“With all my heart;” and in my youthful ardour was about to kiss the happy soil.
“There, calm yourself,” said the Sage. “This is neither Peru nor the Penguins’ Paradise. The name alone misleads you. This land, ‘Happy Island,’ is so named because its inhabitants (all of them) inherit a furious desire for happiness, not because they are happy; they spend their lives chasing a phantom, and when it seems nearest, they are swallowed up in the grave. These islanders cannot be brought to understand that wrong must exist, and that happiness may be obtained by redressing wrongs and grievances, and that the most one can do is to snatch moments of bliss from one’s days and years of toil and sorrow. I have heard that men, after trying all sorts of new-fashioned receipts for happiness, fall back on the oldest plans, imagining they have discovered in them a new panacea for all earthly woes.
“These curious islanders make self their god. They make it a rule each one to seek his own personal gratification, this plan is most ancient: love, sympathy, self-sacrifice, devotion, virtue, duty, are with them nothing more than words whose meaning has been long forgotten. Another rule is to avoid doing anything that will in any way mar one’s enjoyment, or spoil one’s ease. It will be seen that only the rich among them are able to carry out their principles to the full extent. Let us note how they manage affairs. Do you see the mansion over there? is it not beautiful? In it the disciples of pleasure carry on their amusements. Let us look in; we may learn something. Over the doorway we read in Latin, ‘Here we are, four hundred of us, all happy’; followed by a text from their sacred classics, ‘Neutralise the influence of parents upon children, and all will go well.’ ”
In the first room we came across a charming illustration of the text—a number of showily-dressed, attractive-looking mothers, who refused { 66} to sit on their eggs. Some of them had strolled into the garden to spend their time more usefully in flirting with dangerous-looking male friends. Somehow the poor little ones were hatched. “You { 67} unwelcome rubbish!” said the mothers; “now that we have had all the trouble of bringing you into the world, some one must nurse you—we are otherwise engaged. We will return and spoil you { 68} later on, if we think of it.” Guardians are found. A Weasel displayed the deepest interest in the eggs, an Adder watched them tenderly as they were about to break, while Wolves feasted on the young to keep them out of harm’s way.