THE HISTORY OF ARSACES, PRINCE OF BETLIS.
Ficta, voluptatis causâ, sint proxima veris.
By the EDITOR of CHRYSAL.
VOLUME II.
LONDON: Printed for T. BECKET, Corner of the Adelphi, in the Strand. MDCCLXXIV.
CONTENTS OF THE SECOND VOLUME.
BOOK THE FIRST.
SECTION I.
SELIM continues his narrative. The Byrsans invade the country of the Coptes. Their conduct; and the event of the invasion,
Page 1
SECT. II.
The Byrsans continue to act in character. Their conduct retorted upon themselves. Fall of the Byrsan state,
Page 5
SECT. III.
Himilco resumes the narrative of his own adventures. He meets a grateful return for an act of beneficence,
Page 11
SECT. IV.
Himilco, on the recovery of his senses, finds himself a prisoner among the Coptes. Conduct of a good priest. Himilco learns the ruin of his country, and resolves to attempt retrieving it,
Page 17
SECT. V.
Himilco applies to the Byrsan colonies for assistance. They reject his application. He gives up all hope of relieving his country, and repairs to his friend at Cairo,
Page 23
SECT. VI.
Himilco's friend disapproves of his design of retiring from the world. Himilco sees a vision, which suggests new designs,
Page 27
SECT. VII.
Himilco revisits his native country; but to no effect. He is obliged to contract his scheme. He visits the good priest; and forms new connections,
Page 33
SECT. VIII.
Himilco returns to his friend at Cairo. He finds himself under a necessity of altering his scheme. He travels into the desarts of Africa, where he fixes his habitation. Unhappy conclusion of his history,
Page 39
SECT. IX.
Selim resumes the history of his own life. He makes a proposal to Himilco; which Himilco agrees to, under certain conditions. Selim departs from the habitation of Himilco,
Page 47
SECT. X.
Selim, in traversing the desarts of Africa, meets with a people of an uncommon kind. Their mutual fears of each other. He repels a formidable attack,
Page 52
SECT. XI.
Selim enters into amity with the little people. Description of a subterraneous city,
Page 58
SECT. XII.
Manners of the little people. Selim is convinced of a popular error. He pursues his journey; and joins a caravan, which is travelling to Mecca,
Page 65
BOOK THE SECOND.
SECTION I.
Selim meets with a Santone. The conduct of the Santone fills him with many doubts. The Santone enters into confidence with him,
77
SECT. II.
The Santone opens to Selim some of the mysteries of spiritual ambition. Interesting remarks on religious exercises. The Santone makes an extraordinary proposal to Selim,
83
SECT. III.
Selim leaves the caravan. He arrives at Bagdat, where he is met by an old acquaintance. Selim becomes a favourite of the Khaliff,
93
SECT. IV.
Selim is made grand visier. He resumes his former scheme of moral reformation. He meets an unexpected obstacle. Curious pretensions to preferment. Selim determines to leave Bagdat. He enters into the military life,
101
SECT. V.
Selim quits the service of the Khaliff; and rises to high command in that of Aladdin. Selim is disgraced for an uncommon reason,
109
SECT. VI.
Selim returns to the habitation of his father. He is disappointed in his hope of finding him. He proceeds to seek his father; is forced into the service of Mohammed; and taken captive by Temugin,
117
SECT. VII.
Temugin shews favour to Selim. Selim performs important service to Temugin,
124
SECT. VIII.
Selim makes a dangerous request. Generosity of Temugin. An affecting contest of an uncommon kind,
130
SECT. IX.
Selim prevents an attempt to cover one crime, by committing another. An uncommon instance of a king's regard for his people,
136
SECT. X.
A rebellion traced to a cause, not unusual,
142
SECT. XI.
Selim executes a signal instance of justice. His conduct is approved by Temugin. Selim advances in the favour of Temugin, who gives him the name of Togrul,
147
BOOK THE THIRD.
SECTION I.
Togrul is unhappy in the midst of happiness. Temugin entrusts him with a delicate charge. History of a Guebre,
153
SECT. II.
The history of a Guebre continued. A common cause involves the Guebre, and his wife, in affecting distress,
164
SECT. III.
Continuation of the history of a Guebre. A signal instance of justice executed by an uncommon agent. Affecting conclusion of the history of a Guebre,
170
SECT. IV.
An extraordinary vindication of an extraordinary custom,
175
SECT. V.
Togrul arrives at Bagdat. He escapes an imminent danger; and retorts a base design on its author,
180
SECT. VI.
Togrul seizes the visier of the Khaliff. Interview between Selim and the Khaliff. The Khaliff resigns his sceptre to Togrul, who restores it, in the name of Temugin,
188
SECT. VII.
Togrul discovers himself to the Khaliff. Pleasing explanations. Togrul declines an offer too seldom declined,
196
SECT. VIII.
Togrul finds a friend in an unexpected situation. An uncommon instance of loyalty. An affecting interview ended more affectingly,
200
SECT. IX.
Togrul's reason for giving the Khaliff a good peace approved by Temugin,
208
SECT. X.
More happiness makes Togrul more unhappy,
213
SECT. XI.
Togrul meets temptation, to which he is unequal,
215
SECT. XII.
Togrul finds, and resolves to correct his fault. He is again led into danger by officious zeal,
223
SECT. XIII.
Togrul relapses. An unlooked for discovery saves him, on the brink of ruin,
228
SECT. XIV.
Togrul repairs his faults. Generosity of Temugin. He refuses Togrul permission to quit his service,
233
BOOK THE FOURTH.
SECTION I.
Temugin gives Togrul a new proof of his confidence. Togrul invades the kingdom of Betlis, and brings the king to a battle,
239
SECT. II.
Combat between Togrul and the king of Betlis. The king is saved by an affecting interposition. Abudah makes a truce between the two armies,
245
SECT. III.
Abudah discovers to Togrul that he is son to the king of Betlis. Interview between Togrul and his father. They agree upon terms of peace,
250
SECT. IV.
Abudah acquaints Togrul with the circumstances of his birth; and the history of his family,
255
SECT. V.
Abudah presents Togrul, by his own name of Arsaces, to Astyages, his father. Arsaces and Astyages repair to Temugin,
260
SECT. VI.
Arsaces acquaints Temugin with the success of his expedition; and presents Astyages to him. Temugin, overcome by the passionate intercession of Arsaces, confirms the peace; and receives Astyages to his friendship,
264
SECT. VII.
Astyages and Arsaces return to Betlis. Astyages approves of Arsaces's attachment to the daughter of Himilco. Arsaces and Abudah repair to Himilco in the desart. Arsaces weds Arpasia. The conclusion,
271
THE HISTORY OF ARSACES, PRINCE OF BETLIS. BOOK THE FIRST.
SECTION I.
'THE lure of private advantage,' (resumed the captive, the next evening, in the words of Himilco)
which had been held up to the Byrsans, to draw them into the war, had fired them with such an universal phrenzy, that their army might almost have been said to contain the whole nation. People of both sexes, of every age, and rank, crowded as to a festival, in all the pomp and parade of affluence and luxury, to gratify curiosity and share in the spoil; for so confident were they of success, that they even carried chains to bind their enemies, whom they already considered as captives.
It was impossible to make the impatience of such a multitude submit to the necessary delays of discipline, or observe military order, in their march against a foe, whom they despised. They broke, like a deluge, into the country of the Coptes, who, having lived in the security of innocence and peace, were unprepared to resist such an attack, and ravaged it with all the wanton insolence and cruelties of conquest.
But though the Coptes were unable to face such numbers in the field, they lost not that courage with which honest indignation always fires a virtuous breast. They removed their families into places of present safety, among the inaccessible fastnesses of the mountains; and then dividing themselves into separate bodies, kept out of the sight of their enemies, till they should find an opportunity for attacking them with that advantage which their manner of proceeding promised.
This conduct, which should have put the Byrsans on their guard, only made them more confident and secure. They attributed it to fear; and spreading themselves over the country, as if they had no enemy to apprehend, soon gave the Coptes that opportunity for which they watched; who falling upon them, from every quarter, at the same time, with the irresistible fury of men animated by the justice of their cause, and fighting for all they held dear, overthrew them with such a slaughter, that scarcely enough escaped to bear home the melancholy tidings of their defeat.
It is impossible to describe the effects of this misfortune upon the minds of the Byrsans. Their dejection now exceeded their late confidence, and shewed, in the strongest light, the difference between true fortitude, inspired by virtue, and the vain presumption of arrogance; as their fate, soon after, did that between power, founded on the solid basis of internal strength, and the false semblance of it, which is reflected by wealth and present prosperity.
Fostered in the lap of luxury, the wordy warriours, whose valour had been so loud in the council, whose boasting had inflamed the multitude to madness, now shuddered at the apprehension of having those evils, which they had wantonly caused to be inflicted on their unoffending neighbours, retorted on themselves; and basely fled behind their sovereign for shelter, leaving him to struggle with the storm, which they had raised against his principles and opinion.
True nobleness of soul always shines brightest in adversity. The voice of danger awoke the virtues of Amilcar, who then sat upon the throne of Narbal, and proved the blood of his illustrious race. He summoned the poor remains of his people, and without descending to fruitless accusations, ordered to arms every one able to take the field, proposing to lead them directly against the enemy, if happily he might surprize them in the security of their late victory; and by one brave effort, wipe off the dishonour they had suffered.
SECTION II.
PASSION, when broken loose from the rule of reason, is ever in extreams. Fear had now taken such absolute possession of the Byrsans, that they trembled at the very thought of a war, with those whom they so lately had despised; and shutting their ears to the name of honour, by their infatuated cowardice, disabled their sovereign from attempting to deliver them from the distress into which they had been plunged by their own rashness. Deaf to his exhortations, and in despite of his authority, they sent an embassy to beg for peace, in the most abject terms; but they were now made to feel, in their turn, the insolence of power.
The leaders of the Coptick nation, no longer thinking themselves under the necessity of preserving any measures with them, in order to confirm the confidence and sharpen the animosity of their own people, gave audience to the ambassadors, in the presence of the whole army; and having received their humiliations with contempt, replied to their supplications for peace, by aggravating every insult and oppression which they had ever received from them; and enumerating, for they admitted not of aggravation, all the cruelties and outrages which they had committed in their late invasion; concluding with declaring their resolution to pursue to the last extremity a people, whose pride and injustice had made them the general enemies of human-kind.
Instead of their being rouzed by this menace, to that manly desperation which often produces safety, it only sunk them deeper in the most despicable weakness of fear. Each looked to the other for that counsel, which he himself had neither presence of mind to give, nor spirit to pursue.
They were utterly at a loss. Their own people were dispersed at too great a distance, in their colonies, to be collected in time for affording them relief; and consciousness of their former conduct towards those, whom necessity had obliged to live in alliance with them, would not permit their placing any confidence in their assistance.
However, as they had lost every other hope, they sent to all the neighbouring nations to implore aid in their distress; but in vain.
They were answered with demands of redress for injuries offered in the day of their prosperity; and which would never have been mentioned, had the power, which committed, remained to support them; and saw the very people, to whom they had applied for assistance, prepare to join their enemies, in hope of sharing in the spoil of that wealth, which they had unhappily mistaken for strength; but now found to be only a lure to tempt ruin.
This aggravated their fears to distraction, and made them still an easier conquest to their enemies, who had now advanced into the bosom of their country, where they returned all the outrages which had been exercised upon themselves before.
The wretched Byrsans, unconnected by the ties of social virtue, uninspired with the sacred love of their country, and unsupported by the principles of religion, thought only of shifting every one for himself, and flying with his darling wealth, (though he knew not whither to direct his flight, nor had time to provide the proper means for it) regardless of the commands, the entreaties of their sovereign, who, glowing with the virtues of his race, conjured them by every motive, justly dear to man, to imitate his example, and die with honour; if they could not live with happiness.
Animated by this divine principle, he put himself at the head of his own houshold, and disdaining to be attacked in a city, which he had not force to defend, met the enemy in the field, where he sealed his love to his country with his blood, as became the descendant of Narbal.
Here let me drop the veil, nor put humanity to pain, by striving to represent scenes, in which the unavoidable horrors of war were rendered still more horrible by personal animosity and revenge.
Suffice it to say, that such of the wretched people as fell in the way of the conquerors in the first heat of their fury, were put to the sword without respect to age or sex; the city razed to the ground, and the name of Byrsa no longer numbered among nations.
At these words grief choaked his utterance. He covered his face, for a few moments; and having paid the tribute of a pious tear to the memory of his country, thus continued his narrative.
SECTION III.
IT was my peculiar fate to be spared the pain of beholding these scenes of devastation and cruelty.
As I was riding one day, at some distance from the Byrsan army, soon after our entering the country of the Coptes, I saw a town delightfully situated, at the entrance of a beautiful valley, wrapped in flames.
Too many sights, of the same kind, making me at no loss for the cause of such a calamity, I hasted directly to the place, to put a stop to the outrages of the soldiers, and administer what relief I could to the unhappy sufferers, who were only such as age and infirmity had prevented from retiring with the rest; and would have bespoken compassion for, from every heart, not hardened against the feelings of humanity.
I flew from place to place, wherever the cries of distress call'd for my assistance. I commanded! I entreated! and where every other method failed, had recourse to force to make the ravagers remember they were men.
As I was labouring thus, I met a party of the Byrsans, dragging, by his grey hairs, an aged priest, while others goaded him on, with their spears, toward a magnificent temple, which they had set on fire, and designed to throw him into the flames.
Struck with horror at the sight, I rushed among the worse than brutal wretches, and smiting with my sword one of them, who refused to obey my command, rescued the trembling victim from their cruelty.
As soon as he had recovered a little from the stupefaction of affright, he threw himself at my feet, and regarding me with a look of ineffable expression, the emotions of his heart depriving him of utterance, raised his hands and eyes to heaven, to implore its blessings on his deliverer.
Melting in sympathy to his distress, I raised him from the ground; and was going to speak words of comfort to his grief, when a sudden shout drew my attention to other objects.
I turned hastily; and saw the Byrsans flying on every side, before a body of the Coptes, who had poured from the neighbouring mountain, with the impetuosity of a torrent, and bore down every thing they met: I flew to oppose them; and strove by my voice and actions to animate the Byrsans, to a resistance, which alone could procure their safety.
But all my efforts were in vain. Incumbered with spoil, and enfeebled by their own excesses, they fell just and easy victims to the vengeance of their foes, who were exasperated to such rage by their inhuman ravages, and cruelty, of which every object around presented them with the most horrid instances, that they slew every Byrsan they met, many of them in the very act of imploring that mercy, which they had so lately refused to others.
Those, who had immediately followed me, were too few to oppose such numbers with success: for in the false security into which the retreat of the Coptes had betrayed us, I had wandered that morning to take a view of the country, attended only by some of my own domestics.
Attached by personal regard, no danger could make them desert me. But valour wastes itself it vain against unequal force. They all fell fighting faithfully around me, leaving me alone, and covered with wounds, in the midst of an host of enemies, enraged to madness, and breathing nothing but death.
But still, the natural impulse of self-preservation, prompted me to avert the stroke of fate, as long as I could; and I was animated by the desire of dying with honour, after I had lost every hope of safety.
With this view, I collected all my strength, and advanced to smite one of the foremost of the Coptes, who pressed upon me, as I stood with my back to a pillar, to prevent my being surrounded; but weakened by the loss of blood, which streamed from every part of my body, my sword flew out of my hand, and I fell at my length upon the ground, destitute of every power of further resistance, or defence.
This thought doubled the horrors of a situation, from which there appeared no possibility of escape. I saw the sword lifted to strike, when in the moment which divides life from death, the Coptic priest, whom I had just before saved from the cruelty of the Byrsans, burst through the croud, and fearless of the swords, which hung over my head, threw himself upon me, and covered my body with his own.
Respect to his sacred character and virtues instantly restrained their rage; and procured me a safety, of which I was long insensible, having swooned away, quite exhausted by my loss of blood, just as the good man had enfolded me in his arms.
SECTION IV.
AT the return of reason, I found myself in a place to which I was a stranger. My wounds and weakness soon recalled to my memory, the situation in which I had lately been; but how I had escaped, or where I now was, I could not form any conception.
While I was striving to recollect my scattered thoughts, the good priest entered the chamber, and approaching softly to the bed where I lay, leaned over me, for a few moments, when perceiving that I breathed, he kneeled at my side, and prayed to heaven, in the fervency of true piety, for my recovery.
At the first sight of him, I remembered the manner, in which he had stept between me and death; as his actions now sufficiently explained my my situation. My soul was struck with reverential awe, at such sublime virtue; and joined in his prayers, without presuming to interrupt him.
When he had ended, I made an effort to speak, which drew all his attention; but my weakness made my words unintelligible. A flash of joyful surprize enlightened all his face. He raised his eyes to heaven, with a rapturous ejaculation of gratitude and praise; then leaning over me again, exhorted me tenderly to compose my self to rest; and not hazard a recovery, of which heaven had thus given unexpected hope, by endeavouring to exert a strength above my condition.
I felt the justice of what he said; and testified by my looks, an assent, which I was not able to utter.
I continued in this weak estate for many days, every hour of which was distinguished by some new instance of the tenderness of my friend, (the name by which he always called me) who never entrusted me for a moment to the care of any other person, except one, in whom he knew he could confide.
Nor was his care confined to the recovery of my health. He poured the balm of comfort into my soul; and fortified it against the evils incident to humanity, by inculcating the duty and benefit of submission to the will of heaven, whose ways he proved to be always right, however contrary to the wishes, and inscrutable to the wisdom of man.
In the course of these delightful conferences, which he lengthened as my strength encreased, I sometimes distantly hinted a desire to be informed of the progress of the war; but he always eluded my curiosity, changing his discourse directly to some of the most important and affecting points of moral virtue and religion, which he discussed in a manner, that took off my attention from every other subject.
Painful remembrance made me attribute this reserve, which I soon perceived, to a delicacy of distressing me, with a recital of the ravages of the Byrsans; for infatuated confidence in their numbers, prevented every apprehension of disaster to them. I therefore desisted from my enquiries; and resolved to wait with patience for a discovery, which I dreaded, though for a reason most contrary to the truth.
Full of this thought, the employment of my mind, in every moment of his absence, was to find out some method of healing the unhappy breach between the two nations, to which I flattered myself with an hope, that the humanity, and tenderness which I had experienced, would in a great measure prepare the way.
The first glimpse of this hope was too pleasing to be resisted. I communicated it immediately, in the fulness of my heart, to the good priest; urging it as a reason for desiring that the ransom of my liberty should be fixed; and permission given me to send to my own country, where I owned that my rank was not inconsiderable.
This made it impossible to conceal the fate of my country from me any longer; nor indeed was it necessary, as my recovery was now compleated; and my mind restored to its native strength.
The good man, however, opened the black detail gradually, and with all the delicacy, which the nature of it would admit, keeping hope alive to the last moment.
I shall not attempt to describe what I felt, on finding all my forebodings so unhappily fulfilled. A just sense of the duty of resignation alone could have saved me from despair; as the duty I owed my country determined me to try whether it might not still be possible for me to retrieve its affairs; and restore it once more to a state of rational prosperity. I owed the attempt, at least, to the blood of Narbal, which flowed in my veins; and whose example I had before my eyes.
I departed, therefore, secretly from the house of my kind preserver, disguised in the habit of a faquir; and went with an heavy heart to learn the truth, of what I scarce dared to doubt.
SECTION V.
THE appearance of ingratitude, which my departing in this manner bore, was most painful to me. But it was not to be avoided.
From some expressions dropped at different times, by my benevolent host, I had reason to think that an assurance of acquiescing in the present state of my country, would be expected from me, before I should be set at liberty, which would obviate my dearest hopes; besides, that a regular valediction would have been attended with circumstances of tenderness, of a particular nature, which I doubted my own ability to support.
The scenes, which every where presented themselves to me, on my entering the country of Byrsa, exceeded my worst apprehensions. Desolation is too soft a name, for a country, which but a few moons before, had flourished in all the riches of nature, all the embellishments of art; while the few wretched natives, who had escaped the slaughter, were driven into the most inhospitable parts of the Coptic mountains, where they were condemned to every servile labour, and interdicted even the sight of their own country, on pain of instant death.
Grief gave place to indignation. My soul disdained to think of aught but vengeance. Nor was I at a loss, by what means to seek it. I turned my face directly to our colonies, where I doubted not but a just description of the fate of their mother country, would arouse an effectual resentment, as I knew their force was amply sufficient to overpower every resistance, which the enemy could oppose to them.
But what was my astonishment! How was the object of my indignation changed, when I found all my entreaties rejected, all my remonstrances treated with contempt! They told me that they owned no country, but that which gave them bread. They enumerated the hardships, which had driven them from their native home. They blazoned the luxury, the insolence, and oppression of the Byrsans, in the strongest colours; and then asked me, whether I thought such a people deserved, that they should hazard their own happiness to endeavour to recover for them a country, which they had been so basely afraid to defend; as they said, they well knew, that should their endeavours prove successful, the Byrsans would instantly croud home, from the places whither they had ignominiously fled with their wealth, and resume their former tyranny.
