Section 22. How I then tried to diffuse the Theory
of Three Dimensions by other means, and of the result
My failure with my Grandson did not encourage me to communicate
my secret to others of my household; yet neither was I led by it
to despair of success. Only I saw that I must not wholly rely
on the catch-phrase, "Upward, not Northward", but must rather
endeavour to seek a demonstration by setting before the public
a clear view of the whole subject; and for this purpose
it seemed necessary to resort to writing.
So I devoted several months in privacy to the composition
of a treatise on the mysteries of Three Dimensions. Only,
with the view of evading the Law, if possible, I spoke not
of a physical Dimension, but of a Thoughtland whence, in theory,
a Figure could look down upon Flatland and see simultaneously
the insides of all things, and where it was possible that there might
be supposed to exist a Figure environed, as it were, with six Squares,
and containing eight terminal Points. But in writing this book
I found myself sadly hampered by the impossibility of drawing
such diagrams as were necessary for my purpose; for of course,
in our country of Flatland, there are no tablets but Lines,
and no diagrams but Lines, all in one straight Line
and only distinguishable by difference of size and brightness;
so that, when I had finished my treatise (which I entitled,
"Through Flatland to Thoughtland") I could not feel certain
that many would understand my meaning.
Meanwhile my life was under a cloud. All pleasures palled upon me;
all sights tantalized and tempted me to outspoken treason,
because I could not but compare what I saw in Two Dimensions
with what it really was if seen in Three, and could hardly refrain
from making my comparisons aloud. I neglected my clients
and my own business to give myself to the contemplation
of the mysteries which I had once beheld, yet which I could impart
to no one, and found daily more difficult to reproduce even before
my own mental vision.
One day, about eleven months after my return from Spaceland,
I tried to see a Cube with my eye closed, but failed;
and though I succeeded afterwards, I was not then quite certain
(nor have I been ever afterwards) that I had exactly realized
the original. This made me more melancholy than before,
and determined me to take some step; yet what, I knew not.
I felt that I would have been willing to sacrifice my life
for the Cause, if thereby I could have produced conviction.
But if I could not convince my Grandson, how could I convince
the highest and most developed Circles in the land?
And yet at times my spirit was too strong for me, and I gave vent
to dangerous utterances. Already I was considered heterodox
if not treasonable, and I was keenly alive to the danger
of my position; nevertheless I could not at times refrain
from bursting out into suspicious or half-seditious utterances,
even among the highest Polygonal and Circular society. When,
for example, the question arose about the treatment of those lunatics
who said that they had received the power of seeing the insides
of things, I would quote the saying of an ancient Circle,
who declared that prophets and inspired people are always considered
by the majority to be mad; and I could not help occasionally dropping
such expressions as "the eye that discerns the interiors of things",
and "the all-seeing land"; once or twice I even let fall
the forbidden terms "the Third and Fourth Dimensions". At last,
to complete a series of minor indiscretions, at a meeting of our
Local Speculative Society held at the palace of the Prefect himself,
-- some extremely silly person having read an elaborate paper
exhibiting the precise reasons why Providence has limited
the number of Dimensions to Two, and why the attribute of omnividence
is assigned to the Supreme alone -- I so far forgot myself as to give
an exact account of the whole of my voyage with the Sphere into Space,
and to the Assembly Hall in our Metropolis, and then to Space again,
and of my return home, and of everything that I had seen and heard
in fact or vision. At first, indeed, I pretended that I was
describing the imaginary experiences of a fictitious person;
but my enthusiasm soon forced me to throw off all disguise,
and finally, in a fervent peroration, I exhorted all my hearers
to divest themselves of prejudice and to become believers
in the Third Dimension.
Need I say that I was at once arrested and taken before the Council?
Next morning, standing in the very place where but a very few
months ago the Sphere had stood in my company, I was allowed to begin
and to continue my narration unquestioned and uninterrupted.
But from the first I foresaw my fate; for the President,
noting that a guard of the better sort of Policemen was in attendance,
of angularity little, if at all, under 55 degrees, ordered them
to be relieved before I began my defence, by an inferior class
of 2 or 3 degrees. I knew only too well what that meant.
I was to be executed or imprisoned, and my story was to be kept secret
from the world by the simultaneous destruction of the officials
who had heard it; and, this being the case, the President desired
to substitute the cheaper for the more expensive victims.
After I had concluded my defence, the President, perhaps perceiving
that some of the junior Circles had been moved by my
evident earnestness, asked me two questions: --
1. Whether I could indicate the direction which I meant
when I used the words "Upward, not Northward"?
2. Whether I could by any diagrams or descriptions (other than
the enumeration of imaginary sides and angles) indicate the Figure
I was pleased to call a Cube?
I declared that I could say nothing more, and that I must
commit myself to the Truth, whose cause would surely prevail
in the end.
The President replied that he quite concurred in my sentiment,
and that I could not do better. I must be sentenced to
perpetual imprisonment; but if the Truth intended that I should emerge
from prison and evangelize the world, the Truth might be trusted
to bring that result to pass. Meanwhile I should be subjected
to no discomfort that was not necessary to preclude escape, and,
unless I forfeited the privilege by misconduct, I should be
occasionally permitted to see my brother who had preceded me
to my prison.
Seven years have elapsed and I am still a prisoner, and
-- if I except the occasional visits of my brother --
debarred from all companionship save that of my jailers.
My brother is one of the best of Squares, just, sensible,
cheerful, and not without fraternal affection; yet I confess
that my weekly interviews, at least in one respect, cause me
the bitterest pain. He was present when the Sphere manifested himself
in the Council Chamber; he saw the Sphere's changing sections;
he heard the explanation of the phenomena then given to the Circles.
Since that time, scarcely a week has passed during seven whole years,
without his hearing from me a repetition of the part I played
in that manifestation, together with ample descriptions
of all the phenomena in Spaceland, and the arguments for the existence
of Solid things derivable from Analogy. Yet -- I take shame
to be forced to confess it -- my brother has not yet grasped
the nature of the Third Dimension, and frankly avows his disbelief
in the existence of a Sphere.
Hence I am absolutely destitute of converts, and, for aught that
I can see, the millennial Revelation has been made to me for nothing.
Prometheus up in Spaceland was bound for bringing down fire
for mortals, but I -- poor Flatland Prometheus -- lie here in prison
for bringing down nothing to my countrymen. Yet I exist in the hope
that these memoirs, in some manner, I know not how, may find their way
to the minds of humanity in Some Dimension, and may stir up a race
of rebels who shall refuse to be confined to limited Dimensionality.
That is the hope of my brighter moments. Alas, it is not always so.
Heavily weighs on me at times the burdensome reflection that I cannot
honestly say I am confident as to the exact shape of the once-seen,
oft-regretted Cube; and in my nightly visions the mysterious precept,
"Upward, not Northward", haunts me like a soul-devouring Sphinx.
It is part of the martyrdom which I endure for the cause of the Truth
that there are seasons of mental weakness, when Cubes and Spheres
flit away into the background of scarce-possible existences;
when the Land of Three Dimensions seems almost as visionary
as the Land of One or None; nay, when even this hard wall that bars me
from my freedom, these very tablets on which I am writing,
and all the substantial realities of Flatland itself, appear no better
than the offspring of a diseased imagination, or the baseless fabric
of a dream.
THE END of FLATLAND
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| THE END of |
| ______ |
| / / /| ------ / /| /| / /-. |
| /---- / /__| / / /__| / | / / / |
| / /___ / | / /___ / | / |/ /__.-' |
| |
| The baseless fabric of my vision |
| Melted into air into thin air |
| Such stuff as dreams are made of |
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