“Having taken into consideration the petition of Signor Thief, solicitor to the lord Stupid, the court do order, that the parties have day in court, for the space of four years, that the fees may absorb the sum of three hundred pounds, which must be expended in this suit. Done at our court of the palace of hypocrisy, at the winter term of the current year. Pecunia, President.”
What I have related of the palace, is to exemplify the spirit that reigns in this city; the same influence governs the court, the army, the treasury, and the theatre. There were in a box adjoining ours, at the latter place, two men, who discoursed concerning the sale of certain merchandize. The seller said, “I wish you to give fifty thousand livres, for what cost me thirty; but I wish to make a thousand crowns profit.” The other was not willing to give more than a hundred pistoles. At last they agreed upon the thousand crowns, upon condition that the seller, who was a steward, should give to the purchaser the titles to the rents of certain farms, without the knowledge of his lord, and upon which event the purchaser was also to give a feast. After the play, I went to seek my old friend; upon meeting him, he informed me that the king, Self-love, was fallen ill; and that on account of his indisposition, the whole city prepared to testify their gratitude.
“How,” said I, “can you think of diversions, when the father of the country lies sick?”
“Yes,” said he, “it becomes us to rejoice; it would be hypocrisy to do otherwise, when we have a prospect of changing our master.”
“In the world of which I am an inhabitant,” rejoined I, “we feel the most lively sorrow, if our prince falls sick; and our religion commands us to offer up prayers for his health.”
“And we,” answered the good man, “are taught to rejoice; for we have no other policy than interest, and to which your religion is opposed.”
“If Self-love should die,” said I, “you would perhaps be governed by a less popular king. Pleasure, who aspires to the crown, Interest, nor either of the other princes of the blood, would exercise a dominion so happy and sweet. These princes are naturally proud, cruel, and vindictive: in the place of which, Self-love is often, nay, almost always solicitous for the preservation of his subjects.”
The conversation turned upon this topic, for some time. The old man, contrary to the usual spirit of aged people, was desirous that Pleasure should succeed to the throne. As for myself, I maintained that the nation would be less happy, under such a sway. After our soup, he wanted to carry me to see the fireworks, and the ball the governor gave upon the occasion. I refused to go; these things seeming to me very ridiculous, on account of the cause that elicited them. The old man was much offended at my refusal; he told me that I was a sour, dissatisfied man, and an enemy to the general joy. I replied, that he was an old fool, and that if he molested me any more, I would throw him out of the window, and put his family to the sword.
At this moment we heard the cry of fire in the house; and the common danger caused us to forego our quarrel. The uproar was caused by a servant girl, who, because her mistress refused, from some cause or other, to pay her wages, had set fire to the house, from motives of revenge. They pretended to extinguish it in a very curious manner, which was, by throwing on light stuffs, soaked in oil. I dreamt that a great sheet of flame suddenly enveloped me: I awoke on the instant, crying that I was in a house environed: and thinking the noise I heard came from the flame,—I cried, “fire!” A servant that was seeking me in the garden, ran, upon hearing me, and told me that some one waited to see me. When I had finished my business with this person, my dream caused me much reflection; the more I thought upon it, the closer seemed the resemblance to what is taking place in the world: in fact, it is Self-love that reigns, and these are the passions that govern us; and whoever could see the heart and soul of men, would find them arrant hypocrites. The world itself is the city of Hypocrisy. It is in this city, that interest, ambition, pleasure, vengeance, anger, and all other evil passions conceal themselves. The more I examine, the more clearly these truths appear:—That whosoever could disabuse himself for a single moment, would be so, for the remainder of his life: and he who really desires to know himself and the world, would learn from observation, more than he has an idea of. The world is, of all things, the most difficult to understand, and that which one ought to know the best. There is no person who distrusts himself; consequently, there is no one who realizes, that it is deceptive, filled with self-love, attached to its own interests, seeking its own gratifications, vain, unquiet, restless, presumptuous, vindictive, pure outwardly, criminal within, lovely and fair in appearance—deserving, at bottom, of hatred and contempt: and what is still more incomprehensible about this same world, is, there is hardly an individual who doth not love it; they lose by this love, and they know of a surety, that it is to this attachment they must attribute their losses: meanwhile, it pleases all: they seek after it; they wish to serve it; they abandon to it all which they hold most dear. Some sacrifice to it their honour for pleasure; others their lives for glory; and some surrender their repose for the poor ambition of fortune. But it was for us, the world was created; and that is really the victim one ought to sacrifice, to preserve his honour, to enjoy eternal pleasures, to acquire true glory, and amass treasures, that neither rust nor envy can spoil.—Think not, my dear reader, what I have here presented to you, a dream, a vision; it is more real than you imagine.