I acknowledged the hand of heaven in the fate of the Byrsans; and submitting to its sacred will, looked among the nations round for a place of refuge, where I might fulfil the number of my days unknown; for I resolved never more to mix with the world, or concern myself in its ways.
After thinking of many places, without being able to determine my choice, it at length occurred to me, that my friend and fellow-sufferer in the shipwreck, might probably be able to direct me, as he had travelled over the greatest part of the earth, in his profession of a merchant. I disposed, therefore, of all the property which belonged to me, among those unnatural people; and bidding an eternal adieu to every thing, which had any way been connected with Byrsa, repaired to Cairo.
SECTION VI.
ON my arrival at the house of my friend, I found him just preparing to go in search of me, the fate of my country, of which he had received the melancholy tidings, having alarmed his regard for my safety.
It is impossible to express his joy, when he saw me. He hung upon my neck for some minutes unable to speak, while we mingled the tears of melancholy remembrance and affection.
As soon as I had explained to him the immediate occasion of my coming,
My friend,
said he,
it is true, that I know many such places as you seek; but I would, by no means, advise you to bury yourself thus alive.
Your heart is at present soured by the misfortunes of your country, and sickens at the thought of every thing, which may remind you of them; but believe me, it is not in retirement that you must expect relief. The sameness of the scene will soon pall upon you. Destitute of other objects, your mind will continually look back to your misfortunes; so that instead of flying from melancholy, you will only give yourself up an helpless prey to it.
Continue therefore here, with me, for a season. The multitudes which croud to this city, from all parts of the world, will afford you ample matter for rational speculation; and divert your thoughts from dwelling on the objects, which at present give you so much pain. The retreat which you want, is from yourself; and that can be had only in the bustle of the world.
I was struck with the justice of what he said, though it unhinged the dearest purpose of my heart. I knew not what to determine.
While I fluctuated in this state of uncertainty, I dreamed a dream one night in my bed; and thought I saw the spirit of my father standing before me. After regarding me for some minutes with a look of reprehension, "Is it thus," methought he said,
that the descendant of Narbal should be employed, while his fellow-citizens are groaning under the yoke of slavery? If his country is lost, are there not others to be found? A brave man can make his home any where. The sun not finding a place of rest, returns to that from which he begun his course.
On communicating my dream to my friend, he was no less struck with it than myself.
You see,
said he,
that heaven interdicts your retiring from the world. Idleness is the vice of a weak mind. Man was designed for action; and you are expressly directed what you are to do. All that remains is to concert measures properly. Heaven hath given us reason to direct us, and we are made answerable, in the success of our undertakings, for the use we make of it.
We then entered into consultation upon the manner in which I should proceed. The explication of my dream was obvious. I resolved to repair immediately to Byrsa, and collect as many of my wretched countrymen, as I could find willing to share my fortunes.
But the difficulty was how to procure an establishment for them, in the place to which I was directed. My friend informed me, from his own s
d experience, that the very ruins of Carthage, that once proud queen of Africa, were scarcely to be traced.
Nor was the face of the country, he said, more changed, than the manners of the inhabitants, who, ignorant of every civil art, every social and moral virtue, lived in a state of war with humanity itself; plundering ind
scriminately all, who had the misfortune to fall into their hands, and treating them with the most savage cruelty, only because in their power.
Discouraging as this representation was, I was not to be deterred by it, from that which I held my duty. I resolved to make the attempt, and submit the event to heaven, which could never want means to effect its own designs.
My friend, who had no other view but my advantage, did not oppose a resolution, the motive of which he could not controvert.
I have fulfilled one part of the duty of a friend,
said he,
by shewing the difficulty of what you are about to undertake. I will now fulfil the other, by assisting you in your undertaking. The wealth, which I saved by your means, I will devote to your service. Though advanced in age, I feel none of its infirmities. My spirit is good, and my health vigorous.
While you, therefore, go to collect your people, I will make the necessary preparations for conveying them in an happy hour, to the place of their destination. Direct them to come hither separately, to avoid giving any alarm; and leave the rest to my care.
SECTION VII.
I ONCE more assumed the habit of a faquir, under the disguise of which I eluded the jealous vigilance of the Coptes, while I traversed the country of Byrsa, and all the neighbouring mountains, whither the wretched natives had been banished by them.
But what was my astonishment! How did my heart swell with indignant grief, when I found all my endeavours to awake them to a sense of virtue, and pious confidence in heaven, of no effect. Their spirit was utterly broken. They sunk under their misfortunes; and preferred an indolent life, in the most abject state of slavery, to any prospect the attainment of which was to be attended with difficulty and danger.
Such a degeneracy weaned my soul from them. I left them to the fate they deserved; and directing the few survivors of my own domestics and dependants, in whom the example of my father had preserved some remains of virtue, to meet me at the habitation of my friend in Cairo, I yielded to the impulse of a tenderness, but badly suited to my situation, while I went to pay the debt of gratitude to the Coptic priest, who had in so generous a manner preserved my life.
I have said, that he had never entrusted the care of my recovery to any, but himself and one person more. O, my son! that person was his only daughter; the most beautiful of her sex; but beauty was her lowest praise. She it was, who watched over me, in the absence of her father, and sweetened the tenderest offices of humanity, by the manner in which she performed them.
It was impossible not to have a sense of gratitude for such obligation; and gratitude between the sexes always leads to love.
Nor did I attempt to check the advances of this tender passion. I was in every respect disengaged; and my rank in my own country, I thought, would make my alliance an advantage to any of the Coptes; for, alas! I knew not then that I had no country.
As this pleasing hope accelerated my recovery, it may naturally be judged, what I felt on finding the foundation of it overturned by the ruin of the Byrsan state. I strove to repress it, but in vain. It had taken too deep root in my heart, to be ever expelled.
I had before concealed my passion from motives of delicacy; and I now continued my reserve from pride. I had flattered myself, that after the establishment of peace, the proposal would be received with pleasure; but as that event was become impossible, I thought it would only look like adding to a debt, which I was unable to pay; and this was the chief reason of my departing secretly from the house of her father. I could not trust my heart in such a conflict.
When I arrived near the mansion of my benefactor, I waited in a grove, whither I knew he repaired every morning to perform his devotions.
I must not attempt to describe our meeting. After some moments of extatic silence, I answered the enquiries of his regard, with a candid account of every thing which had befallen me, since my departure from him. Nor did I conceal the reasons of my having departed in so secret a manner.
He listened to me with the most anxious attention; and as soon as I had ended, "My son," said he,
I approve of your conduct in every instance; and admire a virtue, which acquires additional lustre, from every addition of distress.
The will of heaven must be obeyed. You must lead back your few faithful followers, to the seat of their ancestors. Nor shall you lead them only. I will accompany your pious steps: and my daughter also will be easily prevailed upon to go with us. She wisheth not a fate separate from yours; and my soul so deeply detests the atrocious manner, in which this infatuated people have abused their success, that I will remain no longer among them.
He then led me to his habitation, where he, the same evening, raised me secretly to the summit of human happiness, by giving me his daughter in marriage; who blushingly owned that love had had an equal share with the duties of humanity, in all the tender offices which she had performed for me.
I should have held it a crime to have suffered any indulgence to myself, however virtuous, to delay my obedience to the divine command, by which I thought myself directed in my intended expedition. Nor was the zeal of my father less ardent! We left his habitation in the disguise, which had so often proved favourable to me; and committing ourselves to the guidance of heaven, arrived at Cairo in safety.
SECTION VIII.
THE hopes which my success thus far had raised, were considerably lowered by the accounts which I received from my friend on our arrival; who had learned, that the inhabitants of the ancient territories of Carthage were engaged in the most furious civil wars, which they waged with such animosity, that no person dared to approach their coasts; an absolute stranger being the common prey of all; and a connection with any one people exposing to the outrages of all the rest.
While we were deliberating what course to pursue, amid such difficulties, my father one day asked the merchant, if the inhabitants, in the interior parts of the country, were equally barbarous with those on the sea-coasts; and if not, whether it might not be possible for us to travel thither by land, so as to avoid the dangers which prevented our going directly to Carthage, and fulfil the intent of my vision at the same time, by settling in some convenient part of the Carthaginian territories, as no particular place had been expressly pointed out in it.
The merchant was struck at this remark; and pausing for some time, answered, that he had formerly been acquainted with many who had traversed those immense regions, in the caravans which went in pilgrimage to Mecca; one of whom had informed him, that he had seen the ruins of several magnificent cities in different parts of them, particularly near the confines of Biledulgerid, a country which wanted nothing but cultivation to make it equal to any other under heaven; there not being the least trace of human habitation within the distance of many days journey; adding, that he had been so struck by the description, that he had enquired particularly where those ruins lay, and was confident he could find his way to them, though the journey was long, and would be attended both with difficulty and danger.
But these obstacles were of no force. The description of the country, and its situation, evidently within the territories of Carthage, determined us to direct our steps thither, hoping that if it was not immediately the place appointed for us, we might wait there in safety till we could find some more happy time for proceeding to Carthage.
In consequence of this resolution, we set out from Cairo, in number about three hundred persons, carrying every thing necessary for the establishment of a colony, which the care of my friend had provided in the most ample measure.
I shall not describe a journey, distinguished only by the inconveniencies naturally incident to the countries thro' which we passed, and in which I bore no farther share, than what regarded myself and the wife of my bosom; the conduct of every thing being resigned to my friend, whose experience was our best guide and safeguard through those inhospitable regions.
After a pilgrimage of more than twenty moons, in which we suffered every hardship which humanity could surmount, we arrived at this place. The appearance confessedly was far from encouraging; but it was in the country we wished to come to; it was a place where we could hope for rest.
Our first care was to guard against the attacks of violence from any of the rovers of those desarts, who might happen to discover our retreat; which the nature of the place enabled us soon to effect.
This building being amply capable of containing our whole number, we repaired the injuries it had suffered from time or force, and then proceeded to work with spirit abroad, as we were certain that we slept in safety at home.
But alas! this gleam of happiness was too bright to last. My faithful friend, the merchant, had so far overstrained his strength, in our journey, that nature failed, and he died soon after our arrival. Our tears bore the truest testimony of honour to his merits; but his death was only a presage of greater misfortunes.
We had scarcely begun to taste the first fruits of our husbandry, when a pestilential wind struck the labourers in the field, who bringing the contagion into our common habitation, it soon ran through our whole colony, with such malignancy, that in the space of little more than a moon, there remained alive only my father, my wife, and myself.
What we must have felt, in such a situation, need not be told. The wisdom of my father, and the consolations of my wife, were scarcely sufficient to keep my heart from rebelling against heaven, by repining at its will; as I looked upon myself to be the cause of their misfortunes.
The lenient hand of time had but just begun to heal my soul, when our father sunk gently into the sweet sleep of timely death, leaving his disconsolate daughter, and her more unhappy husband, to mourn a loss, deplorable in itself, but ten thousand fold more to be deplored from the peculiar circumstances of our situation.
Heaven always proportions our strength to the trials which it lays before us. Resigned to its good pleasure, my wife and I found inexhausted comfort in each other for near two hundred moons; when the bite of an adder, as we walked, one unhappy day, on the bank of yonder river, deprived me of the better half of my heart.
This was a stroke which I could never have supported, had not an infant daughter, the sole pledge of our loves, called forth every virtue to our mutual aid. I remembered the reciprocal duties of nature, and submitted to suffer the misery of life for her sake; nor have I ever known another care since, but for her happiness, without once daring to look forward to the dreadful hour of our separation.
From that time my life hath been a perfect blank. I have not even dared to indulge hope, because I have had no rational expectation upon which I can found it. I walk blindfold in the guidance of heaven, without presuming to consider whither it may lead me.
Whether the disappointment of the design, which led me to this place, arose from my shewing a diffidence in the power of heaven, by letting any human obstacle divert me from going directly to Carthage; or whether my vision was not merely an illusion of my own imagination, I pretend not to say. I acted for the best; and I submit with reverence to the will of heaven.
This, O my son! is the story of my misfortunes; from which you may, at least, receive this melancholy consolation, that you are not the most unhappy of mankind.
SECTION IX.
WHEN the venerable Himilco had thus concluded his narrative, he left me for some time, as if to regulate his little oeconomy with his daughter, though I believe his first purpose was to give vent to the griefs which naturally attended the remembrance of his misfortunes.
My mind, in the mean while, was too strongly impressed with events of such singularity to attend to any thing else. I ran over the various occurrences of his life, and from a comparison of it with my own, drew this consolation, that I must certainly have been directed by heaven to his habitation for our mutual happiness.
I waited some days, however, before I would mention this thought to Himilco, in order to contemplate more closely the disposition of his daughter, before I attached my fate to her's; if I should not rather say, that I was prevented by fear of a refusal, as my heart became every hour more and more enamoured of her.
Himilco at length relieved me from this embarrassment, by asking me, one day as we walked among the ruins, in what manner I meant to proceed, in order to accomplish the purpose of heaven, which had been so strikingly communicated to me.
It was impossible for me to avoid explaining myself any longer. I therefore opened all my heart to him, as well as the confusion, inevitable on such an occasion, would permit; and waited with the strongest anxiety for his answer, as the decision of my fate.
Regarding me, for some moments, with a look of inexpressible tenderness,
I am no stranger,
said he,
O my son! to your sentiments in respect to my daughter. I have beheld them labouring in your heart from the first day of your arrival here; nor was the discovery displeasing: on the contrary, I will own, that I have found pleasure in drawing the same conclusion with you, from the wonderful manner in which you have been led, as it were by the hand, to this place, where I had never hoped to see the face of man.
But, O my son! you have much to do before you can think of fixing your rest in any place. The decrees of heaven must be fulfilled; and you must seek the fate it hath appointed for you, which certainly cannot be here, at least as yet.
The clouds, which have obscured the morning of your life, have evidently arisen from your violation of filial duty, in leaving your father without his consent or benediction. You must therefore return to him, and receive his forgiveness, before you can expect to be happy.
If after that, your sentiments shall remain the same as at present, and meet his approbation, you will find no opposition to your wishes, either from my daughter or from me; and heaven will preserve you for each other, if it approves your union.
Nor is the journey so difficult as you may apprehend. The season approaches when the caravan passes through these regions, in pilgrimage to Mecca. To the track of that I will direct you, and with them you will travel in safety.
Severely as I felt this delay of my hopes, it was not in my power to make any reply to the reasons which he gave for it. From that day I lived with him and his daughter in a state of happiness, resembling that which the just enjoy as they draw near to heaven.
When the day of my departure arrived, his daughter presented me with a scrip, filled with dried fruits of various kinds, as a provision for my journey, till I should meet the caravan, the way of which Himilco pointed out to me, by such certain signs, which he had learned from his friend, that there could be but little danger of my missing it.
I shall not attempt to describe my parting with his daughter. In compassion to us both, Himilco hurried me away from this distressful scene; and leading me to the extremity of the ruins, dismissed me with a kiss of peace.
He had before provided me with a faquir's habit, the disguise which had so often been favourable to himself, in which he concealed some gold, and jewels of great price; as also a sabre and a shield, for my defence, should it be my misfortune to be met by any of the men or beasts of prey, which ranged those boundless desarts.
SECTION X.
MY mind was so oppressed by the recollection of what I had already undergone, so terrified by the prospect before me, that I forgot to attend to the signs by which Himilco had directed me to find the track of the caravan; insomuch, that after travelling for several days longer than he had prescribed for my gaining it, I found, to my inexpressible unhappiness, that I had been only involving myself deeper in those inexplicable wilds.
This discovery struck me with the deepest dismay. My heart died in me for some moments. Recollecting myself, however, and asking forgiveness of heaven for this involuntary distrust of its protection, I ascended the nearest high tree, to try if I could see any of the signs by which Himilco had marked my way.
Having made the best observations I could, I resolved, as the evening began to close apace, to remain where I was for that night, in hope of continuing my journey in an happier hour the next morning.
As I was soothing my melancholy in contemplating the struggles between light and darkness for the possession of the sky, and comparing them with the vicissitudes of human life, my ear was suddenly struck by the sound of several voices, which appeared not to be far distant from me; when, turning my eye to the side from whence they came, I was surprised to see a number of children, as I thought, running about in sport, near the tree which I had climbed.
My first surprize though, soon gave place to a greater, when I considered the appearance of the creatures I beheld: their bodies, which were totally uncovered, were white as marble, without any suffusion of that redness by which the blood distinguishes animal life. Their height did not exceed two cubits at the most, at the same time that their agility was utterly irreconcileable with the strength of children of that age.
While I was gazing in astonishment at beings, whom I immediately concluded to be some of those inhabitants of the air of whom ancient tradition relates so many wonders, one of them happening to approach my station, his sense of smelling gave him the alarm, which he instantly communicated to the rest, who crouding around the tree, soon discovered me among the branches, when giving a yell of affright, they all ran into a cavern at the foot of a hill close to where I was.
This appearance of fear was so inconsistent with the notion I had formed of them, that I was utterly at a loss to what motive I should attribute it. I thought it could not be a stratagem to decoy me down, as beings who were lords of the elements, such as I supposed them to be, could enforce their commands by means impossible for me to resist. I therefore concluded that my better angel must have interposed, though imperceptibly to me, and resolved to continue where I was, under his protection, till the return of the sun (whose light suspends the power of those inferior spirits) should enable me to proceed without fear of molestation from them.
But a few moments solved the difficulty in a more natural manner. I had scarce formed this resolution, when I saw an animal of the most hideous aspect, which had ever struck my sight, advance toward the place where they had been.
His stature was higher than that of the tallest man, but in every proportion unnaturally slender for his height. His tawny skin was thinly shaded with hair of the same colour. His ears hung down, like those of the animal abominated by all nations, while his flat visage came so near the human, as to strike me with shame and horror at the resemblance.
Though I had never seen a creature of his kind before, I directly knew him, from description, to be one of those animals which make the middle link between the brute and human natures in the chain of life; such herds of which, Himilco had informed me, inhabited several parts of those desarts, as would long since have over-run the whole, were it not for the numbers daily destroyed in their furious broils with each other. Happening to raise his eyes as he drew near the tree, he espied me; when chattering his teeth, and grinning a smile of horrible delight, he instantly prepared to ascend to me.
As I knew what kind of enemy I had to deal with, I was not under the same apprehension as before; but determined to stand upon my defence. I therefore unsheathed my sabre, and placing myself where the boughs could not impede my arm, the moment he came within my reach, dealt him such a blow, as felled him to the ground, where he lay, roaring and struggling in vain to rise.
This instantly shewed me the necessity of changing my resolution, and descending from the tree to slay him outright, lest his cries should draw more of his fellows about me than I might be able to resist. Accordingly I sprung down, and with one stroke severed his ghastly head from his body.
SECTION XI.
WHILE I was considering whether I had better reascend the tree, or proceed to seek some place of greater safety for the night, I was surprised to find myself surrounded, on a sudden, by the swarm of little beings, who had just before fled away as affrighted at the sight of me.
Though I thought them impassive to human force, I naturally put myself in a posture of defence, calling to them at the same time, in a menacing tone, to keep at a distance from me.
But I soon found that my apprehensions were groundless, and that they were really as much afraid of me as I could possibly be of them.
On hearing my voice, they started back, and huddling close together, stood evidently fluctuating between fear and joy; their eyes sparkling with exultation when they looked at the dead savage, but sinking again with diffidence and affright, when turned toward me.
This instantly suggested it to me, that the creature I had slain was their enemy; and that their fear of me proceeded from my resemblance of him. To remove this fear therefore, I went to the dead body, and giving it a stroke or two with my sabre, spurned the head from me with a look and gesture of the strongest detestation.
Such a proof of my enmity to their foe, was received as an express treaty of friendship and alliance with them. They directly shook off all fear, and running with shouts of joy and triumph to the dead body, treated it with every insult of hatred and revenge, till their rage was glutted; when seeming to recollect to whom they were indebted for his death, they turned their attention to me, and one of them, whose features, on his nearer approach, I could perceive bore the marks of old age, advanced alone to me, and put himself, without apprehension, into my power; while the rest, giving a shout of joy, made signs to me to go with them into their cavern.
Though by this time I was convinced, that far from being what I had at first supposed, they were in reality only one of those varieties in which nature delights to disport herself (a diminutive species of the human kind) from whose force I had as little reason to apprehend danger, as from their present intentions; yet such was the power of prepossession, so difficult to divest the mind of the apprehensions of ignorance, that I felt a kind of horror in complying with that invitation, which stronger curiosity would not permit me to refuse.
This momentary hesitation, however, escaped their notice; and they shewed the highest pleasure at my compliance. They shouted, they danced, and frisked around me all the way to the cavern; where the same one, who had advanced to me before, and whom I saw the rest treated with respect, beckoned to me to stop, while they removed a number of gins and sharpened stones, with which the entrance was beset in such a manner, as made their retreat inaccessible to any creature bigger than themselves, and which was not acquainted also with the several windings between them.
When the passage was thus cleared, my guide again made signs to me to follow him, stooping, though unnecessarily for himself, as he entered, to shew me that I must stoop.
It is impossible for words to express my astonishment when I entered this subterraneous city, for such I immediately perceived it to be; the inside of the hill being entirely scooped out, whether by nature or art I could not distinguish, so as to make a cavity capable of containing many times the number of the little community which then inhabited it, and divided into regular compartments proper for the few purposes of their simple life.
