"Waa," says Mangogul, yawning and rubbing his eyes, "my head achs. Let nobody evermore talk philosophy to me. Such conversations are unwholsome. Last night I lay on empty ideas; and instead of sleeping like a Sultan, my brain work'd more than those of my ministers do in a year. You laugh; but to convince you that I do not exaggerate, and to take my revenge for the bad night which your reasonings gave me, I enjoin you the penance of hearing my dream in its full extent.
"As soon as I began to nod, and my imagination to take its flight, I saw an odd animal bounce by my side. He had the head of an eagle, the feet of a griffon, the body of a horse, and the tail of a lion. I seized him, notwithstanding his prancing; and holding by his mane, I nimbly sprung on his back. Immediately he spread out long wings, which issued from his flanks, and I felt myself carried in the air with incredible swiftness.
"After driving a vast way, I espied, in the emptiness of space, a building suspended as by enchantment. It was a vast one. I will not say that it was faulty in its foundation; for it had none. Its columns, which were not half a foot in diameter, ran up out of sight, and supported arches, which would not have been visible, were it not for the symmetrical lights made in them.
"At the entrance into this edifice it was that my beast first stop'd. At first I was in a doubt whether I should alight: for I apprehended less danger in sitting on my hippogriffon, than in walking under this portico. However, encouraged by the multitude of its inhabitants, and by a remarkable security, which was predominant in their countenances, I alight, go forward, mix with the crowd, and make my observations on those that composed it.
"They were old men, either bloated or feeble; without Embonpoint and strength, and almost all deform'd. The head of one was too little, the arms of another too short. One was hump-back'd, another bandy-legg'd. Most of them had no feet, and walk'd on crutches. A breath threw them down, and they remain'd on the ground, till some new comer was pleased to lift them up. All these defects notwithstanding, they pleased at first sight. They had in their physiognomy somewhat engaging and confident. They were almost naked: for all their cloathing consisted of a small rag of stuff, which did not cover the hundredth part of their body.
"I continued to pierce the crowd, and got to the foot of a rostrum, for which a cobweb served as a canopy. The boldness of this rostrum was of a piece with that of the building. To me it seemed placed on the point of a needle, and to support itself there in æquilibrio. I trembled a hundred times for the person, who was in it. He was an old man, with a long beard, as wither'd and naked as any of his disciples: he had a cup full of a subtil fluid before him, into which he dipp'd a straw-pipe; then put it to his mouth, and blew bubbles to a crowd of spectators around him, who were using their utmost endeavours to drive them up to the clouds.
"'Where am I?' said I to myself, all in confusion at these childish tricks. 'What means this blower of bubbles, and all these decrepit infants employ'd in making them fly about? Who will let me into the secret of these things?'—Besides, the little scraps of stuff had struck me; and I observed that the larger they were, the less those that wore them interested themselves in the bubbles. This singular remark embolden'd me to accost him, who was the least undress'd of the company.
"I saw one, whose shoulders were half covered with pieces so well fitted together, that the seams were not to be seen. He walk'd forward and backward in the crowd, with very little concern for what they were doing. He had an affable air, a smiling mouth, a noble gait, a mild look; and I went directly to him, and asked him without ceremony: 'Who are you? Where am I? And who are all these folks?'—He answered, 'I am Plato. You are in the region of hypotheses, and these folks are systematics.' 'But by what chance,' replied I, 'is the divine Plato here, and what does he do among these madmen?'—'Raising recruits,' said he. 'At a distance from this Portico I have a sanctuary, whither I conduct those who abandon systems.' 'And how do you employ them?' 'In knowing man, practising virtue, and sacrificing to the graces'—'These are noble employments: but what mean these shreds of fluff, whereby you look more like beggers than philosophers?'—'Oh! what a question do you propose to me,' said he with a sigh, 'and what thoughts do you bring back to my mind? This temple was formerly that of philosophy. Alas! how much this place is changed! The chair of Socrates was here.'—'How,' said I, interrupting him, 'had Socrates a straw, and did he blow bubbles?'—'No, no,' replied Plato, 'it was not by such means that he merited of the Gods the name of the wisest of men. His constant occupation, during life, was forming heads and hearts. The secret was lost at his death. Socrates died, and the bright days of philosophy were no more. These pieces of stuff, which those very systematics think it an honour to wear, are scraps of his garment. Scarcely had his eyes been closed, when those, who aspired to the title of philosophers, seized his robe, and tore it in pieces.' 'I understand,' said I, 'these pieces served as tickets both to them and their long posterity.'—'Who will collect these scraps,' continued Plato, 'and restore us Socrates's robe?
"While he was uttering these words, I saw at a distance a child walking towards us in a slow but sure pace. He had a little head, slender body, weak arms and short legs: but all these parts increased in all dimensions, according as he came forward. In the progress of his successive growth, he appear'd to me under a hundred different forms; I saw him directing a long telescope towards the heavens, estimating the fall of bodies by means of a pendulum, determining the weight of the air by a tube fill'd with quicksilver, and discomposing light with a prism. He was now become an enormous Colossus: his head touch'd the heavens, his feet were lost in the abyss, and his arms reach'd from one to the other pole. With his right hand he brandished a torch, whose light spread a vast way in the sky, enlightened even the bottom of the waters, and penetrated into the entrails of the earth. I ask'd Plato, what that gigantic figure was, that was coming towards us. 'It is experience,' said he. Scarcely had he made me this short answer, when I saw experience draw near, and the columns of the portico of hypotheses to shake, its arches to sink in, and its pavement to crack under our feet. 'Let us fly,' said Plato, 'let us fly: this edifice has but a moment to stand.' At these words he departs, and I follow him. The Colossus arrives, strikes the portico, it tumbles down with a frightful noise, and I awake."
"Ah! Prince," cried Mirzoza, "'tis you that ought to dream. I would indeed be very glad, that you had had a good night: but now that I know your dream, I should be very sorry that you had not dream'd it."