THE HISTORY OF ARSACES, PRINCE OF BETLIS.
Ficta, voluptatis causâ, sint proxima veris.
By the EDITOR of CHRYSAL.
IN TWO VOLUMES. VOLUME I.
LONDON: Printed for T. BECKET, Corner of the Adelphi, in the Strand. MDCCLXXIV.
TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE THE LORD CAMBDEN.
My LORD,
I Must not make any Apology for claiming your Lordship's Patronage for the following Work. It is a Claim of Right. The Spirit of it is your own. I caught it by long and close Attention to your Lordship; and now that it is let loose into the World, it naturally flies back to its Parent for Protection. If I have been so happy as to make the Body worthy of such a Spirit, that is all the Merit I pretend to.
I am, with Attachment and Respect, My LORD, Your Lordship's most humble and most obedient Servant, CHARLES JOHNSTON.
—May 17, 1774.
PREFACE.
IN this enlightened age, when men judge intuitively of all things, it may not be improper to say a few words concerning the following work, if only to save critical sagacity from the misfortune of being led astray by the title.
In the History of the Prince of Betlis, there is not one soft scene of love, one sentiment of loose desire. Outrageous Virtue is never gratified with anecdotes of private Scandal; nor Licentiousness flattered with the sacred name of Liberty.
It must not, though, be concluded from hence, that Arsaces is a meer moralist, or held up as a pattern of perfection, a monster which Nature never formed. He is drawn as he was, with all his faults upon his head, subject to the power, but not the slave of Passion; and speaks with freedom the sentiments suggested by the occasion, whether gay or grave, of reprehension or applause.
To wipe off the false colourings of Prejudice, and shew Truth in her native purity, is the writer's aim. How he has succeeded, is not for him to say. There is, at least, some merit in the attempt, and upon that he humbly rests his fate.
Amid the variety of incidents, with which our hero's life was filled, the learned reader may probably not be displeased to find some curious points of history brought to light, which have too long lain in undeserved obscurity: Nor will he be offended at the writer's not having paid more minute attention to the manners of the times and countries, in which the various scenes of his work are laid. He has endeavoured to draw the universal manners of Nature, which suit all climes and ages. Greater particularity would have been only pedantry.
CONTENTS OF THE FIRST VOLUME.
BOOK THE FIRST.
SECTION I.
Introduction,
Page 1
SECT. II.
Selim relates the history of his life to Temugin. The manner of his education,
Page 5
SECT. III.
Selim is perplexed with many doubts. He sees a vision; and resolves to travel,
Page 13
SECT. IV.
Selim departs secretly from his father. He is taken captive by the Bedouins. He gains the favour of his master,
Page 20
SECT. V.
Manners of the Bedouins. Selim is admitted into the tribe,
Page 25
SECT. VI.
Selim signalizes himself among the Bedouins; and is chosen their leader,
Page 29
SECT. VII.
Selim undertakes to instruct and reform the Bedouins,
Page 35
SECT. VIII.
Selim, having failed by precept, tries the effect of example. He is sold for a slave,
Page 41
SECT. IX.
Selim gains the good opinion of his new master; who employs him on a dangerous commission,
Page 48
SECT. X.
Selim's Commission is attended with consequences, natural, but new to him,
Page 54
SECT. XI.
The fair slave relates her history. Singular motives, and method of female education. It produces a natural effect,
Page 59
SECT. XII.
An uncommon instance of constancy deduced from a common cause; and attended by natural consequences,
Page 66
SECT. XIII.
Selim plumes himself upon an important discovery. He is disagreeably undeceived. The history of the fair slave concluded in character,
Page 75
BOOK THE SECOND.
SECTION I.
Selim continues his history. He arrives in Cairo. His master rewards him in character. By a common occurrence, Selim again changes his master,
Page 83
SECT. II.
Selim recovers his liberty, without seeming to amend his condition. He pursues his travels,
Page 88
SECT. III.
Selim meets a stranger in a strange kind of place,
Page 96
SECT. IV.
Selim is introduced to another stranger: his host gives some account of himself, and his habitation,
Page 101
SECT. V.
Selim receives encouragement from considerations, which have least weight with those whom they concern most,
Page 108
SECT. VI.
Selim's host introduces the history of his own life, with that of his country. Origin of the kingdom of Byrsa,
Page 113
SECT. VII.
The Byrsans offer to chuse Narbal king. He consents to accept the crown, on certain conditions,
Page 119
SECT. VIII.
Narbal proposes to the Byrsans a form of government. General sketch of Narbal's government. It is agreed to by the Byrsans; and Narbal crowned,
Page 122
SECT. IX.
Interior polity of Narbal. Flourishing estate of the Byrsans,
Page 131
SECT. X.
The Byrsans deviate from the institutions of Narbal. Consequences of that deviation,
Page 136
SECT. XI.
Arrival of the Coptes, in the neighbourhood of Byrsa. Cause of their migration,
Page 142
SECT. XII.
The Byrsans claim the country of the Coptes; who remind them of matters they had rather forget,
Page 150
BOOK THE THIRD.
SECTION I.
Selim continues the history of Himilco. He is sent by his father to travel. Instructions for travelling,
Page 155
SECT. II.
Himilco arrives at the habitation of Myrza. His reception by the Sage,
Page 162
SECT. III.
Myrza's opinion of instruction. Story of Kerker and Hassan,
Page 166
SECT. IV.
Myrza's sentiments on the proper method of travelling. Himilco adopts his system,
Page 177
SECT. V.
Myrza gives his reasons for believing the existence of spirits: but acknowledges his ignorance of their nature and occupation,
Page 185
SECT. VI.
Myrza confesses also his ignorance of the manner in which spirits hold intercourse with man. He enquires into the extent and use of human knowledge. Himilco departs from Myrza,
Page 190
SECT. VII.
Himilco pursues his travels. The system of Myrza feels strange to him. He joins a caravan. All things appear in a new light. He is reconciled to the system of Myrza. He consents to accompany a merchant into the regions of the rising sun,
Page 198
SECT. VIII.
Contradiction in the conduct of Himilco's fellow-traveller. Temugin's opinion of the magnificence of a country,
Page 209
SECT. IX.
Himilco passes the great river of Indus. He loses his fellow-traveller. He receives tidings of him from a Bramin,
Page 213
BOOK THE FOURTH.
SECTION I.
Selim continues the history of Himilco. The Bramin informs him of the state of his country,
Page 217
SECT. II.
Himilco, for a good purpose, complies with a disagreeable proposal,
Page 222
SECT. III.
View of a levee. Himilco agrees to enter into the service of a great man,
Page 227
SECT. IV.
The Bramin gives Himilco an account of his new master,
Page 232
SECT. V.
Himilco enters upon his service. He finds an opportunity of relieving his fellow-traveller,
Page 238
SECT. VI.
Himilco's fellow-traveller obtains his liberty, on conditions, for many reasons not pleasing to Himilco,
Page 241
SECT. VII.
Himilco's fellow-traveller succeeds in his commission. He is justly rewarded by an act of injustice. Himilco separates himself from him; and resolves to return to his father. An act of beneficence attended by unhappy consequences,
Page 247
SECT. VIII.
Himilco suffers shipwreck. Occurrences, common on such occasions. Himilco saves the life of one of his fellow-passengers,
Page 254
SECT. IX.
Himilco is surprised to find himself in his native country. Contrast between the natural, and habitual character. Sentiments of Himilco's friend on the laws, and apparent state of Byrsa,
Page 262
SECT. X.
Himilco arrives at the house of his father. An affecting interview. Himilco's friend returns to his own country,
Page 267
SECT. XI.
Himilco finds his country on the eve of a war. He resolves, if possible, to prevent the war. He receives a discouraging representation of interesting matters,
Page 269
SECT. XII.
Himilco persists in his resolution. The representation accounted for naturally, but not amended,
Page 279
SECT. XIII.
The representation continued uniformly; and a proposal made to Himilco to compleat it,
Page 284
SECT. XIV.
Himilco returns an ungenteel answer to a genteel demand,
Page 291
SECT. XV.
Himilco fails in his attempt. He is appointed to a command in the war, which he had endeavoured to prevent. This compliment accounted for,
Page 298
THE HISTORY OF ARSACES, PRINCE OF BETLIS. BOOK THE FIRST.
SECTION I.
AS Temugin was riding through his army, on the morning after his victory over Mohammed had added the mighty empire of Khouaresm to his boundless conquests, he observed among the captives of the war, a youth just sinking under a double weight of chains, while the dignity of conscious virtue shone through his distress, and shewed a soul superior to misfortune.
Temugin was struck with the sight; and calling to the leader of the band, which guarded the captives, enquired who that youth was, and how he had merited such severity.