As the shades of night had by this time covered the earth, I expected to have found the cavern either involved in darkness, or artificially illuminated by fire; but no sooner had I entered, than I imagined I saw another sky, which emitted a light, pallid indeed and feeble, but sufficient to discover every present object to the eye.
In the first impulse of surprise, I raised my hand to what I thought the sky, when I found that the light was only reflected from a viscid substance, which distilled through the roof and sides of the cavern, and retained so much of the rays of the sun, admitted through different crevices in the day, as reflected thus served to supply his place during his absence.
Having replaced their defences, and settled all things in a state of safety, the whole people, to the number of about forty, of both sexes and every age, gathered around me as I sat upon the ground, after the example of my leader; where, having satisfied their curiosity by looking at me for some time, the greater part withdrew to their domestic concerns.
In a little time some of them returned, laden with fruits and the flesh of various birds and other little animals, some of which appeared to have been dried, or rather sodden, in the sun, but the greater part was raw; and setting them before me, my host, as I may call him, eat himself, to encourage me to eat.
As I had taken no food from the rising of the sun, I followed his example, and eat of the fruits sufficiently for the support of nature; but I loathed to taste the flesh, though he strove to tempt me, by eating with a voracity which shewed that he thought it most delicious.
Having finished our repast, he took me to a spring, which issued from the side of the cave, where I slacked my thirst, and washed my feet in a pool filled with the overflowing of the water; after which, observing that I was over-powered with sleep, he led me through various windings to a kind of niche, large enough to serve me for an apartment, where he made signs to me to lay me down to rest.
Resolved to comply with every thing which should be proposed to me, for that night, I directly obeyed him, letting him see me, however, lay my sword under my head, in such a manner, that it could not be removed without awaking me; a care of which I afterwards found I had no occasion.
SECTION XII.
MY mind had been so over-laboured in the observation of these strange events, that I soon sunk into a profound sleep, in which all my cares were buried, till the next morning was far advanced, as I could judge by the light transmitted through a crevice in the roof of the cave, near the place where I lay.
Having looked around me, and found every thing in the same state as when I went to sleep, I lay still for some time, in expectation of my host's coming to me; till my patience being quite exhausted, I arose, intending to depart without farther delay, in hope of disentangling myself from that part of the wilderness before the night should come on.
But I soon found my intention defeated. The cavern was cut into such an inexplicable labyrinth, that I wandered through it for a considerable time without being able to find the entrance, or even to return to the place where I had slept; never, to my utter astonishment, seeing, or even hearing one of the inhabitants.
Losing, at length, all hope of extricating myself, without their assistance, I called aloud several times; upon which I immediately heard the buzzing of their voices all around me.
After some minutes, my host, as I have called him, came toward me; but with an appearance of distrust and apprehension. To remove an impression, therefore, which I saw might be disadvantageous to me, I sat down upon the ground, and reaching out my hand with a smile, the honest creature, suspecting no deceit, as he designed none, resumed his former confidence, and sat down near me with evident pleasure; whereupon the whole community, who had waited the event of his approach, instantly came round me, with the same freedom as before.
The light, which now entered through various apertures in the roof of the cavern, enabled me to see every thing distinctly. I have already described their size, and the peculiar colour of their bodies; in other respects they differed not from the ordinary race of men, a singularity in one feature excepted, which at first view was not so pleasing. This was a prominence in their eyes, from whence probably proceeded their seeing so much better in a feeble, than a strong light; and may have been the cause of their chusing such a gloomy habitation.
Our amity being thus restored, on my making signs of a desire to go out of the cavern, my host instantly led me to the entrance, where he stopped, being unable to bear the light of the sun; but gave me to understand, that he would wait my return, by seating himself upon the ground.
Our desire for any thing is always in proportion to the difficulty which attends the attainment of it. Though I was so anxious to continue my journey but a few minutes before, I now no sooner found myself so perfectly at my liberty, than that anxiety ceased; and I resolved to indulge my curiosity, by staying a few days among this extraordinary people, to observe their customs and manners, and, if possible, acquire some knowledge of their language.
Accordingly, as soon as I had looked around me for a few minutes, to mark the way I came, I went back to the mouth of the cave, where I found my host, who expressed the strongest satisfaction at my return.
The little community, who now regarded me as one of themselves, pursued their usual occupations as if I was not present; by which means I soon had an opportunity of making all the observations I desired.
I have taken notice before, that their bodies were entirely naked; nor was that custom, however strange to me, in the least to be wondered at, when their situation was properly considered.
Natural necessity for cloathing they had none, as their place of habitation defended them from every inclemency of weather; and to the artificial necessity of shame, they were strangers, both from their seclusion from the rest of the world; and that it had never entered into their thoughts, that nature had made any parts of their bodies objects of shame; and for the same reason, they performed all the natural functions wherever she suggested the performance of them.
Their desires were as limited, as their powers of gratification. They eat fruits, with which the happiness of the climate supplied them, at every season; and the flesh of birds, and those smaller animals which we denominate vermin, taken in gins, in the construction of which all the powers of their ingenuity seemed to terminate.
Implements of domestic oeconomy, they knew not the use of. They eat their food without any preparation. They stooped to the fountain to drink, and when their appetites were satisfied, they laid themselves down to sleep, without farther care, for the whole day; the strong light of the sun suspending their occupations, as much as darkness doth those of other men.
I found no great difficulty in acquiring a sufficient knowledge of their language, which was far from being copious, their situation, and simplicity of life suggesting but very few ideas: They had names for the things they knew, and expressions for the uses they made of them; and that was nearly its whole extent; for they never combined their ideas, nor employed the faculties of the mind on its own operations.
Of all the passions which agitate the heart, and equally constitute the happiness and misery of man, they seemed to have a sense only of fear and love; if I should not add hatred and joy! though no more than consequences of the former, in the only instance, I ever could discover of them, their behaviour when I slew the savage! nor were the effects even of these powerful or lasting.
When the entrance of their cavern was defended, in the manner I have described, they appeared to have no farther fear; and of love, I could never perceive the least resemblance, except in parental affection for their offspring; such as nature hath imprinted on every animal, for the purpose of preserving the species: the attachments of friendship, or seclusive connections between the sexes, appearing to be utterly unknown to them.
I have observed, that they seemed to pay respect, to the one, who first approached, and afterwards attended particularly to me! but I could never perceive that he had any authority or influence over them.
They had given place to his superior intrepidity, and followed his example in that instance; and that was all: for of an established authority or government, there did not appear the faintest shadow among them, any more than of religion; of the very first principles of which, supposed to be universally written in the human heart, they were utterly ignorant; nor when I was able, in some manner, to converse with them, could I ever make them form the least conception of either.
Till their offspring were able to procure their own food, they followed their parents, who fed them; but with this necessity the attachment on both sides ended so absolutely, that I could never trace even the remembrance of it. Every one did just what they pleased, without respect being paid to, or offence taken by any other.
I have said, that they took me, at first, for one of those savages, with which they live in a continual state of war. But when they were undeceived by my killing their enemy, and they had entered into amity with me, they expressed no curiosity to know who I was, or whence I came, my words seeming to make impression upon them no longer than upon the air, through which the sound of them passed to their ears.
Nor must it be supposed, that this inattention proceeded from pride. Their ignorance of themselves was equally great. When I asked if they were originally of that country, they could not comprehend what I meant; nor did they know whether there was any more of their own species in the world.
My curiosity soon took in the whole of such a narrow sphere. I left them at the end of seven days, convinced of the contemptible ignorance of those torpid visionaries, who affect to place happiness in the absence of passion, and being content merely with the support of nature.
A comparison of such a people with myself, gave me a consequence, in my own eyes, which restored the vigor of my mind, and supported me through my journey. I soon recovered the way-marks pointed out to me by Himilco, from which I had not strayed so far, as the dejection of my spirits had made me apprehend; and on the sixth day from my leaving the little people, joined the caravan.
End of the
FIRST BOOK.
THE HISTORY OF ARSACES, PRINCE OF BETLIS. BOOK THE SECOND.
SECTION I.
AS the express intent of their journey, continued the captive, was to perform a religious duty, I expected to have met with nothing, but acts of virtue, and sentiments of piety, among the pilgrims: But a very little time shewed me, that the professed intention doth not always govern the actions of man, even in those sacred matters.
I had not been long with the caravan, when my attention was struck by one of the pilgrims, whose demeanour shewed a degree of sanctity superior to all the rest.
Not content with performing all the rites ordained by his religion, he doubled them in every instance. Nature seemed unequal to the rigor of his abstinence. The hours allotted to rest, he spent in prayer: and his exhortations were numbered by the steps of his journey.
Such a sight was balm to my heart. I thought the merits of this one man overbalanced the failings of all the rest. 'Virtue cannot be a shadow,' I reasoned with myself.
I have now met the substance, upon which I may safely form my judgment.
But a moment's reflection damped the pleasure of this thought.
I have been deceived before,
I continued,
and how can I be certain, that I am not so now! That I do not see this man also in a mirrour! I will observe him better before I presume to judge.
For this purpose I attached myself more closely to him, than I had done before; when the event was far from confirming the opinion I had conceived in his favour. I soon thought I saw pride supply the place of piety, in his most exemplary acts of devotion; and virtue made use of as a veil to cover vice.
This discovery almost drove me to despair. 'To what purpose,' I exclaimed, in the anguish of my soul,
do I see life, when I am not able to judge of what I see? This man's actions are all good. Why then should I presume to deduce them from a bad motive? They surely are the best index of the heart. I have formed a wrong judgment of him, in one instance, or the other; and at any rate the former error was the more pardonable. Where there is any uncertainty, a good heart will always judge favourably. Let me therefore hope, that I have deceived myself by a false sagacity; and that my first opinion of him was right.
But this hope was of short duration.
The Santone, for by that venerable appellation was he distinguished from the other pilgrims in the caravan, was encouraged by the admiration he had raised, to form still higher hopes.
Addressing himself to me one evening, after prayer, 'I have observed,' said he,
my son, with what piety you perform the rites of religion; and how attentively you listen to the exhortation of my words. Come to my tent, at the third hour of the night, when my private devotions will be finished, that we may confer together upon the ways of heaven.
Such an invitation was far from being unpleasing to me, as it must give me an opportunity of clearing up the doubts with which my mind was perplexed. I therefore punctually attended the appointment of the Santone, whom I found expecting my arrival.
Placing me beside him, on his carpet,
I have observed,
said he,
O my son, the regularity of your deportment; and rejoice to have found in so young a man, one who is worthy of my friendship. I read your heart in your looks; and will open myself to you, without fear or reserve; a confidence, which will not only shew you things in their proper colours, but also convince you of the advantage of attaching yourself to me, and entering into all my views.
It is impossible for me to express, how much I was surprized at this address. The manner was as unexpected, as the matter was incomprehensible; such a familiar style of discourse being totally different from the abstracted broken sentences, in which he was accustomed to deliver his sentiments. However, I was sufficiently master of myself to conceal my astonishment; and the Santone taking my habitual silence for assent, continued his discourse in these words.
SECTION II.
YOU are doubtlessly surprized at the austerities, which you daily see me practise upon myself; and think that enthusiasm alone can support me through them. But that opinion is superficially drawn. I act from the universal principle of human nature, which proposes the gratification of the ruling passion, in every act; however repugnant that act may be to it in appearance.
The object of my wishes, the end of all my labours, is
power;
and that in the most extensive sense. Let warriors ravage nations, and lead the wretched inhabitants in chains, my empire is of a more exalted nature. I scorn to hold the body in subjection, while the mind is free. Of this empire you are yourself a witness, and a subject. How I have established it, and to what further purposes I mean to improve its influence, are the things which I intend to reveal in confidence to you.
I could contain myself no longer.
Gracious heaven!
I exclaimed,
Is it possible that the religious exercises, which strike the world with such reverence, can proceed from any other motive than true piety?
Moderate your zeal, my son,
he returned, with a contemptuous smile,
and all these matters shall be explained to you. True piety never strikes the world with reverence, because it is never seen by the world. It is an immediate intercourse between the soul and heaven, carried on in acts merely spiritual, and which cannot be represented to sense. Whenever you see a man perform religious exercises in public; and especially if he affects to exceed in them, you may safely conclude either that his reason is disordered, or that he acts from motives most different from those which he professes.
What service can the Deity receive from the works of man? Is it not derogating from the idea we have of his wisdom, to think that he can approve acts of folly or madness? Is it not offering an affront to his goodness, to suppose that he can take pleasure in the sufferings of his creatures? and yet to such absurd, such impious opinions, do all those austerities, those religious exercises, which impose upon the greater part of the world, owe their credit.
The wiser few, indeed, turn this folly to their own advantage; and upon this apparent self-denial, these voluntary sufferings, found the firmest power of enjoying all the real pleasures of which life is capable.
The love of pleasure, and the fear of pain, are the ruling principles of the human heart, in which they maintain an uninterrupted struggle for superiority.
Now the whole art of governing mankind consists in the management of these two principles; which by some means has become the peculiar province of priesthood, and is the scepter with which they rule the world; for as the ignorance of mankind hath been brought to believe the pleasures of nature to be crimes against its author, and that the same authority, which has arbitrarily made them such, has given power to a particular set of people, to prescribe means of avoiding the punishment of them hereafter, by sufferings here, (for the imposition would have refuted itself if the punishment had not been postponed to another state, from which we can have no intelligence, though, at the same time, to counterbalance that delay of commencement, there hath been given to it, an eternity of duration) nothing is easier, than for those, who are supposed to be entrusted with this power, to turn the commutation of that punishment to their own advantage, in what manner they please.
In order to exert this power most effectually, it is necessary to strike the senses of its objects, with an appearance of superior sanctity, which may be considered in the double light, of a consequence of the sacred character, and a confirmation of its efficacy; and this cannot be done any way so well as by abstaining, in the extreme degree, from those pleasures, which are represented to be crimes; because it appears to be a conviction that they really are such; and that indulgence in them is as dangerous, as it is represented.
Nor is this the only advantage derived from this abstinence. It is thought to be so meritorious, from the supposed difficulty of it, as to give such an interest with the power, in obedience to whom it is pretended to be practised, that nothing can be refused to the intercession of him who practises it; and this is the completion of his work.
As to the difficulty of this abstinence, it is all imaginary. In respect to food, the simplest is that which supports nature best; and the less which is taken, even of that, the better she performs her functions. Were the pleasure of temperance, both in the quantity and quality of aliment, known, luxury and excess would soon be banished from the world: and as to other appetites, their force is derived merely from their indulgence. Every day they are restrained, the restraint becomes less troublesome; till, in the end, it ceases to be a trouble.
Of the progress which I have already made, in the execution of my design, you are yourself a witness. The greater part of the difficulty, and all doubt of success are conquered. Nothing remains now, but to pursue the path, which lieth plain and easy before me; and it will soon lead me to the summit of my wishes.
In the mean time I have need of an assistant in my labours, an associate in my power, who will consult his own interest by his fidelity to me; and for this purpose I have selected you from among the numbers, who would be proud of such an honour.
My intention is to persist in my present manner, till I shall have performed this pilgrimage to Mecca; on the additional credit of which, I propose, at my return to my native country of Biledulgerid, to promulgate a new religion, which I have already planned on the principles most likely to strike those people; and as soon as it shall have taken possession of their minds, I will then unite the civil to the religious power, and establish a sovereignty which no force can subvert, as it will be founded in the minds of my subjects.
I have thus, my son, opened my whole purpose to you; and have no doubt of your assistance in bringing it to perfection, as you will share the benefit, while I live; and enjoy the whole after my decease.
The first instance, in which I shall require your co-operation, is this.
To-morrow, after the evening prayer, I will feign to fall into a trance; which I can do without danger of detection, by means of a composition, which hath the power of suspending every animal function, for a length of time, proportioned to the quantity in which it is taken, so as to effect an appearance of death, not possible to be distinguished from the reality.
While I lie, in all appearance, inanimate, you must, on a sudden, fix your eyes upon the air, just over me; and then falling on your knees, pray aloud with fervency.
The croud will naturally gather around you, to know the meaning of this conduct; when you must point toward the place, where I lie, and ask them, with looks and exclamations of astonishment, if they do not see a celestial spirit hanging upon the wing over me?
This will fix their attention, and fire their already heated imaginations to such a degree, that many of them will think they really see what you describe; while all the rest will assent to it, to avoid the imputation of infidelity, and for fear of the consequences of contradicting the spirit of enthusiastic superstition.
When this spirit is thus raised, I know how to direct it to the best advantage. I will feign a revelation of those things which I would have them believe, to the truth of which I will thus make themselves bear witness.
When this first step is happily taken, we will consult how we are to proceed farther.
SECTION III.
IT is impossible to express the horror, with which I was struck by this proposal. I thought myself contaminated by the bare communication of it; and held his confidence as the greatest dishonour which had ever befallen me; concluding that he must have seen an appearance of guilt in my looks, to make him select me for his accomplice.
At first I determined to open the mystery of his iniquity; but when I considered the consequence of contradicting enthusiastic superstition, as he had said; I did not think myself justifiable in throwing away my own life, where I had no prospect of defeating his impious designs.
But happily an opportunity soon offered, of extricating me from this difficulty.
Along with the caravan, in which I travelled, there journied a company of merchants, who were going to Bagdat and Bassora, to barter the commodities of Africa, for those of the Asiatic regions.
We had passed the Isthmus of Suez, the very day before the Santone had opened his intentions to me. As I returned from his tent to my own, my way led me by the quarter of those merchants, whom I found preparing to separate from the caravan, the next morning.
It instantly struck me, that I might escape the danger of refusing to enter into his iniquitous schemes, by departing along with these merchants. I accordingly went directly to my tent; and taking my scrip upon my back, and my staff in my hand, joined them, just before they began their march.
It was some time before my soul could free itself from the horror with which the profligacy of the Santone had struck me. At length, after weighing deliberately every thing, which he had said, I found consolation in reflecting, that the abuse of the best things produces the worst effects; and that the excellence of true piety was only proved more signally, by its being able to stand the test of such prostitution.
We pursued our journey to Bagdat, without meeting any occurrence worth relating.
High as my curiosity had been raised, by the accounts which I had heard of this imperial city, my impatience to embrace the knees of my father was so strong, that I should not have delayed an hour in it, had it been in my power to proceed: but all the neighbouring nations were involved in such furious wars, that it was necessary for me to wait for a favourable opportunity, before I could expect to perform my journey in safety.
The scene I was now in, was so utterly new to me, that I could only gaze in silent admiration, without being able to form any judgment of what I saw. The infinite variety of the objects which attracted my attention, prevented my attending to any of them. I had not time to observe one, when another presented itself to my observation, so that I literally was lost in the wilderness of my own thoughts.
While I was in this state of perplexity, I happened one day, as I performed my devotions in the principal mosque, to kneel close to an aged man, who instantly fixed his eyes upon me in the most earnest manner.
As I could not recollect that I had ever seen him before, I concluded he must have mistaken me for some other person; and soon as the prayers were ended, departed without taking any further notice of him: but I had not gone far, before I was accosted abruptly by a slave, who bade me, with an air of authority, to follow him.
Though I was naturally surprized at such an address, I judged, from the manner in which he spoke, that it would be in vain for me to refuse; and therefore, to make a merit of my compliance, obeyed without asking him any questions, or even observing whither he led me, till I found myself in one of the courts of the Khaliff's palace.
I had not waited long, when I was introduced into the presence of the grand visier, whom I directly knew to be the person, who had regarded me so attentively, some minutes before, at the mosque.
As soon as I approached him,
I would know,
said he,
O young man, who thou art, and what thine occupation is in this city?
The manner in which he spoke was far from giving me any alarm. As I was conscious of no crime, I was free from fear; and resolved, while I adhered strictly to truth, not to enter into the particulars of my life, farther than was necessary to satisfy his curiosity.
May the substitute of him, whose power rules the world, I answered, live for ever! Your slave cometh from the remotest parts of Arabia the Happy. My motive for leaving my native country, was to see the manners of different people, and prove the precepts of education by experience.
Hast thou not been among the Bedouins?
he interrupted me sternly;
and hast thou not even led those troops of ravagers, in their attacks upon the caravans of the true believers?
Unexpected as this question was, it did not disconcert me. I answered him in the boldness of innocence and truth; and in few words gave him an account of the manner in which I had been taken captive by the Bedouins, and the reason of their dismissing me from among them.
The force of truth is irresistible. He heard me with attention; and as soon as I had ended:
Thy virtue hath been proved by many trials,
said he, rising from the sopha upon which he sat, and embracing me tenderly;
I have been myself a grateful witness of it. I was in the number of the captives, whom you so generously saved from the cruelty of those barbarians, and dismissed in peace. Nor did my unexpected deliverance, on that day, fill my heart with sincerer joy, than I feel now, at this happy opportunity of shewing my sense of it.
I need not attempt to describe the effect which these words had on me. I returned his embrace with equal warmth, and forgot that I had ever been unhappy.
