More adventures in Elysium.
A crowd of spirits now joined us, whom I soon perceived to be the
heroes, who here frequently pay their respects to the several bards the
recorders of their actions. I now saw Achilles and Ulysses addressing
themselves to Homer, and Aeneas and Julius Caesar to Virgil: Adam went
up to Milton, upon which I whispered Mr. Dryden that I thought the devil
should have paid his compliments there, according to his opinion. Dryden
only answered, “I believe the devil was in me when I said so.” Several
applied themselves to Shakespeare, amongst whom Henry V made a very
distinguishing appearance. While my eyes were fixed on that monarch a
very small spirit came up to me, shook me heartily by the hand, and told
me his name was THOMAS THUMB. I expressed great satisfaction in seeing
him, nor could I help speaking my resentment against the historian, who
had done such injustice to the stature of this great little man, which
he represented to be no bigger than a span, whereas I plainly perceived
at first sight he was full a foot and a half (and the 37th part of an
inch more, as he himself informed me), being indeed little shorter than
some considerable beaux of the present age. I asked this little hero
concerning the truth of those stories related of him, viz., of the
pudding, and the cow’s belly. As to the former, he said it was a
ridiculous legend, worthy to be laughed at; but as to the latter, he
could not help owning there was some truth in it: nor had he any reason
to be ashamed of it, as he was swallowed by surprise; adding, with great
fierceness, that if he had had any weapon in his hand the cow should
have as soon swallowed the devil.
He spoke the last word with so much fury, and seemed so confounded,
that, perceiving the effect it had on him, I immediately waived the
story, and, passing to other matters, we had much conversation touching
giants. He said, so far from killing any, he had never seen one alive;
that he believed those actions were by mistake recorded of him, instead
of Jack the giant-killer, whom he knew very well, and who had, he
fancied, extirpated the race. I assured him to the contrary, and told
him I had myself seen a huge tame giant, who very complacently stayed in
London a whole winter, at the special request of several gentlemen and
ladies; though the affairs of his family called him home to Sweden.
I now beheld a stern-looking spirit leaning on the shoulder of another
spirit, and presently discerned the former to be Oliver Cromwell, and
the latter Charles Martel. I own I was a little surprised at seeing
Cromwell here, for I had been taught by my grandmother that he was
carried away by the devil himself in a tempest; but he assured me, on
his honor, there was not the least truth in that story. However, he
confessed he had narrowly escaped the bottomless pit; and, if the former
part of his conduct had not been more to his honor than the latter, he
had been certainly soused into it. He was, nevertheless, sent back to
the upper world with this lot:--ARMY, CAVALIER, DISTRESS.
He was born, for the second time, the day of Charles II’s restoration,
into a family which had lost a very considerable fortune in the service
of that prince and his father, for which they received the reward very
often conferred by princes on real merit, viz.--000. At 16 his father
bought a small commission for him in the army, in which he served
without any promotion all the reigns of Charles II and of his brother.
At the Revolution he quitted his regiment, and followed the fortunes
of his former master, and was in his service dangerously wounded at the
famous battle of the Boyne, where he fought in the capacity of a private
soldier. He recovered of this wound, and retired after the unfortunate
king to Paris, where he was reduced to support a wife and seven children
(for his lot had horns in it) by cleaning shoes and snuffing candles at
the opera. In which situation, after he had spent a few miserable years,
he died half-starved and broken-hearted. He then revisited Minos, who,
compassionating his sufferings by means of that family, to whom he had
been in his former capacity so bitter an enemy, suffered him to enter
here.
My curiosity would not refrain asking him one question, i. e., whether
in reality he had any desire to obtain the crown? He smiled, and said,
“No more than an ecclesiastic hath to the miter, when he cries Nolo
episcopari.” Indeed, he seemed to express some contempt at the question,
and presently turned away.
A venerable spirit appeared next, whom I found to be the great historian
Livy. Alexander the Great, who was just arrived from the palace of
death, passed by him with a frown. The historian, observing it, said,
“Ay, you may frown; but those troops which conquered the base Asiatic
slaves would have made no figure against the Romans.” We then privately
lamented the loss of the most valuable part of his history; after which
he took occasion to commend the judicious collection made by Mr. Hook,
which, he said, was infinitely preferable to all others; and at my
mentioning Echard’s he gave a bounce, not unlike the going off of
a squib, and was departing from me, when I begged him to satisfy my
curiosity in one point--whether he was really superstitious or no? For
I had always believed he was till Mr. Leibnitz had assured me to the
contrary. He answered sullenly, “Doth Mr. Leibnitz know my mind better
than myself?” and then walked away.