Mason & Dixon

by Thomas Pynchon

Such is the Duck’s Influence in the Camp, that several Axmen approach the Revd upon the Topick of Angels in general. “For instance,” carols young Nathe McClean, lately dazy for a Milkmaid of the Vicinity, “tho’ we know the Duck has been transform’d by Love, what of the Angels,— that is, may they . . . um . . .” “Aye, they do that, Lad, and they drink and smoke, and dance and gamble withal. Thought ev’ryone knew that. Some might even define an Angel as a Being who’s powerful enough not to be destroy’d by Desire in all its true and terrible Dimensions. Why,— a drop of their Porter? ’twould kill the hardiest drinker among ye,— they smoke Substances whose most distant Scent would asphyxiate us,— their Dancing-floors extend for Leagues, their Wagering, upon even a single trivial matter, would beggar Clive of India. And who’s to say that Human sin, down here, may not arise from this very inadequacy of ours, this failure of Scale, before the sovereign commands of Desire,— ” “Sin as practis’d is not deep enough for you, Sir?” inquires Dixon. “Why is it that we honor the Great Thieves of Whitehall, for Acts that in Whitechapel would merit hanging? Why admire the one sort of Thief, and despise the other? I suggest, ’tis because of the Scale of the Crime.— What we of the Mobility love to watch, is any of the Great Motrices, Greed, Lust, Revenge, taken out of all measure, brought quite past the scale of the ev’ryday world, approaching what we always knew were the true Dimensions of De...