_Of the Author's Departure for_ Lisbon: _How he was taken and
carry'd into Slavery, and what happened to him while he was a
Slave._
I was carry'd aboard a Ship, the Captain of which had Orders to
deliver me over to the Inquisitor at _Lisbon_; so that we set out
that same Month for _Portugal_. I was told by the way, that the
Galleys, to which I was condemn'd, were only Houses of
Correction, where the Prisoners were put to hard Labour, because
the _Portuguese_ have no Galleys at Sea. This comforted me a
little in my Misfortune. I thought it a great Happiness to be
deliver'd from the Oar, and the Cruelties exercis'd by the
Tyrants of the Committees upon the Slaves chain'd on board their
Vessels. We had a tolerable Voyage, and the finest Weather all
the way that we could reasonably expect. The most remarkable
thing that happen'd to us was, that on the 23d of _March_ a
Water-spout had like to have carry'd off our Main-topmast. The
Crew thought themselves lost, and in a Moment the most impious
Expressions were chang'd into those of Devotion, which continu'd
till the Hurricane left us. At length, after having pass'd the
_Canaries_ a long time, and being arriv'd, as I thought, at N.
Lat. 34. two Pirates came up with us one Morning at Day-break,
which fell to cannonading us stoutly. Tho' we had made a good
Voyage, yet there were several sick People on board of us; we
fought however near two Hours, during which I've had twelve Men
kill'd, and seventeen wounded. I beg Pardon of God, but I must
own I was glad that we were fallen into the Hands of Pirates,
because I thereby hoped to recover my Liberty;, but it did not
turn out as I expected. The Captain redeem'd his Ship for a Sum
of Money, and the Pirates only took thirty of the stoutest and
cleverest Men, besides my self, whom they carry'd to _Serselli_,
a little Town upon the _Mediterranean_, twenty Leagues from
Algier, and four from the River _Miromus_. There we landed on the
18th of _July_, and were sold to the highest Bidder.
My Master was a Ship-carpenter, a Man of Substance, who had at
least thirty Boys in his Service. At first, I was only employ'd
in the coarse Work; to fetch and carry, and to serve the Workmen
with what they wanted, was my proper Occupation. Afterwards I
helped to careen the Ships, to refit them, and to calk them.
There was a vast difference betwixt my Condition of Life now,
and that I was in at _Goa_ before I was detained there; yet when
I remember'd what I had suffer'd in the Inquisition, and what was
preparing for me at _Lisbon_, I thought my self extremely happy.
In short, I had a Master that was perfectly honest, who seeing
that I did my best, did not let me want for Necessaries. The
Lodging was good, the Provisions better, and he never gave me an
angry Word. This made mean hundred times call to mind the Idea
that us'd to be given of the _Barbarians_ and _Turks_ among us
Children. They were represented to us as Devils; but I must lay
it to their Commendation, that I found as much Charity, Humanity,
and Honesty among them as among the _Europeans_; nay, more, if I
may presume to say so, insomuch that I should not have been sorry
if it had been my Hap to have ended my Days among them; but
Providence was pleas'd to dispose of me otherwise; and the
Methods it made use of to bring me out of that Country are pretty
remarkable.
As there is nothing perfect in this World, _Schilt_, the Head
Footman, who was a Renegado and a Native of _Vienna_, hated me as
much as my Patron lov'd me. There was no ill Office which the
Traitor did not do me when he had an Opportunity to false
Appearances; so that my Master, who plainly saw where the Fault
lay, but could not possibly do without him, was forc'd against
the Grain to part with me: I was sold to a wealthy Nobleman, who
liv'd in the Country about three Leagues off from the Place where
I was.
This Nobleman had a Son of twenty seven or twenty eight Years of
Age, who was a Fool, and sometimes quite mad. He had lucid
Intervals of Reason, but at other times he rent his Clothes,
broke his Chain sometimes, and would have been likely to have
torn those in pieces who came in his reach, or to have kill'd
himself if he had not been prevented. An Amour was the Cause of
this Frenzy. He had courted a Girl, who wou'd not have him, upon
which he mop'd at first, and at last his Head turn'd. There was a
Necessity for some body to be near the poor Wretch Day and Night,
and they were willing to have a Man of a proper Age, Wisdom, and
Strength to watch over his Actions. I had sufficiently of the
first, and was not entirely destitute of the others: And I can
say, that I manag'd it so as was very pleasing to my Superiors.
