all nature—­is he then a God of ruins and tombs?  Demands he devastation for homage, and conflagration for sacrifice?  Requires he groans for hymns, murderers for votaries, a ravaged and desolate earth for his temple?  Behold then, holy and believing people, what are your works! behold the fruits of your piety!  You have massacred the people, burned their cities, destroyed cultivation, reduced the earth to a solitude; and you ask the reward of your works!  Miracles then must be performed!  The people whom you extirpated must be recalled to life, the walls rebuilt which you have overthrown, the harvests reproduced which you have destroyed, the waters regathered which you have dispersed; the laws, in fine, of heaven and earth reversed; those laws, established by God himself, in demonstration of his magnificence and wisdom; those eternal laws, anterior to all codes, to all the prophets those immutable laws, which neither the passions nor the ignorance of man can pervert.  But that passion which mistaketh, that ignorance which observeth neither causes nor effects, hath said in its folly:  “All things flow from chance; a blind fatality poureth out good and evil upon the earth; success is not to the prudent, nor felicity to the wise;” or, assuming the language of hypocrisy, she hath said, “all things are from God; he taketh pleasure in deceiving wisdom and confounding reason.”  And Ignorance, applauding herself in her malice, hath said, “thus will I place myself on a par with that science which confounds me—­thus will I excel that prudence which fatigues and torments me.”  And Avarice hath added:  “I will oppress the weak, and devour the fruits of his labors; and I will say, it is fate which hath so ordained.”  But I!  I swear by the laws of heaven and earth, and by the law which is written in the heart of man, that the hypocrite shall be deceived in his cunning—­the oppressor in his rapacity!  The sun shall change his course, before folly shall prevail over wisdom and knowledge, or ignorance surpass prudence, in the noble and sublime art of procuring to man his true enjoyments, and of building his happiness on an enduring foundation.

CHAPTER IV.

THE EXPOSITION

Thus spoke the Phantom.  Confused with this discourse, and my heart agitated with different reflections, I remained long in silence.  At length, taking courage, I thus addressed him:  Oh, Genius of tombs and ruins!  Thy presence, thy severity, hath disordered my senses; but the justice of thy discourse restoreth confidence to my soul.  Pardon my ignorance.  Alas, if man is blind, shall his misfortune be also his crime?  I may have mistaken the voice of reason; but never, knowingly, have I rejected its authority.  Ah! if thou readest my heart, thou knowest with what enthusiasm it seeketh truth.  Is it not in its pursuit that thou seest me in this sequestered spot?  Alas!  I have wandered over the earth, I have