Lord of the Earth,
answered the soldier,
this slave deserveth every cruelty which can be inflicted on him. He it was, who yester evening slew the valiant Togrul; and by his obstinate resistance, for some time delayed the victory, which crowned your arms.
Say rather,
returned the captive, with a look and accent of indignant contempt,
that I supported faithfully the cause in which I fought; and disdaining life, without its greatest blessing, liberty, strove, though alas! in vain, to lose both honourably together.
The manner in which the captive spoke these words, heightened the favourable impression which his appearance had before made upon the heart of Temugin.
Take off his chains,
said he,
and lead him to my tent: I will examine him more particularly, when I shall be at better leisure.
The soldier instantly obeyed; and the captive, prostrating himself before the emperor, expressed his gratitude for a favour, which darted a ray of hope through the gloom of his present situation.
Other cares prevented Temugin from thinking more of this adventure for the remainder of that day; but when he retired in the evening to rest, the idea of the captive recurred to his mind, and took such strong possession of it, as to forbid every approach of sleep. Calling therefore one of the eunuchs, who watched at the entrance of his tent, he commanded him to order his attendance.
As soon as the captive entered,
I have sent for thee,
said the emperor,
to learn the story of thy life. What is thy country, thy lineage, and thy name? And by what actions hast thou supported the sentiments, which I have heard thee utter with such energy? Arise! speak the words of truth, and expect a candid hearing.
Conqueror of the World,
answered the captive, as he arose from the emperor's feet,
the incidents of a life of misfortune will afford but little entertainment, to one who is raised above the reach of such himself; as they cannot interest a sympathetic regard.
No state,
interrupted the emperor,
is exempt from the common lot of humanity: nor is he capable of enjoying happiness himself, who is insensible to the sufferings of another.
The captive replied not; but seating himself on the ground, at the foot of the emperor's couch, began in these words.
SECTION II.
MY name is Selim. I come from the Valley of Amoim, in Arabia the Happy; where the wisdom and virtues of Abudah, my father, procured him, in a private station, a respect more sincere, than that which is usually paid to wealth and power. Much had he read, and thought still more. He had also travelled through many nations; and by a comparison of their manners, dispelled the prejudices which too often spread a cloud over a contracted sphere.
But he was stopped in his pursuit of knowledge, by the nearer duties of domestic life. The cultivation of his mind had refined, not extinguished the passions of nature. He viewed in a light of just contempt, the mistaken, imperfect happiness of celibacy; and in obedience to the first purpose of his Creation, took a wife into his bosom.
Heaven seemed at first to smile upon his marriage-bed; but the blossoms of his hope were soon blasted; the hour which gave him a son, depriving him of a wife.
Severely as he felt this loss, he sunk not under it. Reason succeeded the first emotions of nature; and his piety trembled at the apprehension of offending heaven, by repining at its irresistible decrees. — Pardon, gracious lord, this mention of a father, to whom life is my least obligation. It is a necessary introduction to the story of my misfortunes. It is a tribute to his memory, which Nature will obtrude through all restraint.
Disgrace not reason,
answered Temugin,
by making an excuse for virtue. Duty to a father, as it is the foundation, so also is it the best assurance of loyalty to a sovereign. A good son cannot be a bad subject.—Proceed.
The love,
resumed the captive, wiping away the pious tear which trickled down his cheek,
which Abudah had felt for his wife, was transferred to her wretched orphan, and doubled the force of paternal affection. As soon as he had paid the last debt of humanity to her beloved remains, he laid me in his bosom, and turned his steps home to his native land, where his tenderness well supplied the loss I had sustained.
His first care was to lay a foundation for that health, which is necessary for the enjoyment of life, and the performance of all its duties. He taught me to feel no wants but those of nature, whose inevitable imbecilities were not aggravated by injudicious fondness. Hunger sweetened the most simple fare; and exercise made me find refreshment in sleep, which was never allured by luxury, nor indulged to enervating excess; while my body, gradually inured to the vicissitudes of the seasons, required not the voluptuous incumbrance of cloathing to screen it from the severest inclemencies of weather. My food was vegetables. I drank of the brook: and I wore no cloaths but barely what the laws of decency demanded.
Yet intent as he was on establishing my health, his care was not confined to that alone. As soon as the first dawn of reason began to enlighten my mind, he directed my thoughts to such objects, as necessarily led to wisdom and virtue. He imprinted upon my soul a just sense of the obedience which I owed to the Author of my being, by explaining to me my dependance on him. He taught me to read the sacred proofs of his wisdom, his goodness, and his power, in the tremendous volume of his works. The stars of heaven shewed me the glory of their Maker. The sun by day, and the moon by night bore witness to his power. My soul was humbled before the Lord of the Universe, and adored the goodness which incessantly supports the creatures of his hand.
As the life of man is designed for action,
he would say,
all knowledge which leadeth not to the practice of virtue, is but vanity.
—While my mind therefore was expanded by these sublime speculations, he explained to me the principles and reason of every duty of social and civil life; proving that obedience, which ariseth not from conviction of the justice and necessary obligation of a law, has no more real merit, than the habitual servility of a brute animal.
He then unfolded to me the complicated relations in which man stands to man, both as an individual, and as a member of a community; and from them deduced all the various duties of either state.
The highest degree of perfection,
would he frequently say,
to which the human nature can arise, consisteth in the imitation of the divine, which is possible only in benevolence; and constitutes the essence of all the moral, social, and civil virtues, however varied in their appearances, in the various circumstances and connections of life, from the peasant in the field, to the prince upon his throne.
The example of his actions enforced the precepts of his wisdom, and led me insensibly to practise the virtues he inculcated, as rising years afforded ability. I suffered hunger, to feed the hungry; the feeble and aged found a support in the strength of my youth; and I rushed into danger to rescue the distressed.
Nor were his instructions limited to the narrow sphere of our private station. As the powers of my mind became capable of more extended exertion, he raised my view to higher scenes. He traced government to its origin in the general welfare and happiness of mankind, the source, from which ultimately and equally flow the different, but reciprocal duties of subjection and command; and reconciled their apparent oppositions, on the unerring principles of reason.
The avidity with which he saw my soul imbibe the instruction of his words, made him happy.
Power, my son,
he would say, the tear of paternal tenderness and pride glissening in his eye,
was originally conferred as a reward of superior merit and virtue; and still the hand of heaven doth often most unexpectedly raise from the cottage to the throne, the man who is found worthy to govern. It is a duty, therefore, to qualify ourselves to fill properly whatever station is appointed for us.
In the pleasing illusion of these fond reflections, he unfolded to me the ordinances of peace, he taught me the arts, and inured me to the toils of war.
That general happiness, he said, which was the cause, and should be the invariable aim of sovereign power, can be enjoyed only in the shade of public tranquillity, the cultivation of which therefore, as it is the first duty, so is it the true glory of a prince. But then, as the follies and vices of mankind make it impossible always to maintain that most desirable state, it is also indispensibly necessary for him to be able to repel injustice, and assert his rights by war; of which however, as these are the only just motives, so when they are accomplished, he should never let revenge, avarice, or a passion for false glory, inflamed by the deceitful smiles of success, urge him to pursue it farther. He should never forget that his foes are his fellow-creatures; that his very victories are purchased with the inevitable miseries of his own subjects.
—But whither do I fondly run? Why should I repeat the maxims of an humble minded recluse to the Conqueror of the world?
Proceed,
answered the emperor,
I am attentive to thy words. The sentiments of thy father were suited to his station. Had he been a sovereign he would have thought otherwise.
SECTION III.
MY mind had followed the words of my father, continued the captive, without difficulty or doubt, while he explained the duties of life upon the principles of reason, and truth; but when he descended from them to the practice of mankind, when he came to speak of the causes, and consequences of war, the scene was changed. I lost the awe of divine justice, which had led me hitherto; and wandered in the perplexing labyrinth of human life. I saw nothing but contradictions in the ways of man. All professed to seek happiness, but wilfully turned away from the paths, which led directly to it. All professed virtue, but practised vice.
False shame, (should I not rather call it pride!) would not permit me to disclose the difficulties in which I was entangled, to my father. I thought I could struggle through them, by the strength of my own mind, without betraying my weakness, by having recourse to his assistance. A presumption, justly punished by all the miseries I have suffered since.
Destitute thus of the guide, who had always led my steps in safety, I attempted in vain to grope my way, through the darkness, with which I was enveloped on every side. I attempted to trace consequences to their causes; but the attempt still left me in greater uncertainty. I saw vice triumphant! I saw virtue depressed! I was utterly at a loss to know, whence this could proceed. If from good, why was the contrary prescribed? If from evil, why was it permitted? My mind was perplexed with many doubts. I attempted to measure the ways of heaven with the line of human reason, but it was too short; and the more I thought of the subject, I was only perplexed the more; in so much, that I was at sometimes almost tempted to doubt, whether virtue and vice differ'd more than in name! Whether heaven really interfered in the government of the world, or left it merely to chance.