He had not been six Weeks under my Care, but I did what I wou'd
with him, except when he fell into a Passion, and then he car'd
for no body, and all that could be done with him, was to keep him
fast bound, and to let nothing come in his way that he could do
any Damage to.
This House, or rather this stately Palace, was a Place of Resort
for all the Gentlemen thereabouts, and Foreigners were there
eternally. One Day a Bashaw arriv'd there, who was receiv'd with
very particular Tokens of Esteem and Respect. They lodg'd him in
a very magnificent Room, which look'd into the inner Court; but
towards Midnight the Gentleman was awak'd by a prodigious Rattle
in his Chamber, which, for all he was a Bashaw, frighted him, so
that he lifted up his Head, look'd first one way, then another,
and at last spy'd at one End of the Hall a Creature lying upon a
piece of _Turky_-wrought Tapistry, which he could not tell what
to make of. He was upon the point of rising out of his Bed, and
going near to examine it, or of calling out to some body else to
come to it, but while he was hesitating which to do, the Object
on which he had fix'd his Eyes rose up on a sudden, advanc'd
towards his Tent, dragging a huge Chain after him, and in very
tatter'd Clothes, with a Beard that cover'd half of his Face, and
bare-headed, so that he look'd more like a Devil than a Man. At
this Spectacle he was struck all of a Heap: But this was not all;
for the Spectre not only walk'd twenty times round the Room, but
came to the Bashaw's Bed-side, and lay down by him for half an
hour, without doing or saying any thing, and then getting up
again, marched out, pulling the Door after him very hard. When
the Morning came my Patron was surpriz'd that he had not seen his
Guest; for Breakfast had been ready a long time, and they had
promis'd one another to walk out in the Morning to get them a
Stomach. At last, about eleven o'Clock he sent a Domestic, and
bid him steal in softly, to see if he was asleep. The Man opening
the Door, and creeping into the Room, advanc'd gradually to the
Bed-side, and saw the poor Bashaw staring with his Eyes wide
open, but pale as Death, with all the other Symptoms of a man
that had scarce any Life left within him. The Servant return'd as
softly as he enter'd, made but one Leap to his Master, and told
him what he had seen. Upon this the whole House was in an Alarm;
they all ran to see him; they spoke to him, ask'd him what was
the Matter, but he spoke not a Word, so that every body believ'd
he was at the point of Death. Mean time some body having thought
fit to put a Drop of Spirit of Wine into the Palms of his Hands,
and to rub the same on his Temples, and under his Nostrils, they
began to observe that he came to himself. A little after they
forc'd him to take a little Brandy into his Mouth, which did him
a great deal of Good; he recover'd his Spirits by degrees, and
giving a deep Groan, O Heavens! _said he_, what a terrible Night
have I had! I am not much oblig'd to you, Sir, _said he_,
speaking to my Master, for putting me in a Place where Witches
have their nocturnal Meeting. What means all this, reply'd my
Master? Have you had any troublesome Dreams? we drank a little
hard last Night, which perhaps you are not us'd to, so that this
may have disturb'd your Brain, and started disagreeable Objects
to your Fancy: But come, get up, it will signify nothing, only be
of Courage, a good Dinner will set all to Rights. You must not,
reply'd he, lay the Blame either on the Wine or on my Brain;
'twas no Imagination nor Dream, I assure you I was in my right
Senses when the Devil appear'd to me. He stay'd about two Hours
in my Room, and actually lay sometime upon my Bed. But, Sir, said
my Master, who began to smell a Rat, what Shape did the Devil
assume? He appear'd in the Shape of a Man, reply'd the Bashaw,
and notwithstanding the little Light that glimmer'd in at the
Windows, I observ'd, that he was all over ragged, that he had a
sorrowful Countenance, thin Jaws, _&c_. Don't say a Word more,
said my Patron, interrupting him, I am troubled at this Accident.
I am sorry to say it, but I must tell you, that the Man you saw
is my Son; and having given Orders that he shou'd be brought, the
Bashaw was in amaze the very Moment he saw him. I can't deny,
said he, but that's the very Man I saw last Night, who put my
Brains so much upon the Rack. He talk'd in such a manner as made
the Fool almost burst with Laughter, and gave him an Opportunity
to tell him with his own Mouth the Prank that he had play'd. This
anger'd the Bashaw, so that he ask'd if no body was appointed to
look after him, and some body answering in the Affirmative, he
desir'd to see him. Immediately I was sent for, and when I came
before him, Is it you, _said he_, you Dog, that is set over this
young Gentleman to take care of him? Yes, Sir, _said I_. And
what's the Reason then that you let him loose last Night?
