither hope nor fear, neither joy nor sorrow.” + +“You have reason, lady, to think yourself happy,” said Imlac, “that you +have been thus easily dismissed. How could a mind, hungry for knowledge, +be willing, in an intellectual famine, to lose such a banquet as Pekuah’s +conversation?” + +“I am inclined to believe,” answered Pekuah, “that he was for some time +in suspense; for, notwithstanding his promise, whenever I proposed to +despatch a messenger to Cairo he found some excuse for delay. While I +was detained in his house he made many incursions into the neighbouring +countries, and perhaps he would have refused to discharge me had his +plunder been equal to his wishes. He returned always courteous, related +his adventures, delighted to hear my observations, and endeavoured to +advance my acquaintance with the stars. When I importuned him to send +away my letters, he soothed me with professions of honour and sincerity; +and when I could be no longer decently denied, put his troop again in +motion, and left me to govern in his absence. I was much afflicted by +this studied procrastination, and was sometimes afraid that I should be +forgotten; that you would leave Cairo, and I must end my days in an +island of the Nile. + +“I grew at last hopeless and dejected, and cared so little to entertain +him, that he for a while more frequently talked with my maids. That he +should fall in love with them or with me, might have been equally fatal, +and I was not much pleased with the growing friendship. My anxiety was +not long, for, as I recovered some degree of cheerfulness, he returned to +me, and I could not forbear to despise my former uneasiness. + +“He still delayed to send for my ransom, and would perhaps never have +determined had not your agent found his way to him. The gold, which he +would not fetch, he could not reject when it was offered. He hastened to +prepare for our journey hither, like a man delivered from the pain of an +intestine conflict. I took leave of my companions in the house, who +dismissed me with cold indifference.” + +Nekayah having heard her favourite’s relation, rose and embraced her, and +Rasselas gave her a hundred ounces of gold, which she presented to the +Arab for the fifty that were promised. + + + + +CHAPTER XL +THE HISTORY OF A MAN OF LEARNING. + + +THEY returned to Cairo, and were so well pleased at finding themselves +together that none of them went much abroad. The Prince began to love +learning, and one day declared to Imlac that he intended to devote +himself to science and pass the rest of his days in literary solitude. + +“Before you make your final choice,” answered Imlac, “you ought to +examine its hazards, and converse with some of those who are grown old in +the company of themselves. I have just left the observatory of one of +the most learned astronomers in the world, who has spent forty years in +unwearied attention to the motion and appearances of the celestial +bodies, and has drawn out his soul in endless calculations. He admits a +few friends once a month to hear his deductions and enjoy his +discoveries. I was introduced as a man of knowledge worthy of his +notice. Men of various ideas and fluent conversation are commonly +welcome to those whose thoughts have been long fixed upon a single point, +and who find the images of other things stealing away. I delighted him +with my remarks. He smiled at the narrative of my travels, and was glad +to forget the constellations and descend for a moment into the lower +world. + +“On the next day of vacation I renewed my visit, and was so fortunate as +to please him again. He relaxed from that time the severity of his rule, +and permitted me to enter at my own choice. I found him always busy, and +always glad to be relieved. As each knew much which the other was +desirous of learning, we exchanged our notions with great delight. I +perceived that I had every day more of his confidence, and always found +new cause of admiration in the profundity of his mind. His comprehension +is vast, his memory capacious and retentive, his discourse is methodical, +and his expression clear. + +“His integrity and benevolence are equal to his learning. His deepest +researches and most favourite studies are willingly interrupted for any +opportunity of doing good by his counsel or his riches. To his closest +retreat, at his most busy moments, all are admitted that want his +assistance; ‘For though I exclude idleness and pleasure, I will never,’ +says he, ‘bar my doors against charity. To man is permitted the +contemplation of the skies, but the practice of virtue is commanded.’” + +“Surely,” said the Princess, “this man is happy.” + +“I visited him,” said Imlac, “with more and more frequency, and was every +time more enamoured of his conversation; he was sublime without +haughtiness, courteous without formality, and communicative without +ostentation. I was at first, great Princess, of your opinion, thought +him the happiest of mankind, and often congratulated him on the blessing +that he enjoyed. He seemed to hear nothing with indifference but the +praises of his condition, to which he always returned a general answer, +and diverted the conversation to some other topic. + +“Amidst this willingness to be pleased and labour to please, I had +quickly reason to imagine that some painful sentiment pressed upon his +mind. He often looked up earnestly towards the sun, and let his voice +fall in the midst of his discourse. He would sometimes, when we were +alone, gaze upon me in silence with the air of a man who longed to speak +what he was yet resolved to suppress. He would often send for me with +vehement injunction of haste, though when I came to him he had nothing +extraordinary to say; and sometimes, when I was leaving him, would call +me back, pause a few moments, and then dismiss me.” + + + + +CHAPTER XLI +THE ASTRONOMER DISCOVERS THE CAUSE OF HIS UNEASINESS. + + +“AT last the time came when the secret burst his reserve. We were +sitting together last night in the turret of his house watching the +immersion of a satellite of Jupiter. A sudden tempest clouded the sky +and disappointed our observation. We sat awhile silent in the dark, and +then he addressed himself to me in these words: ‘Imlac, I have long +considered thy friendship as the greatest blessing of my life. Integrity +without knowledge is weak and useless, and knowledge without integrity is +dangerous and dreadful. I have found in thee all the qualities requisite +for trust—benevolence, experience, and fortitude. I have long discharged +an office which I must soon quit at the call of Nature, and shall rejoice +in the hour of imbecility and pain to devolve it upon thee.’ + +“I thought myself honoured by this testimony, and protested that whatever +could conduce to his happiness would add likewise to mine. + +“‘Hear, Imlac, what thou wilt not without difficulty credit. I have +possessed for five years the regulation of the weather and the +distribution of the seasons. The sun has listened to my dictates, and +passed from tropic to tropic by my direction; the clouds at my call have +poured their waters, and the Nile has overflowed at my command. I have +restrained the rage of the dog-star, and mitigated the fervours of the +crab. The winds alone, of all the elemental powers, have hitherto +refused my authority, and multitudes have perished by equinoctial +tempests which I found myself unable to prohibit or restrain. I have +administered this great office with exact justice, and made to the +different nations of the earth an impartial dividend of rain and +sunshine. What must have been the misery of half the globe if I had +limited the clouds to particular regions, or confined the sun to either +side of the equator?’” + + + + +CHAPTER XLII +THE OPINION OF THE ASTRONOMER IS EXPLAINED AND JUSTIFIED. + + +“I SUPPOSE he discovered in me, through the obscurity of the room, some +tokens of amazement and doubt, for after a short pause he proceeded +thus:— + +“‘Not to be easily credited will neither surprise nor offend me, for I am +probably the first of human beings to whom this trust has been imparted. +Nor do I know whether to deem this distinction a reward or punishment. +Since I have possessed it I have been far less happy than before, and +nothing but the consciousness of good intention could have enabled me to +support the weariness of unremitted vigilance.’ + +“‘How long, sir,’ said I, ‘has this great office been in your hands?’ + +“‘About ten years ago,’ said he, ‘my daily observations of the changes of +the sky led me to consider whether, if I had the power of the seasons, I +could confer greater plenty upon the inhabitants of the earth. This +contemplation fastened on my mind, and I sat days and nights in imaginary +dominion, pouring upon this country and that the showers of fertility, +and seconding every fall of rain with a due proportion of sunshine. I +had yet only the will to do good, and did not imagine that I should ever +have the power. + +“‘One day as I was looking on the fields withering with heat, I felt in +my mind a sudden wish that I could send rain on the southern mountains, +and raise the Nile to an inundation. In the hurry of my imagination I +commanded rain to fall; and by comparing the time of my command with that +of the inundation, I found that the clouds had listened to my lips.’ + +“‘Might not some other cause,’ said I, ‘produce this concurrence? The +Nile does not always rise on the same day.’ + +“‘Do not believe,’ said he, with impatience, ‘that such objections could +escape me. I reasoned long against my own conviction, and laboured +against truth with the utmost obstinacy. I sometimes suspected myself of +madness, and should not have dared to impart this secret but to a man +like you, capable of distinguishing the wonderful from the impossible, +and the incredible from the false.’ + +“‘Why, sir,’ said I, ‘do you call that incredible which you know, or +think you know, to be true?’ + +“‘Because,’ said he, ‘I cannot prove it by any external evidence; and I +know too well the laws of demonstration to think that my conviction ought +to influence another, who cannot, like me, be conscious of its force. I +therefore shall not attempt to gain credit by disputation. It is +sufficient that I feel this power that I have long possessed, and every +day exerted it. But the life of man is short; the infirmities of age +increase upon me, and the time will soon come when the regulator of the +year must mingle with the dust. The care of appointing a successor has +long disturbed me; the night and the day have been spent in comparisons +of all the characters which have come to my knowledge, and I have yet +found none so worthy as thyself.’” + + + + +CHAPTER XLIII +THE ASTRONOMER LEAVES IMLAC HIS DIRECTIONS. + + +“‘HEAR, therefore, what I shall impart with attention, such as the +welfare of a world requires. If the task of a king be considered as +difficult, who has the care only of a few millions, to whom he cannot do +much good or harm, what must be the anxiety of him on whom depends the +action of the elements and the great gifts of light and heat? Hear me, +therefore, with attention. + +“‘I have diligently considered the position of the earth and sun, and +formed innumerable schemes, in which I changed their situation. I have +sometimes turned aside the axis of the earth, and sometimes varied the +ecliptic of the sun, but I have found it impossible to make a disposition +by which the world may be advantaged; what one region gains another loses +by an imaginable alteration, even without considering the distant parts +of the solar system with which we are acquainted. Do not, therefore, in +thy administration of the year, indulge thy pride by innovation; do not +please thyself with thinking that thou canst make thyself renowned to all +future ages by disordering the seasons. The memory of mischief is no +desirable fame. Much less will it become thee to let kindness or +interest prevail. Never rob other countries of rain to pour it on thine +own. For us the Nile is sufficient.’ + +“I promised that when I possessed the power I would use it with +inflexible integrity; and he dismissed me, pressing my hand. ‘My heart,’ +said he, ‘will be now at rest, and my benevolence will no more destroy my +quiet; I have found a man of wisdom and virtue, to whom I can cheerfully +bequeath the inheritance of the sun.’” + +The Prince heard this narration with very serious regard; but the +Princess smiled, and Pekuah convulsed herself with laughter. “Ladies,” +said Imlac, “to mock the heaviest of human afflictions is neither +charitable nor wise. Few can attain this man’s knowledge and few +practise his virtues, but all may suffer his calamity. Of the +uncertainties of our present state, the most dreadful and alarming is the +uncertain continuance of reason.” + +The Princess was recollected, and the favourite was abashed. Rasselas, +more deeply affected, inquired of Imlac whether he thought such maladies +of the mind frequent, and how they were contracted. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIV +THE DANGEROUS PREVALENCE OF IMAGINATION. + + +“DISORDERS of intellect,” answered Imlac, “happen much more often than +superficial observers will easily believe. Perhaps if we speak with +rigorous exactness, no human mind is in its right state. There is no man +whose imagination does not sometimes predominate over his reason who can +regulate his attention wholly by his will, and whose ideas will come and +go at his command. No man will be found in whose mind airy notions do +not sometimes tyrannise, and force him to hope or fear beyond the limits +of sober probability. All power of fancy over reason is a degree of +insanity, but while this power is such as we can control and repress it +is not visible to others, nor considered as any deprivation of the mental +faculties; it is not pronounced madness but when it becomes ungovernable, +and apparently influences speech or action. + +“To indulge the power of fiction and send imagination out upon the wing +is often the sport of those who delight too much in silent speculation. +When we are alone we are not always busy; the labour of excogitation is +too violent to last long; the ardour of inquiry will sometimes give way +to idleness or satiety. He who has nothing external that can divert him +must find pleasure in his own thoughts, and must conceive himself what he +is not; for who is pleased with what he is? He then expatiates in +boundless futurity, and culls from all imaginable conditions that which +for the present moment he should most desire, amuses his desires with +impossible enjoyments, and confers upon his pride unattainable dominion. +The mind dances from scene to scene, unites all pleasures in all +combinations, and riots in delights which Nature and fortune, with all +their bounty, cannot bestow. + +“In time some particular train of ideas fixes the attention; all other +intellectual gratifications are rejected; the mind, in weariness or +leisure, recurs constantly to the favourite conception, and feasts on the +luscious falsehood whenever she is offended with the bitterness of truth. +By degrees the reign of fancy is confirmed; she grows first imperious and +in time despotic. Then fictions begin to operate as realities, false +opinions fasten upon the mind, and life passes in dreams of rapture or of +anguish. + +“This, sir, is one of the dangers of solitude, which the hermit has +confessed not always to promote goodness, and the astronomer’s misery has +proved to be not always propitious to wisdom.” + +“I will no more,” said the favourite, “imagine myself the Queen of +Abyssinia. I have often spent the hours which the Princess gave to my +own disposal in adjusting ceremonies and regulating the Court; I have +repressed the pride of the powerful and granted the petitions of the +poor; I have built new palaces in more happy situations, planted groves +upon the tops of mountains, and have exulted in the beneficence of +royalty, till, when the Princess entered, I had almost forgotten to bow +down before her.” + +“And I,” said the Princess, “will not allow myself any more to play the +shepherdess in my waking dreams. I have often soothed my thoughts with +the quiet and innocence of pastoral employments, till I have in my +chamber heard the winds whistle and the sheep bleat; sometimes freed the +lamb entangled in the thicket, and sometimes with my crook encountered +the wolf. I have a dress like that of the village maids, which I put on +to help my imagination, and a pipe on which I play softly, and suppose +myself followed by my flocks.” + +“I will confess,” said the Prince, “an indulgence of fantastic delight +more dangerous than yours. I have frequently endeavoured to imagine the +possibility of a perfect government, by which all wrong should be +restrained, all vice reformed, and all the subjects preserved in +tranquillity and innocence. This thought produced innumerable schemes of +reformation, and dictated many useful regulations and salutary effects. +This has been the sport and sometimes the labour of my solitude, and I +start when I think with how little anguish I once supposed the death of +my father and my brothers.” + +“Such,” said Imlac, “are the effects of visionary schemes. When we first +form them, we know them to be absurd, but familiarise them by degrees, +and in time lose sight of their folly.” + + + + +CHAPTER XLV +THEY DISCOURSE WITH AN OLD MAN. + + +THE evening was now far past, and they rose to return home. As they +walked along the banks of the Nile, delighted with the beams of the moon +quivering on the water, they saw at a small distance an old man whom the +Prince had often heard in the assembly of the sages. “Yonder,” said he, +“is one whose years have calmed his passions, but not clouded his reason. +Let us close the