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accord fell to embracing one another, and called ali the world their brothers, and vowed they would talk a way the misunderstanding between themselves and neighbours; they would not shed blood, they would not go to war.
And this was ever after called the peace of the bishops.
The second deliberative assembly was called the House of Workers. No inan could be one of these, who had not made known to the world his wisdomhis justice—his worship of truth for truth's sake. No worker was returned upon the mere chance of his atness. He must be known as an out-door worker or the good of his fellow-men, before he could be sent, an honoured member, to the House. The duty of the assembly was to make laws; and as these were to be made for all men, it was the prime endeavour and striving of the workers to write them in the plainest words, in the briefest meaning. They would debate and work for a whole day-they always assempled will t.ear heads and fresh spirits every morning at nine-to enshrine their wisdom in the fewest syllables. And whereas, here with us we give our children “Goody Two Shoes ” and “ Jack and the Bean Stalk," as the easiest and simplest les. sons for their tender minds to fasten on, in As-youlike the little creatures read the Abridgement of the Statutes for their first book; so clear, so lucid, so direct was it in its meaning and its purpose.
Nevertheless, as there were some dull and giddy folk, who, arter all the labour of the House of Work. ers, could or would not know the laws, there were certain meek and loving kind professors called good. men guides, answering to our attorneys, whose de. light it was, for the very smallest imaginable sum, to interpret and make known the power and beauty of the statutes. And whereas among us, physicians and surgeons—may the spirits of chastity and peace consecrate their firesides!-set apart a portion of the day to feel the pulse of stricken poverty, to comfort and solace the maimed and wasting poor-so in As. you-like, did these goodmen guides give a part of their time to the passionate and ignorant, advising them to abstain from the feve ish turmoil of law: showing them how suspense would bake their blood and eat their heart, and wear and weigh down man's noble spirit. And thus these goodmen guides would, I say, with a silken string, lead men back to content and neighbourly adjustment. When men could pay for such counsel, they paid a moderate cost; when they were poor, they were advised, as by the free benevolence of the mediator.
The people of As.you-like had, a thousand years or so before, waged war with other nations. There could be no doubt of it, for the cannon still remained. I saw what at one time had been an arsenal. There were several pieces of artillery; the swallows had built their nests under their very mouths. As I will not disguise anything, I own there were a few persons who when i war was tahed f, the war o hip
pily prevented by the bishops, strutted and looked big, and with swollen cheeks gabbled about glory. But they were smiled at for their simplicity; advised, corrected by the dominant reason of the country, and, after a time, confessed themselves to be very much ashamed of their past folly.
Perhaps the manner in which the As-you-likeans transacted business was very strange; it may appear incredible. I was never more surprised than when I first overheard two men dealing for a horse. One was a seller of horses, the other seemed a comfort. able yeoman. “That is a pretty nag of yours," said the yeoman. Pretty enough outside," said the horse-dealer. “ I will give you ten lumps for it," said the farmer (the lump signifying our pound).
No, you shall not,” answered the horse-dealer, “ for the nag shies and stumbles, and is touched a little in the wind. Nevertheless the thing is worth four lumps.” “You have said it?” cried the yeoman. “ I have said it," answered the horse-dealer. Understand that this is the only form of oath-if I may so call it-in As-you-like.
“ You have said it?" . I have said it.” Such is the most solemn protestation among all people, from the king to the herdsman.
The shops in As-you-like are very beautiful. All the goods are labelled at a certain price. You want, let us say, a pair of stockings. You enter the shop. The common salutation is “ Peace under this roof," and the shopkeeper answers, “ Peace at your home.” You look at the stockings, and laying down the money, take the goods and depart. The tradesman never bends his back in thankfulness until his nose touches the counter; he is in no spasm of politeness; not he; you would think him the buyer and not the seller. I remember being particularly astonished at what I thought the ill-manners of a tradesman, to whom I told my astonishment. What, friend,” he said, “ should I do? My neighbour wants a fireshovel-I sell a fire-shovel. If I ought to fling so many thanks at him for buying the fire shovel, should he not first thank me for being here with fire-shovels to sell? Politeness, friend, as you call it, may be very well; but I should somehow suspect the whole. sale dealer in it. Where I should carry away so much politeness, I should fear I had short weight.” A strange people, you must own, these As-you-like. eans.