_reply'd he_. He was not ty'd, _said I_. He had been well for
some Days past, so that I have not kept so strict a Watch upon
him as usual, but have ventur'd to take my Rest by him. During
this he made an Excursion, and came to alarm you, as I am told,
at which I am really concern'd to the last degree, and I ask your
Pardon, promising you it shall be so no more. No more, you cursed
Dog, _reply'd he_, I believe it won't, at least with respect to
me, for I shall never recover it. I have a great Respect for
those that you belong to; but 'tis well for you that I am not
able to rise; for perhaps I should have been very outragious,
and you might have run the risque to have had your Head broke.
Get out of my Sight, you Wretch, and pray to God, that I may not
happen to meet you. Then addressing his Speech to my Master, If
you would oblige me, Sir, said he, you will dismiss this
Scoundrel upon the Spot, that I mayn't hear his Name mention'd
any more. I had not been many Months in this Castle, during which
the other Domestics did not owe me any Grudges, and my Master had
a very great Respect for me, because of the Care I took of his
Son, who really gave me a great deal of Trouble. Yet for all this
the good Man was oblig'd in Complaisance to turn me away.
I was carry'd into the City to be sold to the first Bidder; there
I learnt that the head Footman I mention'd ere now was dead, so
that I sent to ask my old Master, or Patron, whether he wou'd
please to admit me into his Service. He was overjoy'd to have me
again, and I as glad to live again with a Person who had all the
Regard imaginable for me while I dwelt with him. About three
Weeks after, Monsieur the _Bashaw_, accompany'd with a fine
Retinue came to see our Yard. I knew him when he was a hundred
Paces off. His Threats had made such an Impression on my Mind,
that I ran away with all the speed I cou'd. He did not know it
was I, because the next Day, after the Vision, when he was
recover'd of the Fright and his Passion entirely over, he ask'd
what was become of me; and when he was told that I was gone, he
seem'd to be sorry at it, order'd me to be sent for immediately,
because he desir'd to speak with me, with an Assurance upon his
Word and Honour that he wou'd not hurt a Hair of my Head.
Notwithstanding this, I trembled when I went to him, which he
observ'd and burst out into Laughter, which he did no doubt to
hearten me. He ask'd me several indifferent Questions, to which I
answer'd with all the Submission possible. At length he ask'd me,
whether, in case my present Master was willing to part with me, I
shou'd not be very glad to return and live with the Gentleman
whose Service I had so lately quitted upon his Account? Having
made him sensible that I cou'd not act as I pleas'd in that
Affair, I cou'd make him no Answer but that I was perfectly well
where I was. Keep then in that Mind, said he, 'tis to be sure as
agreeable to be in the Company of People of Sense, as to be
eternally taking care of a Lunatic; and having given me Money to
drink his Health, he sent me about my Business.
This little Adventure was not the only one that happen'd to me
during my Slavery, but the others were of such small Moment that
I pass them over in Silence. As to the Disputes to which I was
often subject, so far as to be oblig'd sometimes to proceed to
Blows, the Detail of them wou'd take up too much of the Readers
Time and Patience. The _Turks_ are generally ignorant, and I
cou'd hear nothing from 'em but cold Railleries against our
crucify'd Jesus, which I bore with Patience; because on the one
hand, they don't believe in Christ; and on the other, they were
upon their own Ground, and I had no Protection to hope for from
any Body. But I had much ado to contain my self when I was
attack'd by Christian Renegadoes.
Among others there was a _Gascon_ Disputant, who was really the
boldest Atheist or Deist that I ever saw. He was perfectly
good-natur'd; but when he was in a rallying Mood, he turn'd every
thing into Ridicule, and confounded our greatest Mysteries with
the Whimsies of the _Jewish_ Talmud and the Legends of the
_Romish_ Church. My Father, said he, was assassinated one Day as
he was going in Pilgrimage to our Lady of _Loretto_: A fine
Reward this for so good a Catholick as he was! My Mother who
professed the _Romish_ Religion was dragoon'd and murder'd for
her obstinate Disobedience to the Orders of the Court. And I my
self in my Voyage from _France_ to _Holland_, was taken by
Pirates, so that in avoiding Persecution I fell into Slavery.