As I sat one evening, on the bank of the rivulet, which runs through the vale of Amoim, wrapt in these speculations, my senses were suddenly overwhelmed with sleep, and I saw, as in a vision, a Being, such as the celestial spirits, who watch over the actions of mankind, are represented to be, standing beside me.
Regarding me for some time, with a look of reprehension softened by pity,
Son of Abudah,
methought he said, in a voice which thrilled my soul,
thy unhappiness is beheld with compassion. I come to put a stop to researches, which if pursued too far, would over-turn reason. Thy knowledge is only speculative. Thou seest man, but as in a mirrour; and dost thou attempt to investigate all the mysteries of his nature! Vain presumption! First look into real life; nor pretend to judge of the substance from the shadow.
—Saying this he vanished from my sight; and at that instant I awoke.
It was some moments before I recovered from the extatick awe, with which this vision struck me. Starting up at length, and continuing the illusion of imagination, I looked eagerly around for my kind instructor; and could hardly believe that I had seen him only in a dream.
Nor did the discovery put an end to that illusion. I considered the words of my father,
that heaven often opens its will in the visions of sleep, when the soul, freed from the clogs of sense, is more capable of entering into intercourse with the spiritual beings, which continually surround us, though imperceptible to corporeal sight.
— And I looked upon the reverential awe, with which I had been over-powered, as an incontestible proof, that the being, I had seen, was my better angel, sent to me with a command from heaven, to which it was my duty to pay implicite, and instant obedience.
But this obedience was attended with difficulties of the weightiest nature. Against the will of my father, I was sensible that it would be impious to begin, in vain to expect success in any undertaking: And the anxiety he always shewed, if the ardour of the chace, or any other accident detained me out of his sight, only a few minutes longer than he expected, left me no room for hope, that he would consent to my plunging thus alone, into the difficulties and dangers of the world.
In a cooler moment, this reflection would have been sufficient to deter me from any attempt: but my soul was now on fire; and inclination, co-operating with the power of imagination, proved too strong for reason. I thought I only preferred the superior duty, expressly commanded by heaven, when I resolved to leave my father's house, that very night; and launch into the boundless ocean of life, without giving him any notice of my design; an expedient, by which I flattered myself, that by avoiding an express inhibition, I evaded the crime of direct disobedience, never remembering the maxims invariably inculcated by him,
that candour is of the essence of every virtue;
and that
no good, in the end proposed, can justify any evil in the means made use of to attain it.
Vain as this evasion was, it silenced all my scruples; and I attended the call of my father to our evening's repast, with a serenity in my looks, which my heart was far from feeling.
But my soul soon shrunk back from such deceit, and I dared not to meet his eye, or return with equal warmth the kiss of love, with which he sealed his benediction, when he dismissed me, as he fondly hoped, to rest. Inauspicious omen! Alas, too strictly fulfilled by the unhappy event. Oh! where was then my guardian angel? Why had not my soul some presage, that this kiss would be the last, with which I should ever be blessed by him! That thought would have opened my eyes; and brought me back to reason, and to virtue.—
A flood of tears here choaked the utterance of Selim. He hung down his head; and sobbing aloud gave vent to the grief, with which the recital of this unhappy event had over-charged his heart; while Temugin kindly sympathizing with him, interrupted not the pious offering of filial duty and affection.
SECTION IV.
NATURE at length being relieved by this indulgence, the captive thus continued.
Having but few wants, I required little preparation for my intended expedition. As soon as my father retired into his own tent to rest, I girded on the sabre, and mounting the horse, which he had provided for me to learn the exercises of war, departed without having so much as considered whither I should direct my steps.
But my infatuation was too strong to permit my attending to any thing, beside compleating my escape. I therefore travelled forward during the whole night, without bestowing one thought on the folly and danger of such an undetermined state; or stopping even for a moment, till the appearance of day reminded me of the duties of religion, when alighting from my horse, and sprinkling my face with an handful of sand, for I had no water to perform the ablution, I offered up the prayers of the morning.
—
Break not your narrative thus, by enumerating the performance of religious duties,
interrupted Temugin;
We will suppose them always regularly performed.
The captive bowed his head in obedience, and proceeded.
The sacred awe which always accompanies acts of devotion, stilled for some moments the tumult in my mind, and turned my thoughts in upon myself. I started at the first glimpse of my situation, which now began to open upon me. I dared not to look back; and before me, all was darkness and dismay.
I paused to consider how I should proceed; but before I could determine upon any thing, the power of determining for myself was taken from me. A troop of Bedouins rushed from the covert of some trees, near to which I had stopped, and seized me as I lay prostrate on the earth.
All the horrors of my situation instantly arose to my view. The more than brutal ignorance and barbarity of those lawless ravagers, of which I had heard too many melancholy instances, left me but little hope of favour at their hands. However, in the instinctive impulse of self-preservation, I threw myself at the feet of their leader, and embracing his knees, conjured him to take compassion on my youth, and suffer me to return to an aged father, whose grey hairs the loss of his only son would otherwise bring with sorrow to the grave.
But I prayed to the winds. Instead of being moved by my intreaties, the ruffian spurned me from him with his foot; and nodding to his followers, they instantly bound my arms, and putting me on my horse, led me away with them.
What I now felt, at the thought of being thus torn, probably forever, from the arms of my father, suggested to me the anguish of his soul, on missing me that morning. I saw, tho' too late, my crime in its proper colours; I owned the justice of heaven, in my own fate; and only grieved for the unhappiness with which I had overwhelmed him.
But I was not suffered to indulge such reflections. The rapidity, with which the ravagers hurried me along, kept my spirits in involuntary motion; and the novelty of their manners excited a curiosity, which in some degree diverted my attention from my own distress.
On a division of the captives of the expedition, I fell to the lot of the leader of the troop, by whom I was appointed to the lowest offices in his squalid oeconomy. But I repined not. I remembered the words of the prophet, that
the days of man are numbered; and the events of his life written on the table, which standeth before the throne of God, from the beginning of the world.
—I therefore humbled myself before heaven; and submitted without murmuring to its decrees.
Nor did this resignation, to the divine will, pass without reward. It was taken by my master for a willing acquiescence under his authority; and in a short time gained me his good opinion so far, that he set me over the other slaves of his household.
SECTION V.
THE first use which I made of my new authority, was to lighten the yoke of bondage upon my fellow-captives. They received sufficient sustenance; their labours were suited to their strength and capacities; and their souls were not wounded by unmerited insult or reproach.
The consequence soon justified this conduct. The work of our master was performed to his satisfaction; and he slept in safety among slaves, who had no cause to wish him evil.
But I was far from enjoying such happiness as they seemed to feel at this change of their condition. My soul, impressed with the deepest sense of piety and virtue, was shocked at such an absence of both, as degraded man below the level of the brutes which perish; and I trembled with fear, that the force of example might infect my heart, and sink me down to their degenerated state. Moral virtue and religion, my father had often and most earnestly inculcated to me, are so essentially connected, that the one cannot exist without the other. Of the truth of this maxim I had abundant proof in my present situation.
As the revelations of the divine will, vouchsafed as guides to reason in matters above the investigation of its own powers, were either utterly unknown, or at least so corrupted as to bear no resemblance to the sacred originals; so were the very rules of conduct, and mutual intercourse invariably imprinted by the hand of Nature on the human heart, for the most part effaced among them. Their knowledge of a Deity was uncertain, and debased with notions contradictory to those principles of his essence, which open themselves to reason in its first efforts. For beneficence or gratitude they had not even a name; and justice was no farther known or regarded by them, than as it served the convenience of preserving their respective property, and having that recourse to force among themselves by which all their disagreements with others were decided.
Though the horrors inseparable from slavery, were aggravated an hundred fold under such masters, I never lost hope; nor slackened my assiduity in the execution of the trust committed to me.
I will do my duty,
said I, whenever despair began to steal upon me,
and depend upon the justice of Heaven.
A resolution, which by keeping my thoughts employed, prevented them from brooding over my own unhappiness, and thereby enabled me to support its weight.
The effects of my management soon became too evident to remain unnoticed; though my master, who held it beneath him to look so low, was the last to perceive the change. Awakened at length from his inattention, he gazed around him in stupid amazement; and enquiring the cause of what he saw, opened his eyes and mouth into a broad stare, while I explained the reasons, and instanced the advantages of my conduct; then awkwardly relaxing his features into the first smile of complacency they had ever felt, expressed something like approbation.
Nor did he stop here. He represented me in so favourable a light to the tribe, that looking upon me now as one of themselves, they admitted me to accompany them in their excursions for prey; an honour never before conferred upon a captive.
SECTION VI.
