Saturday, September 1, 1711.
When I was at Grand Cairo, I picked up several Oriental manuscripts,
which I have still by me. Among others I met with one entitled the
Visions of Mirza, which I have read over with pleasure. I intend to
give it to the public when I have no other entertainment for them; and
shall begin with the first vision, which I have translated word by word
as follows:
“On the fifth day of the moon, which according to the custom of my
forefathers I always keep holy, after having washed myself and offered
up my morning devotions, I ascended the high hills of the Bagdad, in
order to pass the rest of the day in meditation and prayer. As I was
here airing myself on the top of the mountains, I fell into a profound
contemplation upon the vanity of human life; and passing from one
thought to another, ‘Surely,’ said I, ‘man is but a shadow, and life a
dream.’ While I was thus musing, I cast my eyes toward the summit of a
rock that was not far from me, where I discovered one in the habit of
a shepherd, with a little musical instrument in his hand. As I looked
upon him he applied it to his lips, and began to play upon it. The
sound of it was so exceedingly sweet, and wrought into a variety of
tunes that were inexpressibly melodious, and altogether different from
anything I had ever heard. They put me in mind of those heavenly airs
that are played to the departed souls of good men upon their arrival in
Paradise, to wear out the impressions of the last agonies, and qualify
them for the pleasure of that happy place. My heart melted away in
secret raptures.
“I had been often told that the rock before me was the haunt of genius;
and that several had been entertained by music who had passed it, but
never heard that the musician had before made himself visible. When
he had raised my thought by those transporting airs which he played,
to taste the pleasure of his conversation, as I looked upon him like
one astonished, he beckoned me and by waving his hand directed me to
approach the place where he sat. I drew near with that reverence which
is due a superior nature; and as my heart was entirely subdued by the
captivating strains I had heard, I fell down at his feet and wept. The
genius smiled upon me with a look of compassion and affability that
familiarized him to my imagination, and at once dispelled all fears
and apprehensions with which I approached him. He lifted me from the
ground, and taking me by the hand, ‘Mirza,’ said he, ‘I have heard
thee in thy soliloquies; follow me.’
“He then led me to the highest pinnacle of the rock, and placing me on
the top of it--‘Cast thy eyes eastward,’ said he, ‘and tell me what
thou seest.’ ‘I see,’ said I, ‘a huge valley, and a prodigious tide of
water rolling through it.’ ‘The valley that thou seest,’ said he, ‘is
the Vale of Misery, and the tide of water that thou seest is part of
the great tide of eternity.’ ‘What is the reason,’ said I, ‘that the
tide I see rises out of a thick mist at one end, and again loses itself
in a thick mist at the other.’ ‘What thou seest,’ said he, ‘is that
portion of eternity which is called time, measured out by the sun, and
reaching from the beginning of the world to its consummation.’ ‘Examine
now,’ said he, ‘this sea that is bounded with darkness at both ends,
and tell me what thou discoverest in it.’ ‘I see a bridge,’ said I,
‘standing in the midst of the tide.’ ‘The bridge thou seest,’ said he,
‘is human life; consider it attentively.’ Upon a more leisurely survey
of it, I saw that it consisted of threescore and ten entire arches,
with several broken arches, which added to those that were entire, made
up the number about a hundred. As I was counting the arches, the genius
told me that this bridge consisted first of about a thousand arches,
but that a great flood swept away the rest, and left the bridge in the
ruinous condition I now beheld it. ‘But tell me further,’ said he,
‘what thou discoverest on it.’ ‘I see multitudes of people passing over
it,’ said I, ‘and a black cloud hanging on each end of it.’ As I looked
more attentively I saw several of the passengers dropping through the
bridge into the great tide that flowed underneath it; and upon further
examination, perceived that there were innumerable trap doors that lay
concealed in the bridge, which the passengers no sooner trod upon, but
that they fell through them into the tide and immediately disappeared.
These hidden pitfalls were set very thick at the entrance to the
bridge, so that throngs of people no sooner broke through the cloud,
but many of them fell into them. They grew thinner toward the middle,
but multiplied and came closer together toward the end of the arches
that were entire.
“There were indeed some persons, but their number was very small, that
continued a kind of hobbling march upon the broken arches, but fell
through one after another, being quite tired and spent with so long a
walk.
