NICOLAS KLIM’S UNDERGROUND JOURNEY
by Ludvig Holbergtranslation © Dennis List, 2003
CHAPTER 9: PART II
In which the author visits Cocklecu (where men are as women, and vice versa) and the Land of Philosophers (from which he barely escapes with both his life and his virtue).
On the author's journey around the planet Nazar
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Concerning Cocklecu
In the province of Cocklecu people follow a perverse custom, that would be highly condemned in our world. The Order of Things is inverted, not by nature, but by law. Both sexes of the natives are Juniper trees. Only the males do kitchen work, and household labour. In wartime they serve their country. A few reach the rank of Ensign: the highest that men can attain. The females, on the other hand, serve in all the sacred, civil, and top military roles.
Recently I derided the Potuans for observing no difference between sexes when it came to public office. But, compared to the madness of the Cocklecu people, that's nothing. I could not understand why the males were so lazy. Though strong in their bodies, they have always tamely submitted to this indignity. It would have been very easy for the men to have freed themselves from such a shameful tyranny - but long-established custom had so blinded them that none of them ever thought of trying to remove such a disgrace. They believe it is simply the law of nature that government should be held in female hands, and that it is the business of their sex to spin, weave, clean the house, and occasionally be beaten by their wives.
The arguments with which the women justified this state of affairs were as follows: since Nature had given men greater bodily strength, her intention must be to involve them in the more laborious and domestic duties of life.
Strangers are amazed when, going into a house, they see the mistress of the family in the office, a pen in her hand and books in front of her. Meanwhile her husband is in the kitchen, washing the dishes. However, when I went to a house and asked for the master of the house, I was taken to the kitchen.
Hic lavet argentum, vasa aspera tergeat alterThis unnatural custom had horrible effects. Just as other countries have abandoned women, who prostitute themselves for hire, so here the young men sell their favours. To that end they hire a House of Pleasure, easily recognized by writing on it, or some other obvious sign. When the men conduct this wicked trade with too much effrontery, in too barefaced a manner, they are sent to prison and whipped like our Ladies of the Street.
Vox dominae fremit instantis virgamque tenentis.On the other hand, the matrons and virgins here, without the least reproach, can saunter along, gaze at the young fellows, nod, whistle, wink at them, pluck them by the sleeve, importune them, write love-poems on their doors, boast of their conquests, and tally up their gallantries with as much satisfaction as the Fine Gentlemen of our world entertain you with their amours.
Nor is it a crime here for ladies to write amorous poems, and send presents to youths. The latter pretend to be coy and modest, knowing that it's indecent to surrender to a lady when first asked.
While I was there, a noted case arose: a noble youth, the son of a senator, had been ravished by a young woman. I heard it whispered among the friends of the injured youth that a lawsuit would be instituted against the ravisher, and at the next Consistory Court she would be sentenced to repair the dishonour by marriage, since it could be clearly proved that the youth had lived a completely innocent life.
During my stay, I did not find the courage to openly condemn this depraved custom. However, when leaving the city, I informed several junipers that they acted in downright contradiction to Nature, since the clear consensus of nations was that only males were formed for the arduous and important affairs of life. To this they replied that I was confounding custom with nature, since the weakness we impute to the female sex is due only to education.
This is obvious from the style of government at Cocklecu: in that sex you find all the virtues and mental endowments that the masculine sex, in other places, arrogate to themselves. The women of Cocklecu are grave, prudent, faithful, and discreet. The men, on the other hand, are light, empty, frothy creatures. Thus when any absurd story is told, the common saying is "That's a manly trifle." And when anything is done rashly, without thought, the proverb is "We must make allowance for male weakness."
However, I could not agree with their arguments, as I was thoroughly convinced of the impropriety and unnaturalness of this custom. The indignation that grew in me against so such female pride and indolence gave birth to an unfortunate plan, which I carried out soon afterwards - as will later be explained.