THOUGH such a course of life was equally contrary to the principles instilled into me by my father, and to the disposition of my own heart, the hope of one day regaining my liberty, and returning to him, which it seemed to open to me, outweighed every other consideration, and strengthened my hand on several occasions in such a manner as gained the approbation of my new companions.
I had not been long in this state, when in one of our expeditions, we happened to fall in with a caravan, so numerous and well provided for defence, that it appeared madness in us to attack them.
But the prospect of rich plunder, over-balanced every thought of danger; and we fell upon them with the fury of wild beasts enraged by hunger, rather than like human creatures.
The event was such as the rashness of the attempt deserved; and we were repulsed, with the loss of more than half our number.
As I was not blinded by the same passions with the rest of our troop, I had presence of mind to effect our retreat, after they had all given up every hope of it; the importance of which service raised me so high in their opinion, that their leader being among the slain, they conferred his post upon me.
This seeming honour, only added anxiety to additional fatigue; for as they pay implicit obedience to the orders of their leader, during their excursions, the care of conducting which is thrown entirely upon him; so every failure of success is imputed to him as a crime, and exposes him to worse than brutal outrage.
But the fascination of command, made me blind to every objection; and I entered upon my new office with all the eagerness of inexperience, encouraging myself with this reflection, that at any rate it was better to rule than to serve such savages: and that I should have it in my power to direct their motions to the way most favourable to my escaping from them.
As I saw that disappointment of the plunder sat heavier upon the survivors than the loss of their fellows, I considered whether it might not still be possible to compass by stratagem, what we had failed of by force; and revolving in my mind various schemes, I at length hit upon one, which proved successful.
For some days after our defeat, we hovered about the caravan, unable to bear the thought of quitting it, and giving up our hopes, though we could see no prospect of obtaining them.
Having advanced thus a considerable way into the desart, a strong wind arose one morning, just after the caravan had begun to march. This incident instantly suggested to me, what I had hitherto wearied my thoughts in fruitless search of.
Drawing our people out in a single line, at some interval from each other, I led them above the caravan, in the wind; and galloping rapidly along, we raised a cloud of sand, which the wind poured down upon them in a torrent horrible to imagination.
As soon as I had reached the end of the caravan, in this manner, I turned off with the foremost of my followers, and taking a sufficient compass, to avoid incommoding our own men, I was time enough back in the rear, to continue the line, as the last begun to move.
Having repeated this, as long as I thought it possible for human nature to support it, we attacked them in the midst of their distress, when sinking under what they had suffered, and concluding, from the manner in which I had kept up the line, that our numbers must be many times greater than they were, they lost all spirit, and made but feeble resistance.
It was impossible for me, in the first transports of victory, to prevent a carnage, to which the inequality of numbers unhappily gave the appearance of necessity; but as soon as their fury began to cool, I exerted myself to put a stop to that, and all the other outrages, too generally offered to captives.
The booty gained on this occasion was so great, as for some time to satisfy desires which had never known bounds before; a circumstance most favourable to my farther designs.
When the captives were secured, the next thing was to take measures for our safe return home, which it was far from being easy to effect, as we were liable to be attacked by the other troops of Bedouins, who range these boundless desarts, and make no distinction of persons, where there is a prospect of prey.
As this care fell entirely upon me, I resolved to execute it in such a manner, as to procure the liberty of as many as I could of the captives, whose lives I had saved. Accordingly, when all things were in readiness for our march, I selected those whose youth made them best able to bear the yoke of slavery; and then dismissed the rest in peace, with provisions sufficient for their journey: an act of humanity unknown to the Bedouins, whose custom it was to slay all such captives as they thought useless to them.
The dispositions I made for our march, and the vigilance with which it was conducted, secured our retreat through the midst of many dangers, several troops of much superior force having met us on our way; but deceived by our appearance, they did not dare to attack us.
SECTION VII.
THOUGH the authority of the leaders of those tribes has relation only to the conduct of their excursions, and ceases at their return home, I flattered myself with a fond hope, that the great service I had done them would procure me an influence which might enable me to do them services still greater, by enlightening the brutal ignorance of their minds, and humanizing their manners.
I was not insensible of the difficulties and dangers of attacking prejudices, grown sacred by long use; and that ignorance, always captious, seldom fails to revenge the imaginary affront of instruction; but the thought of success was so pleasing, that I was not to be discouraged from the attempt by any apprehension.
The first thing, necessary for accomplishing my design, was to select some person, on whom my instructions might be bestowed to best advantage, that he might assist me by communicating the information he should receive, and recommending it from his own experience. Nor was I long at a loss, whom to chuse. Khaled, the son of my late master, was the one in the whole tribe, with whom I had the greatest intimacy, whether from the circumstance of our having lived together, while I belonged to his father; or that my having once saved his life at the imminent hazard of my own, had attached him to me. With him therefore I resolved to begin, not more encouraged by our intimacy, than because I thought I perceived in him something more like that rational curiosity, which is the first incitement to knowledge, than in any other of the tribe.
The only science of which the Bedouins had even the faintest conception, was that which regards the motions of the heavenly bodies. But though the clearness of their hemisphere, and the circumstance of their being obliged by the heat of the sun, to perform the greatest part of their occupations in the night, gave them the most favourable opportunities for pursuing this study to advantage, they had made no farther progress in it, than barely what was necessary to direct their steps through the pathless desart, where they could have no land-marks to guide them in their way. On this science therefore, as that most likely to interest their attention, I proposed to found my attempt.
For this purpose, I took occasion to enter into conversation with Khaled, as if accidentally, on the various appearances of the heavens; and beginning with the first rudiments of the science, led him, as it were, step by step, up to the Creator of them, proving the necessity of his existence from the existence of his works; and his wisdom, his power, and his goodness, from the wonderful construction, and support of them.
Having thus established in his mind, the first principle of religion, in the belief of a Deity, I proceeded to deduce from thence the duties of piety, and moral virtue. But my endeavours, in this latter instance, were far from being attended with equal success.
While my instructions had been confined to matters of meer speculation, he listened to me with willing attention; and not only assented to truths, which interfered not with the tenour of his life, but also exerted his utmost assiduity to communicate and inculcate them to others.
But when he saw, that an utter change in his whole conduct was to be the consequence, that passion was to be subjected to reason, and justice made the rule of action, no evidence, however clear and conclusive, was of force sufficient to combat habits, pleasing in practice; and as it were sanctified by long and general reception. On the contrary, from that moment, he withdrew his confidence from me; and I soon found that he counteracted, instead of assisting my endeavours.
Though I was well aware of the difficulties, which this defection of Khaled threw in the way of my designs, I was too sanguine in the pursuit to be deterred by it; and resolved to try, whether I could not effect by example, what I had failed of by the force of reason; taking care to commence with such things, as from their obvious advantage in a political, as well as rectitude in a moral light, I concluded must necessarily command instant assent.
SECTION VIII.
THE loss, sustained in the late expedition, had reduced the numbers of the tribe so low, that they were obliged to remain at home, for fear of being over-powered by some of the other tribes, whom they might meet in their excursions.
As they were sensible of this disadvantage, the severest to them, of which
had any sense, I judged that an
to remedy it, must be embraced with the greatest readiness and joy.
Though the violation of the marriage bed, was guarded against among them, by every preventive care, every terror of punishment, the female sex, before that bond, was abandoned to the most shameless prostitution.
Criminal as this custom was, the method taken to remedy what were looked upon to be the only bad effects of it, was still a greater crime. The wretched fruits of this licentious commerce were exposed to perish in the desart, without regard to the duty of paternal tenderness, or the welfare of the community thus robbed of its support.
Against a practice, so contradictory to nature, as well as to reason, I urged every argument which either could suggest; and to give weight to my words, began the reformation of it among my own slaves, branding with a mark of infamy every female persisting in promiscuous prostitution; and obliging every male to rear, and maintain by extraordinary labour, every infant assigned to him.
Though, as I have before observed, the public advantage was as obvious, as the private virtue of this regulation, a general outcry was instantly raised against it. The unmarried of both sexes exclaimed that they were robbed of the liberties and rights of nature; and the whole tribe declared against the intolerable tyranny and crime of such an innovation, which, as they alledged, would compel people to rear children against their wills; and contrary to their convenience.
It is impossible to express what I felt at this utter disappointment of hopes, upon which I had so strongly set my heart. I now, too late, remembered what I had often heard from my father, that
though it is the duty of every person, and especially of those, whose station may give influence to their example, to live according to the dictates of reason and virtue, yet a general reformation of manners is not to be too sanguinely expected from the most eminent example, or best concerted scheme, if the circumstances of the times are not assisting; but when these co-operate, the most inconsiderable, and improbable means are found sufficient to accomplish the greatest ends.
—But my thoughts were soon diverted from these reflections, to matters of nearer concern to me.
