A journey to the world under-groundHolberg, Ludvig
Science
A journey to the world under-ground
Holberg, Ludvig
Utopias -- Early works to 1800; Voyages, Imaginary -- Early works to 1800
those of a publick Nature, were ever punish’d. Whatever Misdemeanour
was otherwise committed, all the Revenge the Neighbours took, was to
avoid the Company of the Offenders, to whom such a general Contempt was
usually so intolerable, that many have died for Grief, and as many more
have laid violent Hands upon themselves through a Weariness of Life.
Chronology they know nothing of, only they compute their Years from the
Eclipse of the Sun, which happens by the Interposition of the Planet
_Nazar_; so that when you enquire how old any one is, their Answer is,
that he is so many Eclipses old. Their Physicks are excessively barren
and absurd; they believe the Sun is a Golden Plate, and the Planet
_Nazar_ a Cheese. When I enquir’d the Reason why at stated Times the
Planet _Nazar_ increas’d and decreas’d, they reply’d, that they knew
nothing at all about it. Their Wealth and Substance consists chiefly in
Swine, which they distinguish by some particular Mark, and then suffer
them to run loose in the Woods. They scourge and beat all such Trees as
bear no Fruit, from a foolish Opinion, that their Sterility proceeds
from Malice and Envy. Such was the State of this poor miserable
People, whom I almost despair’d of ever reducing to Humanity; but
recollecting that Assertion of the Poet,
_Nemo adeo ferus est, ut non mitescere possit,
Si modo culturæ patientem præbeat aurem_,
I took Courage, and employ’d the whole Force of my Capacity and
Abilities in reforming these Barbarians. For these my Endeavours, and
the Success which attended them, they regarded me as something above
the Race of Mortals, and so extravagant an Opinion did they entertain
of my Wisdom, that they thought nothing was impossible to me. Upon the
Loss of Cattle or Goods, they would come, at all Hours, to my Hut, and
implore my Assistance. One Day I saw a poor Peasant prostrate before my
Door weeping and wringing his Hands, and crying out to me to help him.
Upon Inquiry into the Occasion of his Grief, he complain’d to me of the
Perverseness and Ill-Nature of his Trees, and begg’d me to interpose my
Authority to make them bear more Acorns.
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