Taxation was light, for there was no man idle in As-you-like. Indeed, there was but one tax; it was called the truth-tax, and for this reason: Every man gave in an account of his wealth and goods, and paid in proportion to his substance. There had been no other taxes, but all these were merged into this one tax, by a solemn determination of the House of Virtues. “ Since Providence has given to us the greatest measure of its gifts, it has thereby made us the chancellors to poorer men.” Upon this avowed principle, the one tax was made. “Would it not be the trick of roguery to do otherwise ? ” they said.
Should we not blush to see the ploughman sweat
ing at his task, knowing that, squared by his means, image, sitting with his bony, idle hands tefore nim, he paid more than we? Should we not feel the rob. like a maniac in a cage-brutalized, maddened, by bers of the man-not the Virtues banded together to the world's selfishness. protect him?" And thus, there was but one tax. In former ages there had been many; for I was shown in the national museum of As-you-like, sev.
THE BACHELOR'S THERMOMETER. eral mummies, dry and coloured like saddle-leather, that in past centuries had been living custom-house
JAMES SMITH, officers and excisemen.
ÆTATIS 30. Looked back, through a vista of ten There were prisons in As-you-like, in which the years. Remembered that at twenty 1 looked upon a idle and the vicious were made to work, and taught man of thirty as a middle-aged man; wondered at the wickedness, the very folly of guilt. As the state, my error, and protracted the middle age to forty. however, with paternal love, watched, I may say it, Said to myself, “ Forty is the age of wisdom.” Re. at the very cradles of the poor,-teaching the pauper flected generally upon past life; wished myself as he grew, a self-responsibility; showing to him twenty again; and exclaimed, “If I were but twenty, right and wrong, not permitting to grow up, with at what a scholar I would be by thirty! but it's too late best, an odd, vague notion, a mere guess at black,- now.” Looked in the glass; still youthful, but get. there were few criminals. The state did not expose ting rather fat. Young says, “A fool at forty is a its babies—for the poor are its children—to hang fool indeed;" forty, therefore, must be the age of them when men.
wisdom. So dear were the wants of the poor to the rulers 31. Read in the Morning Chronicle that a watch. of As-you-like, that on one occasion, in a year of maker in Paris, aged thirty-one, had shot himself for scarcity, the monarch sold all his horses—the beauti- love. More fool the watchmaker! Agreed that noful cattle went at seventy thousand lumps—and laid body fell in love after twenty. Quoted Sterne, “ The out the money in building school-rooms and finding expression fall in love, evidently shows love to be teachers for pauper babies.
beneath a man." Went to Drury lane; saw Miss And the state, believing man to be something Crotch in Rosetta, and fell in love with her. Remore than a thing of digestion, was always surround- ceived her ultimatum; none but matrimonians need ing the people with objects of loviiness, so that a apply. Was three months making up my mind (a sense of the beautiful might be with them even as long time for making up such a little parcel), when the colour of their blood, and thus might soften and Kitty Crotch eloped with Lord Buskin. Pretended elevate the spirit of man, and teach him true gentle- to be very glad. Took three turns up and down ness out of his very admiration of the works of his library, and looked in glass. Getting rather fat and fellow. Hence, the museums and picture galleries, florid. Met a friend in Gray's Inn, who said I was and abbeys and churches, were all thrown open to evidently in rude health. Thought the compliment the people, who always seemed refined, subdued by ruder than the health. the emanations of lovliness around them.
