Chapter ii.
_In which the author first refutes some idle opinions concerningspirits, and then the passengers relate their several deaths._
It is the common opinion that spirits, like owls, can see in the dark;nay, and can then most easily be perceived by others. For which reason,many persons of good understanding, to prevent being terrified with suchobjects, usually keep a candle burning by them, that the light mayprevent their seeing. Mr Locke, in direct opposition to this, hath notdoubted to assert that you may see a spirit in open daylight full aswell as in the darkest night.
It was very dark when we set out from the inn, nor could we see any morethan if every soul of us had been alive. We had travelled a good waybefore any one offered to open his mouth; indeed, most of the companywere fast asleep,[D] but, as I could not close my own eyes, andperceived the spirit who sat opposite to me to be likewise awake, Ibegan to make overtures of conversation, by complaining _how dark itwas_. "And extremely cold too," answered my fellow-traveller; "though, Ithank God, as I have no body, I feel no inconvenience from it: but youwill believe, sir, that this frosty air must seem very sharp to one justissued forth out of an oven; for such was the inflamed habitation I amlately departed from." "How did you come to your end, sir?" said I. "Iwas murdered, sir," answered the gentleman. "I am surprized then,"replied I, "that you did not divert yourself by walking up and down andplaying some merry tricks with the murderer." "Oh, sir," returned he, "Ihad not that privilege, I was lawfully put to death. In short, aphysician set me on fire, by giving me medicines to throw out mydistemper. I died of a hot regimen, as they call it, in the small-pox."
One of the spirits at that word started up and cried out, "Thesmall-pox! bless me! I hope I am not in company with that distemper,which I have all my life with such caution avoided, and have so happilyescaped hitherto!" This fright set all the passengers who were awakeinto a loud laughter; and the gentleman, recollecting himself, with someconfusion, and not without blushing, asked pardon, crying, "I protest Idreamt that I was alive." "Perhaps, sir," said I, "you died of thatdistemper, which therefore made so strong an impression on you." "No,sir," answered he, "I never had it in my life; but the continual anddreadful apprehension it kept me so long under cannot, I see, be soimmediately eradicated. You must know, sir, I avoided coming to Londonfor thirty years together, for fear of the small-pox, till the mosturgent business brought me thither about five days ago. I was sodreadfully afraid of this disease that I refused the second night of myarrival to sup with a friend whose wife had recovered of it severalmonths before, and the same evening got a surfeit by eating too manymuscles, which brought me into this good company."
"I will lay a wager," cried the spirit who sat next him, "there is notone in the coach able to guess my distemper." I desired the favour ofhim to acquaint us with it, if it was so uncommon. "Why, sir," said he,"I died of honour."--"Of honour, sir!" repeated I, with some surprize."Yes, sir," answered the spirit, "of honour, for I was killed in aduel."
"For my part," said a fair spirit, "I was inoculated last summer, andhad the good fortune to escape with a very few marks on my face. Iesteemed myself now perfectly happy, as I imagined I had no restraint toa full enjoyment of the diversions of the town; but within a few daysafter my coming up I caught cold by overdancing myself at a ball, andlast night died of a violent fever."
After a short silence which now ensued, the fair spirit who spoke last,it being now daylight, addressed herself to a female who sat next her,and asked her to what chance they owed the happiness of her company. Sheanswered, she apprehended to a consumption, but the physicians were notagreed concerning her distemper, for she left two of them in a very hotdispute about it when she came out of her body. "And pray, madam," saidthe same spirit to the sixth passenger, "How came you to leave the otherworld?" But that female spirit, screwing up her mouth, answered, shewondered at the curiosity of some people; that perhaps persons hadalready heard some reports of her death, which were far from being true;that, whatever was the occasion of it, she was glad at being deliveredfrom a world in which she had no pleasure, and where there was nothingbut nonsense and impertinence; particularly among her own sex, whoseloose conduct she had long been entirely ashamed of.
The beauteous spirit, perceiving her question gave offence, pursued itno farther. She had indeed all the sweetness and good-humour which areso extremely amiable (when found) in that sex which tenderness mostexquisitely becomes. Her countenance displayed all the cheerfulness, thegood-nature, and the modesty, which diffuse such brightness round thebeauty of Seraphina,[E] awing every beholder with respect, and, at thesame time, ravishing him with admiration. Had it not been indeed for ourconversation on the small-pox, I should have imagined we had beenhonoured with her identical presence. This opinion might have beenheightened by the good sense she uttered whenever she spoke, by thedelicacy of her sentiments, and the complacence of her behaviour,together with a certain dignity which attended every look, word, andgesture; qualities which could not fail making an impression on aheart[F] so capable of receiving it as mine, nor was she long in raisingin me a very violent degree of seraphic love. I do not intend by this,that sort of love which men are very properly said to make to women inthe lower world, and which seldom lasts any longer than while it ismaking. I mean by seraphic love an extreme delicacy and tenderness offriendship, of which, my worthy reader, if thou hast no conception, asit is probable thou mayest not, my endeavour to instruct thee would beas fruitless as it would be to explain the most difficult problems ofSir Isaac Newton to one ignorant of vulgar arithmetic.
To return therefore to matters comprehensible by all understandings: thediscourse now turned on the vanity, folly, and misery of the lowerworld, from which every passenger in the coach expressed the highestsatisfaction in being delivered; though it was very remarkable that,notwithstanding the joy we declared at our death, there was not one ofus who did not mention the accident which occasioned it as a thing wewould have avoided if we could. Nay, the very grave lady herself, whowas the forwardest in testifying her delight, confessed inadvertentlythat she left a physician by her bedside; and the gentleman who died ofhonour very liberally cursed both his folly and his fencing. While wewere entertaining ourselves with these matters, on a sudden a mostoffensive smell began to invade our nostrils. This very much resembledthe savour which travellers in summer perceive at their approach to thatbeautiful village of the Hague, arising from those delicious canalswhich, as they consist of standing water, do at that time emit odoursgreatly agreeable to a Dutch taste, but not so pleasant to any other.Those perfumes, with the assistance of a fair wind, begin to affectpersons of quick olfactory nerves at a league's distance, and increasegradually as you approach. In the same manner did the smell I have justmentioned, more and more invade us, till one of the spirits, looking outof the coach-window, declared we were just arrived at a very large city;and indeed he had scarce said so before we found ourselves in thesuburbs, and, at the same time, the coachman, being asked by another,informed us that the name of this place was the City of Diseases. Theroad to it was extremely smooth, and, excepting the above-mentionedsavour, delightfully pleasant. The streets of the suburbs were linedwith bagnios, taverns, and cooks' shops: in the first we saw severalbeautiful women, but in tawdry dresses, looking out at the windows; andin the latter were visibly exposed all kinds of the richest dainties;but on our entering the city we found, contrary to all we had seen inthe other world, that the suburbs were infinitely pleasanter than thecity itself. It was indeed a very dull, dark, and melancholy place. Fewpeople appeared in the streets, and these, for the most part, were oldwomen, and here and there a formal grave gentleman, who seemed to bethinking, with large tie-wigs on, and amber-headed canes in their hands.We were all in hopes that our vehicle would not stop here; but, to oursorrow, the coach soon drove into an inn, and we were obliged to alight.