As I found him a young Man not only of great Wit and Learning,
but also of a vast deal of Good-nature, (for all that knew him
there mightily extoll'd his beneficent and friendly Temper) I
very much pity'd him, and endeavour'd several times to reclaim
him from his dangerous Sentiments with respect to Religion. We
had frequent Conversations upon that Head, and I had great Hopes
that in time I might be able to set him in the right Road of
Truth; but an unhappy Accident shorten'd his Days before Heaven
permitted me to perfect this charitable Work. It wou'd be too
tedious to mention all the Disputes we had together, so that I
shall but just glance over some of the chief Points.
When I reproach'd him with changing his Religion and professing
the Mahometan, which by the way he did not believe a tittle of,
he made me Answer that after a due Examination of the several
Religious that had come to his Knowledge, he found nothing in any
one of 'em that cou'd satisfy a rational Man, and that therefore
he saw nothing which ought to hinder a wise Man from conforming
at least externally to the prevailing Religion of the Country
where he dwells, just as People accustom themselves to the Habits
and Manners of a Country for fear of being thought ridiculous by
appearing singular. And because I am like to gain more Confidence
and Esteem among the People of this Country by conforming to
their way of Worship, I shou'd be a great Simpleton, said he, if
I depriv'd my self of that Advantage by a silly Attachment to
another, which is a hundred times more impertinent and absurd. I
answer'd him, that I was extremely surpriz'd to hear a Man talk
at that rate who had been educated in the Christian Religion, and
by his Profession ought to know it the better for having
throughly study'd it. 'Tis for that very reason, reply'd he, my
Friend, that I speak thus of it, because I have well examin'd it
and have discover'd its Folly and Ridicule. But tho' you are so
old, 'tis probable you have not yet shaken off the Yoke of the
Prejudices of Education, and that you implicitly adhere to what
you learnt from your Nurse or your Chaplain without farther
Inquiry. I told him, that I had travell'd and seen more of the
World than he thought, and that I had heard the Arguments of
People of various Sentiments in the Article of Religion, but that
I had never met with any System which was so worthy of God, so
agreeable to Man, and which had so many Marks of Truth as the
Christian Religion. That my Profession had not permitted me in my
Youth to study religious Controversies so throughly as he had,
but that nevertheless, I wou'd undertake to defend against all
his Attacks the principal Truths of Christian Religion; as the
Existence of a God; the Creation of the World; the Immortality of
the Soul; the Fall of Man; the Redemption of Mankind by Jesus
Christ; the Truth and Divinity of the sacred Scriptures, on which
all the rest is founded; and the Necessity--
Hold, said he, there's enough, and if you can defend those
Articles, I'll agree to any that you shall please to add. We will
begin at the last, if you please, and so go back to the first.
You know very well, said he, that Christians are not all of one
Opinion with regard to the Inspiration of the Holy Scriptures.
Some think the whole inspir'd even to the least Word; others
reject this Opinion, and only maintain in the general, that with
regard to the Matter, the Holy-Spirit so far guided the Writers
of those sacred Books, that they cou'd not commit any Error in
the Facts which they relate, nor in the Doctrine which they
teach. Pray tell me which of these two Opinions you pretend to
embrace?
I am not for the first, said I, and I think a Man must be quite
void of Sense to maintain it, if he has read the holy Books with
ever so little Attention. But as to the latter, it is supported
by convincing Arguments. Not to insist upon the great Antiquity
of the first Books of the Holy Scripture, which you will own to
me, however, to be the oldest Monuments in the World, and which
were written before the Art of Writing was known to other
Nations; the marvellous Things which are contain'd in those
Scriptures, the Miracles which God wrought to confirm the
Revelation, and the Predictions of the holy Prophets of which we
have seen a great part accomplish'd, and wait for the fulfilling
of the rest, are Things which surpass all that Man can do, and
which none but God can be the Author of.
You are in the right, said he, not to insist upon the Antiquity
of your sacred Books, because it wou'd not be of any Advantage to
you. For a Romance, or an Imposture, may be as ancient and more
ancient than a true History, this is nothing to the purpose.