Among the magnificent buildings of this city, the most attractive was the Royal Seraglio, where lived 300 young men of exquisite beauty. They were all kept at the expense of the Queen, for her private pleasures. When I heard that my Person was much admired, I was afraid of being locked up in the seraglio, so I hurried away with great haste...
Pedibus metus addidit alas.Concerning the Land of Philosophy
From there I went to the Land of Philosophy, so called because the inhabitants spend their time in philosophical speculation. I was very keen to see this country, which I thought must be the centre of sciences, and the true home of the Muses. Instead of ordinary fields and meadows, I expected to find one continual lovely garden. With this vision in mind, I hastened my pace, and counted the hours as they passed.
The roads, though, were very stony, with occasional ditches and caverns. Sometimes I was forced to fight my way through rocks, and sometimes through sticky bogs, which I had to wade through for lack of bridges, dragging my limbs after me, covered in mud to my waist. I strengthened myself against these difficulties by consoling myself anticipating the delights of the Land of Philosophy. When I had been labouring under these difficulties for a whole hour, I met a peasant. I asked him how far it was to Mascattia, the Land of Philosophy. He replied that I should instead ask him how much there was left of the journey, because I was already in the heart of the place. I was amazed. "How is it possible" I asked "that a land inhabited only by philosophers can look more like the haunts of savage beasts than like a cultivated country?" He answered that things would soon look better, after the natives had had time to think about such trifles. "At the moment," he said, "we are all concentrating on an extraordinary discovery, a passage to the Sun. Therefore we are leaving the earth to itself, as it's impossible to do two things at once."
I soon understood his drift, and finally arrived at the city of Caska. Around the gates, instead of guards and sentinels, I saw only a few tame fowl, and on the walls many birds' nests and cobwebs. Philosophers and swine shared the streets, differing only in shape; they were quite alike in dirt and nastiness. The philosophers all had cloaks of the same shape, but I could not tell which colour, for they were so dusty. A man absorbed in thought came towards me. On meeting him I said, "Sir, if you please, what is the name of this city?" At this he paused, as motionless as if there were no life in him. At last he said, turning his eyes upward, "It is almost noon." An answer so different from the question was a sign of great absence of mind. This convinced me that it is better to study sparingly than to go mad with too much learning.
I went directly to the centre of the city, to see whether, besides philosophers, I might have the good luck to meet with a reasonable being. The Forum of the city, which was very spacious, was adorned with statues and columns. While trying to read the inscription on one of these, I suddenly felt my back grow warm and moist. Turning my head, to see where this warm shower came from, I saw a philosopher making water against me. Buried in profound thought, he had taken me for one of the statues that are used for necessities of this kind. Instead of apologizing for the mistake, he only laughed in my face. Stung to the soul with such an affront, I boxed his ears. Enraged, he fell upon me, grabbed me by the hair, and dragged me around the Forum.
When I found there was no prospect of appeasing his wrath, I tried to make reprisals on him with all my might. With regard to our blows, I believe the receipts and disbursements were about equal on both sides. Finally, after a long contest, we both fell to the ground. At this sight, a crowd of philosophers arrived from all directions, attacking me with their fists and sticks. Once more they dragged me by the hair all around the market. I was almost on the point of giving up the ghost. Finally, tired rather than satiated, they gave up beating me. They tried to take me into a large building, but I struggled against the doorway with both feet, and swore that I would not go in. But the philosophers threw a rope around my neck, and dragged me in, like an ox to a slaughterhouse. They knocked me flat on the floor. The house, and everything in it, were in total disorder, not unlike the mess that people are in on Lady Day or Michaelmas, when they are moving house.
I begged these wise men to put an end to their resentment, to let themselves be moved by compassion. "What does it do for the honour of Philosophy," I asked, "to let yourselves be subject to blind rage, and give rein to those passions that you often advise against?"