32. Passion for dancing rather on the decline. There were very many rich people in As-you-like, Voted sitting out play and farce one of the impossi. but I never knew them to be thought a bit the bet- bilities. Still in stage-box three nights per week. ter off for their money. They were thought fortu- Sympathized with the public in vexation, occasioned nate, no more. They were looked upon as men, by non-attendance the other three: can't please who, having put into a lottery, had had the luck to everybody. Began to wonder at the pleasure of. draw a prize. As for the poor, they were always kicking one's heels on a chalked foor till four in the treated with a softness of manner that surprised me. morning. Sold bay mare, who reared at three car. The poor man in As-you-like seemed privileged by riages, and shook me out of the saddle. Thought his property. He seemed to have a stronger claim saddle-making rather worse than formerly. Hair to the sympathies of those in worldly substance over growing thin. Bought a bottle of Tricosian fluid. him. Had a rich man talked brutally, or domi- Mem. “a flattering unction." neered over, or ill-used a pauper in As-you-like, he 33. Hair thinner. Serious thoughts of a wig. would have been looked upon as we look upon a Met Colonel Buckhorse, who wears one. Devil in man who beats a woman. There was thought to be a bush. Serious thoughts of letting it alone. Met a moral cowardice in the act that made its doer a fellow Etonian in the Green Park, who told me I despicable. Hence, it was as common in As-you- wore well; wondered what he could mean. Gave up like to see the rich man first touch his hat to the cricket-club, on account of the bad air about Pad. poor, as with us for the pauper to make preliminary dington; could not run in it without being out of homage to wealth. Then, in As-you-like, no man breath. cared to disguise the smallness of his means. To 34. Measured for a new coat. Tailor proposed call a man a pauper was no more than with us to say fresh measure, hinting something about bulk. Old his eyes are grey or hazel. And though there were measure too short; parchment shrinks. Shortened puor men, there were no famishing creature, no God's my morning ride to Hampstead and Highgate, and
wondered what people could see at Hendon. Deter- find any pleasure in being bumped. What were legs mined not to marry; means expensive, end dubious. made for? Counted eighteen bald heads in the pit at the opera. 42. Gout again; that disease certainly attacks So much the better; the more the merrier.
young people more than formerly. Caught myself 35. Tried on an old greatcoat, and found it an old at a rubber of whist, and blushed. Tried my hand little one; cloth shrinks as well as parchment. Red at original composition, and found a hankering after face in putting on shoes. Bought a shoe-horn. Re- epigram and satire. Wondered I could ever write member quizzing my uncle George for using one; love-sonnets. Imitated Horace's ode, “Ne sit then young and foolish. Brother Charles' wile lay-in ancilla.” Did not mean anything serious, though of her eighth child. Served him right for marrying Susan certainly civil and attentive. at twenty-one; age of discretion too! Hunting-belts 43. Bought a hunting-belt. Braced myself up for gentlemen hung up in glover's windows. Longed till ready to burst. Intestines not to be trifled with: to buy one, but two women in shop cheapening mit- threw it aside. Young men now.a-days much too tens. Three gray hairs in left eye-brow.
small in the waist. Read in Morning Post an adver36. Several gray hairs in whiskers; all owing to tisement “ Pills to prevent Corpulency;' bought a carelessness in manufactory of shaving-soap. Re- box. Never the slimmer, though much the sicker. member thinking my father an old man at thirty-six. 44. Met Fanny Stapleton, now Mrs. Mcadows, at Settled the point! Men grew old sooner in former Bullock's Museum. Twenty-five years ago wanted days. Laid blame upon flapped waistcoats and tie- to marry her. What an escape! Women certainly. wigs. Skated on the Serpentine. Gout. Very fool. age much sooner than men. Charles' eldest boy beish exercise. only fit for boys. Gave skates to Charles' gan to think himself a man. Starched cravat and a eldest son.
What presumption! At his age I was 37. Fell in love again. Rather pleased to find child. myself not too old for the passion. Emma only 45. A few wrinkles about the eyes, commonly nineteen. What then? Women require protectors;
called crow's feet. Must have caught cold. Began day settled; devilishly frightened; too late to get off. to talk politics, and shirk the drawing-room. Euio. Luckily jilted. Emma married George Parker one gized Garrick; saw nothing in Kean. Talked of day before me, Again determined never to marry.
