“But,” said the legislator rising, “no matter you have willed it so.  Nations! here is an urn in which all your names are placed:  one only is a prize:  approach, and draw this tremendous lottery!” And the nations, seized with terror cried:  “No, no; we are all brothers, all equal; we cannot condemn each other.”

“Then,” said the legislator, resuming his seat:  “O men! who dispute on so many subjects, lend an attentive ear to one problem which you exhibit, and which you ought to decide yourselves.”

And the people, giving great attention, he lifted an arm towards heaven, and, pointing to the sun, said: 

“Nations, does that sun, which enlightens you, appear square or triangular?”

“No,” answered they with one voice, “it is round.”

Then, taking the golden balance that was on the altar: 

“This gold,” said the legislator, “that you handle every day, is it heavier than the same volume of copper?”

“Yes,” answered all the people, “gold is heavier than Copper.”

Then, taking the sword: 

“Is this iron,” said the legislator, “softer than lead?”

“No,” said the people.

“Is sugar sweet, and gall bitter?”

“Yes.”

“Do you love pleasure and hate pain?”

“Yes.”

“Thus, then, you are agreed in these points, and many others of the same nature.

“Now, tell us, is there a cavern in the centre of the earth, or inhabitants in the moon?”

This question caused a universal murmur.  Every one answered differently—­some yes, others no; one said it was probable, another said it was an idle and ridiculous question; some, that it was worth knowing.  And the discord was universal.

After some time the legislator, having obtained silence, said: 

“Explain to us, O Nations! this problem:  we have put to you several questions which you have answered with one voice, without distinction of race or of sect:  white men, black men, followers of Mahomet and of Moses, worshippers of Boudha and of Jesus, all have returned the same answer.  We then proposed another question, and you have all disagreed!  Why this unanimity in one case, and this discordance in the other?”

And the group of simple men and savages answered and said:  “The reason of this is plain.  In the first case we see and feel the objects, and we speak from sensation; in the second, they are beyond the reach of our senses—­we speak of them only from conjecture.”

“You have resolved the problem,” said the legislator; “and your own consent has established this first truth: 

“That whenever objects can be examined and judged of by your senses, you are agreed in opinion; and that you only differ when the objects are absent and beyond your reach.

“From this first truth flows another equally clear and worthy of notice.  Since you agree on things which you know with certainty, it follows that you disagree only on those which you know not with certainty, and about which you are not sure; that is to say, you dispute, you quarrel, you fight, for that which is uncertain, that of which you doubt.  O men! is this wisdom?