Nevertheless, I am very far from admitting those Books to be so
old as you pretend, and I defy you or any body, to prove that any
of those Books was in being before the time of _Esdras_, that is
to say, above a thousand Years after _Moses_, who according to
you wrote the first Books. And if we attentively read the Books
ascrib'd to _Moses_, we shall find a great many Passages which
shew that they were written long after his Time. He quoted
several which I pass over in Silence to avoid being tedious. Then
as to your Argument, said he, which is founded upon the
miraculous Things contain'd in the Scriptures, I draw a
Conclusion from it quite contrary to yours. For the more a Book
contains of what is marvellous and extraordinary, the more 'tis
liable to Suspicion. This is the Supposition you your self wou'd
form of any other Book, and if you don't think so of this, 'tis
only the Effect: of your Prepossession which is very palpable,
because it inclines you to admit such Evidence to prove the Truth
of a Book as wou'd, if you were not prejudic'd in your Judgment,
serve for the effectual Destruction of its Credit. As to the
Miracles you talk of, they are only written in that Book of which
you wou'd have them brought as Proofs, and therefore, as I have
already said, they must tend rather to explode it. Every
indifferent unprejudic'd Person receives a Relation or History of
past Transactions only according to the Degrees of Probability
with which it is attended, and judges it to be false or romantick
by the marvellous or extraordinary Facts which it contains; for
Nature was always the same at all times, and Truth was ever plain
and natural. As to the Proprieties you mention'd, all the
Accomplishments which are related in the same Book with the
Predictions, prove nothing but that they are part of the same
Romance, and were forg'd at the same time; and as for those which
are pretended to have happen'd since, the Events have so little
Connection with the Predictions of which they are construed to be
the Accomplishment, that nothing but the Force of Prejudice can
discover their Conformity. He quoted a great number of Instances
to me to support what he had said, but I choose not to mention
them here.
Moreover, said he, if you were well acquainted with the History
of the Canon of those sacred Writings, not only of the Old
Testament which you derive from the _Jews_, an ignorant
superstitious People as ever liv'd, who were not agreed neither
as to the Truth and Authority of every part of it, but also of
the New Testament as it is now admitted among the generality of
Christians, you wou'd find so much Ignorance, Superstition,
Uncertainty and Perplexity in it, that you your self wou'd be
asham'd of it. Thereupon he enter'd into the History of the
Canon, and of the Manner how, and Time when it was form'd; and he
talk'd to me of the Factions and Disputes among the Members of
the Council of _Laodicea_, and some others, with regard to the
several Gospels, Acts, Epistles, _&c_. which the several Churches
or Societies of Christians had receiv'd for true, exclusive of
others; of the Difficulties and Perplexities on that Head, and
how some rejected what others receiv'd, together with the Reasons
urg'd on both sides, insomuch that I was astonish'd to find what
a Treasure of curious Things he had stor'd up in his Memory.
I reply'd, That _Moses_ was in possession of the Credit of having
written the _Pentateuch_, and that to destroy this there must be
Proofs brought, not meer Assertions. I put him in mind that
_Ezra_ (whom he seem'd to think the Author of it) was not able,
if we may judge by that undoubted Piece of His, to have compos'd
what passes under _Moses_'s Name: and that, if he were able, yet
it was next to impossible for Him to have made the whole _Jewish_
Nation believe (as they appear constantly to have done) that what
he wrote, had been in being all along before the Captivity. I
said that the miraculous Facts recorded in them did not, in my
Judgment, take off from their Probability because they are all
ascribed to a Divine Power, and are mention'd as serving some
great End and Purpose: and that as to the Prophesies, some of
those in _Isaiah_ and _Daniel_ are so visibly connected with the
Accomplishment in _Jesus_, that a Man must be blind (I thought)
not to discover their Conformity. I was going on to defend the
Authority of the Books of the New Testament, and began to
observe, That, notwithstanding any Disputes in the Council of
_Laodicea_, or any other Council, yet from the Beginning some of
our Gospels and Epistles had been receiv'd as of Divine
Authority; and that Christianity, as to the main of it, would
stand firm, if all the Pieces which had ever been doubted of by
any Number of Christians, were thrown quite out of the Inquiry.
Upon this he turn'd the Discourse, and said, What Notion can you
have of God, who according to you is the Sovereign Lord of the
whole Universe, and can dispose of all its Parts as he pleaseth;
if you believe that in order to explain his Will to Mankind, he
was under a Necessity of imploying obscure, ignorant, or
enthusiastical Persons to write Books, or prophesy, or preach in
a remote Corner of the Earth, and to a Herd of ignorant People,
without making it known to the learned and polite Nations? Do you
think that was the right Method to make all Mankind sensible of
so necessary a Thing as the Will of God? Has not he who created
and dispos'd of every thing according to his good Pleasure, and
without any Possibility of being hinder'd in it, has he not put
all Things in the Condition he at first design'd them? And is
not that his Will which we call the Order, Course, or Voice of
Nature? To support any other particular Will in that infinitely
perfect Being, is to suppose Alteration and Imperfection which is
contrary to his Nature. And to imagine that he communicates to
some Persons, and conceals from many others the Rules to which he
wou'd have all Men conform, is to suppose him guilty of an unjust
Partiality unworthy of his divine Nature. Therefore it may surely
be concluded, that whatever is call'd divine Revelation in one
Country or another, is really nothing but an Imposture founded
upon the Weakness of Mankind in general, and invented by such as
seek to impose upon them from certain Views and Designs.