Lord North. Wondered at the licentiousness of the Turned off old tailor, and took to new one in Bond modern press. Why can't people be civil, like Junius street. Some of those fellows make a man look ten and John Wilkes, in the good old times? years younger. Not that that was the reason.
46. Rather on the decline, but still handsome, 38. Stuck rather more to dinner-parties. Gave and interesting. Growing dislike to the company of up country.dancing. Money.musk certainly more young men; all of them talk too much or too little. fatiguing than formerly. Fiddlers play it too quick. Began to call chambermaids at inns “My dear." Quadrilles stealing hither over the Channel. Thought Listened to a howl from Capt. Querulous about of adding to number of grave gentlemen who learn family expenses, price of bread and butcher's meat. to dance. Dick Dapper dubbed me one of the over- Did not care a jot if bread was a shilling a roll, and growns. Very impertinent, and utterly untrue. butcher's meat fifty pounds a calf. Hugged myself 39. Quadrilles rising. Wondered sober mistresses in “single blessedness.”
47. Top of head quite bald. Pleaded Lord Grey that fashion. Dinner parties increasing. Found my- in justification. Shook it, on reflecting that I was self gradually Tontincing it towards top of table. but three years removed from the “Age of Wisdom.” Dreaded Ultima Thule of hostess's elbow. Good Teeth sound, but not so white as heretofore. Someplaces for cutting turkeys; bad for cutting jokes. thing the matter with the dentifrice. Began to be Wondered why I was always desired to walk up. cautious in chronology. Bad thing to remember too Met two school-fellows at Pimlico; both fat and red- far back. Had serious thoughts of not remembering faced. Used to say at school that they were both of
Miss Farren. my age; what lies boys tell!
48. Quite settled not to remember Miss Farren. 40. Look back ten years. Remember, at thirty, Told Laura Willis that Palmer, who died when I thinking forty a middle-aged man. Must have meant was nineteen, certainly did not look forty-eight. fitty. Fisty certainly the age of wisdom. Deter- 49. Resolved never to marry for anything but mined to be wise in ten years. Wished to learn music and Italian. Tried Logier. 'Twould not do. 50. Age of wisdom. Married my cook. No defect of capacity, but those things should be learned in childhood.
THE SPINSTER'S PROGRESS. 41. New furnished chambers. Looked in new glass; one chin too much. Looked in other new glass; chin stiil double. Art of glass-making on the At 15. Dimpled cheeks, sparkling eyes, coral lips, decline. Sold my horse, and wondered people could and ivory teeth-a sylph in figure. All anxiety for
of families would allow their carpets to be beat after
money or rank.
eoming out-looks about her with an arch yet timid expression, and blushes amazingly upon the slightest provocation.
16. Bolder and plumper-draws, sings, plays the harp, dines at table when there are small partiesgets fond of plays, to which she goes in a private box-dreams of a hero-hates her governess—is devoted to poetry.
17. Having no mother who values herself on her youth, is presented by an aunt--first terrified, then charmed. Comes out-Almack's-opera-begins to Airt--selects the most agreeable but most objection able man in the room as the object of her affections --he, eminently pleasant, but dreadfully poor-talks of love in a cottage, and a casement window all over woodbine.
18. Discards the sighing swain, and fancies her. self desperately devoted to a Lancer, who has amused himself by praising her perfections. Delights in fêtes and déjeuners--dances herself into half a consumption. Becomes an intimate friend of Henry's sister
19. Votes Henry stupid-too fond of himself to care for her—talks a little louder than the year be. fore--takes care to show that she understands the best-concealed bon-móts of the French plays-shows off her bright eyes, and becomes the centre of four satellites who flicker round her.
20. Begins to wonder why none of the sighers propose--gets a little peevish—becomes a politician --rallies the Whigs-avows Toryism-all women are Tories, except two or three who may be anything-gets praised beyond measure by her partydiscards Italian music, and sings party songs--called charming, delightful, and “so natural.”