disquisitions of the night by inquiring what are his +sentiments of his own state, that we may know whether youth alone is to +struggle with vexation, and whether any better hope remains for the +latter part of life.” + +Here the sage approached and saluted them. They invited him to join +their walk, and prattled awhile as acquaintance that had unexpectedly met +one another. The old man was cheerful and talkative, and the way seemed +short in his company. He was pleased to find himself not disregarded, +accompanied them to their house, and, at the Prince’s request, entered +with them. They placed him in the seat of honour, and set wine and +conserves before him. + +“Sir,” said the Princess, “an evening walk must give to a man of learning +like you pleasures which ignorance and youth can hardly conceive. You +know the qualities and the causes of all that you behold—the laws by +which the river flows, the periods in which the planets perform their +revolutions. Everything must supply you with contemplation, and renew +the consciousness of your own dignity.” + +“Lady,” answered he, “let the gay and the vigorous expect pleasure in +their excursions: it is enough that age can attain ease. To me the world +has lost its novelty. I look round, and see what I remember to have seen +in happier days. I rest against a tree, and consider that in the same +shade I once disputed upon the annual overflow of the Nile with a friend +who is now silent in the grave. I cast my eyes upwards, fix them on the +changing moon, and think with pain on the vicissitudes of life. I have +ceased to take much delight in physical truth; for what have I to do with +those things which I am soon to leave?” + +“You may at least recreate yourself,” said Imlac, “with the recollection +of an honourable and useful life, and enjoy the praise which all agree to +give you.” + +“Praise,” said the sage with a sigh, “is to an old man an empty sound. I +have neither mother to be delighted with the reputation of her son, nor +wife to partake the honours of her husband. I have outlived my friends +and my rivals. Nothing is now of much importance; for I cannot extend my +interest beyond myself. Youth is delighted with applause, because it is +considered as the earnest of some future good, and because the prospect +of life is far extended; but to me, who am now declining to decrepitude, +there is little to be feared from the malevolence of men, and yet less to +be hoped from their affection or esteem. Something they may yet take +away, but they can give me nothing. Riches would now be useless, and +high employment would be pain. My retrospect of life recalls to my view +many opportunities of good neglected, much time squandered upon trifles, +and more lost in idleness and vacancy. I leave many great designs +unattempted, and many great attempts unfinished. My mind is burdened +with no heavy crime, and therefore I compose myself to tranquillity; +endeavour to abstract my thoughts from hopes and cares which, though +reason knows them to be vain, still try to keep their old possession of +the heart; expect, with serene humility, that hour which nature cannot +long delay, and hope to possess in a better state that happiness which +here I could not find, and that virtue which here I have not attained.” + +He arose and went away, leaving his audience not much elated with the +hope of long life. The Prince consoled himself with remarking that it +was not reasonable to be disappointed by this account; for age had never +been considered as the season of felicity, and if it was possible to be +easy in decline and weakness, it was likely that the days of vigour and +alacrity might be happy; that the noon of life might be bright, if the +evening could be calm. + +The Princess suspected that age was querulous and malignant, and +delighted to repress the expectations of those who had newly entered the +world. She had seen the possessors of estates look with envy on their +heirs, and known many who enjoyed pleasures no longer than they could +confine it to themselves. + +Pekuah conjectured that the man was older than he appeared, and was +willing to impute his complaints to delirious dejection; or else supposed +that he had been unfortunate, and was therefore discontented. “For +nothing,” said she, “is more common than to call our own condition the +condition of life.” + +Imlac, who had no desire to see them depressed, smiled at the comforts +which they could so readily procure to themselves; and remembered that at +the same age he was equally confident of unmingled prosperity, and +equally fertile of consolatory expedients. He forbore to force upon them +unwelcome knowledge, which time itself would too soon impress. The +Princess and her lady retired; the madness of the astronomer hung upon +their minds; and they desired Imlac to enter upon his office, and delay +next morning the rising of the sun. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVI +THE PRINCESS AND PEKUAH VISIT THE ASTRONOMER. + + +THE Princess and Pekuah, having talked in private of Imlac’s astronomer, +thought his character at once so amiable and so strange that they could +not be satisfied without a nearer knowledge, and Imlac was requested to +find the means of bringing them together. + +This was somewhat difficult. The philosopher had never received any +visits from women, though he lived in a city that had in it many +Europeans, who followed the manners of their own countries, and many from +other parts of the world, that lived there with European liberty. The +ladies would not be refused, and several schemes were proposed for the +accomplishment of their design. It was proposed to introduce them as +strangers in distress, to whom the sage was always accessible; but after +some deliberation it appeared that by this artifice no acquaintance could +be formed, for their conversation would be short, and they could not +decently importune him often. “This,” said Rasselas, “is