The charge of making innovations in their established customs, was looked upon to be so atrocious a crime, that they resolved instantly to put a stop to it, by the most exemplary punishment, in order to deter any future presumption of the kind; for which purpose, they suddenly surrounded my tent, and having seized me before I could attempt either defence or escape, were proceeding to drag me out of the camp, in order to stone me to death, when I owed my safety to a principle, from which I had never expected to receive so great a benefit.
Khaled, who had totally estranged himself from me, for some time, and was now become one of my loudest accusers, no sooner perceived their intention, than he rushed out of the croud, and claimed me for his slave, as having been the property of his father.
I availed myself of the momentary check, which this claim gave to their fury, to speak in my own defence. I demanded to know my crime, and my accusers. I pleaded my services. I called upon their gratitude. I argued, upbraided, and besought; but all equally in vain. My voice was drowned in the cry of
innovation,
which was roared from every mouth; and without deigning to make any other reply, they directly gave me up to Khaled, to return to a state of slavery, from which I was deemed unworthy to be freed, seizing upon my slaves, and every thing which belonged to me, as public property; or rather I should say, as proper objects of public rapine.
As soon as the croud was dispersed, I turned to Khaled, and thinking he had devised this claim only to save my life, was advancing to embrace him, in testimony of my gratitude; but I was soon undeceived. Without shewing the least concern for my misfortune, or even taking notice of ever having known me before, he ordered me to be thrown into a kind of dungeon, where they were wont to keep such slaves, as were found unserviceable to them, till a certain season of the year, when they disposed of them, and such other parts of their spoil, as they had no occasion for themselves, to merchants, whom they went to meet for that purpose, in exchange for matters of more immediate use.
These occurrences were far from clearing up the doubts, which had been the cause of my leaving the bosom of my father. On entering the dungeon, my soul shrunk in upon itself in horrour.
If this be real life,
said I,
better did it appear in the mirrour of speculation. More favourably was the shadow to be judged of, than the substance!
—
It was some happiness to me however, not to be left long to these reflections. That very evening, a party of the Bedouins set out to meet the merchants, and took me with them, among the other useless lumber, which they wanted to dispose of; when Khaled shewed his proficiency in knowledge, and virtue, by the value he set upon his instructor, giving me in exchange for a wallet, made of the skin of an ass.
SECTION IX.
THE merchant, whose property I thus became, thinking he saw something in my appearance, not unworthy of his favour, as soon as the Arabs had concluded their markets, and departed, asked me in a humane manner,
for what fault I had been sold at so low a price?
As my tongue knew no language but that of truth, I not only informed him of what he enquired, but also of the first motive and manner of my leaving my father, and the end proposed by my travels: to all which he listened with attention; and then told me, when I had concluded, that
these were matters, about which he had never concerned himself; that all his care was to buy and sell as well as he could; and that he was content to take the world as he found it, without enquiring farther into the actions of men, than as they might affect his own interest.
Contracted as these sentiments then appeared to me, I was soon sensible of the advantage in my change of situation. My new master had much experience of the world, and its ways; and where a view to interest did not interfere, formed just conclusions from what he saw.
The conversation of such a man, which I enjoyed in the most unreserved intimacy, sweetened the bitter cup of slavery, affording me pleasure, and instruction, at the same time. Without attempting to trace motives, or consequences, he related plain facts; and in them supplied a kind of artificial experience, unincumbered with those disquisitions, which for the greater part only obscure what they pretend to illustrate, and are more apt to mislead, than guide reason to the right way.
One evening, as I was sitting by myself in his tent, indulging the fond hope, which my master's favour seemed to open to me, of returning to my father, he entered, and seating himself near me,
Selim,
said he,
I have observed your demeanor ever since you have been with me, and see that your wisdom much exceeds your age. I have therefore resolved to consult you on an affair, which gives me much anxiety; and if your sentiments concur with mine, shall be glad of your assistance to carry them into execution.
I have followed this painful profession of a merchant, with various success, for many years, without being ever able to acquire a sufficiency for the support of old age, in comfort and decency. Often indeed, have I thought myself within sight of the end of my wishes, but some unforeseen misfortune hath as often disappointed my hopes. A reverse, which I have too much reason to apprehend at this time.
In the course of my present journey, it has been my fortune to purchase a female slave, of such exquisite beauty, and rare accomplishments, that I may well expect to sell her to the Sultan of Cairo, whither I am now going, for so high a price, as shall make the rest of my days happy, if her own perverseness does not prevent me.
An invincible melancholy has preyed upon her heart, from the first day of her coming into my possession. She keeps a gloomy silence, which neither threats, promises, nor intreaties can prevail upon her to break. She turns away, with disgust, from every attempt made to entertain her; and the sustenance she takes is so little, that it shews she wishes to shorten the number of her days.
Such a conduct alarms me with apprehensions, not only of missing my expected profit, but also of losing the great price I have given for her. A loss, which I can not bear. What I have to propose to you therefore, is that you will strive to insinuate yourself into her confidence; I am not insensible of the danger of such a trust; but I know your discretion, and depend upon your virtue.
I suspect that her heart fosters some secret grief! If it could be discovered, means might possibly be found to administer alleviation to it, at least. Will you then try to make this discovery? The human heart finds comfort in the communication of it's woes; and if you can once engage her attention, I have no doubt, but she will open herself to you.—
There was something so uncommon in the nature of this proposal, that it raised a curiosity I had never felt before. Totally engaged in the pursuit of knowledge, under the eye of my father, I had never had any particular intercourse with the female sex; nor formed any notion of that power, which nature has given them over the heart of man.
I had a desire therefore to see a woman, on whom were founded expectations, which appeared to me so extraordinary; and readily undertook a commission, with the dangers of which I was unacquainted; if I should not rather say, that the mention of those dangers was my first motive for undertaking it, as it seemed to promise an opportunity of raising myself still higher in the opinion of my master, by my surmounting them.
SECTION X.
THE first time I saw her, she was sitting in her tent, with her eyes fixed upon the ground, and motionless, as if the action of every sense was suspended.
Struck with the sight, I gazed on her, and while my eyes eagerly devoured her beauties, thought I was only studying how to address her in the manner most likely to answer the hopes of my master.
I had stood thus for some moments, melting in sensations utterly new to me, when the fair slave, not having perceived my entrance, exclaimed with a sigh, which seemed to burst her heart,
Unhappy Sappho! To what new misery am I reserved?
—
The sound of her voice awoke me from the extasy, in which I had stood entranced. Throwing myself eagerly at her feet,
Lovely Sappho!
said I, seizing her hand, and pressing it to my heart,
unfold the cause, the nature of your unhappiness, and depend upon every effort, in the power of man to make, for your relief.
Her surprize at so unexpected an address deprived her of utterance for some moments. Recovering at length,
Insidious man,
said she, tearing away her hand with indignation,
to intrude upon my solitude, in order to steal the secrets of my soul! But your base arts shall not avail! In my name, you know more, than I ever intended to discover! But more than that shall you never know.
—Saying which she wrapped herself in her veil; and resumed her silence, which my most passionate entreaties could not prevail upon her to break.
This repulse threw a damp upon my spirits, which I knew not how to account for. I was surprized at what I felt. I questioned my heart, whence it could proceed; and at length resolved it into my anxiety to serve my master, heightened perhaps, as I thought, by compassion for so fair a creature.
This thought encouraged me to proceed, with double assiduity; in the execution of the task assigned me. I walked beside her camel, as she travelled, beguiling the way, with tales of entertainment; and verses, which I hourly composed in praise of her beauty. I lulled her to sleep with songs of love, and consolation.
Such a conduct could not fail to affect an heart naturally susceptible of the tenderest impressions. She relaxed her reserve. She received my services with complacency; and admitted me to a familiarity, which was soon improved into that tender kind of friendship, which can subsist only between the different sexes.
As I was walking one evening, by the side of her camel, conversing with her on indifferent subjects, she dropped some expressions of surprize, at my never having shewn any curiosity to know who she was, or by what means she had been brought into her present unhappy state.
This was an opening, which I had anxiously watched for. I replied,
that far from being incurious about any thing which concerned her, my heart panted with the eagerest desire to know every incident of her life, in hope of making some discovery, which might suggest the means of removing her unhappiness; but that I had been kept silent by respect, and fear of awakening that grief, which I had the pleasure to see in some measure beginning to subside.
Thanking me for my delicacy, she said with a reprehensive smile, that her griefs were too deeply imprinted on her heart, ever to be forgotten; but though she could not flatter herself with the faintest hope, of its being possible for me to afford her relief, she owed too much to my humanity to refuse gratifying me, with the information I desired.
Saying this, she paused for a few minutes, to recover her spirits; then wiping away a tear, which accompanied the recollection of her misfortunes, she began in these words.
SECTION XI.
MY name you already know. I was born in the island of Mytilene, of a family which never knew disgrace, before I was unhappily added to it.