I made him answer, that if Man had continued in that State of
Perfection wherein the Creator at first plac'd him, he wou'd not
perhaps have needed a Revelation to serve as a Rule to his
Actions, but since he lost that Happiness by his Fault, he is so
corrupted and so prone to Wickedness, that he not only requires
Revelation, but the special Grace of his Creator for--
Hold there, said he, I find you are going to tell me of the Fall
of Man and all its Consequences, such as the Corruption of his
Nature, Original Sin, the Redemption of Mankind, _&c_. This, if
you please, shall be the Subject of our Conversation for the
remainder of this Evening. Your Divines, said he, are much in the
right to call those Mysteries the stumbling Block of humane
Reason, for surely they are incomprehensible by Reason and good
Sense. But before I enter into the particular Examination of
these Articles, give me Leave to entertain you with a Fable which
I had from an _Arabian_ Philosopher, who had been a great
Traveller, and said he made it to give his Friends an Idea of the
Mythology of a certain Nation that he had seen.
The Fable of the BEES.
There was formerly, said he, a great and potent King, Sovereign
of one of the Islands in the Ocean, whose Power was such that no
other King equall'd it, and all his Subjects were so submissive
to him that they did whatever he requir'd, and his Will was so
far the Rule of all their Actions that they cou'd not do
otherwise. His Goodness was as great as his Power, and his Wisdom
as great as both. In a word, he possess'd all Perfections in the
highest Degree. This King found the said Island Desert, but he
planted it, fill'd it with Inhabitants and Animals of all sorts,
and caus'd it to be cultivated, so that it produc'd all
Necessaries not only for the Sustenance, but for the Conveniency
and Pleasure of all the Inhabitants.
The King's Palace was the greatest and most magnificent that can
be imagin'd, and situate in the middle of the finest Gardens that
were ever seen. This Monarch who perfectly understood every
thing, form'd a Plan to himself of the finest Production of which
Nature was capable, and then gave Orders it shou'd be executed,
which was done upon the Spot; for such was the Extent of his
Power, that all Things both animate and inanimate conform'd
exactly to his Will and immediately submitted to his Law. There
were also Parks, Meadows, and Woods all admirably fine, and full
of all sorts of Animals, Birds, and Insects that cou'd be desir'd
either for Use or Pleasure. I shou'd have a great many strange
things to tell you, were I to enter into the Detail of every
thing relating to all those Animals, _&c._ For this Reason I
shall only tell you what I heard most remarkable concerning one
single Species of Insects, _viz._ The Bees.
In this Island there was a multitude of Bees, and as the King's
care was extended to every thing, he so order'd it that there
were abundance of Flowers every where to nourish them. But in a
Nook of one of the King's Flower-Gardens there was a particular
sort of Flower, which he forbad the Bees to touch: Not that those
Flowers were hurtful to the Bees, or that the Monarch valu'd them
more than any of the other Flowers, but, as I was told, because
he had a mind to try their Obedience. It happen'd not long after,
that some of the Bees forgetting the Order, or not much regarding
it, went and suck'd those Flowers. The King immediately perceiv'd
it, and was so incens'd at it that; he resolv'd to drive all the
Bees out of the Island, and even swore, so great was his Wrath,
that he wou'd not spare one Bee. But some time after, when the
Heat of his Indignation was abated, he regretted that he had
pass'd so severe a Sentence and some remains of Pity for those
poor Bees engag'd the Monarch, who was Goodness and Mercy it
self, to find out some Expedient to bring them off.