true; but I +have yet a stronger objection against the misrepresentation of your +state. I have always considered it as treason against the great republic +of human nature to make any man’s virtues the means of deceiving him, +whether on great or little occasions. All imposture weakens confidence +and chills benevolence. When the sage finds that you are not what you +seemed, he will feel the resentment natural to a man who, conscious of +great abilities, discovers that he has been tricked by understandings +meaner than his own, and perhaps the distrust which he can never +afterwards wholly lay aside may stop the voice of counsel and close the +hand of charity; and where will you find the power of restoring his +benefactions to mankind, or his peace to himself?” + +To this no reply was attempted, and Imlac began to hope that their +curiosity would subside; but next day Pekuah told him she had now found +an honest pretence for a visit to the astronomer, for she would solicit +permission to continue under him the studies in which she had been +initiated by the Arab, and the Princess might go with her, either as a +fellow-student, or because a woman could not decently come alone. “I am +afraid,” said Imlac, “that he will soon be weary of your company. Men +advanced far in knowledge do not love to repeat the elements of their +art, and I am not certain that even of the elements, as he will deliver +them, connected with inferences and mingled with reflections, you are a +very capable auditress.” “That,” said Pekuah, “must be my care. I ask +of you only to take me thither. My knowledge is perhaps more than you +imagine it, and by concurring always with his opinions I shall make him +think it greater than it is.” + +The astronomer, in pursuance of this resolution, was told that a foreign +lady, travelling in search of knowledge, had heard of his reputation, and +was desirous to become his scholar. The uncommonness of the proposal +raised at once his surprise and curiosity, and when after a short +deliberation he consented to admit her, he could not stay without +impatience till the next day. + +The ladies dressed themselves magnificently, and were attended by Imlac +to the astronomer, who was pleased to see himself approached with respect +by persons of so splendid an appearance. In the exchange of the first +civilities he was timorous and bashful; but when the talk became regular, +he recollected his powers, and justified the character which Imlac had +given. Inquiring of Pekuah what could have turned her inclination +towards astronomy, he received from her a history of her adventure at the +Pyramid, and of the time passed in the Arab’s island. She told her tale +with ease and elegance, and her conversation took possession of his +heart. The discourse was then turned to astronomy. Pekuah displayed +what she knew. He looked upon her as a prodigy of genius, and entreated +her not to desist from a study which she had so happily begun. + +They came again and again, and were every time more welcome than before. +The sage endeavoured to amuse them, that they might prolong their visits, +for he found his thoughts grow brighter in their company; the clouds of +solitude vanished by degrees as he forced himself to entertain them, and +he grieved when he was left, at their departure, to his old employment of +regulating the seasons. + +The Princess and her favourite had now watched his lips for several +months, and could not catch a single word from which they could judge +whether he continued or not in the opinion of his preternatural +commission. They often contrived to bring him to an open declaration; +but he easily eluded all their attacks, and, on which side soever they +pressed him, escaped from them to some other topic. + +As their familiarity increased, they invited him often to the house of +Imlac, where they distinguished him by extraordinary respect. He began +gradually to delight in sublunary pleasures. He came early and departed +late; laboured to recommend himself by assiduity and compliance; excited +their curiosity after new arts, that they might still want his +assistance; and when they made any excursion of pleasure or inquiry, +entreated to attend them. + +By long experience of his integrity and wisdom, the Prince and his sister +were convinced that he might be trusted without danger; and lest he +should draw any false hopes from the civilities which he received, +discovered to him their condition, with the motives of their journey, and +required his opinion on the choice of life. + +“Of the various conditions which the world spreads before you which you +shall prefer,” said the sage, “I am not able to instruct you. I can only +tell that I have chosen wrong. I have passed my time in study without +experience—in the attainment of sciences which can for the most part be +but remotely useful to mankind. I have purchased knowledge at the +expense of all the common comforts of life; I have missed the endearing +elegance of female friendship, and the happy commerce of domestic +tenderness. If I have obtained any prerogatives above other students, +they have been accompanied with fear, disquiet, and scrupulosity; but +even of these prerogatives, whatever they were, I have, since my thoughts +have been diversified by more intercourse with the world, begun to +question the reality. When I have been for a few days lost in pleasing +dissipation, I am always tempted to think that my inquiries have ended in +error, and that I have suffered much, and suffered it in vain.” + +Imlac was delighted to find that the sage’s understanding was breaking +through its mists, and resolved to detain him from the planets till he +should forget his task of ruling them, and reason should recover its +original influence. + +From this time the astronomer was received into familiar friendship, and +partook of all their projects and pleasures; his respect kept him +attentive, and the activity of Rasselas did