The fondness of my father viewing, in too favourable a light, the poor endowments bestowed upon me by nature, he spared no pains to improve them, by every accomplishment of education, flattering himself with the hope, that they might raise me to a more exalted rank in life, by alluring the affection of some of our young nobility, whose own riches could enable them to consult inclination only in the matrimonial choice, as he had not himself a fortune to give with me, equal to his wishes.
We often owe the disappointment of our designs to the very means, upon which we build our most sanguine hopes of their success.
The power of pleasing, in which nature was thought to have been most liberal to me, was my voice. Fond of music himself, my father omitted nothing, which could conduce to perfect me in an accomplishment so universally admired. I was instructed in the use of every instrument. I had masters of every country to modulate my voice, and form my judgment, and fame said that their endeavours were not unsuccessful.
Among these masters, the most celebrated was one, who had been educated in the seraglio of the Khalif of Bagdat. The care taken in that jealous court, to prevent the ministers of pleasure from abusing the access, which their occupations necessarily give them to the female sex, prevented also my father's having any apprehension of danger, from the familiarity of his access to me. I practised with him every hour, alone, in every dress and every attitude he thought proper; to try, as he pretended, which suited best the powers of my voice.
Of all the pleasures of sense, that which captivates the soul most strongly is music. By its command over the passions, it commands the heart, while it silences reason by its union with sentiment.
Nor is this command exerted only over the hearer. The feelings of the performer advance with his execution, till he becomes insensibly the slave of his own art, as I soon unhappily experienced.
The praises, which I received for my proficiency, warmed my heart with gratitude to my teacher, to whose indefatigable assiduity I was sensible of my being indebted for them; and doubled my attention to his instructions.
In vocal expression, the attitude of the body naturally accompanies the sentiment. My teacher practised this to an extreme, which I at first thought ridiculous, and disgusting. But that disgust soon wore off. I saw him, if I may use the expression, only with my ears; and found such pleasure in his voice, that every thing he did pleased me.
Such a prepossession in his favour could not long escape his observation. He perceived it too plainly; and took an advantage of it, equally base and absurd, to attempt improving my admiration of his voice into a passion for himself.
With this intent, whenever we practised alone together, he chose none but the most tender themes of love for his lessons; and not content with my accompanying his voice, as before, taught me also to imitate his looks and gestures, in which he proceeded to every endearment of the passion he expressed, till Nature, catching fire, realized the imitation on my heart, and I felt the flames he only acted.
My soul had, till now, been so totally engrossed by my passion for music, that I had never before felt the impulse of any other. Pleased therefore with sensations I did not understand, I took no pains to conceal them.
It is impossible to describe the rage of my father, at a discovery so destructive to his hopes, so fatal to his fondness for me. He directly turned off my teacher in the most opprobrious manner; and loading me with every reproach of ingratitude, degeneracy, and folly, interdicted my ever seeing him, with the severest menaces.
Nothing shews the natural right of the human soul to liberty so strongly, as the reluctancy with which it bears every semblance of restraint.
Though my heart had been warmed by the caresses of my teacher, I was so far from having a confirmed passion for him, that I knew not even what that warmth meant; and would have rejected any direct offer of love from him with indignation. But my pride was now piqued on the opposite side, by this treatment from my father; and I thought it no more than a just assertion of my liberty, to do that which he had unjustly attempted to prevent my doing.
My teacher, who had found means to have intelligence of every thing which passed upon the occasion, soon availed himself of this spirit of liberty, (should I not rather call it contradiction?) which my father had raised in me. He requested a private interview, which in the present state of my mind I made no difficulty of granting; when pressing his suit with all the ardor of desire, and treating the charge of its absurdity with contempt, as a calumny devised only to deceive my inexperience, he worked up my passions, particularly my resentment, to such an height, that he obtained from me a promise of marriage under the sanction of the most solemn vows.
SECTION XII.
A moment's reflection shewed me all the misery into which I had plunged myself; but I was not long permitted merely to reflect upon it.
My promised husband could not conceal his triumph over the contempt and contumely with which he had been treated by my father. The consequence of this indiscretion was equally severe upon us both. He was thrown into the common prison, where he suffered all the indignities and wretchedness of poverty and guilt among the vilest malefactors, for having seduced a pupil, whom he had been entrusted to teach for hire; while my father, in virtue of his paternal authority, confined me to my chamber, in which I was guarded with the most rigid vigilance, and denied every thing like pleasure, or even comfort; in order to punish me for my past disobedience, and bend me to his purpose of breaking the engagement into which I had entered.
But this severity disappointed itself, and only hardened my resolution into obstinacy. Though I saw all the wretchedness I had to expect, with such a husband, in a life of vagrant poverty, dependance and disgrace, I dreaded still more the scoffs of my acquaintance, and the bad treatment of my family, of which I had already tasted so bitterly, should I remain among them.
I therefore determined to feign a passion which I did not feel, as the only excuse for my folly; and take my fate, however hard, among strangers, away from the slights and reproaches of my friends.
I say, a passion which I did not feel. For upon examining my heart, I found in it none of that enthusiasm, that madness of love, which is described as delighting in dangers, and sweetening distress. I found it had been the music I had loved, not the man; and that the connection between them had even lessened that love. I had dreamed of happiness, but I awoke to misery.
My obstinacy at length so effectually weaned me from my father's love, that he cast me off from his care, and abandoned me to my fate; when the first use I made of my liberty was to fly to my teacher, and perform my promise of marriage, amid all the horrors of his prison.
Formed by nature for love, the human heart sympathizes instinctively in the misfortunes too often occasioned by it. This act of mine had such an appearance of the infatuation of that passion, that it moved the pity of all who were not immediately interested in the honour of my family; and my husband found protectors, who soon restored him to liberty.
Our situation, however, seemed to be but little amended. We were at liberty to go whither we listed; but we wanted the means; and to remaining where we were, could we even have subsisted there, I would have preferred perishing of famine in any other place.
At length the cold hand of charity, scantily enabled us to travel to the metropolis; where curiosity to hear a voice, which had had power to invert the laws of nature, for some little time drew such crowds to my husband's performances, that we were relieved from the immediate pressure of poverty.
But most dearly did I purchase this relief. The curiosity of the public was not confined to my husband. They must also see the subject of his triumph; the fool, who had sacrificed sense to sound. Every one, who patronized, assumed a right to visit him. I was shewn from morning till night, to a succession of strangers, who broke in at all hours, without respect or ceremony; and gazed at me with as much indelicacy and insolence, as if I had been a monster exhibited to sight for hire.
Nor did I suffer from their gazing only. They insulted me incessantly, with such ribbald questions, and such base proposals, as were an outrage upon the female character: and when I ventured to express disapprobation of their behaviour, though in the most humble terms, they treated my tears with ridicule; and threatened to punish me for such presumptuous affectation, as they gibingly called it, by withdrawing their favour from my husband.
Much as I was humbled in my own eyes, my spirit was not yet sufficiently subdued to submit to such usage. I complained to my husband, in bitterness of soul; and declared my resolution to shut myself up from the sight of the world, rather than suffer a repetition of it.
But I was far from receiving the approbation of my conduct, much less the protection I expected from him. He answered me coldly, that my sensibilities were too lively, and took unnecessary offence; that what I complained of was merely a thing of course; that we must humour the caprices of those, by whose favour we lived; and that other women, instead of being offended by the proposals made to me, would have turned them to good advantage, as they were indeed one of the best resources in our way of life.
It is impossible to express what I felt on his saying this. I thought I had before seen all the horrors of my situation; but these words opened new, of which I had not had the remotest conception; and betrayed the infamous origin of all his base designs upon me.
As soon as the fullness of my heart permitted me to speak, I answered him with a look of the most poignant disdain,
that what he meant by
his
way of life, I knew not, nor desired to know; but that
mine,
though a life of folly and misfortune, had ever been, and ever should be, a life of virtue and honour, nor would I add to the disgrace I had already brought upon my family, by departing from those principles, to save myself from perishing of famine, as I justly deserved.
— Saying which, I retired to my chamber; nor could all his expostulations, menaces, or entreaties, ever prevail upon me to alter my resolution.
The curiosity which our strange adventure had raised, was no sooner gratified, than my husband's voice lost its attraction; and we sunk back into our former distress; for such a slave was he to the appetites which he could indulge, that he always lavished his acquisitions in the instant; nor ever let the wants of yesterday, warn him to make provision for the morrow.
I was now obliged to fly my native country, and enter upon a life of vagrancy, literally for a morsel of bread; without the illusion of hope, or gratification of passion to silence the reproaches of reason, and divert my thoughts from dwelling upon the wretchedness into which I had plunged myself.
The scene was the same wherever we went. Curiosity, for he took care to make my folly known, at first procured us momentary relief, which was as quickly dissipated; so that we were always in the extremes of poverty or profusion.
