Philosophical Entertainment

After I had Proclaimed this, in the five great places of the Town, my Advocate came and reached me his Hand to help me down. I was in great amaze, when after I had Eyed him I found him to be my Spirit; we were an hour in embracing one another: "Come lodge with me," said he, "for if you return to Court, after a Publick Disgrace, you will not be well lookt upon: Nay more, I must tell you, that you would have been still amongst the Apes yonder, as well as the Spaniard your Companion, if I had not in all Companies published the vigour and force of your Wit, and gained from your Enemies the protection of the great Men in your favours." I ceased not to thank him all the way, till we came to his Lodgings; there he entertained me till Suppertime with all the Engines he had set a work to prevail with my Enemies, notwithstanding the most specious pretexts they had used for riding the Mobile,¹ to desist from so unjust a Prosecution. But as they came to acquaint us that Supper was upon the Table, he told me that to bear me company that evening he had invited Two Professors of the University of the Town to Sup with him: "I'll make them," said he, "fall upon the Philosophy which they teach in this World, and by that means you shall see my Landlord's Son: He's as Witty a Youth as ever I met with; he would prove another Socrates, if he could use his Parts aright, and not bury in Vice the Graces wherewith God continually visits him, by affecting a Libertinism,² as he does, out of a Chimerical Ostentation and Affectation of the name of a Wit. I have taken Lodgings here, that I may lay hold on all Opportunities of Instructing him:" He said no more, that he might give me the Liberty to speak, if I had a mind to it; and then made a sign, that they should strip me of my disgraceful Ornaments, in which I still glistered.

After I had proclaimed this in the town’s five main squares, my advocate came and offered me his hand to help me down. When I looked at him, I was amazed to find that he was my Spirit. We spent an hour embracing each other. "Come stay with me," he said. "If you return to Court after a public disgrace, you will not be well received. What is more, I must tell you that you would still be among the Apes there, along with your companion the Spaniard, if not for me. Everywhere I went, I spoke of the strength and power of your wit. I also won the protection of the great men for you, despite your enemies." I thanked him all the way to his lodgings. There he spent the time until supper telling me about all the means he had used to persuade my enemies to abandon their unjust prosecution. He had succeeded despite the convincing excuses they had used to stir up the mob,¹. As we were told that supper was on the table, he said he had invited two professors from the town’s university to join us that evening. "I’ll get them talking about the philosophy they teach in this World," he said. "That way you will also meet my landlord’s son. He is as witty a young man as I have ever met. He would be another Socrates if he knew how to use his talents properly. But instead, he buries in vice the gifts God continually bestows on him. He puts on an air of libertinism,² out of a fanciful desire to show off and be known as a wit. I have taken lodgings here so that I can seize every opportunity to teach him." He said no more, so that I could speak if I wished. Then he signaled for them to remove the shameful ornaments in which I still glittered.

The Two Professors, whom we expected, entered just as I was undrest, and we went to sit down to Table, where the Cloth was laid, and where we found the Youth he had mentioned to me, fallen to already. They made him a low Reverence, and treated him with as much respect as a Slave does his Lord. I asked my Spirit the reason of that, who made me answer, that it was because of his Age; seeing in that World, the Aged rendered all kind of Respect and Difference³ to the Young; and which is far more, that the Parents obeyed their Children, so soon as by the Judgment of the Senate of Philosophers they had attained to the Years of Discretion.⁴

The two Professors we were expecting entered just as I finished undressing. We sat down at the table, which had been set. There we found the youth he had mentioned to me, already eating. They bowed deeply to him and treated him with as much respect as a slave treats his lord. I asked my Spirit why. He answered that it was because of the youth’s age. In that world, the old showed all kinds of respect and deference³ to the young. More than that, parents obeyed their children once the Senate of Philosophers judged them old enough to exercise discretion.⁴

