VIII.During our voyage, encountering a severe storm, we rode it tranquilly on the breast of the billows, while great ships, freighted with the wealth of the world, were wrecked and lost before our eyes. It was pitiful to hear the shrieks of the perishing sounding above the tempest, men and women who had braved the dangers of the deep, some to seek happier climes, others, the riches they were doomed never to enjoy.At last through many dangers we reached the shores of the “Happy Island.”“Let us pause here,” said my sage companion, “and note the native mode of seeking what I hold to be a myth—earthly happiness.”Shaking ourselves dry, my friend, who had studied geography, elevated his beak, and casting his eye along its line, took our position from the sun. The result was curious and instructive to navigators, and even to mankind generally, not to mention birds. According to our calculations, we had been availing ourselves of every slant of windto push ahead, and, strange to say, reached land a hundred miles astern of the point we started from. Had we been men, pioneers of civilisation, gifted with a sublime belief in our own powers, we should have no doubt proved to our own satisfaction that we had made unheard-of progress. Men and mules, without knowing it, go as often backwards as forwards.My friend here remarked that the island was unknown, had never, in fact, found its place in any map. Our observations, therefore, cannot fail to prove useful.“Let us go inland. If you don’t object?”“With all my heart;” and in my youthful ardour was about to kiss the happy soil.“There, calm yourself,” said the Sage. “This is neither Peru nor the Penguins’ Paradise. The name alone misleads you. This land, ‘Happy Island,’ is so named because its inhabitants (all of them) inherit a furious desire for happiness, not because they are happy; they spend their lives chasing a phantom, and when it seems nearest, they are swallowed up in the grave. These islanders cannot be brought to understand that wrong must exist, and that happiness may be obtained by redressing wrongs and grievances, and that the most one can do is to snatch moments of bliss from one’s days and years of toil and sorrow. I have heard that men, after trying all sorts of new-fashioned receipts for happiness, fall back on the oldest plans, imagining they have discovered in them a new panacea for all earthly woes.“These curious islanders make self their god. They make it a rule each one to seek his own personal gratification, this plan is most ancient: love, sympathy, self-sacrifice, devotion, virtue, duty, are with them nothing more than words whose meaning has been long forgotten. Another rule is to avoid doing anything that will in any way mar one’s enjoyment, or spoil one’s ease. It will be seen that only the rich among them are able to carry out their principles to the full extent. Let us note how they manage affairs. Do you see the mansion over there? is it not beautiful? In it the disciples of pleasure carry on their amusements. Let us look in; we may learn something. Over the doorway we read in Latin, ‘Here we are, four hundred of us, all happy’; followed by a text from their sacred classics, ‘Neutralise the influence of parents upon children, and all will go well.’ ”In the first room we came across a charming illustration of the text—a number of showily-dressed, attractive-looking mothers, who refusedto sit on their eggs. Some of them had strolled into the garden to spend their time more usefully in flirting with dangerous-looking male friends. Somehow the poor little ones were hatched. “Youunwelcome rubbish!” said the mothers; “now that we have had all the trouble of bringing you into the world, some one must nurse you—we are otherwise engaged. We will return and spoil youlater on, if we think of it.” Guardians are found. A Weasel displayed the deepest interest in the eggs, an Adder watched them tenderly as they were about to break, while Wolves feasted on the young to keep them out of harm’s way.By far the most telling scene was met with in the schoolroom. There we saw bloated-looking Boars prosecuting their studies by lying on their bellies, or rolling over on their backs. Oxen, that had abandoned the plough, and Camels striving to make their neighbours carry their humps.Those who were not asleep were yawning, or going to yawn, or had yawned. All of them seemed profoundly dull. Near the centre sat a Monkey nursing his knee, who, with his head thrown back, seemed to be absorbed in his reflections.“Sir,” I said, addressing him, “are these dejected-looking creatures around you happy?”“I fear not,” was his reply; “although their sole pursuit is happiness, some of them are miserable enough. As for myself, I feel supremely uncomfortable on this confounded stool, but as governor I must keep awake.”On our way we passed in front of the shop of a blacksmith, who was fitting a pair of carpet slippers to a tender-footed horse. Suddenly I said to my travelling companion, “I have had quite enough of this ‘Happy Island,’ let us continue our voyage.”