not leave much time +unengaged. Something was always to be done; the day was spent in making +observations, which furnished talk for the evening, and the evening was +closed with a scheme for the morrow. + +The sage confessed to Imlac that since he had mingled in the gay tumults +of life, and divided his hours by a succession of amusements, he found +the conviction of his authority over the skies fade gradually from his +mind, and began to trust less to an opinion which he never could prove to +others, and which he now found subject to variation, from causes in which +reason had no part. “If I am accidentally left alone for a few hours,” +said he, “my inveterate persuasion rushes upon my soul, and my thoughts +are chained down by some irresistible violence; but they are soon +disentangled by the Prince’s conversation, and instantaneously released +at the entrance of Pekuah. I am like a man habitually afraid of +spectres, who is set at ease by a lamp, and wonders at the dread which +harassed him in the dark; yet, if his lamp be extinguished, feels again +the terrors which he knows that when it is light he shall feel no more. +But I am sometimes afraid, lest I indulge my quiet by criminal +negligence, and voluntarily forget the great charge with which I am +entrusted. If I favour myself in a known error, or am determined by my +own ease in a doubtful question of this importance, how dreadful is my +crime!” + +“No disease of the imagination,” answered Imlac, “is so difficult of cure +as that which is complicated with the dread of guilt; fancy and +conscience then act interchangeably upon us, and so often shift their +places, that the illusions of one are not distinguished from the dictates +of the other. If fancy presents images not moral or religious, the mind +drives them away when they give it pain; but when melancholy notions take +the form of duty, they lay hold on the faculties without opposition, +because we are afraid to exclude or banish them. For this reason the +superstitious are often melancholy, and the melancholy almost always +superstitious. + +“But do not let the suggestions of timidity overpower your better reason; +the danger of neglect can be but as the probability of the obligation, +which, when you consider it with freedom, you find very little, and that +little growing every day less. Open your heart to the influence of the +light, which from time to time breaks in upon you; when scruples +importune you, which you in your lucid moments know to be vain, do not +stand to parley, but fly to business or to Pekuah; and keep this thought +always prevalent, that you are only one atom of the mass of humanity, and +have neither such virtue nor vice as that you should be singled out for +supernatural favours or afflictions.” + + + + +CHAPTER XLVII +THE PRINCE ENTERS, AND BRINGS A NEW TOPIC. + + +“ALL this,” said the astronomer, “I have often thought; but my reason has +been so long subjugated by an uncontrollable and overwhelming idea, that +it durst not confide in its own decisions. I now see how fatally I +betrayed my quiet, by suffering chimeras to prey upon me in secret; but +melancholy shrinks from communication, and I never found a man before to +whom I could impart my troubles, though I had been certain of relief. I +rejoice to find my own sentiments confirmed by yours, who are not easily +deceived, and can have no motive or purpose to deceive. I hope that time +and variety will dissipate the gloom that has so long surrounded me, and +the latter part of my days will be spent in peace.” + +“Your learning and virtue,” said Imlac, “may justly give you hopes.” + +Rasselas then entered, with the Princess and Pekuah, and inquired whether +they had contrived any new diversion for the next day. “Such,” said +Nekayah, “is the state of life, that none are happy but by the +anticipation of change; the change itself is nothing; when we have made +it the next wish is to change again. The world is not yet exhausted: let +me see something to-morrow which I never saw before.” + +“Variety,” said Rasselas, “is so necessary to content, that even the +Happy Valley disgusted me by the recurrence of its luxuries; yet I could +not forbear to reproach myself with impatience when I saw the monks of +St. Anthony support, without complaint, a life, not of uniform delight, +but uniform hardship.” + +“Those men,” answered Imlac, “are less wretched in their silent convent +than the Abyssinian princes in their prison of pleasure. Whatever is +done by the monks is incited by an adequate and reasonable motive. Their +labour supplies them with necessaries; it therefore cannot be omitted, +and is certainly rewarded. Their devotion prepares them for another +state, and reminds them of its approach while it fits them for it. Their +time is regularly distributed; one duty succeeds another, so that they +are not left open to the distraction of unguided choice, nor lost in the +shades of listless inactivity. There is a certain task to be performed +at an appropriated hour, and their toils are cheerful, because they +consider them as acts of piety by which they are always advancing towards +endless felicity.” + +“Do you think,” said Nekayah, “that the monastic rule is a more holy and +less imperfect state than any other? May not he equally hope for future +happiness who converses openly with mankind, who succours the distressed +by his charity, instructs the ignorant by his learning, and contributes +by his industry to the general system of life, even though he should omit +some of the mortifications which are practised in the cloister, and allow +himself such harmless delights as his condition may place within his +reach?” + +“This,” said Imlac, “is a question which has long divided the wise and +perplexed the good. I am afraid to decide on either part. He that lives +well in the world is better than he that lives well in a monastery. But +perhaps everyone is not able to stem the temptations of public