"You are amazed," continued he, "at a Custom so contrary to that of your Country; but it is not all repugnant to Reason: For say, in your Conscience, when a brisk young Man is at his Prime in Imagining, Judging, and Acting, is not he fitter to govern a Family than a Decrepit piece of Threescore Years, dull and doting, whose Imagination is frozen under the Snow of Sixty Winters, who follows no other Guide but what you call the Experience of happy Successes; which yet are no more but the bare effects of Chance, against all the Rules and Oeconomy of humane Prudence? And as for Judgment, he hath but little of that neither, though the people of your World make it the Portion of Old Age: But to undeceive them, they must know, That that which is called Prudence in an Old Man is no more but a panick Apprehension, and a mad Fear of acting any thing where there is danger: So that when he does not run a Risk, wherein a Young Man hath lost himself; it is not that he foresaw the Catastrophe, but because he had not Fire enough to kindle those noble Flashes, which make us dare: Whereas the Boldness of that Young Man was as a pledge of the good Success of his design; because the same Ardour that speeds and facilitates the execution, thrust him upon the undertaking.

“You are amazed,” he continued, “by a custom so different from your own country’s. But it is not at all unreasonable. Tell me honestly: Is a lively young man not better suited to govern a family? He is in his prime for imagining, judging, and acting. Compare him with a decrepit man of sixty, dull and senile. His imagination is frozen under the snow of sixty winters. His only guide is what you call the experience of past successes. Yet those successes are merely the effects of chance, contrary to all the rules and principles of human prudence. “As for judgment, the old man has little of that either, though people in your world believe it belongs to old age. To set them straight, they must understand that an old man’s so-called prudence is nothing more than panic and a mad fear of doing anything dangerous. So an old man may avoid a risk that has ruined a young man. But that is not because he foresaw the outcome. He simply lacked the fire to kindle those noble flashes that make us dare. The young man’s boldness, on the other hand, was a pledge that his plan would succeed. For the same passion that drives him to undertake it also speeds and eases its execution.”

"As for Execution, I should wrong your Judgment if I endeavoured to convince it by proofs: You know that Youth alone is proper for Action; and were you not fully perswaded of this, tell me, pray, when you respect a Man of Courage, is it not because he can revenge you on your Enemies or Oppressors? And does any thing, but meer Habit, make you consider⁵ him, when a Battalion of Seventy Januarys hath frozen his Blood and chilled all the noble Heats that youth is warmed with? When you yield to the Stronger, is it not that he should be obliged to you for a Victory which you cannot Dispute him? Why then should you submit to him, when Laziness hath softened his Muscles, weakened his Arteries, evaporated his Spirits, and suckt the Marrow out of his Bones? If you adore a Woman, is it not because of her Beauty? Why should you then continue your Cringes, when Old Age hath made her a Ghost, which only represents a hideous Picture of Death? In short, when you loved a Witty Man, it was because by the Quickness of his Apprehension he unravelled an intricate Affair, seasoned the choicest Companies with his quaint Sayings, and sounded the depth of Sciences with a single Thought; and do you still honour him, when his worn Organs disappoint his weak Noddle, when he is become dull and uneasy in Company, and when he looks like an aged Fairy⁶ rather than a rational Man?

“As for carrying things out, I would insult your judgment if I tried to prove my point. You know that only youth is fit for action. If you are not fully convinced, tell me this. When you respect a courageous man, is it not because he can avenge you against your enemies or oppressors? And what but mere habit makes you still respect⁵ him after a battalion of seventy Januarys has frozen his blood? Those years have chilled all the noble passions that warm a young man. When you yield to a stronger man, is it not so that he will owe you a victory you cannot contest? Why, then, submit to him after laziness has softened his muscles and weakened his arteries? It has drained his spirits and sucked the marrow from his bones. If you adore a woman, is it not because of her beauty? Why, then, keep bowing to her when old age has turned her into a ghost, a hideous image of death? “In short, when you loved a witty man, it was because his quick mind could unravel a complicated affair. His clever sayings brought spice to the finest company, and a single thought could sound the depths of the sciences. Do you still honor him when his worn-out senses fail his feeble brain? Do you honor him when he has become dull and uncomfortable in company? Do you honor him when he looks more like an old fairy⁶ than a rational man?”

