Eminent literary and scientific men of Italy, Spain, and Portugal. Vol. 1 (of 3)Shelley, Mary Wollstonecraft
History
Eminent literary and scientific men of Italy, Spain, and Portugal. Vol. 1 (of 3)
Shelley, Mary Wollstonecraft
Authors -- Biography; Scientists -- Biography
"Once on a time,--'t was when the world was young,
And the first race of men were inexperienced,
For there were no such knaveries then as now,--
A certain people, whom I need not name,
Dwelt at the foot of an enormous hill,
Whose summit from the valley seem'd to touch
The sky itself.
"These simple folks, observing
How oft the inconstant moon, now with a horn,
And now without, now waxing, and now waning,
Held through the firmament her natural course,
Supposed that on the top they might find out
How she enlarged, then shrunk into herself.
One with a bag, another with a basket,
Began to scale the precipice amain,
Each eager in the strife to outclimb the rest;
But finding at the peak they were no nearer,
All fell down weary on the earth, and wish'd
Most heartily that they had stay'd below.
Their neighbours from the bottom seeing them
Aloof, believed that they had reach'd the moon,
And hurried breathless up to share the spoil.
--This mountain is the mighty wheel of Fortune,
Upon whose rim the stupid vulgar think
All is tranquillity, though ne'er a bit."[104]
With equal spleen and pleasantry, in the seventh Satire, the author, as
an experienced hand, ridicules the favourite game of mankind,--climbing
the wheel of Fortune, and never finding themselves complete fools till
they are quite at the top. The allusion (scarcely intelligible in this
country, where it is played in earnest only, and not for pastime) is to
a game of cards, of which a pack is called _tarrochi_ (trumps): these
are painted expressly in the manner described below, namely, the
transmigration, by instalments, of climbing men into asses; and they are
used for the purpose of playing at _minchiate_ (blockhead),--a common
recreation at Florence, and--wherever else the reader pleases:--
"That pictured wheel, I own, annoys me sorely,
Which every master paints in the same way,
And such agreement cannot be a lie,
--When that which sits aloft they make an ass.
Now every one may understand this riddle,
Without the sphinx to interpret;--for, mark well,
Each, as he climbs, begins to _assify_
From top to toe; head, shoulders, arms, thence downward;
The limbs below remaining human still:"[105]
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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