The King had an only Son whom he lov'd infinitely more than all
things in the World, and it was his Pleasure that this Son shou'd
be the Mediator to make Peace between him and the Bees. But to
the end that this Peace might be made in a manner consistent with
the King's Dignity, and without wounding his Honour and his
Justice, which were concern'd to maintain the Oath that he had
sworn, there was a Necessity for this welbeloved Son to bear all
the Pains due to the Bees, and that for this purpose he shou'd
become a Bee himself. When this Metamorphosis was made, the Son
went in the form of a Bee to one of the worst Hives in the whole
Island, where he found it Labour in vain to advise the other Bees
to be more circumspect and more observant of the King's Orders,
for they laugh'd him to Scorn, abus'd him, and at last stung him
to Death. And what was worse than all, at the same time he must
bear the whole Weight of his Father's Wrath and Indignation, who
was resolv'd to revenge the Fault of the Bees upon him. As soon
as this Son was dead, he returned to his Father, and fell to
interceding for the poor Bees, whose Debt he had paid, and for
whose Crime he had suffer'd; which Mediation he still continues
with so much Success, that the King has taken Companion of
several of those Bees and forgiven them their Faults, provided
they adhere strictly to his Son as many intire Bee-hives have
already done. It does not appear that these Bees so favour'd make
more Honey, or are more at Ease than the others, but the Reason
of it is (as they are taught by certain Hornets who have
introduc'd themselves in great numbers into all those Hives)
that they will be more sensible of the Benefit that results to
them from it after they are dead.
'Tis these Hornets that teach the Bees, which are inclin'd to
hearken to them, all this Story, together with a multitude of
Circumstances that are not so much as touch'd here. And in the
several Hives, both the Story and Circumstances are so vary'd
that some receive it one way, and others another, and some
believe nothing at all of the matter. These latter are threaten'd
by the Hornets with very severe Punishment after Death, whereas
the Bees which follow their Advice will be sure then to receive
great Rewards. When they are told, that 'tis plain that all Bees
when they die, fall to the Ground and rot away either in Dust or
Dirt, they gravely answer that 'tis only their Bodies that
perish, but that their buzzing Part which is somewhat different
from their Bodies, is to enjoy the Rewards or suffer the
Punishments with which they have threaten'd 'em. For they make
them believe that when a Bee which has follow'd the Advice of the
Hornets, and given them the greatest part of his Honey, comes to
die, his Buzz goes directly to the King's Palace and contributes
to fill his great Hall of Audience with Musick, with which they
say that Monarch is very much delighted. Whereas the buzzing Part
of a Bee that acts after another manner, goes after its Death to
a great Cave under Ground, where 'tis benumm'd with the Cold, and
makes a very disagreeable Noise by reason of the infinite Torture
it there suffers. There's a prodigious number of other such
Chimeras, with which these Hornets are continually filling the
Heads of the poor Bees; for as they are excus'd from working and
live upon the Labour of the Bees, all they have to do is to
invent something to terrify the Bees and keep them in a State of
Dependance, in which they have succeeded so well, that we see
abundance of these poor Insects so full of Apprehension of what
may happen to their bulging Part after Death, that they cannot
with Pleasure eat the Honey they have made, nor do any things as
they shou'd for the support of their Lives. And when there happen
to be any Bees which in Contempt of such Chimeras apply to their
Work and turn a deaf Ear to the Hornets, they incense the other
Bees against them, and generally kill them, or at least turn them
out of their Hives as dangerous and seditious Creatures. It often
happens that when the Hornets are at Variance with one another,
all the Bees of a Hive take part with one Side or other, and
being animated by the Hornets they fall upon one another with so
much Fury, that we generally find half of the Bees of a Hive
kill'd, because they had not the same Conception of the Chimeras
of the Hornets as the others had. Sometimes too those Hornets
engage whole Bee-hives to make War against other Bee-hives, so
that frequently we see several thousands kill'd on both Sides,
only for supporting the Chimeras of the Hornets of their own Sect
against those of others. The Bees also expose themselves
generally very cheerfully to this Slaughter, upon the Assurance
given them by the Hornets of one Party as well as another, that
they thereby do very great Service to the King who will take it
well at their Hands, and admit their buzzing Part into his great
Hall preferably to those of many others. For they pretend to know
the Orders and Will of the King much better than the other Bees,
because certain Hornets, say they, who liv'd several Ages before
them, heard 'em from the King's own Lips, and transmitted 'em
down to them, partly impress'd upon Wax, and partly by the
Reports of their Predecessors. 'Tis upon this Foundation that the
Hornets usurp so much Authority over the Bees throughout the
whole Island (for there are Hornets which have insinuated
themselves into almost all the Hives) and extend their Tyranny so
far as to render those poor Insects perfectly miserable. They
forbid them on certain Days to suck the Flowers, which they are
permitted to do on others, and likewise prohibit their making Wax
and Honey on certain other Days, because, say they, 'tis the
King's Will and Pleasure.