"Conclude then from thence, Son, that it is fitter Young Men should govern Families, than Old; and the rather, that according to your own Principles, Hercules, Achilles, Epaminondas, Alexander, and Cæsar, of whom most part died under Fourty Years of Age, could have merited no Honours, as being too Young in your account, though their Youth was the only cause of their Famous Actions; which a more advanced Age would have rendered ineffectual, as wanting that Heat and Promptitude that rendered them so highly successful. But you'll tell me, that all the Laws of your World do carefully enjoin the Respect that is due to Old Men: That's true; but it & as true also, that all who made Laws have been Old Men, who feared that Young Men might justly have dispossessed them of the Authority they had usurped.

"So conclude, then, my son, that young men are better suited to govern families than old men. This is especially true according to your own principles. By your standards, Hercules, Achilles, Epaminondas, Alexander, and Cæsar were too young to deserve any honors. Most of them died before they were forty. Yet their youth was the only reason they performed their famous deeds. At a more advanced age, they would have lacked the energy and quickness that made them so successful. Their efforts would have come to nothing. But you will tell me that all the laws of your world carefully require respect for old men. That is true. But it is equally true that all the lawmakers were old men. They feared that young men might justly deprive them of the authority they had seized."

"You owe nothing to your mortal Architector, but your Body only; your Soul comes from Heaven, and Chance might have made your Father your Son, as now you are his. Nay, are you sure he hath not hindered you from Inheriting a Crown? Your Spirit left Heaven, perhaps with a design to animate the King of the Romans, in the Womb of the Empress; it casually encountered the Embryo of you by the way, and it may be to shorten its journey, went and lodged there: No, no, God would never have razed your name out of the List of Mankind, though your Father had died a Child. But who knows, whether you might not have been at this day the work of some valiant Captain, that would have associated you to his Glory, as well as to his Estate. So that, perhaps, you are no more indebted to your Father—for the life he hath given you, than you would be to a Pirate who had put you in Chains, because he feeds you: Nay, grant he had begot you a Prince, or King; a Present loses its merit, when it is made without the Option of him who receives it. Cæsar was killed, and so was Cassius too: In the mean time Cassius was obliged to the Slave, from whom he begg'd his Death, but so was not Cæsar to his Murderers, who forced it upon him. Did your Father consult your Will and Pleasure, when he Embraced your Mother? Did he ask you, if you thought fit to see that Age, or to wait for another; if you would be satisfied to be the Son of a Sot, or if you had the Ambition to spring from a Brave Man? Alas, you whom alone the business concerned, were the only Person not consulted in the case. May be then, had you been shut up any where else, than in the Womb of Nature's Ideas, and had your Birth been in your own Opinion, you would have said to the Parca, my dear Lady, take another Spindle in your Hand: I have lain very long in the Bed of Nothing, and I had rather continue an Hundred years still without a Being, than to Be to day, that I may repent of it to morrow: However, Be you must, it was to no purpose for you to whimper and squall to be taken back again to the long and darksome House they drew you out of, they made as if they believed you cryed for the Teat.

"You owe your mortal creator nothing but your body. Your soul comes from Heaven, and chance might have made your father your son, just as you are his. Indeed, are you sure he has not kept you from inheriting a crown? Perhaps your spirit left Heaven intending to give life to the King of the Romans in the Empress's womb. Along the way, it happened to encounter the embryo that became you. Perhaps it settled there to shorten its journey. No, no, God would never have erased your name from the list of mankind, even if your father had died a child. But who knows? Perhaps today you might have been the offspring of some brave captain. He would have shared his glory with you, as well as his estate. So perhaps you owe your father no more for giving you life than you owe a pirate for feeding you after putting you in chains. Even if your father had made you a prince or a king, a gift loses its merit when the receiver has no choice in the matter. Cæsar was killed, and so was Cassius. Yet Cassius was grateful to the slave from whom he begged death. Cæsar owed no such gratitude to the murderers who forced death upon him. Did your father ask what you wanted when he embraced your mother? Did he ask whether you wanted to live in that age or wait for another? Did he ask whether you would be content to be the son of a drunkard, or whether you wanted to descend from a brave man? Alas, though you alone were concerned, you were the only person not consulted. Perhaps, then, if you had been shut up somewhere other than in the womb of Nature's ideas, and if your birth had been your choice, you would have said to the Parca: My dear lady, take another spindle in your hand. I have lain a very long time in the bed of nothingness. I would rather remain without existence for another hundred years than exist today and regret it tomorrow. But you had to exist. It was no use crying and wailing to be taken back to the long, dark house they had drawn you out of. They pretended to believe you were crying for the breast.