21. Enraptured with her new system-pursues it with redoubled ardour-takes to riding constantly on horseback-canters every day half way to the Ilouse of Lords with the dear earl, through St. James' Park by the side of her uncle--makes up parties and excursions-becomes a comet instead of a star, and changes her satellites for a Tail, by which she is fol. lowed as regularly as the great Agitator is. Sees her name in the papers as the proposer of pic-nics and the patroness of fancy fairs.
22. Pursues the same course-autumn comescountry-house-large party of shooting men--juxta. position--constant association--sociability in the evening-sportive gambols-snug suppers-an offer-which being made by the only dandy she did not care about in the mêlée, she refuses.
23. Regrets it-tries to get him back-he won't come, but marries a rich grocer's widow for her money. Takes to flirting desperately-dresses fantastically-tries a new style of singing-affects a taste--lives with the Italians, calls them divine and charming -gets her uncle to give suppers.
24. Toinks she has been too forward-retires, and becomes melancholy-affects sentiment, and writes verses in an Annual--makes acquaintances with the
savans, and the authors and authoresses-ondere she is not married.
25. Goes abroad with her uncle ana a delighifui family-so kind and so charming-stays the year there.
26. Comes home full of new airs and graces-more surprised than ever that she is still single, and begins to iancy she could live very comfortably, if not in a cottage, at least upon a very nioderate scale.
27. Thinks the conversation of rational men infinitely preferable to flirting.
28. Looks at matrimony as desirable in the way of an establishment, in case of the death of her un. cle-leaves off dancing generally—talks of getting old.
29. Same system-still ineffective-still talks of getting aged --surprised that men do not laugh as they did, when she said so a year or two before.
30. Begins to inquire when a spinster becomes an old maid.
31. Dresses more fantastically than ever-rouges a little-country-house not so agreeable as it used to be - goes everywhere in town — becomes goodnatured to young girls, and joins in acting charades and dumb proverbs.
32. Hates balls, or, if she goes to them, likes to sit still and talk to clever middle-aged gentlemen.
33. Wonders why men of sense prefer flirting with girls to the enjoyment of rational conversation with sensible women.
34. Uncle dies--break-up of establishment-re. mains with her aunt-feels old enough to go about without a chaperon.
35. Takes to cards, where they are played-gives up harp, pianoforte, and singing-beaten out of the field by her juniors.
36. Quarrels with her cousin, who is just married to the prize marquis of the season--yoes into Wales on a visit to a distant relation.
37. Returns to London-tries society-fancies herself neglected, and “never goes out"-makes up little tea-parties at her aunt's-very pleasant to everyo body else, but never satisfactory to herself.
38. Feels delight in recounting all the unhappy marriages she can recollect--takes a boy out of an orphan-school, dresses him up in a green jacket, with three rows of sugar-loaf buttons, and calls him a page -patronizes a poet.
39. Gets fractious-resolves upon making the best of it--turns gourmand-goes to every dinner to which she is or is not invited-relisines port wine; laughs at it as a good joke-stays in London all the year.
40. Spasmodic - camphor-julip - a little more rouge-fancies herself in love with a captain in the Guards-lets him know it--he not susceptible-she uncommonly angry-mahes up a horrid story about him and some poor innocent girl of her acquaintance-they are eternally m.parated by her means she happy.
Takes to wearing “a front”-port wine gets more popular-avows a resolution never to marrywho would sacrifice her liberty? --quite sure she has seen enough of that sort of thing-Umph!
42. Turns moralist-is shocked at the vices of the world-establishes a school out of the produce of a fancy fair-subscribes-consults with the rectorexcellent man-he endeavors to dissuade her from an extravagant course of proceeding which she has adopted-her regard turns to hate, and she puts her." sell under the spiritual guidance of a Ranter.
43. Learns the Unknown Tongues, and likes them-sees none of her old friends--continues dur. ing the whole season enveloped in her new devotion. Her page, having outgrown his green inexpressibles, is dismissed at the desire of her new pastor.
