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attention of men from their real purpose； which in one degree or
another is the same as mine； to yours； that has earned you the
name of The Tempter。 It is the fact that they are doing your
will； or rather drifting with your want of will； instead of doing
their own； that makes them the uncomfortable； false； restless；
artificial； petulant； wretched creatures they are。
THE DEVIL。 ＇mortified＇ Senor Don Juan： you are uncivil to my
friends。
DON JUAN。 Pooh！ why should I be civil to them or to you？ In this
Palace of Lies a truth or two will not hurt you。 Your friends are
all the dullest dogs I know。 They are not beautiful： they are
only decorated。 They are not clean： they are only shaved and
starched。 They are not dignified： they are only fashionably
dressed。 They are not educated they are only college passmen。
They are not religious： they are only pewrenters。 They are not
moral： they are only conventional。 They are not virtuous： they
are only cowardly。 They are not even vicious： they are only
〃frail。〃 They are not artistic： they are only lascivious。 They
are not prosperous： they are only rich。 They are not loyal； they
are only servile； not dutiful； only sheepish； not public
spirited； only patriotic； not courageous； only quarrelsome； not
determined； only obstinate； not masterful； only domineering； not
self…controlled； only obtuse； not self…respecting； only vain； not
kind； only sentimental； not social； only gregarious； not
considerate； only polite； not intelligent； only opinionated； not
progressive； only factious； not imaginative； only superstitious；
not just； only vindictive； not generous； only propitiatory； not
disciplined； only cowed； and not truthful at allliars every one
of them； to the very backbone of their souls。
THE STATUE。 Your flow of words is simply amazing； Juan。 How I
wish I could have talked like that to my soldiers。
THE DEVIL。 It is mere talk； though。 It has all been said before；
but what change has it ever made？ What notice has the world ever
taken of it？
DON JUAN。 Yes； it is mere talk。 But why is it mere talk？ Because；
my friend； beauty； purity； respectability； religion； morality；
art； patriotism； bravery and the rest are nothing but words which
I or anyone else can turn inside out like a glove。 Were they
realities； you would have to plead guilty to my indictment； but
fortunately for your self…respect； my diabolical friend； they are
not realities。 As you say； they are mere words； useful for duping
barbarians into adopting civilization； or the civilized poor into
submitting to be robbed and enslaved。 That is the family secret
of the governing caste； and if we who are of that caste aimed at
more Life for the world instead of at more power and luxury for
our miserable selves； that secret would make us great。 Now； since
I； being a nobleman； am in the secret too； think how tedious to
me must be your unending cant about all these moralistic
figments； and how squalidly disastrous your sacrifice of your
lives to them！ If you even believed in your moral game enough to
play it fairly； it would be interesting to watch； but you don't：
you cheat at every trick； and if your opponent outcheats you； you
upset the table and try to murder him。
THE DEVIL。 On earth there may be some truth in this； because the
people are uneducated and cannot appreciate my religion of love
and beauty； but here
DON JUAN。 Oh yes： I know。 Here there is nothing but love and
beauty。 Ugh！ it is like sitting for all eternity at the first act
of a fashionable play； before the complications begin。 Never in
my worst moments of superstitious terror on earth did I dream
that Hell was so horrible。 I live； like a hairdresser； in the
continual contemplation of beauty； toying with silken tresses。 I
breathe an atmosphere of sweetness； like a confectioner's
shopboy。 Commander： are there any beautiful women in Heaven？
THE STATUE。 None。 Absolutely none。 All dowdies。 Not two pennorth
of jewellery among a dozen of them。 They might be men of fifty。
DON JUAN。 I am impatient to get there。 Is the word beauty ever
mentioned； and are there any artistic people？
THE STATUE。 I give you my word they won't admire a fine statue
even when it walks past them。
DON JUAN。 I go。
THE DEVIL。 Don Juan： shall I be frank with you？
DON JUAN。 Were you not so before？
THE DEVIL。 As far as I went； yes。 But I will now go further； and
confess to you that men get tired of everything； of heaven no
less than of hell； and that all history is nothing but a record
of the oscillations of the world between these two extremes。 An
epoch is but a swing of the pendulum； and each generation thinks
the world is progressing because it is always moving。 But when
you are as old as I am； when you have a thousand times wearied of
heaven； like myself and the Commander； and a thousand times
wearied of hell； as you are wearied now； you will no longer
imagine that every swing from heaven to hell is an emancipation；
every swing from hell to heaven an evolution。 Where you now see
reform； progress； fulfilment of upward tendency； continual ascent
by Man on the stepping stones of his dead selves to higher
things； you will see nothing but an infinite comedy of illusion。
You will discover the profound truth of the saying of my friend
Koheleth； that there is nothing new under the sun。 Vanitas
vanitatum
DON JUAN。 ＇out of all patience＇ By Heaven； this is worse than
your cant about love and beauty。 Clever dolt that you are； is a
man no better than a worm； or a dog than a wolf； because he gets
tired of everything？ Shall he give up eating because he destroys
his appetite in the act of gratifying it？ Is a field idle when it
is fallow？ Can the Commander expend his hellish energy here
without accumulating heavenly energy for his next term of
blessedness？ Granted that the great Life Force has hit on the
device of the clockmaker's pendulum； and uses the earth for its
bob； that the history of each oscillation； which seems so novel
to us the actors； is but the history of the last oscillation
repeated； nay more； that in the unthinkable infinitude of time
the sun throws off the earth and catches it again a thousand
times as a circus rider throws up a ball； and that the total
of all our epochs is but the moment between the toss and the
catch； has the colossal mechanism no purpose？
THE DEVIL。 None； my friend。 You think； because you have a
purpose； Nature must have one。 You might as well expect it to
have fingers and toes because you have them。
DON JUAN。 But I should not have them if they served no purpose。
And I； my friend； am as much a part of Nature as my own finger is
a part of me。 If my finger is the organ by which I grasp the
sword and the mandoline； my brain is the organ by which Nature
strives to understand itself。 My dog's brain serves only my dog's
purposes； but my brain labors at a knowledge which does nothing
for me personally but make my body bitter to me and my decay and
death a calamity。 Were I not possessed with a purpose beyond my
own I had better be a ploughman than a philosopher； for the
ploughman lives as long as the philosopher； eats more； sleeps
better； and rejoices in the wife of his