"These are the Reasons, at least some of them, my Son, why Parents bear so much respect to their Children: I know very well that I have inclined to the Childrens side more than in justice I ought; and that in favour of them, I have spoken a little against my Conscience. But since I was willing to repress the Pride of some Parents, who insult over the weakness of their little Ones; I have been forced to do as they do who to make a crooked Tree streight bend it to the contrary side, that betwixt two Conversions it may become even: Thus I have made Fathers restore to their Children what they have taken from them, by taking from them a great deal that belonged to them; that so another time they may be content with their own. I know very well also that by this Apology I have offended all Old men: But let them remember, that they were Children before they were Fathers, and Young before they were Old; and that I must needs have spoken a great deal to their advantage, seeing they were not found in a Parsley-bed:⁷ But, in fine, fall back, fall edge, though my Enemies draw up against my Friends, it will go well enough still with me; for I have obliged all men, and only disobliged but one half."

“These are the reasons, or at least some of them, my son, why parents show so much respect to their children. I know I have taken the children’s side more than justice allows. In their favor, I have said things that go somewhat against my conscience. But I wanted to check the pride of some parents who look down on their little ones’ weakness. So I had to do what people do to straighten a crooked tree. They bend it the other way, so that between the two bends it becomes straight. In the same way, I have made fathers give back what they took from their children. I have done this by taking away a great deal that belonged to the fathers. Perhaps next time they will be content with what is their own. I also know that by defending children I have offended all old men. But let them remember that they were children before they were fathers, and young before they were old. Since they were not found in a parsley bed,⁷ I must have said a great deal in their favor. In the end, come what may, even if my enemies line up against my friends, I shall be well enough off. For I have pleased all men and offended only half of them.”

With that he held his tongue, and our Landlord's Son spoke in this manner: "Give me leave," said he to him, "since by your care I am informed of the Original, History, Customs, and Philosophy, of the World of this little Man; to add something to what you have said; and to prove that Children are not obliged to Parents for their Generation, because their Parents were obliged in Conscience to procreate them.

With that, he fell silent, and our landlord's son spoke. "Please allow me to add something to what you have said," he told him. "Thanks to you, I have learned about the origin, history, customs, and philosophy of this little man's world. I would also like to prove that children owe their parents nothing for bringing them into the world. Their parents were obliged by conscience to do so.

"The strictest Philosophy of their World acknowledges that it is better to dye, since to dye one must have lived, than not to have had a Being. Now seeing, by not giving a Being to that Nothing, I leave it in a state worse than Death, I am more guilty in not producing, than in killing it. In the mean time, my little Man, thou wouldst think thou hadst committed an unpardonable Parracide, shouldst thou have cut thy Sons throat: It would indeed be an enormous Crime, but it is far more execrable, not to give a Being to that which is capable of receiving it: For that Child whom thou deprivest of life for ever, hath had the satisfaction of having enjoyed it for some time. Besides, we know that it is but deprived of it, but for some ages; but these forty poor little Nothings, which thou mightest have made forty good Souldiers for the King, thou art so malicious as to deny them Life, and lettest them corrupt in thy Reins, to the danger of an Appoplexy, which will stifle thee."

"The strictest philosophy in their world holds that it is better to die than never to have existed. After all, one must have lived in order to die. If I do not give that Nothing existence, I leave it in a state worse than death. So I am more guilty of not bringing it into being than of killing it. Meanwhile, my little man, you would think it an unforgivable act of murder to cut your son's throat. It would indeed be an enormous crime. But it is far more hateful not to give existence to something capable of receiving it. For the child whose life you take forever has at least had the pleasure of living for a time. Besides, we know that the child is deprived of life for only a few ages. But you are so malicious that you deny life to these forty poor little Nothings. You could have made them forty good soldiers for the King. Instead, you let them rot in your loins, risking a stroke that will choke you to death."