“I passed some time in contemplation of this wonderful structure, and
the great variety of objects which it presented. My heart was filled
with deep melancholy to see several dropping unexpectedly in the midst
of mirth and jollity, and catching at everything that stood by them to
save themselves. Some were looking up toward heaven in a thoughtful
posture, and in the midst of a speculation stumbled and fell out
of sight. Multitudes were very busy in the pursuit of bubbles that
glittered in their eyes and danced before them; but often when they
thought themselves within reach of them, their footing failed, and down
they sank. In this confusion of objects, I observed some with scimitars
in their hands, and others with urinals, who ran to and fro upon the
bridge, thrusting several persons on trap doors which did not seem to
lie in their way, and which they might have escaped had they not thus
been forced upon them.
“The genius seeing me indulge myself in this melancholy prospect, told
me that I had dwelt long enough on it. ‘Take thine eyes off of the
bridge,’ said he, ‘and tell me if thou seest anything thou dost not
comprehend.’ Upon looking up, ‘What mean,’ said I, ‘those great flights
of birds that are perpetually hovering about the bridge, and settling
on it from time to time? I see vultures, harpies, ravens, cormorants,
and among many other feathered creatures several little winged boys,
that perch in great numbers on the middle arches.’ ‘These,’ said the
genius, ‘are Envy, Avarice, Superstition, Despair, Love, with the like
cares and passions that infest human life.’
“Here I fetched a deep sigh. ‘Alas,’ said I, ‘man was made in vain!
how is he given away to misery and mortality! tortured in life, and
swallowed up in death!’ The genius, being moved with compassion towards
me, bid me quit so uncomfortable a prospect. ‘Look no more,’ said
he, ‘on man in the first stages of his existence, his setting out
for eternity; but cast thine eye onto that thick mist into which the
tide bears the several generations of mortals that fall into it.’ I
directed my sight as I was ordered, and (whether or no the good genius
strengthened it with supernatural force, or dissipated part of the mist
that was before too thick for the eye to penetrate) I saw the valley
opening at the farther end, and spreading forth into an immense ocean,
that had a huge rock of adamant running through the midst of it, and
dividing it into equal parts. The clouds still rested on one-half of
it, in so much that I could discover nothing in it: but the other
appeared to me a vast ocean planted with innumerable islands, that were
covered with fruits and interwoven with a thousand little shining seas
that ran among them. I could see people dressed in glorious habits
with garlands upon their heads, passing among the trees, lying down
by the sides of fountains, or resting on beds of flowers; and could
hear a confused harmony of singing birds, falling waters, human voices,
and musical instruments. Gladness grew within me upon the discovery
of so delightful a scene. I wished for the wings of an eagle, that I
might fly away to those happy seats: but the genius told me that there
was no passage to them, except through the gates of death that I saw
opening every moment upon the bridge. ‘The islands,’ said he, ‘that
lie so fresh and green before thee, and with which the whole face of
the ocean appears spotted as far as thou canst see, are more in number
than the sands on the seashore; there are myriads of islands behind
those which thou discoverest, reaching farther than thine eye, or even
thine imagination can extend itself. These are the mansions of good
men after death, who according to the degree and kinds of virtue in
which they excelled, are distributed among these several islands; which
abound with pleasures of different kinds and degrees, suitable to the
relish and perfection of those who are settled in them; every island is
a paradise accommodated to its respected inhabitants. Are not these,
O Mirza, habitations worth contending for? Does life appear miserable
that gives the opportunities of earning such a reward? Is death to be
feared that will convey thee to so happy an existence? Think not man
was made in vain, who has such an eternity reserved for him.’ I gazed
with inexpressible pleasure on these happy islands. ‘At length,’ said
I, ‘show me now, I beseech thee, the secrets that lie hid under those
dark clouds which cover the ocean on the other side of the rock of
adamant.’ The genius making me no answer I turned about to address
myself to him a second time, but I found that he had left me: I then
turned again to the vision which I had been so long contemplating, but
instead of the rolling tide, the arched bridge, and the happy islands,
I saw nothing but the long hollow valley of Bagdad, with oxen, sheep,
and camels, grazing upon the sides of it.”
Remembering the peculiar habits of thought of that day, some indication
of which you will find in the chapter that follows, it will be
seen that Addison’s aim was a high one. Yet he has the modesty of
earnestness. There is no blatant claim to originality, nor verbal
pyrotechnics. You sense the quiet of the scholar with a real literary
background. “I have,” he wrote, “raised to myself so great an audience,
I shall spare no pains to make their instruction agreeable and their
diversion useful. For which reason I shall endeavor to enliven morality
with wit, and to temper wit with morality, that my readers may, if
possible, both ways find their account in the speculation of the day.
And to the end that their virtue and discretion may not be short,
transient, intermitting starts of thought, I have resolved to refresh
their memories from day to day till I have recovered them out of that
desperate state of vice and folly into which the age has fallen.”
(Spec. No. 10.)