But I preached to the winds. The same philosopher who had watered me now renewed the fight, redoubling his blows on me, like a blacksmith on an anvil, as if nothing but my death could stop his fury. This taught me that there is no anger like a philosophical anger, and that they who talk so finely about the value of virtue are apt to practice it as little as anybody...
Nec enim minor ira rebullitFinally, four philosophers entered. The fineness of their robes showed that they were somebody special. Soon they appeased the uproar, and appeared to sympathize with my fate. After talking separately, they moved me to another house. I was glad that I had escaped the barbarians, and had at last fallen into honest hands. They asked about the cause of this problem, and I told them everything. They smiled at such a pleasant accident, telling me that it was common for the philosophers to make water against the statues, and that probably my antagonist, wholly absorbed in mediation, had mistaken me for a statue. They told me that he was an astronomer of great eminence, and that my other persecutors were professors of moral philosophy. Believing myself out of danger, I heard all this with pleasure. But one thing alarmed me greatly: the attention with which they surveyed my form. Also, their stream of questions about my way of life, my country, and the reasons for my visit, together with the whispers that followed, caused me great consternation.
Pectore in hoc, leviorve exurit flamma medullas.Horror entered my soul when they took me into an Anatomy room. On the floor was a great heap of bones and carcases, that gave off a stench enough to poison me. I first thought I'd fallen into a den of thieves and murderers, but the anatomical instruments that hung on the walls took away that fear, and convinced me that my host must be a physician or surgeon.
For half an hour I was left alone in this place, then a woman came in with my dinner. She seemed very humane. Eyeing me attentively, every now and again she gave a deep sigh. When I asked the cause of her grief, she replied that it was my impending fate. "You have fallen into very honest hands," she said, "for my husband is a lord of this island, a public doctor of the city, and a professor of medicine. The others you saw are his colleagues. Astonished at the extraordinary shape of your body, they have decided to examine its inward machinery, and to dissect you, to add some new light to anatomy."
This story threw me into great terror. I gave a horrible cry. "Madam!" I said. "How can you call them honest men, when they make no scruples about ripping up the bowels of an innocent stranger?"
She answered "Again I say, you have fallen into the hands of honest men, who will do nothing with a bad motive. They have decided on this operation for the benefit of the Science of Anatomy."
"Alas!" I said. "I'd rather fall into the hands of thieves and murderers. At least I might be able to escape from them - rather than be dissected by such honest gentlemen." I threw myself at her feed, shedding a flood of tears, and begged her to intercede for my life. She told me that her intervention would avail little against the decision of the faculty, which was irrevocable, but that she would deliver me from death by some other means. With those words, she took me by the hand, led me through a back door, and took me to the gate of the city.
Ready to take leave of my benefactor, I tried to express my gratitude as best I could. She interrupted me, and telling me that she would not leave me till she saw me out of all danger, she kept accompanying me. As we walked together, we talked about the state of the country, and I heard her with great eagerness. Finally she brought up an issue not very agreeable to my ears. I realized that, in return for her services, she required some things of me which were morally impossible. She told me with great seriousness that in this country the fate of married women was extremely hard, because their philosophical husbands, immersed in learning, neglected their conjugal duties.
"For my part, I protest," she said (with an oath) "we should all be very wretched if now and again a good-natured and compassionate stranger didn't comfort us in our misfortunes, and occasionally apply a remedy to them."
I pretended not to understand, and sped up my pace. My coolness inflamed her, whereupon...
Consumptis precibus, violentam transit ad iram, Intendensque manus, passis furibunda capillis...she accused me of ingratitude. I walked faster and faster, till at last she seized my clothing, and tried to stop me. At that, I tore myself free, and having the advantage of her in swiftness, quickly ran out of her sight. One may judge her fury by the words I heard her say - "Kaki spalaki!" ("Ungrateful dog!"). I absorbed this insult with a Spartan nobility of mind, glad at heart that I could escape from this Land of Philosophy, the memory of which fills me with horror.