After he had finish'd his impertinent Fable, I told him, that I
saw the End of it very plainly, but that it only prov'd how Men
of Wit could turn any thing into Ridicule: I shew'd him that the
Comparison fail'd in almost every Circumstance; particularly I
observ'd, That tho' the eating of the Fruit of the Tree of
Knowledge was forbidden to _Adam_ upon a severe Penalty, yet when
he had eaten of it, God is represented in Scripture as so far
from being in Wrath, and from Swearing not to spare any of the
Human Race; (as the Fable wou'd insinuate), that the Sentence
pronounced was softned with the Promise of a Saviour, under the
Title of the _Seed of the Woman_: I told him, that the buzzing
Part of the Bee does by no means answer to the Soul of Man: that
if Christians maintained, that the speaking Part of Man had gone
to Heaven or Hell after his Decease, there would have been some
Justness in the Fable: but that the Fact (as he well knew) was
quite otherwise. I shew'd him, that the Distinction of Soul and
Body was not peculiar to the Christian Religion, but common to
all other Religions, and was believ'd in Countries where no
Revelation had reach'd. I was going on in this Strain, but it was
then too late, and it was high time to part and go to bed: and I
had no other Opportunity of talking with him again on these
important Subjects; for some time after, this poor Man and
another carrying along a great Beam upon their Shoulders, he fell
down, by which his Head was so bruis'd that he dy'd before he had
time for Repentance, which I look'd upon as a just Punishment
from Heaven, because he had made such an ill Use of his Wit and
Learning.
I had been fourteen or fifteen Years at _Sercelli_, when it
happen'd, one Day as I was at work in refitting a Ship, I
discover'd a Hole towards the Middle, two Foot from the Keel: I
was oblig'd in order to make my Work good and lasting, to go down
into the Ship's Hold, where, as I was removing the great Flints
and Gravel, which serve to ballast the Ship, I discover'd a
Bundle bigger than my two Fists. The out-side Wrapper was a
Callico Handkerchief, in which there was a Boot Hose of Silk, and
in that Boot Hose, a blue Sock, in which there was a Purse with
three hundred eighty five good Guineas. My first Care was to
conceal my Treasure in a sure Place, where no Body wou'd go and
look for it, and notwithstanding my Heart was full of Joy, I
took great care not to make the least Discovery that I was a
Penny richer than before.
About six Months after this, the _English_ Consul at _Algier_,
having Business at our Town, and caming with two other young
Gentlemen to see if we had any Ships upon the Stocks, one of my
Comrades happen'd just at that time to call out to me to lend him
a helping Hand to remove a Mast he was then at work upon, when
Mr. _Elliot_, who heard me call'd by the Name of _Massey_, came
up to me and ask'd me _What Countryman I was_? I told him.
There's a good Friend of mine, said he, a Silkman at _London_,
who is your Countryman, and his Name is _John Massey_. I know
very well, said I, that I left a Brother of that Name behind me,
six Years younger than me, but it being now fifty Years ago, and
having not heard from my Family ever since, nor they probably
from me, 'tis impossible I can be certain whether that's the Man.
What you now say, reply'd the Consul, makes me believe you are
Brothers, for my Friend can't be less than sixty Years of Age,
and he has often talk'd to me of a Brother that he very much
lamented, who he suppos'd had been a long time dead. Thereupon I
was forc'd to tell him in a few Words, by what Misfortune I
became a Slave in _Africa_, and he made an Offer to write to my
Brother, to desire him to find out some Expedient to procure my
Deliverance in my old Age. I then declar'd to him in Confidence
that I had Money. If so, said he, I'll find Ways and Means to set
you at Liberty, but you must not make any shew of your
Substance; Leave every thing; to my Management, and don't you
meddle or make. Farewel. I kiss'd his Hand, and recommended
myself to his Favour.
About a Month after, my Master, to my very great Surprize, call'd
me to him, and taking me by the Hand, said, I am overjoy'd,
Friend, that you are going to return to your own Country. Mr.
_Elliot_ has bargain'd with me for your Ransom. Go to _Algier_
and meet him. I wish you a good Voyage. At these Words I embrac'd
him, and thank'd him for his Civilities, and the Regard he had
always shewn to me from the very first Day of my Arrival. We both
shed Tears at parting as if we had been Brothers. From thence I
went to take Leave of my Comrades, and then set out for _Algier_,
where the Consul receiv'd me with extraordinary Courtesy. I told
him down thirty five Guineas, which, he said; he was to pay for
my Liberty, but had it not been for his Credit and my Age, such a
trifling Sum wou'd not have, set me free.