life, and +if he cannot conquer he may properly retreat. Some have little power to +do good, and have likewise little strength to resist evil. Many are +weary of the conflicts with adversity, and are willing to eject those +passions which have long busied them in vain. And many are dismissed by +age and diseases from the more laborious duties of society. In +monasteries the weak and timorous may be happily sheltered, the weary may +repose, and the penitent may meditate. Those retreats of prayer and +contemplation have something so congenial to the mind of man, that +perhaps there is scarcely one that does not purpose to close his life in +pious abstraction, with a few associates serious as himself.” + +“Such,” said Pekuah, “has often been my wish, and I have heard the +Princess declare that she should not willingly die in a crowd.” + +“The liberty of using harmless pleasures,” proceeded Imlac, “will not be +disputed, but it is still to be examined what pleasures are harmless. +The evil of any pleasure that Nekayah can image is not in the act itself +but in its consequences. Pleasure in itself harmless may become +mischievous by endearing to us a state which we know to be transient and +probatory, and withdrawing our thoughts from that of which every hour +brings us nearer to the beginning, and of which no length of time will +bring us to the end. Mortification is not virtuous in itself, nor has +any other use but that it disengages us from the allurements of sense. +In the state of future perfection to which we all aspire there will be +pleasure without danger and security without restraint.” + +The Princess was silent, and Rasselas, turning to the astronomer, asked +him whether he could not delay her retreat by showing her something which +she had not seen before. + +“Your curiosity,” said the sage, “has been so general, and your pursuit +of knowledge so vigorous, that novelties are not now very easily to be +found; but what you can no longer procure from the living may be given by +the dead. Among the wonders of this country are the catacombs, or the +ancient repositories in which the bodies of the earliest generations were +lodged, and where, by the virtue of the gums which embalmed them, they +yet remain without corruption.” + +“I know not,” said Rasselas, “what pleasure the sight of the catacombs +can afford; but, since nothing else is offered, I am resolved to view +them, and shall place this with my other things which I have done because +I would do something.” + +They hired a guard of horsemen, and the next day visited the catacombs. +When they were about to descend into the sepulchral caves, “Pekuah,” said +the Princess, “we are now again invading the habitations of the dead; I +know that you will stay behind. Let me find you safe when I return.” +“No, I will not be left,” answered Pekuah, “I will go down between you +and the Prince.” + +They then all descended, and roved with wonder through the labyrinth of +subterraneous passages, where the bodies were laid in rows on either +side. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVIII +IMLAC DISCOURSES ON THE NATURE OF THE SOUL. + + +“WHAT reason,” said the Prince, “can be given why the Egyptians should +thus expensively preserve those carcases which some nations consume with +fire, others lay to mingle with the earth, and all agree to remove from +their sight as soon as decent rites can be performed?” + +“The original of ancient customs,” said Imlac, “is commonly unknown, for +the practice often continues when the cause has ceased; and concerning +superstitious ceremonies it is vain to conjecture; for what reason did +not dictate, reason cannot explain. I have long believed that the +practice of embalming arose only from tenderness to the remains of +relations or friends; and to this opinion I am more inclined because it +seems impossible that this care should have been general; had all the +dead been embalmed, their repositories must in time have been more +spacious than the dwellings of the living. I suppose only the rich or +honourable were secured from corruption, and the rest left to the course +of nature. + +“But it is commonly supposed that the Egyptians believed the soul to live +as long as the body continued undissolved, and therefore tried this +method of eluding death.” + +“Could the wise Egyptians,” said Nekayah, “think so grossly of the soul? +If the soul could once survive its separation, what could it afterwards +receive or suffer from the body?” + +“The Egyptians would doubtless think erroneously,” said the astronomer, +“in the darkness of heathenism and the first dawn of philosophy. The +nature of the soul is still disputed amidst all our opportunities of +clearer knowledge; some yet say that it may be material, who, +nevertheless, believe it to be immortal.” + +“Some,” answered Imlac, “have indeed said that the soul is material, but +I can scarcely believe that any man has thought it who knew how to think; +for all the conclusions of reason enforce the immateriality of mind, and +all the notices of sense and investigations of science concur to prove +the unconsciousness of matter. + +“It was never supposed that cogitation is inherent in matter, or that +every particle is a thinking being. Yet if any part of matter be devoid +of thought, what part can we suppose to think? Matter can differ from +matter only in form, density, bulk, motion, and direction of motion. To +which of these, however varied or combined, can consciousness be annexed? +To be round or square, to be solid or fluid, to be great or little, to be +moved slowly or swiftly, one way or another, are modes of material +existence all equally alien from the nature of cogitation. If matter be +once without thought, it can only be made to think by some new +modification; but all the modifications which it can admit are equally +unconnected with cogitative powers.” + +“But the materialists,” said the astronomer, “urge that matter may have +qualities with which we are unacquainted.” + +“He who will determine,” returned Imlac, “against that which he knows +because there may be something which he knows not; he that can set +hypothetical possibility against acknowledged certainty, is not to be +admitted among reasonable beings. All that we know of matter is, that +matter is inert, senseless, and lifeless; and if this conviction cannot +he opposed but by referring us to something that we know not, we have all +the evidence that human intellect can admit. If that which is known may +be overruled by that which is unknown, no being, not omniscient, can +arrive at certainty.” + +“Yet let us not,” said the astronomer, “too arrogantly limit the +Creator’s power.” + +“It is no limitation of Omnipotence,” replied the poet, “to suppose that +one thing is not consistent with another, that the same proposition +cannot be at once true and false, that the same number cannot be even and +odd, that cogitation cannot be conferred on that which is created +incapable of cogitation.” + +“I know not,” said Nekayah, “any great use of this question. Does that +immateriality, which in my opinion you have sufficiently proved, +necessarily include eternal duration?” + +“Of immateriality,” said Imlac, “our ideas are negative, and therefore +obscure. Immateriality seems to imply a natural power of perpetual +duration as a consequence of exemption from all causes of decay: whatever +perishes is destroyed by the solution of its contexture and separation of +its parts; nor can we conceive how that which has no parts, and therefore +admits no solution, can be naturally corrupted or impaired.” + +“I know not,” said Rasselas, “how to conceive anything without extension: +what is extended must have parts, and you allow that whatever has parts +may be destroyed.” + +“Consider your own conceptions,” replied Imlac, “and the difficulty will +be less. You will find substance without extension. An ideal form is no +less real than material bulk; yet an ideal form has no extension. It is +no less certain, when you think on a pyramid, that your mind possesses +the idea of a pyramid, than that the pyramid itself is standing. What +space does the idea of a pyramid occupy more than the idea of a grain of +corn? or how can either idea suffer laceration? As is the effect, such +is the cause; as thought, such is the power that thinks, a power +impassive and indiscerptible.” + +“But the Being,” said Nekayah, “whom I fear to name, the Being which made +the soul, can destroy it.” + +“He surely can destroy it,” answered Imlac, “since, however imperishable, +it receives from a superior nature its power of duration. That it will +not perish by any inherent cause of decay or principle of corruption, may +be shown by philosophy; but philosophy can tell no more. That it will +not be annihilated by Him that made it, we must humbly learn from higher +authority.” + +The whole assembly stood awhile silent and collected. “Let us return,” +said Rasselas, “from this scene of mortality. How gloomy would be these +mansions of the dead to him who did not know that he should never die; +that what now acts shall continue its agency, and what now thinks shall +think on for ever. Those that lie here stretched before us, the wise and +the powerful of ancient times, warn us to remember the shortness of our +present state; they were perhaps snatched away while they were busy, like +us, in the _choice of life_.” + +“To me,” said the Princess, “the choice of life is become less important; +I hope hereafter to think only on the choice of eternity.” + +They then hastened out of the caverns, and under the protection of their +guard returned to Cairo. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIX +THE CONCLUSION, IN WHICH NOTHING IS CONCLUDED. + + +IT was now the time of the inundation of the Nile. A few days after +their visit to the catacombs the river began to rise. + +They were confined to their house. The whole region being under water, +gave them no invitation to any excursions; and being well supplied with +materials for talk, they diverted themselves with comparisons of the +different forms of life which they had observed, and with various schemes +of happiness which each of them had formed. + +Pekuah was never so much charmed with any place as the Convent of St. +Anthony, where the Arab restored her to the Princess, and wished only to +fill it with pious maidens and to be made prioress of the order. She was +weary of expectation and disgust, and would gladly be fixed in some +unvariable state. + +The Princess thought that, of all sublunary things, knowledge was the +best. She desired first to learn all sciences, and then proposed to +found a college of learned women, in which she would preside, that, by +conversing with the old and educating the young, she might divide her +time between the acquisition and communication of wisdom, and raise up +for the next age models of prudence and patterns of piety. + +The Prince desired a little kingdom in which he might administer justice +in his own person and see all the parts of government with his own eyes; +but he could never fix the limits of his dominion, and was always adding +to the number of his subjects. + +Imlac and the astronomer were contented to be driven along the stream of +life without directing their course to any particular port. + +Of those wishes that they had formed they well knew that none could be +obtained. They deliberated awhile what was to be done, and resolved, +when the inundation should cease, to return to Abyssinia. + + * * * * * + + * * * * * + + Printed by Cassell & Company, Limited, La Belle Sauvage, London, E.C. + + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK RASSELAS*** + + +******* This file should be named 652-0.txt or 652-0.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/6/5/652 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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