During our voyage, encountering a severe storm, we rode it tranquilly on the breast of the billows, while great ships, freighted with the wealth of the world, were wrecked and lost before our eyes. It was pitiful to hear the shrieks of the perishing sounding above the tempest, men and women who had braved the dangers of the deep, some to seek happier climes, others, the riches they were doomed never to enjoy.
At last through many dangers we reached the shores of the “Happy Island.”
“Let us pause here,” said my sage companion, “and note the native mode of seeking what I hold to be a myth—earthly happiness.”
Shaking ourselves dry, my friend, who had studied geography, elevated his beak, and casting his eye along its line, took our position from the sun. The result was curious and instructive to navigators, and even to mankind generally, not to mention birds. According to our calculations, we had been availing ourselves of every slant of windto push ahead, and, strange to say, reached land a hundred miles astern of the point we started from. Had we been men, pioneers of civilisation, gifted with a sublime belief in our own powers, we should have no doubt proved to our own satisfaction that we had made unheard-of progress. Men and mules, without knowing it, go as often backwards as forwards.
My friend here remarked that the island was unknown, had never, in fact, found its place in any map. Our observations, therefore, cannot fail to prove useful.
“Let us go inland. If you don’t object?”
“With all my heart;” and in my youthful ardour was about to kiss the happy soil.
“There, calm yourself,” said the Sage. “This is neither Peru nor the Penguins’ Paradise. The name alone misleads you. This land, ‘Happy Island,’ is so named because its inhabitants (all of them) inherit a furious desire for happiness, not because they are happy; they spend their lives chasing a phantom, and when it seems nearest, they are swallowed up in the grave. These islanders cannot be brought to understand that wrong must exist, and that happiness may be obtained by redressing wrongs and grievances, and that the most one can do is to snatch moments of bliss from one’s days and years of toil and sorrow. I have heard that men, after trying all sorts of new-fashioned receipts for happiness, fall back on the oldest plans, imagining they have discovered in them a new panacea for all earthly woes.
“These curious islanders make self their god. They make it a rule each one to seek his own personal gratification, this plan is most ancient: love, sympathy, self-sacrifice, devotion, virtue, duty, are with them nothing more than words whose meaning has been long forgotten. Another rule is to avoid doing anything that will in any way mar one’s enjoyment, or spoil one’s ease. It will be seen that only the rich among them are able to carry out their principles to the full extent. Let us note how they manage affairs. Do you see the mansion over there? is it not beautiful? In it the disciples of pleasure carry on their amusements. Let us look in; we may learn something. Over the doorway we read in Latin, ‘Here we are, four hundred of us, all happy’; followed by a text from their sacred classics, ‘Neutralise the influence of parents upon children, and all will go well.’ ”
In the first room we came across a charming illustration of the text—a number of showily-dressed, attractive-looking mothers, who refusedto sit on their eggs. Some of them had strolled into the garden to spend their time more usefully in flirting with dangerous-looking male friends. Somehow the poor little ones were hatched. “Youunwelcome rubbish!” said the mothers; “now that we have had all the trouble of bringing you into the world, some one must nurse you—we are otherwise engaged. We will return and spoil youlater on, if we think of it.” Guardians are found. A Weasel displayed the deepest interest in the eggs, an Adder watched them tenderly as they were about to break, while Wolves feasted on the young to keep them out of harm’s way.
By far the most telling scene was met with in the schoolroom. There we saw bloated-looking Boars prosecuting their studies by lying on their bellies, or rolling over on their backs. Oxen, that had abandoned the plough, and Camels striving to make their neighbours carry their humps.
Those who were not asleep were yawning, or going to yawn, or had yawned. All of them seemed profoundly dull. Near the centre sat a Monkey nursing his knee, who, with his head thrown back, seemed to be absorbed in his reflections.
“Sir,” I said, addressing him, “are these dejected-looking creatures around you happy?”
“I fear not,” was his reply; “although their sole pursuit is happiness, some of them are miserable enough. As for myself, I feel supremely uncomfortable on this confounded stool, but as governor I must keep awake.”
On our way we passed in front of the shop of a blacksmith, who was fitting a pair of carpet slippers to a tender-footed horse. Suddenly I said to my travelling companion, “I have had quite enough of this ‘Happy Island,’ let us continue our voyage.”