My only shadow of satisfaction was, that my husband desisted from his base sollicitations; in expectation, as I soon saw, that the conversation of such company, of either sex, as I was obliged to consort with, would in time undermine my principles, and reconcile me to enter willingly into all their ways.
But his necessities soon became too urgent, to permit his waiting for an effect, of which he thought himself so secure; and he compleated the villainy of his first seduction, by selling me for a slave to this merchant.
My resentment, as the base wretch never dared to see me more, fell justly upon myself; and I resolved to shorten the days of my misery gradually, by abstinence, as the least painful way. But your kind consolations have shaken that resolution. In the seraglio of the sultan, for which you say I am destined, I shall have tranquillity at least, and that is the nearest approach to happiness which I have any right to hope for in this world.
SECTION XIII.
WHEN the fair slave had finished, I left her to recover her spirits, which appeared to be exhausted by the length and nature of her story; and upon considering the circumstances of it, I thought I had found the object of my search, in the source of her misfortunes.
All the evil in this world, all the errors in the conduct of man,
said I,
certainly proceed from wrong education. How could she escape the snare, into which she was led by those, whom Nature and Reason taught her to look upon as her safest guides? With what colour of justice could her father blame her, for a conduct which was the necessary consequence of his own indiscretion? From wrong education certainly proceed all the evils which deform human life.
I was pleased with this discovery; and plumed myself not a little upon the sagacity which had made it. But my exultation lasted not long.
But if her father's indiscretion,
I continued on farther reflection,
was the cause of her first error, was his exertion of the sacred right of paternal authority, a just cause for persisting in that error? For aggravating it by direct disobedience to his just command? Did this indiscretion of the father, in giving his daughter so wrong an education—Did the villainy of the husband in basely selling into slavery the victim of his base seduction, proceed from errors in their education also?—There is more in this matter than I was aware of. I should be acquainted with every particular, to be able to form a just judgment of the whole.
And even, if I knew all these circumstances, is it safe to extend a judgment formed upon one event, or one series of events, to the infinitely varied tenor of human life? I must suspend my opinion, till I shall have seen farther into the interior principles on which it is conducted. A wrong education is certainly the source of many evils; but it is not equally certain, that it is the source of all.
Though many circumstances in the story of the fair slave had necessarily lowered her in my opinion, they seemed to have a contrary effect upon my heart. To the compassion which I had before felt for her sufferings, was now added a desire to correct the errors from which they sprung; a task which I flattered myself would be as easy as pleasing, from the candor with which she had confessed them.
Happy in this thought, I entered abruptly, at our next meeting, into those particulars, in which I thought she had been most to blame; and examining them closely, proved by arguments more conclusive than complaisant, that all her misfortunes had proceeded from herself.
Though her looks sufficiently shewed that this subject was far from being pleasing to her, she heard me to the end, without interruption; when instead of making any reply to the purpose of what I had been saying, she hummed a tune for a few minutes, and then asked me, if I had heard whether the sultan was fond of music.
So contemptuous a repulse embarrassed me so much, that it was some time before I could make her any answer. At length, bowing coldly, I told her, that the sultan's taste was one of these secrets of the seraglio, with which the voice of fame presumed not to meddle: adding, with a significant smile, that I had pleased myself with the hopes of turning her attention to objects more worthy of it.
She saw my embarrassment, and seemed unwilling to encrease it.
Your intention,
she answered,
did not escape my notice; but I cannot accommodate myself to it. You have drawn so favourable a picture of the life led in the seraglio, that I have fixed my heart upon entering into it. If the sultan is fond of music, I have no fear but I shall gain his favour. Such a conquest only can compensate for my past misfortunes; and I would attempt it tomorrow, if I were at liberty, and able to follow my own inclinations. Any advice therefore, which you can give me to accomplish this, I shall receive with gratitude. To any other purpose it will be in vain for you to advise me.
So peremptory a declaration effectually silenced me. I bowed my head respectfully, and left her, without saying another word, resolved never to think of her more.
I was soon sensible, that the only way to fulfil this resolution was to avoid her company. I therefore told the merchant what she had said to me, who thanked me in the warmest terms for the service I had done him, in reconciling her to his views; and acquiesced in my opinion, that it was not necessary for me to continue my visits to her.
Such a sacrifice to reason was not unattended with pain; nor am I certain that I could have persisted in my resolution, but that our arrival at Cairo produced such an unexpected change in my situation, that if the remembrance of the fair slave would at times force itself upon me, it soon gave place to other objects.
How unjust is the pride of speculative wisdom,
interrupted the emperor.
You were offended at her, because she would not listen to advice she could not follow. What could she think of, but improving a fate, which she could see no possibility of avoiding? In reality, it was you who gave cause of offence. Impracticable advice is only insult to the unfortunate.—
But stop! The appearance of the morning calls my attention to other matters. I have not leisure to listen to thee longer now. At some other time, my curiosity may possibly require the continuation of thy story. In the mean while, remain at thy liberty among my attendants; and set thine heart at ease. Thou art not now among the Bedouins.
End of the
FIRST BOOK▪
THE HISTORY OF ARSACES, PRINCE OF BETLIS. BOOK THE SECOND.
SECTION I.
SOME days passed before Temugin could attend to the continuation of the captive's story; but his curiosity, though restrained, was far from being satisfied. The first evening he could spare from his weightier cares, he commanded his attendance; when he resumed his narrative, in these words.
From the general tenour of the merchant's conversation, I had been led to think his principles strictly just, and generous to the best of his conception; but I soon found that the difference between speculation and practice is equally great, in every station of life. On the third day, after our arrival at Cairo, he fulfilled his professions of friendship, and gratitude for the service I had done him, by selling me as a slave to the grand visier.
I must not, however, in justice to him, omit a particular circumstance, which happened on this occasion. When he was delivering me to the visier, he told me, as an excuse of his disappointing the hopes of liberty, which he had always given me, that it had not been his intention to sell me, but the visier, who had been pleased with something in my appearance, offered him so high a price, that he could not possibly refrain from accepting it;
for you know, he concluded, that it is a rule with us, who live by buying and selling, never to refuse a good offer.
This excuse took effect, though not in the manner it was intended. It gave me such a contempt for the man, who made it, that I left him with pleasure, though to continue in slavery.
The accounts which I had received from my father of the perfection, to which every power of human art and genius had been carried in Egypt, had raised my curiosity so high to see the country, that I almost forgot the wretched state, in which I went thither. But how was my expectation disappointed! The ruins of ancient magnificence only made present misery the more remarkable. The rulers prided themselves in brutal violence, in the destruction of works they could not imitate; and the contempt of sciences above their comprehension. The people, a mixture of that draff of all nations, who destitute of principle or sentiment, ramble from their native homes, and submit to all the insults and oppression of foreign tyranny for the sordid sake of scraping up wealth, which they dare not enjoy, had neither leisure, genius, nor spirit to cultivate either art or science.
My soul sickened in the contemplation of such degeneracy. I would have preferred returning to the Bedouins in the desart, to remaining in a country, once the pride of nature, had I been master of myself. There was a possibility at least that those savages might be reclaimed in time; but here, every thing was evidently growing worse; nor could imagination set bounds to their fall, when the height, from which they had already fallen, was considered.
But I was soon delivered from the pain of such contemplations. In less than a moon, after I was sold to the visier, he was deposed, and strangled; and all his property confiscated to the use of the sultan.
In the dissipation, usual on such occasions, it fell to my lot, to be given to an officer, who was sent the very next morning to execute a like sentence, on Almanzor, the brother of the late visier, who commanded the Egyptian army on the confines of Biledulgerid, and took me in his train.
As it was necessary to the success of his commission, that he should execute it, before the fate of the late visier should come to the knowledge of his brother, to put him on his guard, as his great abilities and virtues had endeared him so highly to his troops, that they would, to a man, have defended his life, with their own, we traversed the inhospitable desart of Barca, with the utmost expedition.
SECTION II.
ON the fourth morning of our journey, as we sat upon the bank of a river, to refresh nature after so severe a fatigue, we were surprized at the sight of a troop, which came pouring down upon us, from every side.
The state of universal war, in which we knew the rovers of those desarts live with all mankind, left us no room to doubt of their intentions; at the same time, that their numbers shewed it was in vain to attempt resistance.
In such a situation, there was not a moment to deliberate. I sprung instantly upon my horse, whom I had learned from the Bedouins never to quit; and calling to all those, who preferred death to slavery, to follow me, I plunged into the river: But not above three or four followed my example; the rest, stupefied by the affright, and fond of life, even in its most abject state, not daring to make so desperate an effort to preserve their liberty.