This Philosophy did not at all please me, which made me three or four times shake my head; but our Preceptor held his tongue, because Supper was mad to be gone.

I did not like this philosophy at all, so I shook my head three or four times. But our teacher kept quiet, because supper was in a great hurry to leave.

We laid our selves along, then, upon very soft Quilts, covered with large Carpets; and a young man that waited on us, taking the oldest of our Philosophers, led him into a little parlour apart, where my Spirit called to him to come back to us as soon as he had supped.

We lay down on very soft quilts covered with large carpets. A young man attending us led the oldest of our philosophers into a small private room. There, my Spirit called to the philosopher to return to us as soon as he had eaten.

This humour of eating separately, gave me the curiosity of asking the Cause of it: "He'll not relish," said he, "the steam of Meat, nor yet of Herbs, unless they die of themselves, because he thinks they are sensible of Pain." "I wonder not so much," replied I, "that he abstains from Flesh, and all things that have had a sensitive Life: For in our World the Pythagoreans, and even some holy Anchorites, have followed that Rule; but not to dare, for instance, cut a Cabbage, for fear of hurting it; that seems to me altogether ridiculous." "And for my part," answered my Spirit, "I find a great deal of probability in his Opinion."

His habit of eating separately made me curious, so I asked why he did it. "He won't even enjoy the smell of meat or vegetables unless they die naturally," he said. "He thinks they can feel pain." "I'm not so surprised that he avoids meat and everything that has had a life capable of feeling," I replied. "In our world, the Pythagoreans and even some holy Anchorites have followed that rule. But refusing to cut a cabbage, for example, for fear of hurting it seems utterly ridiculous to me." "For my part," my Spirit answered, "I think his opinion is quite plausible."

"For tell me, Is not that Cabbage you speak of, a Being existent in Nature, as well as you? Is not she the common Mother of you both? Yet the Opinion that Nature is kinder to Mankind, than to Cabbage-kind, tickles and makes us laugh: But seeing she is incapable of Passion, she can neither love nor hate any thing; and were she susceptible of Love, she would rather bestow her affection upon this Cabbage, which you grant cannot offend her, than upon that Man who would destroy her, if it lay in his power.

"Tell me, doesn't that cabbage you speak of exist in nature, just as you do? Isn't Nature the common mother of you both? Yet the idea that Nature is kinder to humans than to cabbages amuses us and makes us laugh. But Nature is incapable of feeling, so she can neither love nor hate anything. If she could love, she would rather love this cabbage, which you admit cannot offend her. She would prefer it to the man who would destroy her if he could.

"And moreover, Man cannot be born Innocent, being a Part of the first Offender: But we know very well, that the first Cabbage did not offend its Creator. If it be said, that we are made after the Image of the Supreme Being, and so is not the Cabbage; grant that to be true; yet by polluting our Soul, wherein we resembled Him, we have effaced that Likeness, seeing nothing is more contrary to God than Sin. If then our Soul be no longer his Image, we resemble him no more in our Feet, Hands, Mouth, Forehead and Ears, than a Cabbage in its Leaves, Flowers, Stalk, Pith, and Head: Do not you really think, that if this poor Plant could speak, when one cuts it, it would not say, 'Dear Brother Man, what have I done to thee that deserves Death? I never grow but in Gardens, and am never to be found in desart places, where I might live in Security: I disdain all other company but thine; and scarcely am I sowed in thy Garden, when to shew thee my Goodwill, I blow, stretch out my Arms to thee; offer thee my Children in Grain; and as a requital for my civility, thou causest my Head to be chopt off.' Thus would a Cabbage discourse, if it could speak.