My friend, for he would never permit me to address him by any other appellation, was not satisfied with heaping all the benefits in his own power upon me. He introduced me to the Khaliff, to whom he represented me in such an advantageous light, that he soon distinguished me, by many marks of his favour.
My first advances to this envied station drew upon me the frowns and malevolence of all, who had already gained, or aspired to it: but an event soon happened, which totally changed their conduct.
SECTION IV.
MY friend, the visier, who had descended far into the vale of years, fixed his eye upon me as a proper successor in those cares, to the weight of which he began to feel himself unequal. He recommended me therefore in such strong terms to the Khaliff, that he made no difficulty of permitting him to resign the reins of government, and entrusting them to me.
The clouds which had attended every step of my ascent to this height of power, vanished the moment I had attained it: and in their place I met nothing but smiles of congratulation, and professions of attachment and respect.
Unpractised in the ways of men, I readily gave credit to appearances, which I was not conscious of having given any reason to doubt, and formed the most pleasing schemes for turning the influential power I now enjoyed to the general advantage; the splendor of the present scene dazzling my eyes, and making me over-look the essential resemblance between it and the former, in which I had met so mortifying a disappointment, in my designs of the same kind, among the Bedouins.
In this delusion I eagerly resumed my favourite scheme of reformation, confiding in the obvious rectitude and advantage of it, and the integrity of my own heart, to secure my interest with the Khaliff; and in his power to protect me from the attempts of any, who should be so lost to every sense of virtue and public spirit, as to oppose me in the execution.
Nor was I deceived in this confidence. The discernment and justice of the Khaliff viewed my intentions in a just light, and they confirmed me still more strongly in his esteem.
But there were many obstacles in the way to my wishes, which I foresaw not at the first; or rather looked upon in the opposite light.
The greatest of these arose from the power of appointing to places of profit or honour under the government, which was apparently vested in the office I bore; and not only overwhelmed me with vexation, but also counteracted my designs, though I had built upon it as one of the surest means of their success.
Empty as the honour, and poor the profits of many of those places were, the number and importunity of the candidates for them embarrassed me beyond expression.
Some pleaded their own merits, others those of their ancestors; this one his youth and ability to do service, that his age and the services he had done, though he was now incapable of repeating them: one urged his poverty, and the necessity he had for relief; another his riches, and the influence they gave him over his fellows. In a word, every circumstance and distinction, which varies the motley view of life, was alledged to enforce their pretensions.
Nor was this solicitation only for such places as were actually vacant. They vied with equal eagerness for those which were already filled; blackening the characters of the possessors, as well as of each other, with every calumny which envy or ambition could suggest.
In the mean time, though it was evident that I could not gratify such numbers as applied, even if I was so inclined, yet each affected to take offence; and the refusal of impossible requests made me irreconcileable enemies: the competitors dropping their mutual animosities to join in combinations against me, for a disappointment of expectations contradictory in themselves, and destructive of each other; and representing every word and action of my life in such malignant colours, as made me an object of general detestation to the misguided multitude, whose dearest interests and happiness I was at the very time labouring to promote.
Severely as I felt the sting of this ingratitude, I bore it, while it affected myself only; but when their virulence presumed to rise from me to the Khaliff, I could support it no longer: but to prevent that worst misfortune which can befal a sovereign, the loss of his subjects' love, threw myself at his feet, and implored his permission to leave a court, where my best intentions had unhappily produced so bad an effect.
Strong as the reasons were, with which I enforced this request, the Khaliff thought his honour, as well as his regard, concerned not to grant it. He raised me from the ground, and bidding me fear nothing, while he approved my conduct, prepared to make those, who had thus presumed to oppose his pleasure, feel the weight of his resentment.
But the consequences which I foresaw might attend this firmness, however favourable to myself, and noble in its motive, struck me with horror. I repeated my suit, therefore, in terms so pressing, that I, in a manner, extorted his compliance, against his inclination; and leaving my enemies to triumph in their success, joined a body of troops, which the Khaliff was sending to the assistance of Aladdin, king of Diarbee, who then waged a most unequal war with the Sultan of Khouaresm.
Though the motives of the opposition, to which I had thus fallen a sacrifice, and the means by which it had been carried on, were equally unjust, candour obliges me to confess, in this cool moment of deliberate reflection, that my own indiscretion assisted it, in too many instances.
Secure of the support of the Khaliff's favour, I slighted public opinion, and thought it beneath me to pay regard to appearances, as my intentions were right; eager for the accomplishment of which, I never studied a proper season; but obtruding them abruptly, without attention to circumstances, provoked opposition, by injudicious precipitancy, where modest delicacy and caution would have obviated every objection, and ensured success.
I wish I could say, that the Khaliff himself had not also given something too like reason for the clamours raised upon this occasion.
While he devoted all his thoughts to the cultivation of the finer arts, and moral reformation of his people, the most important affairs of the state either languished in neglect, or miscarried in the attempt of conducting them by the rules of private virtue. From too lively a sense of the evils of war, he sacrificed the interests of his people and the honour of his crown to preserve peace; and mercy, indiscriminately dispensed, robbed the laws of respect, and encouraged crimes, by taking away the fear of punishment.
One advantage, it is true, I received from this second disappointment, which was that of being convinced by the unerring proof of experience, that as power, in the first instance, does not always procure happiness, in the second it is always unhappy; for, if the pillow of a prince is sometimes uneasy, that of a favourite is ever filled with thorns; all the troubles of the former being aggravated to the latter, by anxiety at the uncertainty of his situation.
SECTION V.
THE pain I felt at leaving a court, where I had thought myself so happily established, was in some degree alleviated by resentment, and hope of acquiring such glory in the war as should dazzle my enemies at my return; and raise me above danger of suffering the like disgrace again, especially as I resolved never more to give offence by attempting to serve people against their inclinations.
The Khaliff dismissed me with the warmest assurances of regard. He had offered me the command of his troops; but a sense of my inexperience in the art of war made me decline so difficult a charge, till I should be more equal to it.
And yet,
interrupted Temugin,
equal inexperience in the arts of government had not made you decline that charge. Presumptuous folly! To think it easier to govern a whole people in idleness, and in a manner free from restraint, and conduct the complicated affairs of peace; than to command a small part of them, who are prepared to obey; and direct them to a particular end, however difficult to attain, on which they are themselves all intent!
I acknowledge, mighty lord, the justice of your reprehension, returned the captive; but such is the confidence of man in his own abilities, where it is not restrained by the obvious necessity of observing some particular method, of which practice only can make him master.
No one attempts the simplest works of mechanism, who has not practised the manner; but all think themselves born with abilities to govern.
Proceed,
replied Temugin;
I reprehend not thee. The fault is in human nature.
As soon as I had joined the army of Aladdin, resumed the captive, I applied myself with the greatest assiduity to learn the military art, which I had an opportunity of seeing in all its various extent; the war, in which he was engaged, calling forth all the resources of his genius and courage, to balance the superiority of the Sultan's forces.
The manner in which I had parted from the Khaliff had made me flatter myself, that his regard for me was unalterably fixed; but I soon had reason to change my opinion.
He had ordered me to send him constant accounts of all the events of the war; but to these I never received the least return; and to remove all doubt of the reason of such a slight, I saw one of my most malignant enemies appointed to the command of the troops in which I served; though, on the death of the former general, I had solicited that trust, my abilities for which could not now be doubted.
This was an indignity I could not bear. In the anguish of my soul, therefore, I threw myself at the feet of Aladdin, and informing him of my situation, implored his protection, and leave to serve in his own troops.
That vigilant and discerning prince, who was not a stranger to the character of any soldier in his armies, readily granted my suit; and as, in such a scene of continued action, I could not long want an opportunity of proving my abilities, I soon arose to the highest rank in his forces.
I had justified the good opinion, which raised me to the command of a separate army, by several signal successes, when a tempest and hurricane burst upon me, one day, as I was on a march, and overwhelmed the greater part of my troops.
As this was an accident, which no human precaution could prevent, I did not apprehend that it could possibly be imputed to me as a fault; and therefore sent directly to inform Aladdin of my misfortune, and desire a reinforcement.
But he viewed the matter in a different light; and sending another general to take the command from me, let me know that it was a maxim with him, never to employ again an officer who had once been unfortunate.
Impious absurdity!
exclaimed Temugin;
to set his own will in opposition to that of heaven, and pretend to make man accountable for its actions! How could he expect that his soldiers should serve him, with the attachment and confidence necessary to success, when they were liable thus to lose the merit of their best endeavours, without being guilty of any fault?
And yet, mighty lord, returned the captive, it is in order to keep up that confidence, that he practises such severity.
Such is the force of superstitious opinion!
I have heard him say,
that the soldier who serves under a commander who has once been unfortunate, always fears misfortune; whereas, under one who has ever been successful, he rushes on his enemy, with an assurance of the same success, which is the most certain means of obtaining it.
As to the particular injustice of such a conduct, that never enters into his consideration. Where the mind is wholly taken up with one object, it measures the propriety of any means only by their aptitude to procure it.
Aladdin not only gives the strictest attention to the general welfare and interests of his subjects, but also relieves the distresses, and promotes the happiness of every individual with paternal tenderness and care.
But this is, where this distress or happiness does not interfere with the operations of the war, the immediate and great object of all his thoughts. Where they do, the tenderness and justice of the king, and father of his people, are drowned in the political views and severity of the soldier and statesman.
Thus, while his subjects at home live in happiness and safety under the protection of his care, his soldiers are obliged to divest themselves of every natural principle of action, and execute his orders, like mere machines, without regard to circumstances; or any sense, but that of obedience to his will: a state of subjection, which nothing but the hope of accelerating by victory their return to the blessings of peace, so profusely enjoyed under him, can make supportable to beings, whom reason invariably directs to act with a regard to their own happiness.
Cease your reflections,
replied Temugin,
and proceed with your story. Aladdin is a wise prince.
SECTION VI.
WHEN I had recovered from my first astonishment, continued the captive, I humbled my heart before heaven; and seeking in myself for the cause of so many misfortunes, was not at a loss to attribute them to my having delayed to return to my father; and immediately resolved to turn my face homewards, nor stop till I should throw myself at his feet, and obtain his forgiveness.
This resolution banished every repining and resentful thought, and restored serenity to my mind. I directly set out on my journey, accompanied only by one attendant, whose affectionate attachment I could not elude, so as to depart alone, as I would have done; and through innumerable difficulties and dangers, at length reached the habitation of my father.
My joy arose so high, as I approached this seat of innocence and content, that I could scarce support its emotions. It may be judged then what I felt, on finding his house deserted, and learning from his neighbours that he had disappeared, in a few days after my departure, nor had ever been heard of since.
I sunk into a swoon, from which I recovered only to suffer the tortures of a violent fever, into which the workings of my soul had inflamed my whole frame.
The care of my faithful attendant saved my life; but I languished many moons, in more than infantine weakness; nor was it even in the power of his friendship to heal the anguish of my heart.
At length, when youth had triumphed over the effects of my disease, a ray of delusive hope dawned upon me, that I might yet find my father. I recollected, that when I was learning my military exercises, he had shewn a most anxious alarm at my expressing a desire to seek experience in the art of war, and used every argument to check the military ardour with which I seemed to be fired.
This instantly suggested a thought, that he might have concluded I had gone to some of the armies engaged in war, and accordingly pursued me.
As I had already seen the armies of Bagdat and Diarbee, I thought it in vain to seek him among them; and therefore resolved to repair directly to the camp of the Sultan of Khouraesm, never reflecting on the improbability of finding an obscure old man among the innumerable multitudes collected in such a place, or of his having continued there so long, even if he had gone thither at the first.
I accordingly measured back the weary steps of my late journey, accompanied by my faithful friend; and proceeded thro' Persian Irac into the country of Transoxana, where I joined the army of Mohammed, whose evil genius had led him thither to oppose his force to your's.
But a fruitless search at length shewed me the folly of such a vain undertaking; though I still knew not how to give it up, as it was the last resource of my hope of ever seeing my father more.
As I was wandering one day through the camp, buried in these painful reflections, the leader of a band of soldiers happening to take notice of me, enquired who I was; and turning the honest answer which I gave him into brutal ridicule, ordered me to be enrolled directly among the troops under his command.
It was in vain to expostulate. I was dragged away, amid the cruelties and insults of those unfeeling wretches, who fallen beneath humanity themselves, take a malignant pleasure in aggravating the miseries of others; and thrown into a dungeon to prevent my attempting to escape, till they should go upon action.
Every new misfortune seems heavier than the past. I thought of nothing now, but the horrors of my present situation, among the severest of which I reckoned the loss of my faithful companion, who had happened to be absent from me, when I was seized; nor had I any possibility of letting him know where I was.
When I had lain some days in a confinement, the loathsomeness and severity of which were sufficient to break the strongest health and spirits, I went with the forces into the field, where hope of ending my sufferings, by an honourable death, prompted me to behave in a manner, that attracted the notice of the commander, and removed all suspicion of my desiring to quit the service.
On my return to the camp, I sought my companion, with the most anxious care, but with no better success than had attended my search for my father.
My spirit sunk under such accumulated disappointments. I resolved to return to Himilco; and seclude myself from a world, whose ways I despaired of ever being able to reconcile to those principles, by which I had been taught to believe it governed.
While I was considering how to accomplish my escape, the day arrived, which was to determine the sovereign of the world.
Detestation of every thing which had the remotest appearance of cowardice, would not permit me to leave the army at such a time. I therefore engaged in a cause, in which even my wishes were not interested; and having been entrusted with a subordinate command, for I had carefully concealed my having served in the armies of Aladdin, I lost my liberty in the execution of my duty, and now expect my fate from the sovereign of mankind.
SECTION VII.
THE circumstances of this story made so deep an impression on the mind of Temugin, that he remained wrapt in thought for some time, after the captive had concluded.
Recollecting himself at length,
Though thy days have been but few,
said he,
the vicissitudes of thy life have been sufficient to give thee the experience of many years. If thou art willing to follow me, I will charge myself with thy fortunes. If not, depart in peace, and may thy paths be prosperous: thou art at liberty from this hour. Compulsion and fidelity are incompatible.
Such condescending goodness overpowered the grateful heart of Selim. He prostrated himself at the feet of the emperor, and embracing his knees, assured him of his most faithful attachment.
Though Temugin's late victory, had so totally broken the spirit of sultan Mohammed, that he never after dared to face him in the field, his son, Gelaleddin, made such noble efforts to retrieve his affairs, as seemed for some time to keep the event doubtful.
While the emperor, therefore, was taking he necessary measures for reduc
n
an enemy, whose activity and enterprize rendered him still more formidable, than the number of his forces, he received information of the revolt of one of his newly conquered kingdoms, in which a considerable body of his own troops had joined.
Such an event demanded instant attention. The example might be followed by others; and the reduction attended with more difficulty than the first conquest; as despair always strengthens the hand of rebellion.
The account had arrived just as Selim had finished the story of his life. In a moment the whole camp was in motion; and the rising sun found Temugin in full march, at the head of a body of forces, equal to the occasion, which he held not of importance sufficient to require his whole army.
In such general commotions, private individuals are easily overlooked. Selim had received no orders to attend the emperor; but he deemed it his duty; and resolved to keep as near to his person as possible, in hope of some happy opportunity of proving in his sight, that he was not unworthy of the favour which had been shewn him.
The army of Temugin had scarce entered the country of the rebels, when they daringly advanced to meet him. The battle was obstinate and bloody. As Temugin was hasting to support one of the wings of his army, which was beginning to give way, he found himself unexpectedly surrounded by a band of the rebels, who knowing his person, had made a desperate effort to take him prisoner: but though he saw all his attendants cut to pieces, he disdained to submit to such indignity. He stood resolutely on his defence; and like a lion fallen into a pit, sacrificed to his revenge, every one, who dared to come within his reach, till he was just sinking under fatigue, and loss of blood; when, in the important moment, which separates life from death, a single soldier broke through the croud, and throwing himself before him, with a loud shout, exerted efforts of such uncommon valour in his defence, as kept the enemy off, till a body of troops, whom he had apprized of the emperor's danger, and who had followed him, as close as they could, came to his relief.
This was the last struggle which the rebels made for victory. As soon as the battle was ended, the first care of Temugin was to find his deliverer, whom he had known, amidst all the tumults of such a scene.
On the soldier's advancing through the croud of princes and commanders, who had gathered round the emperor to express their joy at his safety, and congratulate him on the victory, which had crowned his arms,
Take this,
said he, reaching him his own sword,
son of Abudah, as a pledge of my esteem; and ask any boon which your heart wisheth, in reward of your fidelity and valour.
Conqueror of the world,
replied Selim, throwing himself at the emperor's feet,
my heart's first wish is to lay down with glory, in your service, that life which you have blessed with liberty. The bare performance of duty merits not reward.
The emperor then turning to one of his chieftains,
Go,
said he,
put all the captives to the sword; let loose the rage of war upon the country; nor leave a soul alive to preserve the name of such a people upon the face of the earth! The world shall see the consequence of rebelling against my power.
SECTION VIII.
THE chief was just departing to put these orders in execution, when Selim stepped forward, and prostrating himself again, at the emperor's feet,
Revoke the dreadful sentence,
said he,
O substitute of heaven! and imitate his mercy who hath given you his power.
All present were struck with astonishment and affright, at a presumption never attempted before; the word of the emperor being held as sacred as the will of heaven.
Temugin started; and looking furiously on Selim, as he lay trembling with eagerness and anxiety at his feet, 'How!' said he;
darest thou to doubt the justice of my commands? To interpose thyself between rebellion and my vengeance? Beware, rash youth; such a crime, even in thought, cancels all merit.
Never shall a thought of his slave,
returned Selim,
give offence to my lord. I revere thy irresistible power; and shrink to nothing before thy wrath: but O, hearken to the words of thy slave. Let the guilty, but the guilty only, suffer: infants are incapable of rebellion; and weakness sinks the woman and old age equally beneath vengeance. Let the innocent live to witness the punishment of the guilty. The dead obey no more! nor does a desolated country yield laurels to adorn the victor's brow.
The words of Selim sunk into the emperor's heart. He stood, some moments, buried in thought; then, softening the rage which glowed in his looks, 'Arise,' said he,
I will shew you that my word is irrevocable. I bade you ask a boon! You have asked; and shall obtain it. Go! take under your command the troops of Casbin; and execute my vengeance according to the rules of that justice, in favour of which you have ventured to plead so strongly.
Such a charge exceeded even the hopes of Selim. He bowed his head to the ground, in testimony of obedience; and rising, departed instantly to execute a command, which gratified the dearest passions of his heart.
Putting himself, therefore, at the head of the forces assigned to him, he flew directly to stop the carnage, always committed in the first heat of victory; and gathering all the captives into one body, he surrounded them with a guard, not more to prevent their escape, than to protect them from farther injury; having done which, he directed his march to the capital, taking them along with him.
As the reason of the emperor's conferring this command upon Selim, was as yet known but to few, it was thought he had thus saved the lives of the captives for the present, only to strike the greater terror, by putting them to death in the sight of their families and friends; for mercy to rebels was a thing unheard of.
But he suffered them not to remain long in an opinion so injurious to his intentions. As soon as he arrived before the capital, he ordered all the prisoners to be led forth; and advancing toward them, as they stood trembling with suspense and horror,
The first orders of the emperor's just wrath,
said he,
were to exterminate a people, who had dared to rebel against him; but his mercy hath interposed; and his justice now ordains, that the guilty only shall suffer.
Let these therefore be pointed out! Who were the first inciters to this rebellion? what pretext was feigned? what end proposed to encourage it? He is unworthy to lead in any cause, who will not stand between his followers and destruction.
He had scarce spoken these words, when a confused noise announced the arrival of the king of this unhappy people. He appeared to have past the middle stage of man's life; but to have suffered more from misfortune than from time. A ray of native majesty shot through the gloom of grief, which overcast his looks. He was arrayed in the garb of mourning; and the ensigns of royalty were borne reversed before him.
At his approach, all was still as death. On being informed of what Selim had said, a gleam of joy flashed over his face. He stepped forward, and with an air of dignity and resolution,
Behold, O worthy substitute of the conqueror of the world,
he said,
the man, whom you seek! I was the king of this unhappy people; and on my head must fall the punishment of their misdoings.
He was not the author of the revolt! He led not the people to battle,
exclaimed a youth, breaking through the croud of captives, who strove in vain to restrain him:
That crime, since heaven hath declared it such by the event, was mine; and I alone deserve to die for it.
'Away! rash boy!' returned the venerable monarch;
nor add thy disobedience to the number of my griefs. Wouldst thou usurp the rights of thy king? for who, but their king, can be answerable for his people?
Then addressing himself to Selim,
If I was not the immediate author of the revolt,
he continued,
I strove not to suppress it! If he led the people to battle, it was in the authority of my name, and with my assent. What was a crime therefore in me, was only a duty in him; nor would it be consistent with the justice you propose, to let the son suffer for doing that which his sovereign and his father did not forbid him to do.
SECTION IX.
SELIM listened with equal pleasure and surprize, to a contest which did honour to the human name. But it was far from being so pleasing to all present.
The troops, at the head of which the emperor had placed him, were commanded, under him, by Cafor, the chieftain, against whom the rebellion had first been raised.
