XIV
A melancholy thought, however, diminished the pleasure I experienced in indulging in these meditations. “How few there are,” said I, “who enjoy with me this sublime spectacle which heaven spreads out in vain for a sleepy world;” but, without taking into consideration those who are asleep, it would cost a very slight effort to those who are out walking, or to those who crowd out of the theatre to look up for a moment and admire the brilliant constellations which everywhere are blazing over their heads? No, the attentive spectators of Scapin or Jocrisse deign not to raise their eyes; they go doggedly home or elsewhere without dreaming that there is a sky. How strange! because they can see it often and for nothing they do not care about it. If the firmament were always veiled from us, and if the sight depended on a showman, the first boxes on the roof would be priceless, and the ladies of Turin would scramble for my garret window.
“Oh! if I were a King,” said I, seized with just indignation, “every night I would have a bell sounded, and compel my subjects of every age, sex, and condition, to place themselves at their windows and look at the stars.” At this point, reason, which, in my kingdom, has only a disputed right of remonstrance, was more than usually successful in the representations that she made to me on the subject of the arbitrary edict, which I desired to proclaim to my subjects. “Sire,” said she, “will not your Majesty deign to make an exception in favour of rainy nights, for then the heavens being clouded over—”
“Very good,” answered I, “I did not think of that; you will make an exception on rainy nights.”
“Sire,” she added, “I think it would be well to except also those fine nights when the cold is excessive and when the north wind blows, since the rigorous execution of the edict would afflict your fortunate subjects with colds and coughs.”
I began to see very clearly the difficulties there were in executing my project, but I would not retract. “You must write to the Medical Council and the Academy of Sciences to fix the height of the thermometer at which my subjects can be excused from looking out of their windows; but I decree, I absolutely decree, that the order be carried out to the letter.”
“And the sick people, Sire?”
“Of course let them be excepted; above all things we must be humane.”
“If I did not fear that I wearied your Majesty, I should still further venture to suggest (that is if you considered it suitable and not inconvenient) an exception in favour of the blind, since, being deprived of the organs of vision—”
“Well, is that all?” said I, somewhat angrily.
“Pardon me, Sire, but the lovers; will your Majesty’s kind heart oblige them also to look at the stars?”
“Well, well,” said the King, “we ill consider about that at our leisure. You will draw me up a detailed report on this point.” Good Heavens! how one must reflect before one issues such a sweeping arbitrary edict!