44. Renounces the Oly Oly Bom school of piety, an: gets a pug and a poodle-meets the man she refused when she was two-and-twenty-he grown plump and jolly, driving his wife and two great healthy-looking boys, nearly men; and two lovely girls, nearly women-recollects him-he does not remember her-wishes the family at Old Nickcomes home and pinches her poodle's ears.
45. Returns to cards at the Dowager's parties, and smells to snuff if offered her.
46. Her aunt dies.
47. Lives upon her relations; but by the end of the season feels assured that she must do something else next year.
48. Goes into the country and selects a cousin, plain and poor--proposes they should live together --scheme succeeds.
49. Retires to Cheltenham-house in a row near the promenade -- subscribes to everything -- takes snuff and carries a box--all in fun-goes out to tea in a fly--plays whist--loses--comes back at elevencamphor-julep, and to bed—but not to sleep.
50. Finds all efforts to be comfortable unavailing, vents all her spleen upon her unhappy cousin, and lavishes all her affections upon a tabby cat, a great, fat, useless Tommy, with a blue riband and a bell round its neck. And there, so far as I have traced it, ends my Spinster's progress up to fifty.
besought Vathek that a fire might be kindled. "No," replied he, “there is no tine left to think of such tritles: abide where thou art, and expect my com. mands.” Having thus spoken he presented his hand to Nouronihar, and, ascending the steps of a vast staircase, reached the terrace, which was flagged with squares of marble, and resembled a smooth expanse of water, upon whose surface not
blade of grass ever cared to vegetate. On the right rose the watchtowers, ranged before the ruins of an immense palace, whose walls were embossed with various figures. In front stood forth the colossal forms of four creat. ures, composed of the leopard and the griffin, and though but of stone, inspired emotions of terror. Near these were distinguished, by the splendor of the moon, which streamed full on the place, characters like those on the sabres of the Giaour, and which possessed the same virtue of changing every moment. These, after vacillating for some time, fixed at last in Arabic letters, and prescribed to the Caliph the fol. lowing words: “Vathek! thou hast violated the co... ditions of my parchment, and deservest to be sent back; but in favor to thy companion, and, as the meed for what thou hast done to obtain it, Eblis per. mitteth that the portal of his palace shall be opened, and the subterranean fire will receive thee into the number of its adorers.”
He scarcely had read these words before the mountain against which the terrace was reared trembled, and the watch-towers were ready to topple headlong upon them. The rock yawned, and disclosed within it a staircase of polished marble, that seemed to ap. proach the abyss. Upon each stair were planted two large torches, like those Nouronihar had seen in her vision, the camphorated vapour of which ascended and gathered itself into a cloud under the hollow of the vault...
The caliph and Nouronihar beheld each other with amazement at finding themselves in a place which, though roofed with a vaulted ceiling, was so spacious and lofty that at first they took it for an imineasur. abl. plain. But their eyes at length growing famil. iar to the grandeur of the surrounding objects, they extended their view to those at a distance, and discov. ered rows of coluinns and arcades which gradually diminished till they terminated in a point radiant as the sun when he darts his last beams athwart the ocean. The pavement, strewed over with gold.dus and saffron, exhaled so subtle an odor as almost overpowered them. They, however, went on, and observed an infinity of censers, in which ambergris and the wood of aloes were continually burning. Between the several columns were placed tables, each spread with a profusion of viands, and wines of every species sparkling in vases of crystal. A throng oi genii and other fantastic spirits of either sex danced lasciviously at the sound of music which issued from beneath.
In the inidst of this immense hall, a vast multitude was incessantly passing, who severally kept their
THE HALL OF EBLIS
WILLIAM BECKFORD—"VATUXK." A deathlike stillness reigned over the mountain and through the air. The moon dilated on a vast platform, the shades of the lofty columns which reached from the terrace almost to the clouds. The gloomy watch-towers, whose number could not be counted, were covered by no roof; and their capitals, of an architecture unknown in the records of the earth, served as an asylumn for the birds of night, which alarmed at the approach of such visitants, tied away croaking
The chief of the eunuchs, trembling with fear,