As Selim was proceeding to interpose between the father and the son, he was interrupted by Cafor, who just then joined him:
Let the instant deaths of both,
said he sternly,
put an end to their audacious contest. It were treason to shew mercy to traitors.
And canst thou doom us to death,
returned the youth, trembling with indignant rage,
for that which thy injustice alone compelled us to do? For seeking redress of wrongs, too great for human nature to submit to?
'What can this mean?' interrupted Selim.
What wrongs dost thou complain of? and whose injustice was the cause of thy rebellion? Speak in the boldness of truth, and expect justice.
'Our wrongs, O gracious chieftain,' replied the prince, melting into tears, at the tenderness which shone in the looks of Selim,
are too many to be recited in a moment; and the perpetrator too mighty for me to contend with. You see before you, two of the most miserable of men, made so by him, who stands in the security of power, at your right hand. The injustice of Cafor was the cause of our crime. Against that only, not against the sovereignty of Temugin, did we revolt! And if thou wilt but sweeten death, with an hope that our wrongs shall be avenged upon his head, this moment will I meet it with joy, in any form which his own cruelty can prescribe.
Shall the power of Temugin be thus insulted?
exclaimed Cafor,
and his vengeance delayed by the vain words of a slave? Give them to death, the hoary traitor and his rebellious son! Give them instantly to the death which their acknowledged guilt deserves; nor let the honour of our sovereign be longer trifled with in this manner.
Son of Ashur,
returned Selim,
the power of our mighty lord shall not be insulted; nor his vengeance delayed longer, than is necessary for putting it under the direction of justice, by which alone the honour of a sovereign is supported.
Then turning to the captive prince,
Thy accusation,
he continued,
falls upon a respected head; and must be supported by the clearest proof, or it will recoil with tenfold force upon thyself! But let not this discourage thee to speak the words of truth. Justice knoweth no distinction of persons.
Emboldened by this assurance, the prince paused for a few moments, then raising his eyes slowly from the ground, and fixing them with the modest confidence of innocence upon Selim,
O shadow of him, who rules the world,
he said,
I obey thy command; and will unfold our griefs as far as nature is able to give them utterance, depending upon thy compassion to pardon the incoherencies of distraction and despair.
This unhappy land, now doomed to suffer all the miseries of war, has flourished, for a long succession of ages, under the government of my ancestors, who all placed their glory in the happiness of their people.
From the first hour of his reign, my father trod invariably in their sacred steps; and, in order to train me in the same, admitted me into his councils, and made room for me on his throne, as soon as reason had gained sufficient strength to imitate the example he set me.
How far I answered his hopes, is not for me to say. He seemed to be pleased; and I was happy.
In this manner my age had numbered two hundred moons, when the power of Temugin began to shake the world.
In the ardour of inexperienced youth, I would have opposed his victorious arms, and defended the throne of my ancestors; but the wisdom of my father restrained my rashness.
Wouldst thou stop the flowing of the sea? he said. Can the breath of thy mouth repel the storm? It is a duty to yield, where resistance is without hope.
My people may be as happy under another sovereign, nor will I expose them to destruction to preserve upon my head a crown, which I have always considered to have been given to me, as much for their advantage, as my own.
I will resign myself, therefore, to the will of heaven, without repining. I will submit to the conqueror. Ambition is often accompanied by generosity. Perhaps he may require no more than an acknowledgment of his superior power; and leave me to govern my people in peace under him. If not, I shall, at least, have this consolation, that they will have no reason to repent of their attachment to me.
SECTION X.
THE will of my father had ever been the rule of my actions. I obeyed without reply. The consequence was that which he had foreseen. Temugin not only confirmed him on his throne; but also honoured him with his particular confidence and friendship.
Impelled by gratitude, I offered him my service, in his wars, at the head of a body of our chosen youth. My offer was accepted, and our service approved on many occasions.
But this happiness was of short duration. The kings of the neighbouring nations, who, uninfluenced by the same principles of wisdom and virtue, as my father, had attempted to resist the conqueror, found not the same favour from him▪ When he turned his arms to distant conquests, therefore, he committed the government of their kingdoms to one of his commanders, leaving him an army to enforce that obedience, which, he was sensible, depended upon force alone.
Though my father's kingdom could not have been included in this charge, as the emperor had, from the first, reinstated him in all the powers of royalty, and I was in his armies, as a pledge for his faith, the avarice of this commander levelled all distinction.
No sooner had the tide of the emperor's conquests led him afar off, than he entered our country, in an hostile manner, and under the pretext of disarming the inhabitants, who made no resistance, plundered them with the most insatiable rapacity, of the acquisitions of ages of industry and peace.
Surprized at such an outrage, my father attempted to expostulate with the invader; but instead of paying regard to his words, he affected to treat his very expostulation as rebellion; and marching directly to the capital of his kingdom, entered, as in conquest, gates which were opened to him in the confidence of peace, and deprived him of every shadow of power.
Nor did he stop there. The wealth of which he had spoiled the country, instead of satisfying, had only heightened his avarice. He thought the Prince must be personally rich, in proportion to the riches of his people. He therefore seized the treasures of the crown; and not finding them to answer his expectations, concluded that they had been secreted from his search: for my father looking upon his subjects as his most faithful stewards, had ever scorned the preposterous policy of amassing wealth which he did not immediately want, and knew would encrease in their possession against he should have occasion for it.
Enraged at this disappointment, he strove to intimidate my father, by threats, to a discovery which was not in his power to make; but finding them ineffectual, he—that man—whom, to my dishonour, I behold alive—that Cafor —accursed be his name—dared to carry his threats into execution; and loading him with many stripes, shed his sacred blood by the ignominious hand of the executioner.
Obedience to my father had made his people submit to their own sufferings; but his they could not bear. They arose like one man. They delivered him from the hands of the tyrant, who basely saved himself by flight.
The army, in which I served, was not far distant. I soon heard the dreadful tidings, and flew to my father, followed by my faithful friends. I would have avenged his wrongs, but I was not able. I could not even die in the just attempt.
Thus, mighty commander, have I shewn thee the cause of our revolt. I confess my guilt. I have fought against my sovereign, to save my father. Let me alone suffer for my crime; but before I do suffer, I claim thy promise of justice upon the author of that crime.
Prove the truth of my charge by every torture which he can invent; but let his punishment follow the proof, and I shall die happy.
SECTION XI.
IT was not without difficulty that Selim could prevent Cafor from frequently interrupting the captive prince in the course of his narrative. As soon as it was ended, he turned to the accused, with a cool, but determined look, and demanded what defence he could make against so black a charge.
'This shall defend me,' answered Cafor, in a rage, brandishing his sabre over his head;
I disdain to submit to any other decision.
'O, let the sword decide it!' exclaimed the prince eagerly.
Strong though his arm, the justice of heaven is still stronger. Let the sword decide it, this moment.
'We need not refer to heaven,' returned Selim,
for the decision of that which human reason can decide. When appeals to the sword are admitted, obedience to the laws is at an end. Every man is then the sovereign arbiter of his own cause.
Then turning to Cafor, 'Son of Ashur,' he continued,
since thou canst not refute the atrocious charge brought against thee, take the just punishment of thy guilt.
—Saying which, he made a signal to his soldiers, who instantly smote off the head of Cafor, and laid it at his feet.
The tumult, occasioned by this unexpected event, had no sooner subsided, than Selim, addressing himself to the king, who had stood all this time in the stupefaction of grief before him,
To thee, O injured monarch,
said he,
the justice of Temugin hath rendered this redress; and now reinstates thee in all the rights of that sovereignty, of which thou hast been so unworthily deprived. Restore tranquillity and order among your people; punish past crimes, to prevent the repetition of them; and compleat your own glory, by compleating the happiness of your subjects. It is the intention of Temugin, that all who live under his power should be happy.
—
Then raising the prince, who lay at his feet, panting in an extasy of gratitude and joy,
As for your fate,
he continued,
it must be determined by the word of our sovereign. He commanded me to punish the authors of this revolt. How far you may be included in that command, is for himself to say. Be not, however, dismayed. He will weigh the cause against the crime, and pay just regard to the first of human duties.
This signal instance of justice restored peace to the country. Satisfied at seeing the wrongs of their sovereign redressed, the people forgot their own, and readily returned to their duty; while their happiness secured their continuance in it.
On Selim's return, he threw himself at the feet of Temugin, to render an account of his charge. The fate of Cafor had reached the camp before him, and the emperor had not disclosed his sentiments upon it. All therefore waited with anxiety for the event.
The emperor having heard him with unmoved attention, as soon as he had ended, 'The heart of man,' said he, looking around him with an air of majesty, which struck every beholder with awe,
can be read only by the eye of heaven! I knew the valour of Cafor, and doubted not his virtue; but he hath paid the just penalty of his crime, and my honour is vindicated.
Then directing himself to the prince, who lay prostrate before him, 'Arise,' he continued,
and resume your command in my armies. I war not against nature!
And you,
turning to Selim,
to whose more powerful genius the fortune of Togrul was obliged to yield; assume the name; and stand near me, in the place of that brave and faithful warrior, whose wisdom in the council was equal to his valour in the field.
End of the
SECOND BOOK.
THE HISTORY OF ARSACES, PRINCE OF BETLIS. BOOK THE THIRD.
SECTION I.
THE exalted station to which Togrul (for by that name was he now known) was thus raised, gave, for some time, such employment to his mind, that he scarce thought of his former misfortunes.
But this respite was not long. No sooner had the first tumults of youthful joy and ambition subsided, than all his grief returned with aggravated weight; and he upbraided himself for having suffered it to be suspended, even for a moment, by the smiles of a prosperity, which he considered as acquired at the loss of his father, and not to be enjoyed without the farther crime of violating his faith to the daughter of Himilco, now the sole object of his hopes and wishes; to whom he accordingly resolved to return.
But a principle of gratitude would not permit him to carry this purpose into execution, before he should, by some new services, repay the debt he owed to Temugin, and prove himself not unworthy of the rank to which he was raised.
In the mean time Temugin, who was no stranger to the leading passions of his heart, generously resolved to employ him in a service, which should afford him the amplest opportunity of indulging them.
Calling for him therefore, one morning,
Togrul,
said he,
I know not in what light I am to hold the Khaliff of Bagdat; whether as an enemy, or a friend. The oppressions which he suffered, from the lawless ambition and pride of Mohammed, should have filled his heart with gratitude to his deliverer; but never hath he thought proper to take the least notice of his obligation, nor made any advances toward my friendship.
Take, therefore, the troops under your command, and proceed directly to Bagdat. If you find him deserving of my favour, receive him to it on proper terms; if not, the sword is in your hand to vindicate my rights.
No charge, in the power of Temugin to give, could have affected Togrul in so interesting a manner. The favours, the slights he had received from the Khaliff, the malignancy of his enemies, and the opportunity of revenge now in his power, flashed instantly upon him, and set every passion of his heart in conflict.
Prostrating himself at the feet of the emperor,
I acknowledge,
said he,
mighty lord, the honour conferred upon me by this important trust, and will endeavour to acquit myself of it to your satisfaction. But, O remember the trial to which your slave is exposed!
—
I see,
interrupted the emperor,
the workings of your soul; but I doubt not your ability to surmount still greater trials. It is by such alone that virtue can be proved.
The armies of Temugin were always in readiness to carry his orders into instant execution. Togrul decamped at the first hour of the evening, animated with an ardour, from which his forces drew the happiest presages of success.
As he pursued his march through the country of Farsistan, his attention was one day struck by a pile of ruins, the magnificence of which tempted him to take a nearer view of them, while his troops halted for refreshment.
The reflections, naturally suggested by such scenes, were interrupted by the sight of an aged man, sitting in a melancholy posture, with his eyes intently fixed upon some fragments, which lay in an heap before him, while a flood of tears rolled in silence down his furrowed cheeks.
Such a sight was equally affecting to curiosity and compassion. Advancing therefore toward him, 'Pardon,' said Togrul,
O venerable father! the intrusion of a stranger, who wishes to know the cause of your distress, in hope it may be in his power to offer you relief.
The mourner raised his eyes, and looking eagerly around,
Is the voice of benevolence heard again in this place?
he exclaimed.
Sweet is the sound, tho' its purpose is impossible.
Then fixing his eyes most attentively upon Togrul for some moments,
Your words, O illustrious young man,
he continued,
speak a feeling heart; and I see that you have already tasted of adversity. I will therefore satisfy your enquiry, though hopeless of its motive; for, alas! my woes admit not of relief.
Having said this, he turned his face to the East, and prostrating himself before the heap of fragments,
O life of the universe!
he said,
thou glorious Sun! protect these sacred relicks from pollution; nor give the ashes of Zelis to the winds, before mine shall be mingled with them.
When he had offered up this prayer, he arose, and turning to Togrul,
I have promised to unfold to you the cause of my unhappiness,
he continued;
but this place is improper. The voice of prayer and adoration only should be heard here. We will withdraw into the shade of yonder arch, and there I will relate the melancholy tale.
As soon as Togrul and he were seated, 'These ruins,' said the mourner, with a sigh, which seemed to burst his heart,
are all which remains of the sacred Temple of the Sun; and in that spot, now covered with those fragments, once stood the altar, on which my ancestors, for ages without number, fed the everliving fire, the hallowed emblem of his purity and power; till the divine wrath, kindled against the sins of mankind, gave up the world to the ravages of the Arabians, who not content with temporal dominion, dared to attack the sovereignty of heaven.
They polluted our temples; they over-turned our altars; and impiously attempted to extinguish the sacred fire, emblem of him whose light had illuminated the world from its first creation. An impiety never presumed before by any who had obtained dominion over us.
But heaven had not so far abandoned the human race. Forewarned in a dream, one of our lineage had built an altar, in the mountains of Irac Agem; and secretly removed thither a spark of the true fire, before the sacrilegious ravagers reached this temple.
The horrors of that day are not to be described. In vain did the priests hold up their hands, never defiled with blood, never profaned with any instrument of destruction, to avert the rage of war from these holy walls. The tears of the mother, and the cries of her infants, pleaded in vain. The barbarians were equally deaf to innocence and virtue.
Then did the piety of our race shine forth in all its glory. They gathered themselves around the altar, and covering it with their bodies, saved the sacred fire from profanation by extinguishing it with their blood, which was shed without respect to age or sex, and the temple reduced to this heap of ruins.
It is impossible to express the consternation of the people at this fatal outrage. Thinking the sacred fire utterly extinguished, they abandoned themselves to despair, and every where courted the swords of their destroyers.
At length, the spark, which had been preserved in Irac Agem, being discovered, the poor remains of the true Persees, repaired to it; and preferring those inhospitable mountains to the fertile plains of Farsistan, without this object of their worship, built themselves a little city, where their posterity hath lived in peace to this day.
Of all our lineage, there had escaped the general massacre, only the one who attended the altar he had built in Irac Agem; and an infant daughter, borne to him by his sister, at the loss of her own life, soon after her arrival there.
The danger of losing a race, so long endeared to their love, so necessary to their religion, filled the Persees with the strongest fear; but heaven heard their prayers, and from these two sprung a progeny which hath subsisted ever since; for never was our blood contaminated by mixture with any other, all our alliances being among ourselves, and in the nearest relations of nature; a custom by which we double the happiness of life, in the union of all its endearments.
But though driven thus by irresistible necessity from our native land, once in our lives we never fail to visit these revered ruins, to implore from the Sun a restoration of their glory; and sprinkle upon the remains of his altar the ashes of our deceased kindred, which we religiously preserve for that purpose; and this was the melancholy cause of my coming hither at this time.
A flood of tears here choaked his utterance. He hung down his head, and sobbed aloud for some moments, while Togrul humanely wept in silence with him.
SECTION II.
AS soon as he had recovered the power of speech,
Were I not convinced of the benevolence of your heart,
he resumed,
O virtuous youth! I should make an excuse for paying a tribute to nature, which affected heroism has dishonoured with the name of weakness; but I see you are superior to such false refinement.
This melancholy duty having fallen upon me this year, I yielded in an unhappy hour to the sollicitations of my wife, to let her accompany me hither.
On the third day of our journey, we were met by a troop of Tartars, who had separated from the armies of Temugin, and ranged the country in search of plunder.
The innocence of our lives, and our known poverty in those things which are called the riches of the world, had ever preserved us in peace with all the nations round. I advanced therefore without fear to the leader of the troop, and informing him who we were, expected to have been permitted to pursue our journey without interruption.
But alas! I flattered myself with vain expectation. He had looked at the beauty of my wife with eyes of desire, and resolved to tear her from my bosom.
Unwilling however to have recourse to open violence, for fear of opposition from his followers, who, he knew, held our people in the highest reverence, he pressed us to take shelter in his tent from the heat of noon; a courtesy feigned, that he might have time to form some scheme for accomplishing his base design.
There are some offers, which, however unacceptable, cannot be refused.
The Persees have ever been famed for hospitality, above all the nations upon earth. We could not refuse entering his tent, without an appearance of unsocial ingratitude, though our laws would not permit us to taste a drop of water with him.
We had not been long there, when he withdrew, under a pretence of giving some orders to his men; nor returned till it was too late for us to reach the caravansera, in which we had proposed to rest that night: for it would have been reckoned an infringement upon the laws of hospitality in us, to have departed without waiting for him.
Our uneasiness, in such a situation, may be well conceived; but he gave reasons of such plausibility for his absence, and offered so courteously to remain where he was for that night, for our convenience, that we could not avoid complying to stay with him.
His joy, at seeing us run so readily, as he thought, into his snares, put him off his guard.
I caught a glance of his eye, as he gazed at my wife, in which I read the nefarious purpose of his heart. I arose, therefore, instantly, and claiming the sacred privilege of hospitality, proceeded that moment on my journey, along with my wife.
The shades of night falling upon us, as we travelled by the side of a wood, my wife was so terrified by the roaring of the wild beasts, issuing from their dens in quest of prey, that I was obliged to give way to her fears, and assist her to climb a lofty tree, where I placed her in safety among the boughs, seating myself beside her.
The fears of my wife seemed to have been impressed by heaven, to save us from dangers still more terrible than those she was afraid of.
We were scarcely settled in the tree, when we heard the tread of horses; and in a little time could distinguish the voice of the Tartar, exultingly anticipating to his followers the pleasure he promised himself in the possession of my wife, as he passed by our place of refuge.
The appearance of the morning at length giving us hope that our danger was over, we descended from the tree; and having offered up our adorations to the rising sun, were preparing to proceed in our journey, when we perceived our enemy approaching toward us on his return.
It is impossible to express the horrors with which this sight struck us. My wife, in the vain impulse of despair, ran toward the wood, whither the Tartar pursued her, while his companions seized me.
Her flight was soon stopped. The ravisher overtook her, and mad with desire, attempted to gratify his brutal appetites upon the spot. What were the sensations of my soul in that dreadful moment! But heaven saw my distress, and heard the cries of her innocence.
SECTION III.
JUST as he had overpowered her resistance, a lion, rouzed by her shrieks, issued from a brake, near to which heaven had directed her flight, and rushing upon the ruffian, tore him piecemeal in an instant.
Soon as my wife found herself freed from his violence, she started from the ground, and ran with out-stretched arms towards me for protection, incapable of considering my inability to afford it, nor even sensible of the means of her deliverance.
But the power, which had so signally saved her, continued his care of us both. The Tartars, who had seized me, struck with so evident an interposition of heaven, no sooner saw their leader slain, than fearing a like fate for themselves, as accomplices in his guilt, they loosed their hold, and springing upon their horses, fled out of sight in a moment.
These events had succeeded each other so rapidly, that reason was unable to keep pace with them. I stood stupified with astonishment, nor had power to advance to meet my wife, till she fell motionless at my feet.
This sight restored me to myself. I raised her head, and laying it in my bosom, attempted to soothe her distress with words of comfort, which I wanted little less myself.
The generous lion, in the mean time, stood over the victim of his justice, growling with savage delight, and lashing his sides with his tail, without advancing a single step towards us, though so near him; till satisfied with his triumph, he returned slowly back to his den.
It was a considerable time before I could bring my wife to her senses. The conflict had been too violent for her tender frame. Her spirits and strength equally sunk under it: sunk, alas! never to recover. Several times she opened her eyes, and fixed them wildly on me; then starting in the impression of her fright, gave a feeble shriek, and swooned away again.
At length, she became more composed; but still she was unable to walk; and every moment we delayed there, encreased my fears of the return of the Tartars, to revenge their leader's death.
In this distress, I happened to cast my eye upon the horse of the ravisher, which his followers had, in their affright, left behind them, tied to a tree; and placing her with difficulty upon him, walked by her side to encourage and support her, till we arrived at the caravansera.
This was the last effort of her strength. The delicacy of her soul was wounded by the base attempt of violation, and the affright had over-shadowed her reason.
For three days she pined in my bosom, then drooping her head, like a lily torne from the root, expired without a struggle.
My situation can be conceived only by a feeling heart. O my Zelis! thou wert the delight of my eyes, the hope and comfort of my life. She was the first fruits of my love, by my own mother, whom, according to our holy laws, I had wedded in my early youth, on the immature death of my father.
I would gladly have accompanied her to the mansions of the blessed; but piety, and my very love for her, equally restrained me.