"Moreover, man cannot be born innocent, because he is part of the first offender. But we know very well that the first cabbage did not offend its creator. Someone might say that we are made in the image of the Supreme Being, while the cabbage is not. Grant that this is true. Even so, by polluting our souls, the part of us that resembled him, we have erased that likeness. After all, nothing is more contrary to God than sin. If our souls are no longer his image, then our feet, hands, mouths, foreheads and ears resemble him no more than a cabbage's leaves, flowers, stalk, pith and head do. Do you not really think that, if this poor plant could speak when someone cuts it, it would say, 'Dear Brother Man, what have I done to you that deserves death? I grow only in gardens. I am never found in deserted places, where I might live in safety. I want no company but yours. As soon as I am sown in your garden, I bloom and stretch out my arms to show you my goodwill. I offer you my children in seeds. And in return for my kindness, you have my head chopped off.' That is how a cabbage would speak, if it could."

"Well, and because it cannot complain, may we therefore justly do it all the Wrong which it cannot hinder? If I find a Wretch bound Hand and Foot, may I lawfully kill him, because he cannot defend himself? so far from that, that his Weakness would aggravate my Cruelty. And though this wretched Creature be poor, and destitute of all the advantages which we have, yet it deserves not Death; and when of all the Benefits of a Being it hath only that of Encrease, we ought not cruelly to snatch that away from it. To massacre a Man, is not so great Sin, as to cut and kill a Cabbage, because one day the Man will rise again, but the Cabbage has no other Life to hope for: By putting to death a Cabbage, you annihilate it; but in killing a Man, you make him only change his Habitations Nay, I'll go farther with you still: since God doth equally cherish all his Works, and hath equally divided the Benefits betwixt Us and Plants, it is but just we should have an equal Esteem for Them as for our Selves. It is true we were born first, but in the Family of God there is no Birthright. If then the Cabbage share not with us in the inheritance of Immortality, without doubt that Want was made up by some other Advantage, that may make amends for the shortness of its Being; may be by an universal Intellect, or a perfect Knowledge of all things in their Causes; and it's for that Reason, that the wise Mover of all things hath not shaped for it Organs like ours, which are proper only for a simple Reasoning, not only weak, but many times fallacious too; but others, more ingeniously framed, stronger, and more numerous, which serve to manage its Speculative Exercises. You'll ask me, perhaps, when ever any Cabbage imparted those lofty Conceptions to us? But tell me, again, who ever discovered to us certain Beings, which we allow to be above us; to whom we bear no Analogy nor Proportion, and whose Existence it is as hard for us to comprehend, as the Understanding and Ways whereby a Cabbage expresses its self to its like, though not to us, because our senses are too dull to penetrate so far.

“Well, because it cannot complain, may we therefore justly do it every wrong it cannot prevent? If I find a wretch bound hand and foot, may I lawfully kill him because he cannot defend himself? Quite the opposite. His weakness would make my cruelty even worse. And though this wretched creature is poor and lacks all the advantages we have, it does not deserve death. Of all the benefits of being alive, it has only the power to grow. We ought not cruelly snatch even that away from it. To massacre a man is not as great a sin as cutting and killing a cabbage. One day the man will rise again, but the cabbage has no other life to hope for. By killing a cabbage, you destroy it completely. By killing a man, you only make him change his home. Indeed, I will go even further. God cherishes all his works equally and has divided his benefits equally between us and plants. So it is only just that we should value them as highly as ourselves. It is true that we were born first, but in God’s family the firstborn has no special rights. If, then, the cabbage does not share our inheritance of immortality, that lack was doubtless made up for by some other advantage. That advantage may compensate for its short life. Perhaps it has a universal intellect or perfect knowledge of all things through their causes. For that reason, perhaps the wise mover of all things has not given it organs like ours. Our organs are suited only to basic reasoning, which is weak and often mistaken. Instead, perhaps he has given the cabbage organs that are more cleverly formed, stronger, and more numerous. These serve its exercises in thought. You may ask me when any cabbage has ever shared those lofty thoughts with us. But tell me in turn, who has ever revealed to us certain beings that we acknowledge to be above us? We bear no resemblance or proportion to them. Their existence is as hard for us to understand as a cabbage’s understanding and the ways it expresses itself to other cabbages. It does not express itself to us, because our senses are too dull to perceive so much.”

