Rasselas, Prince of Abyssinia
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.