Reason had had time to resume her rule during the approaches of her death. The laws of our religion forbid us to shed human blood, even in self-defence. How then could I dare to stain my hands with my own? Beside, who should perform the last rites to her dear remains, and sprinkle her ashes on this altar? Who should perform the same pious office for me, that I may be reunited to her, and to the rest of our holy race?
I was convinced of my duty, and prepared to fulfil it. I washed her pure body with my tears. I wrapped it in precious spices, which I received in exchange for the horse of the Tartar, from certain merchants in the caravansera, and building a lofty pile of aromatic woods, reduced it to ashes, which I have this day spread upon yonder sacred ruins of our altar.
This, O courteous stranger! is the sermon of my woes, which, you see, will admit of no relief. I now turn my face to our place of refuge in the mountains, there to devote the residue of my unhappy days to the contemplation of that Being, by whose power, and in whose presence only, I can be restored to happiness.
SECTION IV.
THOUGH the heart of Togrul sympathized with the unhappy sufferer, there were some circumstances in his story which affected him in a very different manner.
As his reason was convinced of the incomprehensible essence of the Deity, he considered every assimilation of him to objects of sense, as the most impious absurdity; and the very thought of paying to his creatures, the adoration due only to himself, struck him with sacred horror.
Nor were his moral sentiments less hurt, by customs which he held to be contrary to the most inviolable laws of nature.
Well aware as he was of the inefficacy of argument in matters of religious prejudice, he would have thought silence a crime on such an occasion, as implying an assent which his soul disclaimed.
As soon, therefore, as the Persee had ended his melancholy narrative,
I condole with you for your loss,
said he,
O man of affliction! but I dare not offer consolation before you have reconciled yourself to heaven, by a renunciation of those errors (should I not rather say crimes?) which have drawn its wrath upon your head.
You blindly mistake the creature for the Creator, and rob him of that worship which is his sole and incommunicable right: and your marriages break down the fences, which nature hath established to guard moral chastity, forcing her back upon herself, in connections, against which she revolts with horror.
Heavy as this charge was, the Persee was not abashed. Fixing his eyes upon Togrul, with a modest firmness,
Most unworthy of consolation should I certainly be,
he replied,
O severe judge! if I were guilty of the crimes which you impute to me. But I exult in the assurance, that on a moment's reflection, you will yourself acquit me of them.
If our marriages are contrary to nature, how could mankind have been propagated from one stock? And where did the sons of the first pair find wives, if they wedded not their sisters? The prejudice instilled against them in infancy, by other nations, from motives unnecessary to us, whose virtue requires not such a guard, to prevent the intercourse of consanguinity from being abused to gratify impure desire, is mistaken for the voice of nature, whom we force not back upon herself, but free from restraints, submitted to by man alone, of all her various race.
More groundless still is the accusation of our worshipping any other object than the Deity himself, the Author and Life of the universe, and all it contains.
We worship not his creatures; we worship him in them. We worship him in the sun, as the most glorious of his works, the fountain of that heat by which he animates all nature! We worship him in fire, as the substitute of the sun, the vehicle in which heat is intrusted to our own management for the uses of life; and we keep that fire always alive, in testimony of our gratitude for his supporting our lives by it; and as a memorial to him to continue that support.
Never has man fallen into so gross error, as to direct his worship ultimately to the works of his own hands, though the presumption of ignorance hath often accused him of it.
Adieu, O young man! Learn to judge less precipitately; and may the Deity, whom all the world unites in adoring, though under different symbols, guide your steps in safety.
It was some time before Togrul recovered from the surprise with which this defence of the Persee struck him. He examined it with candid attention, and though he was far from thinking it satisfactory, it determined him never more to condemn any man for differing in opinion with him.
SECTION V.
THE sensations of his heart, as he approached Bagdat, are not to be described. On his arrival, he was met by an ambassador from the Khaliff, to enquire the cause of his coming in that hostile manner.
Though age, together with the change of his name, prevented Togrul from being known, he directly knew the ambassador to have been one of his most malignant enemies, and could not avoid feeling some natural emotions of resentment; but he suppressed them instantly, having covenanted with his heart to keep the characters of Selim and Togrul perfectly distinct; nor to shew the least recollection of the former, till he should have executed his present commission.
He replied, therefore, that as hitherto no act of his had shewn any intention of hostility, so should his future conduct be directed by that of the Khaliff, to whom alone he would communicate the motive of his coming.
This reply was by no means satisfactory to the ambassador. He would fain have himself entered into treaty with Togrul, alledging that the Khaliff's health was unequal to such an interview at present; though were it even otherwise, it would be inconsistent with the character of a sovereign to enter into the necessary altercations of business with a subject.
But these evasions had no weight with Togrul. He answered peremptorily, that his commission was to the Khaliff himself in person, to whom if he had not admission the next morning, he should look upon the denial as a denunciation of war, and take his measures accordingly, without farther delay; adding, with a smile of contempt, that attention to the interests of his people could never be beneath the character of a prince, with whomsoever it might bring him into intercourse; and that when the sovereign could be present, the intervention of a servant was merely nugatory: saying which, he left the ambassador, without waiting for a reply.
Though it was evident, that a war with Temugin must in the end prove fatal to the Khaliff, his visier, who after the departure of Selim, had wrested the whole power out of his hands, leaving him only the empty name of sovereign, resolved to bury himself under the ruins of his country, rather than admit an interview, the first consequence of which he was conscious would be his own deposal.
For this purpose, he formed the desperate resolution of making an assault upon the camp of Togrul that very night, flattering himself with hope of surprising him in the false security of peace; to confirm which, he sent another embassy to inform him, that the Khaliff would see him the next morning.
But Togrul was too well experienced in the art of war to relax his care for a moment on any appearances. He answered the ambassadors, that he should be ready to attend the Khaliff at the time appointed; and as soon as they were gone, proceeded to station his guards, and put his camp in a proper state of defence.
When the shades of night had covered the earth, Togrul retired to his tent; and falling upon his face, poured out his soul in grateful praise and adoration to him, who had protected him through the past day, and implored a continuance of the same protection for that night.
Just as he had performed this sacred duty, he was alarmed at a sudden noise; when starting up, he saw a strange man, with a poniard in his hand, fallen on the floor of his tent.
Such a sight required no explanation. Togrul instantly seized him, before he could rise to execute his intent; and wresting his poniard out of his hand, demanded who he was; and by what injury he had been provoked to attempt so nefarious a crime.
The assassin, in the natural impulse of self-preservation, lifting up his hands and eyes, begged for mercy, which he did not even expect, offering to purchase his pardon by a discovery of the most immediate importance.
Togrul, whose resentment never lasted longer than the cause, bade the trembling wretch merit the mercy he implored, by a candid confession of the motives to his guilt.
These words giving him a ray of hope, the assassin, without hesitation, owned that he had been prompted to assassinate him by promises of large reward made to him by the visier; and for that purpose had lingered behind the ambassadors, in whose train he came, till he found an opportunity of hiding himself in his tent, where, seeing him enter soon after, and prostrate himself to pay his devotions, he had stepped forth from the place where he was concealed, and was advancing to perpetrate the deed, when his foot entangling in the fringe of the carpet, he fell at his length upon the floor; and then, as a farther plea for pardon, discovered the visier's design of assaulting the camp that very night.
This account was too strongly confirmed, by the circumstances in which the relator stood, to admit of doubt. Having offered a mental tribute of thanksgiving to heaven for so signal a preservation, Togrul called to his attendants, and ordering them to guard the assassin, prepared instantly to avail himself of the information he had received.
For this purpose he summoned the several leaders of his troops, and unfolding the discovery which had been made to him, directed one of them to take a body of forces, and marching silently out of the camp, on the side farthest from the city, to fetch a circuit, so as to fall upon the enemy in the rear, as soon as they should begin their attack upon the camp, where he should be ready to give them a proper reception.
The soldiers of Temugin, who were always accustomed to the strictest discipline, obeyed his orders without noise or confusion; and the camp continuing as silent, as if buried in the profoundest sleep, the enemy advanced to the attack with that security in which they had expected to have surprized him.
The event was soon determined. The assailants repulsed with vigour, and themselves assailed at the same time, gave up the unequal contest, and endeavoured to save themselves by a retreat into the city; but in vain. The greatest part of them was cut off; and the victors entering with the few who escaped, made themselves masters of the place without resistance.
SECTION VI.
THE fears of the inhabitants, in such a situation, are not to be expressed. They expected nothing less than to be given up to all the outrages of war; but they were saved by the military skill, as much as by the mercy of their conqueror, who, knowing their numbers, would not drive them to despair. Having stopped the fury of his soldiers, he possessed himself of the gates, and all the places of strength in the city; and placing guards to prevent any new attempts, restored all things to a state of order and tranquillity.
As soon as the morning sun arose, Togrul advanced with a body of his troops to the palace of the Khaliff. A recollection of former scenes swelled his heart for a moment; but he soon shook off such softness. Calling for the commander of the guard, he ordered him to go to the Khaliff, and demand an interview, if he would avoid the consequences of an immediate assault.
The grand visier returned along with the officer, and after attempting to palliate the treachery he had been guilty of the night before, by laying the attack of the camp to the charge of the ungovernable populace, desired that Togrul would accompany him to the Khaliff, who, he said, expected him in the divan; but Togrul, instead of making him any reply, gave a signal to his guards, who instantly seized him, before he could attempt to escape.
An act of such seeming violence naturally threw all the citizens into the greatest consternation; but Togrul soon eased them of their fears. Waving his hand to demand silence, he declared aloud that none but the guilty should suffer; nor even they, before the fullest proof of their guilt, and by the authority of their sovereign; ordering the visier to be strictly guarded, till he could be brought before him.
The tumult being thus appeased, Togrul sent once more to request the interview with the Khaliff, who immediately came to the gate of the palace to meet him.
The first sight of his altered state affected Togrul in so tender a manner, that it required all his presence of mind to conceal it. Broken in spirit, and stooping under infirmities, he scarcely seemed the shadow of himself.
As soon as he approached, Togrul advancing in a respectful manner, informed him of the motive of his coming.
The Khaliff heard him with attention; and as soon as he had ended,
Thou speakest of peace,
he answered,
but actest all the outrages of war. Hast thou not taken our city by surprize, while we depended on the faith of thy words? And hast thou not now seized our visier, who came to conduct thee to us, according to thy desire? Wherefore shouldst thou continue the illusion farther? Or, why mention a choice of peace, or war, to one who is already thy prisoner, and obliged to obey thy will?
This pathetic expostulation opened to Togrul the state of the Khaliff, whom he knew to be incapable of dissimulation. He saw that he had been the slave of his visier, who gave the sanction of his sovereign's name to his own iniquities.
Instead, therefore, of retorting the charge of violated faith, he informed the Khaliff, in terms of respect, of the conduct of his visier, producing the assassin to prove his guilt, and referring the judgment to him.
The discovery struck all present with horror. 'Holy Prophet!' exclaimed the Khaliff, raising his hands and eyes to heaven,
to what misfortunes is the monarch subject, who seeth not with his own eyes, who trusts the reins of government out of his own hands for a moment?
Then turning to the visier, who stood trembling in the silence of self-conviction,
Thy conqueror,
he continued,
hath left thy fate to my disposal; receive that, which I doubt not but thou hast often merited before; for man sinks not to such consummate guilt at once.
—Saying which, he made a signal to his guards, who instantly smote off the miscreant's head.
Togrul, in the natural impulse of resentment, could not help feeling a momentary inclination to have made himself known to his enemy before his death; but he instantly suppressed it, blushing at a thought so unworthy of him.
This sacrifice being offered to justice, the Khaliff, addressing himself again to Togrul,
I have thus, perhaps for the last time,
he resumed,
performed the duty of a sovereign in punishing guilt. It is now thine to dispose of me, according to the commands of thy master. I here resign my sceptre into thine hands for him, and submit to the will of heaven without repining.
Togrul received the sceptre, with an air of dignity suited to the character he represented, and holding it in his hand for a few moments, while the hearts of all present were bursting with suspense,
Know, O supreme of all the followers of Mahomet!
he said,
that the justice of Temugin is equal to his power. He desires to conquer only for the benefit of mankind; nor doth he ever dethrone the sovereign, whom he finds worthy to rule. The errors which incurred his displeasure proceeded from him to whom thou hadst incautiously entrusted thy power, and are atoned by his death; receive therefore thy sceptre again from his hands, and hold it more steadily in thine own for the future! Thou art from this hour the friend of Temugin.
It is impossible to express the effect of this sublime moderation upon all who were present. The name of Temugin was borne to heaven in acclamations of gratitude and joy; nor was that of his substitute forgotten.
The feelings of the Khaliff were too big for utterance. He sunk under the weight of his own gratitude. Prostrating himself upon his face, he adored the sovereign ruler of the universe for this instance of his divine favour; and then arising, payed to Togrul the thanks due to that benevolent grace, by which he had even endeared the generosity of his lord.
The terms of their accord were soon adjusted. Temugin had required no advantages for himself. Togrul therefore only stipulated, that all under the power of the Khaliff should be suffered to enjoy, unmolested, the common rights of humanity. That they should worship the Deity in the manner seeming best to themselves, and be safe from punishment and injury while they should be free from guilt; and that the traveller, and the stranger who sojourned in the land, should meet equal justice and protection with the natives.
SECTION VII.
THE treaty being ratified with the proper solemnities, Togrul held it not necessary to maintain longer a reserve, which nature had the greatest difficulty to support.
Advancing to the Khaliff, and regarding him with a tender aspect,
Can it be possible,
said he,
that any change of character should so soon have effaced from the mind of Nasser the memory of his most faithful—?
'Holy Prophet!' exclaimed the Khaliff, starting at the well-known voice, now uttered in its native sweetness,
whom do I hear?
—Then fixing his eyes eagerly upon him, 'It is he!' he continued, rushing into his arms,
it is Selim himself! my long-lamented, faithful Selim!
All, who heard not the words of the Khaliff, were struck with surprise at such a conduct. But when the cause of it was explained, when the citizens of Bagdat heard, that in their generous conqueror Togrul, they beheld their beloved visier Selim, their gratitude and joy know no bounds. They flocked around him in raptures impossible to be repressed, blessing the happy day which had restored him once more to their sight.
As soon as the first transports of their joy had subsided, Togrul departed for a few moments to lead his troops back to their camp, whither the Khaliff sent them all manner of accommodations, in such plenty as made them entirely forget the fatigues of their march, and mix with his subjects as one people.
Having settled every thing in proper order, Togrul returned to the Khaliff, who expected him with the most ardent impatience.
The tenderness of their meeting, now freed from the restraint of observation, may be well conceived. Togrul gratified the curiosity of the Khaliff, by a recital of the incidents of his life, since his departure from Bagdat. On his explaining the reason of his having entered into the service of Aladdin, the Khaliff could not suppress his resentment. 'Holy Prophet!' he exclaimed,
to what impositions are princes subject?
From the day you left me, never did a letter from you come to my sight! Never did I even hear that you were living, till I was informed of your having quitted my service for that of Aladdin, from motives of personal disregard to me! But the traitors shall meet their due reward. The principal is already punished, though for another crime; but the rest shall have their deaths embittered by your triumph over them.
'O, vicar of Mahomet!' returned Togrul,
let not loose your rage against those who are so far beneath it. However base their intentions, the event was directed by the hand of heaven. Had I not been driven from your service, by that appearance of your disregard, I could not have been the fortunate instrument of this day's happiness. Let them no more have influence in your councils; but let that, and the consciousness of their guilt, be their only punishment for this crime. For me, I never will triumph over a fallen foe.
Togrul devoted the remainder of that day to the re-establishment of the Khaliff's government, in such a manner as should promise a continuance of his present happiness. He was delivered from the most severe of all tyrannies, that of his own servants. All who had abused his power were given up to justice, and their wealth divided among those, who had suffered under their iniquitous oppression.
SECTION VIII.
THE spirits of the Khaliff being unequal to such long-continued exertion, Togrul left him to his rest; and was returning to his camp, when he was surprised to find himself stopped by a Faquir, who, falling at his feet, embraced his knees, in an agony of joy, which deprived him of the power of utterance.
But Togrul was not long at a loss to account for his emotions. At the first cast of his eye, his heart acknowledged his faithful attendant Achmet, whose loss, when he was seized in the camp of Mohammed, had given him so much grief.
No change of condition can alter the sentiments of a generous heart. Togrul raising him from the ground, and embracing him tenderly, bade him dry his tears, and come to his camp, where all his troubles should find an end.
'Lord of my soul's attachment,' answered Achmet,
my troubles ended when I heard your name. But think not of me; one, much more worthy of your care requires your instant attendance. A friend, once justly dear to your heart, lives, but in hope of embracing you again; to conclude in that happiness, a life worn out in all the miseries of oppression. If the name of Obeidah still lives in your memory; if he yet holds a place in your esteem, O haste to calm the emotions with which his heart is bursting, till he enfolds you in his arms!
Starting at the name;
And doth he live! My most-respected, best-loved friend and benefactor!
returned Togrul.
I will go to him this instant; nor should have waited to be called, but that I thought his virtues had long since received their reward; that he was numbered with the happy, in the life which never ends. Lead me to his palace, this instant!
Alas, my lord!
replied Achmet,
the palace of Obeidah hath long been exchanged for a prison. You must summon all your fortitude to support the sight of his present fallen estate. But let us hasten to him. He numbers every moment of our delay by a pang of misery.
It is impossible to express what Togrul felt at this representation. He bade Achmet proceed; and following him, in silence, mourned in his soul for the sufferings of his friend.
Apprehension, which usually doubles every evil of life, here fell short of the reality. On entering the prison, he started back in horror, to see his friend and benefactor, the good visier, who had first made him known to the Khaliff, lying on the bare floor, loaded with chains.
Achmet had cautioned him not to make himself too suddenly known to Obeidah, for fear of the effects of surprise, upon an heart already stretched to bursting; but nature could not be restrained. The moment he saw him, he rushed forward, and throwing himself on the floor beside him, raised up his aged head, and laying it in his bosom, exclaimed,
O my friend! O Obeidah! My friend! My friend!
—
Obeidah did not require to be told, by whose arms he was embraced.
O Selim!
he replied,
O son of Abudah! Though my eyes can no longer be blessed with thy sight, my heart tells me it is my friend.
Achmet, in the mean time, summoned the keeper of the prison to take off Obeidah's chains; but the loyal old man would not permit him.
These chains,
said he,
were put on me in the name of Nasser; and by his orders only will I suffer them to be taken off. Never yet have I violated his authority; nor will I begin now.
Togrul would not contradict a loyalty which he revered, and whose observance could add but a few minutes to the sufferings of his friend. He therefore instantly sent one of his attendants to the Khaliff, to acquaint him with all these circumstances, and request his order for the discharge of Obeidah.
While they waited for the return of the messenger, Togrul could not forbear expressing his astonishment at the Khaliff's treating his most faithful servant in so cruel a manner; adding, with a tone of severity, that if he had known he was capable of such a gross abuse of his power, he should not have been so hasty in reinstating him in it.
The loyal heart of Obeidah could not bear to hear his sovereign loaded with so injurious a charge.
Take care, O my son!
said he,
nor let thy tongue take liberty with the chosen of the Lord. Though my sufferings were inflicted in his name, they proceeded not from him. Too well I know that he suffered himself, under the tyranny by which I was oppressed.
On Togrul's expressing astonishment, almost to doubt, at what he heard, Obeidah informed him, that immediately after his departure from Bagdat, to join the armies of Aladdin, his enemies presuming upon the easy temper of Nasser, who, neglecting the cares of government, had given himself up entirely to the cultivation of those amusements of an idle mind, which the vanity of their professors have dignified with the pompous title of the finer arts, had, by insensible degrees, wrested the royal power out of his hands, and covered their own nefarious crimes under the sanction of his name; in which they at length proceeded to such an height, that on his own constantly opposing them in the divan, and labouring to open the Khaliff's eyes, they threw him into this prison, where, without respect to his age, his innocence, or the exalted office, which he had so long filled with honour, they had detained him ever since, loaded with chains, in the manner he then was.
Before Togrul had time to reply, a noise at the door of the prison announced the arrival of the Khaliff, who running wildly up to the place, where Obeidah lay in the bosom of Togrul, 'Holy Prophet!' he exclaimed,
is it possible that such iniquity could be perpetrated by man? O Obeidah! my faithful Obeidah! think not that thy sovereign ever knew of thy sufferings; ever could make so ungrateful a return for the services of thy life. But thy wrongs and mine are avenged. Our better angel, our Selim hath set us both free; and we will live together henceforward to bless his name.
This condescension, this goodness of his sovereign was too much for the full heart of Obeidah to support. He seized the hand of the Khaliff, and pressing it to his breast, expired without a struggle, in the excess of his honest joy.
The scene was too moving for humanity to bear. Togrul, raising the Khaliff from the dead body, upon which he had fallen, led him to the door of the prison, where they parted, unable either to speak a word.
SECTION IX.
THE agitation of Togrul's mind was too violent to admit of sleep. Having paid the pious tribute of a flood of tears to the memory of his friend, he called for Achmet, and desired to be informed by what strange fortune he had been led to Bagdat.