"Moses, the greatest of Philosophers, who drew the Knowledge of Nature from the Fountain-Head, Nature her self, hinted this truth to us when he spoke of the Tree of Knowledge; and without doubt he intended to intimate to us under that Figure, that Plants, in Exclusion to Mankind, possess perfect Philosophy. Remember, then, O thou Proudest of Animals! that though a Cabbage which thou cuttest sayeth not a Word, yet it pays it at Thinking; but the poor Vegetable has no fit Organs to howl as you do, nor yet to frisk it about, and weep: Yet, it hath those that are proper to complain of the Wrong you do it, and to draw a Judgement from Heaven upon you for the Injustice. But if you still demand of me, how I come to know that Cabbage and Coleworts conceive such pretty Thoughts? Then will I ask you, how come you to know that they do not; and that some amongst them, when they shut up at Night, may not Compliment one another as you do, saying: Good Night, Master Cole-Curled-Pate; your most humble Servant, good Master Cabbage-Round-Head."

Moses, the greatest of philosophers, drew his knowledge of nature from the source, Nature herself. He hinted at this truth when he spoke of the Tree of Knowledge. No doubt he meant that plants, unlike humans, possess perfect philosophy. Remember, then, you proudest of animals, that a cabbage may say nothing when you cut it. But it makes up for its silence in thought. The poor vegetable has no organs fit for howling as you do, or for jumping about and weeping. Yet it has organs suited to complaining of the wrong you do it and bringing heaven’s judgment upon you for your injustice. But perhaps you still ask how I know that cabbages and coleworts have such pretty thoughts. Then I will ask you how you know they do not. How do you know that some do not exchange courtesies when they close up at night, as you do? They might say: Good night, Master Cole-Curled-Pate. Your most humble servant, good Master Cabbage-Round-Head.

So far was he gone on in his Discourse, when the young Lad, who had led out our Philosopher, led him in again; "What, Supped already?" cryed my Spirit to him. He answered, yes, almost: The Physiognomist having permitted him to take a little more with us. Our young Landlord stayed not till I should ask him the meaning of that Mystery; "I perceive," said he, "you wonder at this way of Living; know then, that in your World, the Government of Health is too much neglected, and that our Method is not to be despised."

He had gotten this far in his discourse when the young lad who had led our philosopher out brought him back in. "What, have you already had supper?" my Spirit asked him. He answered that he had almost finished. The Physiognomist had allowed him to eat a little more with us. Our young landlord did not wait for me to ask what this mystery meant. "I see," he said, "that you are puzzled by this way of living. You should know that in your world, people pay far too little attention to managing their health. Our method is not to be despised."

"In all Houses there is a Physiognomist entertained by the Publick,⁸ who in some manner resembles your Physicians, save that he only prescribes to the Healthful, and judges of the different manners how we are to be Treated only according to the Proportion, Figure, and Symmetry of our Members; by the Features of the Face, the Complexion, the Softness of the Skin, the Agility of the Body, the Sound of the Voice, and the Colour, Strength, and Hardness of the Hair. Did not you just now mind a Man, of a pretty low Stature, who ey'd you; he was the Physiognomist of the House: Assure your self, that according as he observed your Constitution, he hath diversified the Exhalation of your Supper: Mark the Quilt on which you lie, how distant it is from our Couches; without doubt, he judges your Constitution to be far different from ours; since he feared that the Odour which evaporates from those little Pipkins that stand under our Noses, might reach you, or that yours might steam to us; at Night, you'll see him chuse the Flowers for your Bed with the same Circumspection."

“In every house, there is a physiognomist employed by the public.⁸ He is rather like your physicians, except that he prescribes only for healthy people. He decides how each of us should be treated based only on our physical features. These include the proportions, shape, and symmetry of our limbs, our facial features, complexion, and skin softness. He also considers our bodily agility, the sound of our voices, and the color, strength, and hardness of our hair. Did you notice a rather short man looking at you just now? He was the physiognomist of the house. You may be sure he adjusted the vapors of your supper according to what he observed of your constitution. Notice how far the quilt you are lying on is from our couches. No doubt he thinks your constitution is very different from ours. He must have feared that the scent from the little pots under our noses might reach you, or yours reach us. Tonight, you will see him choose the flowers for your bed with the same care.”