'The fortune of the poor,' replied Achmet,
is seldom distinguished by any incidents worthy of recital. My distress, at your separating yourself from me, in the camp of Mohammed, need not be described. I sought you for several days with the most anxious diligence, till I could no longer hope to find you there.
It then occurred to me, that yielding to the melancholy with which your soul was so heavily oppressed for the loss of your father, you had taken this method of avoiding my too officious zeal, of which you often complained, and retired to give yourself up to the uninterrupted indulgence of your grief.
But my attachment could not bear the thoughts of deserting you in such a situation. I resolved to find you out, if possible, and save you from yourself; from a despair unworthy of you. Where to seek you, was the difficulty.
At length, I recollected the pleasure with which I had often heard you mention the friendship of Obeidah; and thought you might possibly have returned to him: at least, it was the only place where I could see any hope of succeeding in my search.
I directly therefore left the camp, and came to this city, where on my enquiring for Obeidah, gracious heaven! what was my astonishment! my grief! to find the good old man just sinking into his grave, under all the miseries of imprisonment and want, without even the allegation of a crime.
On my mentioning your name, he seemed to forget himself for a few moments to enquire after you; rejoicing in your success, and weeping for your misfortunes.
My soul could not forsake virtue in such distress. I devoted myself entirely to attending on one so dear to you, since I could not have the happiness of finding yourself.
Assuming therefore this habit of a Faquir, I shared with him the sustenance which I daily received from the hand of charity, and enabled him to struggle with his fate, till he sunk under the happiness, too suddenly accumulated upon him, by your arrival.
As soon as the first blush of morning had began to gild the firmament, Togrul returned to the Khaliff; and recommending to him once more to hold with steadiness the sceptre, which he had restored to his hand, began his march to rejoin Temugin, covered with the unfading laurels of a victory, which had made the vanquished happy.
On his arrival at the camp, he presented himself before the emperor, and gave him an account of his success; when instead of the approbation, with the hope of which he had pleased himself, Temugin demanded sternly, why he had given peace to the Khaliff, on such easy terms, when he had had it in his power to have made him accede to whatever he thought proper.
Much as Togrul was affected, at so unexpected a reproof, he was not absent from himself. Falling at the emperor's feet, 'I gave him a good peace,' he answered,
O sovereign of the world, because I wished to have it long, and faithfully preserved. They, who push their advantages to extremity, deceive themselves. A bad peace never lasts longer, than the necessity which made it be accepted.
Temugin paused some moments, without making any reply; then softening his look and accent,
Go,
said he,
and take order for the refreshment of your troops. I will consider these matters, at some other time.
SECTION X.
THE conduct of Togrul, on this delicate occasion, fixed him so firmly in the esteem and confidence of Temugin, that he admitted him into his most secret councils; and delighted to do him honour.
Such favour was not beheld without envy; but the humility with which he bore his greatness, and the disinterested benevolence, that ruled his conduct, soon disarmed its rage; and if it was not possible for the favourite of a prince to have a true friend, he had the happiness, at least, of having no enemies.
But this happiness soon palled upon him; and he sickened in that sunshine, for which all around him sighed.
If I must not hope to find my father!
would he often say to Achmet, in the overflowing of his heart,
must I desert my friends? Must I violate my faith to Himilco, who by this time expects my promised return? Must I leave his daughter a prey to the terrors, which hourly anticipate the misery of that forlorn estate, in which the death of her father must leave her?—Forbid it heaven! But may he not be already dead? May not she be, this moment, looking out with anxious impatience for my return; and justly accusing me of the cruelest neglect? I cannot bear the dreadful thought. If it is not in my power to avoid being unhappy; I will not aggravate my unhappiness by conscious baseness. I will have the approbation of my own mind, at least, to support me.
He would have thrown himself at the feet of Temugin, and besought his permission to depart; but the circumstances of the time made the very thought a dishonour, honour, Gelaleddin having collected all his force, for one last struggle with his fate: He resolved therefore to exert every effort in order to accelerate an event, which alone delayed the accomplishment of his only hope.
SECTION XI.
WHILE he was paying this painful tribute to honour, he happened, one day, to fall in with a body of Gelaleddin's troops, who were conducting that prince's houshold to a place of safety, farther from the seat of the war.
Flushed with continued victory, and following a leader whom they loved, his soldiers soon overcame a servile and disheartened band, who unattached to the charge they were to guard, thought only of securing their own safety by flight.
As the wars of Temugin were conducted on the principles of humanity and honour, Togrul gave orders, immediately after the victory, for sending back the wives of Gelaleddin, without his even seeing them; when a rumour, that that prince was concealed among them, obliged him to deviate from his intended delicacy.
The alarm of the women on his entering the tent, in which they were, may well be conceived; but he soon pacified their fears, by assurances of respect and safety; and then informing them of the cause of his coming, requested that they would submit to a search, so indispensible, by lifting up their veils.
Their compliance having shewn that the rumour was without foundation, Togrul was about to withdraw, when his eye was caught by a female slave, whose surpassing beauty, neither the meanness of her habit, nor the grief with which she appeared to be overwhelmed, beyond all the rest, could hide. He gazed at her, for some minutes, in rapturous astonishment; till Achmet perceiving his situation, reminded him to retire, which he did in such confusion, that he forgot to give any orders for their departure.
Achmet beheld with joy the impression, which the beauty of the slave had made upon Togrul; and resolved to heighten it by every means in his power. He was truly attached to him; but as his own soul was fired with the strongest ambition, he considered his design of retiring to Himilco, as a weakness unworthy of him; which this incident, if rightly improved, might happily enable him to prevent.
As soon as Togrul had disposed his men properly for the night, he retired to his tent, where he gave himself up to the contemplation of the beauteous slave.
While he was thus indulging himself in a pleasure, of the tendency of which he was not aware, Achmet entered; and after some occasional discourse, asked him slightly if he had observed a beautiful slave, who attended upon the wives of Gelaleddin.
The question, even from one, with whom he lived in the most unreserved familiarity, threw Togrul into evident confusion. He hesitated some moments, before he could speak, and then blushing, though unconscious for what cause, answered, that it was impossible for any one, who was not blind, to have passed such beauty unobserved.
The manner in which he said this, confirming Achmet's conjecture, he directly proceeded to feed the flame, which he saw kindled in the breast of Togrul, with the warmest descriptions of her beauty, and allusions to the pleasure, which the possession of it must bestow.
Togrul, for the first time, listened to such conversation, without dislike. His virtue was forced to yield to an attack, in which nature herself took so strong a part against it; and he sunk insensibly into a soft intoxication, which drowned all remembrance of himself, and every purpose of his heart.
When Achmet had thus prepared him for his design, he asked whether he had given orders for the departure of the wives of Gelaleddin? All the pleasing hopes, with which Togrul had been so fondly feeding his passion, faded at these words. He turned pale; and fixing his eyes for some time upon the ground, at length, with an heavy sigh, desired Achmet to take upon him a care, which he found himself unable to execute.
Achmet, who knew that the success of his design depended on its being conducted with address, resolved to seem rather to follow, than lead him to the point he desired; affecting therefore not to understand what he meant, he asked, with a look of anxiety, if he had received any wound in the late battle, to which he had neglected applying proper remedies.
Deeply as Togrul was distressed, he could scarcely forbear smiling, at such a mistake.
No, my friend,
he answered,
I have received no wound; but that which the beauteous slave hath inflicted on my heart; to which, I fear, it never will be in my power to apply any remedy.
'And wherefore should you fear that?' replied Achmet.
The wounds of love are, of all others, the most easy to be healed, where the object is in our possession.
'But how is she in my possession?' returned Togrul.
Doth she not belong to the houshold of Gelaleddin? and must I not restore her to him? I dare not, I cannot violate the orders of Temugin: Orders founded on the most sacred principles of virtue; and which my own soul holdeth in the highest honour.
'How industrious,' said Achmet, with a smile,
are we to torture, to deceive ourselves? The orders of Temugin respect only the sacred property of the marriage bed. Slaves are, by the universal laws of war, the captor's prize, the reward of valour, which Temugin never meant to deprive him of. Dismiss the wives of Gelaleddin with due respect; and he will never think your detaining a slave an invasion of his right.
Though a proposal, so favourable to his wishes, readily satisfied the scruples of Togrul, he had a respect to the appearance of virtue, a modesty in his nature, which would not permit him to carry it openly into execution.
But Achmet was not at a loss to surmount this difficulty. He counselled Togrul to send away the women directly, with every mark of honour, under the conduct of a person in whom he could confide; and said he would himself follow at the first dawn of the morning, as if he was going on some secret occasion of the war, and bring the fair slave without any alarm, or its being even known for whom, to a neighbouring fortress, where Togrul might meet her in the evening; and indulge himself in her company for some days, as if he was only attending to the motions of the enemy; a purpose for which it was a proper place.
Had not Togrul been blinded by his passion, he would have rejected with disdain, a proposal, founded on a neglect of his duty, though but for a moment: but such was his infatuation, that he equally forgot what he owed to his own honour, and to the confidence of Temugin.
SECTION XII.
THE conflict in his mind, when Achmet departed, is not to be described. Though his passion had silenced the voice of reason, it had another antagonist to struggle with, which was not so easily to be subdued. In spite of all his efforts to elude it, the remembrance of Himilco, and his daughter, would ever and anon force itself upon him; and damp his highest ardours. Every moment produced a new resolution, which the next overturned, leaving him in the same fluctuation.
Attachments of mere desire lose their force, when the object is no longer present. Every time he thought of the daughter of Himilco, his passion for the fair slave grew weaker; till, in the end, it entirely subsided, leaving no more trace behind than ruffles the bosom of a stream, into which some fragment of the rock hath newly fallen from the impending cliff.
He awoke, as from a troubled dream; and wondering at his own weakness, resolved to wipe off the stain of it, by sending back the fair slave the moment he should arrive at the place, where he had appointed to meet Achmet. Nor would he even have gone thither, had he not thought that countermanding, without any visible reason, the orders he had so lately given to his troops, would betray an unsteadiness, that must lower him in their eyes.
Exulting in this victory, he arrived at the fortress, where he no sooner saw Achmet, than he commanded him to send back the slave that very night; declaring that he would not even see her.
Achmet, who read in his looks the struggle in his heart, was more surprized than discouraged at this change of his resolution; which he did not doubt but the sight of the fair slave would soon alter, could he prevail upon him to see her.
Without seeming therefore to hesitate at paying obedience to his orders, he asked him, with a discontented look, what reason he should give her, for such a disappointment of those hopes, with which he had taken so much pains to inspire her.
Togrul, whose conquest over his passion was far from being so complete as he thought, could not forbear enquiring
gerly, what hopes he meant; to which Achmet answered, in a tone of indifference, the hopes of his love, which he had so confidently assured her of, that he was utterly ashamed to inform her of a change in his sentiments, as unaccountable as it was sudden.
Incapable of artifice himself, Togrul suspected none in Achmet. He told him, with a sigh, the reason of his sending her back, acknowledging, at the same time, the pain which that resolution had cost him.
Achmet, who wanted not virtue, though his sense of it was neither so extensive nor so sublime as that of Togrul, looked upon this as no more than a false refinement, to which it was his duty to open the eyes of his friend.
But as he was sensible, that it would be in vain to attempt reasoning on such a subject, he affected to approve the resolution Togrul had taken, and only desired that he would himself acquaint the fair slave with the motive of it; a mark of attention which, he said, would change her resentment into respect of his constancy, the virtue dearest to the sex; adding, when Togrul seemed to hesitate, that surely he could not doubt his own resolution so far, as to apprehend danger from so short an interview; or aggravate the pain of her disappointment, by such an ungenerous instance of contempt, as to send her away without condescending even to see her.
This was an attack which Togrul could not resist. His heart harboured not a sentiment that was not truly generous; nor would he admit the appearance of a weakness of which he was not conscious. He consented therefore to see her, as soon as he should have taken order for the disposal of his troops, directing Achmet to prepare, in the mean time, for her departure.
SECTION XIII.
EVERY step, as he approached her tent, encreased the emotions which the thought of this interview raised in his breast. He entered, trembling and irresolute, where he found her sitting on the ground, dissolved in tears, and wailing herself in sobs of woe.
The power of beauty, when aided by compassion, is irresistible. He stopped short, and gazing at her for some moments, turned to Achmet to learn the cause of her tears.
Achmet, who saw that the success of his design depended on the improvement of the present moment, and scrupled not any means to accomplish an end which he thought just, breathed a soft whisper in his ear, that all her grief arose from his having informed her of Togrul's late resolution to send her back; and therefore advised him not to mention any thing of it, till she should be a little more composed.
Togrul's resolution, which had begun to waver the minute he saw her, was totally overturned by these words. Every motive of honour and virtue, which had so lately swayed him, now gave place to his passion. He rushed forward, and throwing himself at her feet, attempted to sooth her grief with professions of love and vows of constancy.
But what was his disappointment to find, that instead of appeasing, this only encreased her distress. He paused for some minutes, utterly at a loss what to conclude; then fixing his eyes passionately upon her, conjured her, in the tenderest terms, to declare the cause of her affliction, and depend upon every relief in his power to procure.
Moved by the manner in which he spoke, she raised her head, and looking earnestly at him, asked how he, who had so lately torn her away from an husband, whom she dearly loved, could affect to be a stranger to the cause of her affliction.
Equally shocked and surprised at what she said, Togrul enquired hastily who was her husband? And upon her answering, Gelaleddin, demanded again, how she came then to be clad in the habit of a slave? Whereupon she informed him, that the wives of that prince not expecting such generous treatment as they had experienced, she, his most beloved, had assumed that disguise, in order to save the honour of his name at least, should any violence be offered to her.
Togrul stood aghast! He saw the precipice over the verge of which he hung! He saw also the only way of escaping. It was painful; but it was indispensible.
The occasion called forth all his virtue. He hesitated not a moment; but explaining the error, into which he had been led by her own precaution, removed all her apprehensions, and dried her tears, by assuring her that she should be directly sent back to her husband safe, and unsolicited farther by an unhappy passion, which was not now more disagreeable to her, than disapproved by himself; and giving, in her presence, the necessary orders to Achmet (who, terrified at the danger into which his too sanguine zeal had unwillingly betrayed his friend, prepared to carry them into instant execution) hurried away from a scene, more distressful than he could support.
Not that his distress was lighter, when he retired to his tent, and reflected on his late conduct. He looked back with horror to the manifold ruin which he had so narrowly escaped; nor did remorse make the prospect before him much less painful.
Though error might seem to extenuate the crime of his attempt upon the wife of Gelaleddin, his intended infidelity to the daughter of Himilco, his intended neglect of duty to Temugin, admitted of no extenuation. He judged himself with severity; but he sunk not under that judgment.
Superior to that weakness, which instead of nobly endeavouring to repair a fault, gives itself up to fruitless wailing and self-reproach, he resolved to retrieve the day he had lost to Temugin by some eminent service; and then to expiate his crime against the daughter of Himilco, by a sacrifice of every other hope to his love.
SECTION XIV.
THIS resolution restored to his mind that virtuous serenity, which had been so dangerously interrupted by his late passion; if the remembrance of which would sometimes return, its only effect was to stimulate his efforts to make atonement for it.
Nor were these efforts unsuccessful. Among the chieftains of Temugin, famed as they justly were in war, Togrul soon distinguished himself, by abilities which proved him to be the proper antagonist of Gelaleddin. Equals in activity and enterprize, they exhausted, against each other, every resource of the military art; while experience viewed their emulation with wonder and delight.
But the superior power of Temugin at length decided a contest, which virtue would have supported; and Gelaleddin found himself pent in between armies, which it was in vain for him to attempt resisting, and the mighty river of Indus.
He instantly saw all the severity of his fate; that nothing remained for him, but to yield himself captive, or die in the defence of his liberty. The choice, with him, admitted not a moment's pause. Animating his faithful followers by his example, he bravely continued the fight, marking every step of his retreat with the dead bodies of his boldest foes, till he was forced to the very brink of the river, where, looking round him for a moment, and seeing almost all his people slain, he formed the noble resolution of attempting to save himself for an happier day, when heaven might be more propitious to him; and instantly plunged into the river, which rolled in such a torrent, that the greatness of the danger prevented his being pursued.
While he was gloriously struggling thus with fate, Togrul, whose efforts had principally driven him to this extremity, was rushing forward to plunge in after him, when he was stopped by Temugin, who honoured such virtue, even in a foe.
Remember,
said he,
the day in which you escaped from the rovers in the desarts of Africa; and imitate that generosity, which you have yourself experienced. Leave this gallant prince to his fortune. This is a son worthy of his father. Happy is he who hath such children!
Togrul was affected in the strongest manner by these words. Though in the headlong fury of the battle he would have pursued Gelaleddin; to have defeated so noble an effort for the preservation of his liberty, when he could resist no longer, would have stung his generous heart with incurable remorse. The very thought overwhelmed him with shame; as his being so happily prevented filled him with joy.
The total defeat of Gelaleddin having put an end to the war, Togrul thought himself now at liberty to fulfil his resolution, by retiring to Himilco in the desart.
For this purpose, he threw himself at the feet of Temugin the next morning, and pouring out the gratitude of his heart for all the favours he had received from him, humbly besought his permission to depart, and accomplish the fate ordained for him by heaven.
Temugin, to whom the virtues of Togrul had endeared him, no less than his valour, heard, with concern, a request, with which his regard would not permit him to comply. Though he thought the subject of too tender a nature for him to interfere with directly, he was not at a loss to discover his motive for desiring to depart, nor whither he intended to bend his way, as he remembered the love which he had expressed for the daughter of Himilco, and his promise that he would return to her; a promise which he meant not obliging him to violate, but only to defer its performance to a fitter season.
Expostulating with him, therefore, in terms of esteem, on his want of attachment, which alone, he alledged, could prompt him to seek elsewhere a fortune, that in his service prevented his pursuit, he told him, that he could not consent to his departure, till he should have accomplished certain matters which he had in contemplation; after which, if he persisted in his present purpose, he would not only give him his consent, but also the assistance necessary for executing it with happy effect.
This promise, by which Togrul saw, that the emperor was no stranger to his intention, over-paid the delay on which it was founded, by hopes he had never ventured to indulge before. He embraced the knees of his generous benefactor, in a transport of grateful joy, which the fulness of his heart left him not the power of uttering.
End of the
THIRD BOOK.
THE HISTORY OF ARSACES, PRINCE OF BETLIS. BOOK THE FOURTH.
SECTION I.
TEMUGIN, having thus compleated the conquest of Khouaresm, issued a mandate to all the princes, who governed the several kingdoms of his boundless empire, to meet him with all their households, in the plains of Karakathai, where he intended to relax from the fatigues of war, and devote one whole year to the pleasures of the chace, while he married his sons, and regulated the various forms of government in his dominions; before he proceeded to farther conquests, which he had in contemplation.
The preparations which he ordered to be made for this solemnity, at which the greater part of human kind were to assist, were suited to the magnificence of his spirit, and the greatness of his power. Nothing, which nature could supply, or art devise, was wanting to make the entertainment equal to the occasion.
The morning before Temugin proposed repairing to the plains of Karakathai, he sent for Togrul into his tent, and regarding him with a look of favour, 'Togrul,' said he,
I am now going to give you a mark of my confidence, which will put your abilities to the strictest proof.
There is a country in the mountains of Curdistan, called Betlis, the people of which boast of having repelled all attempts made to subdue them; and do, at this day, live in defiance of every foreign power. It is necessary to my honour to put an end to this boast. While I march towards Karakathai, take you the troops under your command. Reduce this people to obedience; and bring their king to receive his fate from my word. No sovereign shall rule, but by my permission.
I know your valour; but that, tho' the first, is not the only virtue required in the leader of an army. Activity, vigilance, and circumspection will be no less necessary to you on this occasion.
Astyages, who reigns in Betlis, is an experienced warrior; and his people are an hardy race, who, strangers to the wants of luxury, as having no commerce with other nations, are satisfied with the scanty subsistence which their labour extorts from a sterile soil; and will fight with advantage, in a country full of fastnesses, known only to themselves.
Though Togrul was far from approving the motive of this war, his heart was not insensible to the glory which it opened him an opportunity of acquiring. Bowing himself, therefore, in grateful assent, he proceeded directly to execute a charge which did him so much honour.
As soon as he drew near to the country, which he was sent to conquer, he called together the several leaders of his troops, and laid them under the strictest injunctions to restrain the soldiers from every act of rapine, cruelty, and oppression, which in the nature of their duty could possibly be avoided.
Though they are our enemies,
he said,
let us not forget that they are men, as well as we! Let us spare the country, which is to belong to our sovereign.
This restraint, at the same time that it saved the country from devastation, saved also the forces under his command from all those dangers which await an army broken loose from discipline, and scattered over an enemy's country in search of plunder.
He penetrated into the heart of the land, without meeting any misfortune, though the king watched his steps, with a powerful army, ready to take any opportunity of attacking him to advantage; as he was unwilling to risque the fate of his country, on a battle, upon equal terms.
Finding, however, all his schemes defeated by the vigilance and circumspection of Togrul, and apprehensive that his own soldiers might be dispirited at seeing him so cautious, Astyages, at length, resolved to trust all to the valour of his people, and the justice of his cause; and drawing all his forces together, waited for the enemy in a place which defended the approach to his capital.
This was directly the point to which Togrul had all along wished to lead him. He instantly disposed his troops in order of battle, and led them to the charge in person.
The conflict was such as might be expected from men animated by the strongest motives. The soldiers of Temugin were so accustomed to conquer, that they looked upon themselves as invincible; while the men of Betlis, who knew that they fought for the dearest blessings of life, exerted themselves, every one, as if the event depended upon his single arm.
SECTION II.
WHILE the battle raged thus, with equal fury, the adverse leaders, who flew from place to place to enforce the execution of their orders, by their own example chanced to meet.
Knowing each other by the number of their attendants, and animated by an equal passion for glory, they advanced, as by consent, to decide the contest, making a signal to their men to draw back; who readily obeyed, willing to commit the fortune of the day to their respective valour.
Nor was their confidence deceived on this important occasion. Every effort, which art and courage could suggest to strength, was exerted so equally by each combatant, that it was impossible to form any judgment of the event.
While every heart panted thus in anxious expectation and suspense, the king of Betlis, provoked at a resistance which he had never met before, smote Togrul such a blow, as cleft his helmet in twain; which, falling to the ground, left his head unarmed; at the same time, that his own sword, unequal to the force, broke short in his hand.
Togrul recovering from the stroke, which had stunned him for a moment, was preparing to return it on his defenceless enemy, when his ear was struck by the voice of a man, who throwing himself between the combatants, exclaimed,
Hold, O Selim! nor stain thy soul with the blood of thy father.
Starting at the well-known voice, Togrul dropped his sword, which hung over the head of his adversary, and looking eagerly at the person who spoke, instantly knew the face of Abudah, who, by this time, had thrown off his helmet, and fallen on his knees before him.
The piety of Togrul could not bear such a sight. He ran, and raising him from the ground, threw himself at his feet, and embraced his knees in transports of pious joy.
Tenderly as the heart of Abudah felt this endearment, the time was too important for him to indulge it. Turning hastily from Togrul, 'There pay thy duty!' said he, pointing to the king, who stood lost in wonder at what he saw.
That, O Selim! is thy father.—O king of Betlis, behold thy son!
The king no sooner heard these words, than yielding to the impulse of nature, he rushed forward, and throwing himself upon the neck of Togrul, bedewed his bosom with tears, sobbing,
O my son! have I at length found thee? O Arsaces! My son! My son!
Though Togrul felt the tenderness of this embrace, he was unable to return it with equal warmth. He knew no father but Abudah; at the same time, he knew that Abudah was incapable of asserting any thing but truth. He was utterly at a loss.—In the mean while, the chieftains of both armies, struck with astonishment, gathered promiscuously around them, to learn the cause of this affecting scene.
Abudah saw the importance of the moment. 'O soldiers of Temugin!' said he, mounting upon a rock, which happened to be near, and spreading abroad his arms,
and you men of Betlis, behold and revere the mysterious ways of that power which rules the world! The leader of the armies of Temugin is son to the king of Betlis. Heaven, which permitted them to prove their valour, in your sight, this day, hath discovered them to each other, in time to prevent the crime of parricide, and put an end to this groundless war. Let us not therefore presume to oppose its sacred will.
The manner in which he uttered these words ensured their effect. His eyes, his voice, his gestures, seemed to speak immediate inspiration. All heard him with reverential awe, and waited but the word of their leaders to pay obedience to what they thought a divine command.
The king and Togrul had, by this time, recovered themselves sufficiently to attend to their situation. Advancing therefore to their respective armies, they unfolded this extraordinary event; and declared their intentions of obeying the will of heaven, so plainly signified; and extending to their people that peace, which nature had established between themselves.
Nor was this difficult to be effected. The manner in which the war had been conducted, had prevented any personal animosity, by preventing private injuries. It had rather been a contest for glory, than a war.
SECTION III.
AS soon as they had drawn off their forces, and taken proper care to prevent any accidental disagreement between them, they repaired to a tent, which Abudah had caused to be pitched in the midst between the two armies, equally anxious to concert such measures for confirming the peace, thus happily commenced, as should meet the approbation of Temugin, without derogating from the honour of Astyages, or injuring the interests of his people.
As such an interview must necessarily open all the tenderness of nature, it was ordered that no person should be present beside Abudah, who waited to receive Togrul; and before the arrival of his father, relieve his heart from the suspense with which it must be tortured, by an event equally interesting and strange.
As soon as Togrul entered the tent, he ran to Abudah, and clasping him in his arms,
O father of my heart!' said he, unfold the mystery of my fate; nor keep me longer in a suspense, which my soul is unable to support. Who am I?— How can I be other than thy son?— And yet, I blush to own, that my heart feels a divided love; a respect, which it never felt before.
'Son of my soul!' answered Abudah, as he kissed away the tear which rolled down the cheek of Togrul,
restrain thine impatience to a more proper moment. Thou owest thy being to Astyages. He is thy father. How the precious charge of thine education came to be entrusted to me, must be reserved to an hour of more leisure; as well as a recital of the occurrences, through which heaven hath led thee to this happy period. At present, other matters demand our attention.
Astyages entering as he spoke these words, Togrul yielding to the impulse of nature, ran to him, and crying,
O my father! my father!
threw himself at his feet, and embraced his knees, unable to say more; while Astyages wept upon his head in extasy, too big for utterance.
When they had indulged nature thus, for a few blissful minutes, Abudah, who was more present to himself, though his feelings were scarcely less lively, reminded them of the more immediate cause of their meeting.
When Togrul had repeated the charge, given to him by Temugin, Astyages mused for some moments; then with a look serenely resolute,
My son!
said he,
I trace the hand of heaven in all these events, and will not presume to set myself in opposition to it.
The emperor hath commanded thee to reduce this country to obedience, and bring me to receive my fate from his word. His command shall be fulfilled. You shall appoint Abudah to govern our country, in his name, while I will go with you to him, and trust my fate to heaven.
I had flattered myself with the hope of expelling the invaders of my country by force, or dying honourably in its defence; but these hopes are now changed.
As such a proposal could admit of no difficulty, peace was directly announced to both armies, who embraced it with equal pleasure; having made too strong a proof of each other's valour, to desire a continuance of the war.
When Togrul had adjusted every thing for beginning his march the next morning to Karakathai, where he was to join Temugin, he returned to the tent, where he found his father expecting him, in company with Abudah.
After some time given up to mutual endearments,
I will leave you for a few moments, my son!
said Astyages,
while I go to make some preparations for my journey. The father of so large a family, hath many things to settle, before he can leave it. Abudah will, in the mean time, inform you of matters, which you must naturally be desirous to know.
SECTION IV.
THE anxiety, evident in the looks of Togrul, made it not necessary for him to claim the performance of this promise.
O son of my affection! thou beloved of my soul!
said Abudah, as soon as Astyages withdrew,
I am now to resign an honour, of which I am unworthy, and exchange the name of father for that of friend; a secret, my having concealed which from you so long, hath cost my heart many a painful hour.
You must remember my having often told you, that the birth of a son deprived me of a wife, whom I had wedded in a foreign land. That you were that son, it was natural for you to suppose, from the care which I bestowed upon your education; but alas! I lost both wife and son together.
The reason why I never informed you in what country I had met with this misfortune, was my fear of your conceiving a desire to see it, before the time appointed by your father should be fulfilled.
My wife was the sister of Astyages, whose friendship prompted him to bestow her upon me; as it afterwards did, upon her death, to entrust me with the precious charge of you, his only son, then an infant.
"How various are the griefs," he said to me once, when he came to console me in the days of my affliction,
which prey upon the wretched heart of man! Thou mournest the death of a son, while my anxiety for the fate of one, who is yet alive, maketh me equally unhappy.
Hitherto hath this people defended their liberty against the ravagers of the earth; and while I live, I trust that heaven will enable me to preserve the inestimable blessing to them. But I tremble to look forward. The very peace which we now enjoy, which I have earned by so many difficulties and dangers, alarms my fears.
Trained in the school of adversity, I am prepared to struggle with it, whenever I may be assailed. But will my son have the same ability, without having the same opportunity of acquiring it? Will not ease and idleness debilitate his body? Will not flattery corrupt his mind?
I strove to remove his fears, by urging that it was in his own power to obviate those evils, by taking care that his son received a proper education.
It is not possible,
he replied,
for me to attend to that care. The cares of sovereignty are a sufficient weight, without the addition of another, scarcely less weighty. Though even if I could devote myself to his education, I cannot hope for the success you mention. He would be told that he was born to reign; and that would defeat all my endeavours.
In a word, there is but one way to remove my fears; and that depends upon you. I will not injure your friendship by a parade of asking that which I know you will perform. You must take my son with you to your native country; and educate him there as if he were your own. Thus will he become worthy to wear the crown of his ancestors; and be able to fulfil my hopes of defending the liberties of his people.
When you shall think him qualified to share the weight of a crown with me, bring him home. Till then, let him remain with you; and even unto death, should he not prove worthy of me. I will supply you with wealth sufficient to make provision for his support.
How I executed this important charge, you want not to be told. To conceal your lineage more effectually, I even changed your own illustrious name of Arsaces, for that which had been borne by my father. Happy! thrice happy am I to restore it to you now: To restore to your father a son worthy of him: worthy of the sacred race of Cyrus, from whom you derive your descent: a race, who through all the wars, which have shaken the earth, from the day, whereon Ascander overturned the throne of Darius, have to this hour preserved their royalty undiminished, in these mountains; whither Arsinoe, sister to that ill-fated monarch, fled with her infant son Hystaspes, whose virtues humanized the fierce inhabitants, and influenced them to chuse him for their king.
SECTION V.
I UPBRAID you not with a desertion, to which I plainly see, you were directed by heaven. As soon as I awoke that morning, my heart misgave me, when you answered not to my call. I arose to seek you, but in vain. The disappearance of your horse, and your sword, too well convinced me, that you were gone beyond my reach.
I must not attempt to describe to you, what I felt at that thought. Though hopeless of your return, I waited for one miserable moon, if possibly your mind might change, and a sense of filial duty and affection lead you back to me.
At the expiration of that time, I put my sandals on my feet, girt my loins, and with my staff in my hand, set out to bring the melancholy tidings to your father. I would have attempted to seek for you; but you had turned the secresy, which I had so often inculcated to you, against myself. You had never dropped a syllable, which could direct my search.
Your father felt the loss as a man; but supported it with the fortitude worthy of him. He even condescended to offer me consolation; and acquitted me of all blame, by referring your conduct to the guidance of heaven.
This awoke an hope of that happiness which your return hath thus fulfilled. All my cares, all my griefs, are now over payed; and I am ready to die contented, whenever the angel of death shall call upon me.
But, O my son! through what surprising scenes must heaven have led your steps? My heart pants—And behold, your father comes bursting with equal impatience, to hear the interesting tale.
Astyages entering as he spoke these words, 'I restore to thee, O king,' continued Abudah, leading Arsaces to him,
thy son, no longer Togrul, nor Selim, but Arsaces, a genuine scyon of the sacred stock of Cyrus. O, Arsaces, behold a father worthy of thee!
'O my son! My father!' they exclaimed with one voice, as they ran into each other's arms, while Abudah, unable to speak, gave vent to his joy in a flood of tears.
When they had payed this tender tribute to nature, Astyages hinted to his son a desire to hear the incidents of his life, since his departure from Abudah. Arsaces instantly obeyed, and placing himself between them, related, in brief, the wonderous tale.
As soon as he had concluded,
Could a particular instance be wanting in proof of that, which all the works of nature prove,
said Abudah,
thy life, O Arsaces, affords the strongest conviction, that the ways of heaven are always conducted with wisdom, goodness, and justice, however inscrutable to the feeble powers of human reason. Let us therefore adore that Being, who ordereth every thing for the best; nor perplex ourselves with doubts, which only involve us in deeper darkness.
SECTION VI.
ARSACES began his march the next morning, accompanied by his father. On his arrival at the camp of Temugin, he hasted to his presence, that he might himself deliver the first tidings of these wonderful events.
Prostrating himself before his throne,
May the king of men,
said he,
live for ever. Thy commands have been executed in their fullest extent. The country of Betlis pays obedience to Temugin; and its king is come to receive his fate from thy word. But in the king of Betlis, O behold the father of Togrul! The father of him, who in thy service hath unknowingly lifted his sword against the author of his life.
Temugin, who thought the enterprize upon which he had sent Togrul, too difficult to have been accomplished in so short a space, was utterly at a loss to conceive the meaning of what he heard. He demanded therefore an explanation of circumstances, which appeared so extraordinary to him.
As soon as Arsaces had recited the whole, the emperor pausing a few moments, as lost in thought,
I adore the ways of heaven,
said he;
and war not with its will. King of Betlis,
he continued,
on what terms art thou willing to receive the restitution of thy crown this day, from my hands?
'Conqueror of the world,' answered Astyages,
it ill befitteth me to make terms with him into whose power I have willingly surrendered myself. If thou wilt permit me to study the happiness of my people; and preserve them in the enjoyment of those laws, which their fathers have handed down to them, we will render thee, with fidelity, all the services which can be expected from men who are free. If thou requirest more, my promise shall not deceive thee.
For know, O Temugin, that though I have the power to commit my own liberty to thy disposal, I have none over that of the meanest subject, whom I lately governed; every one of whom, while he pays obedience to the laws, is safe under their protection; and would with readiness sacrifice his life in their defence.
'We will put their virtue to the trial;' replied Temugin.
My will shall be circumscribed by no laws. In the mean time, return thou in safety to their assistance. I scorn to take advantage of thy confidence.
'O sovereign of the world,' exclaimed Arsaces, throwing himself again at the feet of Temugin, and embracing his knees,
what is to be the fate of the captive of thy power, the slave of thy goodness? Can I fight against the author of my being? Can I fight against him, whose beneficence hath made that being a blessing to me? O divide not duties, which heaven hath united! nor set my soul at war against itself! My father will teach his people to pay you the highest subjection, which man can pay to man, without derogating from the dignity of their common nature.— O my father, submit yourself to the power of him who rules the world. He will not deprive your subjects of liberty, who gave it to your son.
The agony, in which Arsaces spoke these words, affected all who were present. The generous heart of Temugin melted in compassion.
Arise,
said he,
O son, worthy of thy father; and be happy! And thou, O Astyages, return to thy kingdom in peace; and rule thy people according to the rectitude of thine heart. Happy art thou in being worthy to have such a son.
Every one was filled with joy, by these words. Even envy and ambition forgot themselves, for some moments, and joined in the general acclamations, which raised the name of Temugin to heaven.
Astyages, who had hitherto supported his royal character, could not resist the tender impulse of his gratitude.
Thou hast conquered, O Temugin,
said he,
thou hast conquered my soul.
He would have thrown himself at the feet of the emperor, but he was prevented. Temugin caught him in his arms; and embracing him warmly,
I receive thee, as my friend,
he said;
and in no other light will I admit thee to offer thyself to me. Happy is the sovereign who hath such a friend.
Astyages would have departed the next morning, but Temugin insisted on his remaining some time; during which he took delight to do him honour, above all his princely guests.
The magnificence of such a scene, never equalled upon earth, dazzled not the eyes of Astyages; nor could the offer of Temugin, to make him sovereign over many nations, shake his steady virtue.
Think it not ingratitude,
he answered,
O first of human kind, in virtue as in power, that I decline favours, your holding me worthy of which covers me with the highest honour. My soul feels the warmest sense of your generous confidence, and friendship; but its ambition never soared so high. I am content with the contracted sphere, in which heaven hath placed me; and find the government of one small kingdom sufficient for my abilities. Rather would I reign in the hearts of a single village, made happy by my care, than rule over discontented millions, with a rod of iron; it not being the extent, but the good government of a kingdom, which in my humble sense constitutes the happiness and glory of a sovereign.
Temugin was struck with sentiments, the justice of which his soul acknowledged; though they had never occurred to him before. He paused for some minutes, then clasping Astyages to his breast,
We must fulfil the destiny appointed for us,
said he;
were I not Temugin, it should be my wish to be Astyages.
After some days spent in the closest intercourse of mutual esteem, Astyages departed for his own country, accompanied by his son; who offered to remain, but Temugin waved such a sacrifice of every tender feeling.
After so long a separation,
said he,
your souls must require some time to seal the connection of nature, by acquaintance. When I want your service, I will call for it. Till then be happy in each other.
SECTION VII.
THE return of Astyages restored to his people, the only happiness which they had to wish for. Under him they enjoyed every blessing of life; and the virtues of his son gave them an assured presage of its continuance.
Astyages, in the overflowing of paternal affection, would have shared his throne with his son; but he declined it.
Let it be my honour, let it be my happiness,
he said,
to be the foremost of thy subjects, in humble obedience, as in love! Let me learn to reign, in the execution of thy commands.
But in the midst of all this general joy, Astyages observed that a sigh would sometimes steal unawares from his son; that an absence of mind, in spite of all his care to conceal it, shewed he cherished some secret grief. Alarmed at this discovery, he communicated it to Abudah, and desired him to try to explore the cause.
Abudah, in all his intercourse with Arsaces, had ever endeavoured to sink the authority of a father in the intimacy of a friend; an intimacy, which now knew no bounds; as the former character, which, notwithstanding all his endeavours, had kept Arsaces at a respectful distance, was at an end.
He found him walking, pensive and alone, by the side of a rivulet, which ran through the gardens of Astyages.
Whence cometh it, O my son!
said he,
that you separate yourself thus from society? What means that smothered sigh, which this instant hath escaped you? Hath Arsaces any grief, which he is afraid to communicate to Abudah? Has he a thought, which he would hide from his friend?
Arsaces was abashed, at being so surprized, at meriting this tender rebuke. He blushed, and hung down his head for a few moments, unable to make any answer.
Recovering himself at length,
O guide of my youth!
he replied,
the heart of Arsaces harboureth not a thought which he is afraid to entrust to you. The state in which I left the virtuous Himilco—My father may possibly disapprove—
'And the daughter of Himilco!' interrupted Abudah, clasping him in his arms.
Blush not, my son! To be insensible to love, argues a defect in nature; an incapacity for its most exquisite happiness. Nor need you fear your father's disapprobation. He will assist you to obtain your wishes. The choice of reason cannot be unworthy of thee.
This discovery gave the greatest joy to Astyages, who wished not for any thing so ardently, as to see the virtues of his son continued in his offspring. It was agreed that Arsaces and Abudah should set out directly for the habitation of Himilco, attended by a train sufficient to protect them on the way.
The journey was long; but nothing is too much for love. They performed it without meeting any misfortune.
The surprize of Himilco, on seeing such a numerous company approach his habitation, may be well conceived; but that surprize was soon turned to joy, when he heard the well-known voice of Arsaces, who advanced before the rest. He descended instantly, and falling upon his neck, bedewed it with tears of joy.
When they had recovered from the softness of this scene, Arsaces presenting Abudah to Himilco,
Receive into thy friendship,
said he,
that Abudah, whose virtues thou hast so often admired. Embrace, O Abudah! the beneficent reliever of my distress.
Congenial virtues attract each other. Himilco and Abudah embraced with the esteem of long acquaintance.
Arsaces, having given order for the encampment of his train, ascended with Abudah, into the habitation of Himilco, where he was soon blessed with the sight of Arpasia, who joyfully obeyed the first call of her father to receive him.
After mutual congratulations on the happiness of their meeting, Arsaces gratified the anxiety of his hosts, with a recital of the events of his life, since he had departed from them; the vicissitudes of which frequently drew the sympathetic tear from the gentle Arpasia, though delicacy prevented his disclosing the circumstance most interesting to her.
But Abudah was not under the same restraint. Arpasia withdrawing as soon as Arsaces had concluded his narrative, Abudah made a signal to him to follow her, and acquainted Himilco with Astyages's approbation of his son's passion.
Himilco, who was superior to the affectation of making a difficulty of that which gave him pleasure, acknowledged that his daughter returned the love of Arsaces, and consented to end his days with them in Betlis.
I acknowledge and adore,
said he,
the hand of heaven, which hath evidently led me through such wonderous ways to this happiness; which I will not ungratefully embitter, by repining that I was not thought worthy to effect the happiness of my country also. I resign myself humbly to its will, which is always right.
Nor did Arpasia receive the declaration of Arsaces's love with less candour. She referred him to her father for an answer; saying, with a blush, in which modesty added new graces to beauty, that her inclination would find no difficulty in accompanying her obedience to his commands.
Himilco could not leave the asylum of his distress, without feeling the most tender emotions. But the recollection of past misfortunes only brightened the happy prospect before him. He payed the tribute of some pious tears to the dear memory of those whose remains he left behind him, and then departed with a grateful heart.
They arrived in safety at the court of Astyages, whose happiness was compleated in theirs; and in the assurance, which their virtues, continued in a numerous offspring, gave him of the happiness of his people: and Arsaces acknowledged, that true wisdom consisteth in humble obedience to the will of heaven, without arrogantly presuming to scan its ways.
FINIS.