The rapidity of the stream hurried me away, with a violence which soon diverted my attention from every thing, but the immediate danger of my life. Thrice was I swallowed in the whirlpools, which foamed among the rocks, that broke the current of the river; but the strength and spirit of my horse, to whom I clung in the instinctive impulse of self-preservation, after I had lost sense of every thing else, bore me through to the opposite shore.
When I had recovered myself a little, and returned thanks to heaven, for so signal a mercy; I looked wishfully around for my companions, but all in vain. However as I had been borne by the torrent, out of the view of the enemy, I lingered awhile on the bank, to see if they might not happily have gained some other part; till at length losing every shadow of such hope, and growing apprehensive, that the rovers might find some safer place to pass the river, and pursue me, I turned about, and plunged into the pathless wilderness, ignorant whither to direct my steps.
I proceeded thus, guided only by despair, till the approach of night, when the roaring of the various beasts issuing from their dens in search of prey, warned me to provide for the safety of the present moment, however dreadful the farther prospect, which lay before me. Accordingly fastening my horse to the root of a lofty tree, I climbed its summit, and imploring the divine protection, disposed myself to rest among the branches, in the best manner such a situation would admit.
Nature was so exhausted by the accumulated fatigue, which I had undergone, both in mind and body, that I soon sunk into a profound sleep, in which I lost, for some happy hours, the remembrance of my misfortunes.
At the approach of morning, when my senses were refreshed, and the faculties of my mind had recovered their vigour, I saw a vision, and in the power of imagination beheld the same celestial being, which had appeared to me, in my dream, the morning before I left the house of my father.
Selim,
methought he said, regarding me with a look of reprehension,
from thine own presumptuous folly have arisen thy misfortunes. Let experience teach thee wisdom. Thou art now launched forth into the great ocean of the world. Pursue thy course steadily through it, under the direction of reason; nor while thou shalt merit its protection by virtue, fear being deserted by that power, which hath hitherto so eminently protected thee. Remember, that though the days of man are numbered, and the hour of his death appointed from the beginning, the manner of that death depends upon himself, whether in infamy or glory.
—
My vision was broken off, as he spoke these words, by a most tremendous noise, at which I instantly awoke; when the first object I saw was an huge-lion, which had just seized upon my horse, and was tearing him piece-meal.
The distress, with which I was affected at this sight, is not to be expressed. The sense of my dreadful situation, deprived thus of my best assistance to traverse those boundless wilds, was heightened by gratitude to the noble creature, which had so lately saved my life. I wept in the weakness of my soul; and was tempted by despair to precipitate myself upon him, and either revenge, or share his fate.
But a recollection of the words, which I had just heard in my vision, prevented my being guilty of such rashness. I considered that the dangers, which made my present prospect so terrifying, were yet less immediately terrible, than those which I had so lately escaped; and gathering hope from thence, I implored a continuance of the divine protection, and resigned myself with humility to the dispensations of heaven.
This restored my mind to some serenity, and enabled me to consider, which way I should direct my course, as soon as the departure of the lion should permit me to descend from my place of safety; but so many obstacles presented themselves on every side, that reason could find no hope, whereon to form a choice.
In this perplexity, it occurred to me at length to pursue the journey, in which I had been engaged; and strive to join, if possible, the army of Almanzor, though with a different intention from that with which I had been sent.
No resolution, which was not absolutely impossible, could have been attended with greater difficulties. I had still an immense tract of this inhospitable wilderness to traverse. I knew not my way through it. I knew not even where the army of Almanzor lay. My only direction was, that I had heard our journey pointed to the west; and I imagined that the traces of so great an army, would be easily discovered, when once I should come into an inhabited country.
On the support of this slender hope, I set out accordingly, as soon as I descended from the tree, and travelled through the wilderness for the space of forty days, without meeting the footstep of any human creature, or having the satisfaction of any certainty, that I was not involving myself deeper in those inexplicable wilds; chusing my steps by day with the most anxious dread of the serpents, and other venemous reptiles, which hissed continually on every side; and flying at the approach of night to some tree for safety from the various beasts, whose roarings tore the air around me; while I fed on wild fruits, with the birds of the air, except when failing of them I was forced to feed upon the birds themselves, which I slew with my bow and arrows.
At length even these resources failed me. I was several days without meeting any fruits; and consequently met very few birds, which seldom resort any places, but those in which they find their food.
My spirits losing by degrees the support of hope, sunk with my strength. I thought it in vain to struggle longer with a fate, which seemed inevitable; and therefore layed me down to wait for death, in whatever shape he should please to attack me.
SECTION III.
THE place I chose for this purpose was of itself sufficient to throw a gloom over the happiest mind. Stupendous ruins, inhabited by every animal, the most fierce and poisonous of the savage race, and surrounded with woods, almost impervious to them, hung over a rapid stream, broken into numberless cataracts, by the fragments of the buildings, which had fallen into it.
Imagination wearied itself, in the present contemplation, in reflection on the former grandeur of this scene of desolation, till I sunk into a kind of slumber. But the impression made upon my mind, by such objects, had heightened the sense of my own misery, too much, to permit my sleeping long. I soon awoke, and raising my eyes, what was my astonishment to see a being, whose appearance was such as must strike the most insensible heart with awe. His stature arose, above the common size of man. His beard fell bright as burnished silver down his breast. A loose vesture shewed his large limbs; and a staff supported him, as he stooped over me.
My heart almost died within me, at the sight. I was sensible that I was awake; and wanted that intrepidity, with which sleep prepares us to behold its own creatures. I thought I beheld a being of another world; and though despair had steeled me against every common attack of fear, a sacred horrour seized my whole soul; and for a time suspended all its faculties.
Recovering at length the power of utterance,
Defend me, heaven!
I exclaimed,
my life is in thine hand.
— Then prostrating myself at his feet,
O gracious being,
I continued,
of whatsoever state, for my soul feels thou art above mortality, receive into thy protection, the most forlorn of mankind; and direct me to some end of the misery, under which I am now sinking.
He saw the distress of my soul, and reaching his hand with a look of ineffable benevolence,
Arise, my son!
said he,
arise; and fear not. You behold a man, like yourself! A man, once as unhappy, as you can possibly be, till resignation, and the lenient hand of time, in some degree healed the wounds of misfortune; and restored peace to my heart. Nature, at the long disused sight of man, first led me toward you; and sympathy now bids me offer you all the consolation and assistance in my power.
Encouraged by these words, and more by the manner, in which the venerable speaker of them addressed me, I arose; and bowing my head, in sign of grateful obedience, for I was not yet sufficiently assured to speak, I followed him toward his habitation, which he shewed me at some distance from the other ruins, by the side of the river.
It was a circular building of vast extent, the walls of which had been so high, that though a great part of them was fallen, in several places, that which remained standing, was still sufficient to exclude every creature, without wings: nor could I perceive a place of entrance, for any other, as he led me all around it.
I was just going to express my surprize at this, when my conductor stooped; and taking a ladder, which lay concealed at a little distance, he applied it to a narrow aperture in the wall, at a considerable height from the ground, into which, when we had ascended, he drew the ladder after him.
I found myself, now, in a large gallery, arched over-head, and supported by massy pillars, of the most exquisite workmanship. It looked into an open space, in the center of the building, part of which was planted with fruit-trees of different sorts, and the rest cultivated as a garden, and filled with various kinds of vegetables.
When I had indulged my curiosity for some minutes, in gazing at objects so new to me, we descended into a spacious apartment, under the gallery; in the middle of which there arose a fountain, that filled a bath of the whitest marble; and with its over-flowing watered the garden, through which it was led in channels, cut for that purpose.
SECTION IV.
AS we advanced to the fountain, we were met by a young female, the sight of whom added to the wonder, with which my soul was filled. She was clad in a robe of blue silk, which covered her whole form. A net of the same colour enclosed her hair, which was wrapped in woven tresses round her head; and shone like the plumes of the raven. Her eyes—
Hold!
interrupted Temugin,
I hate descriptions of beauty. They are always drawn, by an over-heated imagination; and only make the partiality of the painter ridiculous.
The captive blushed at this rebuke; and looking down abashed for some moments, sighed and resumed his story.
She started at the sight of me; and gazing with the most eager astonishment, turned her eyes frequently to my conductor, as if to enquire, who I could be.
He soon understood her; and smiling at her surprize,
Receive, my child,
said he,
a stranger whom heaven hath sent to enliven this solitary scene. Bring your guest a garment to put on, when he comes out of the bath; and then prepare us a repast, from those stores, which the bounty of heaven supplies faster than we can consume; and are always best bestowed upon those who want them most.
On his saying this, she withdrew; and returning directly with a vesture, her father and I went into the bath together.
When I had purified and refreshed myself, after my fatigue, he led me back into the gallery, where she had laid for us, a variety of fruits, some dried in the sun, and others fresh-plucked from the trees, with a vase of living water, just drawn from the fountain.
My host, having thanked heaven for its blessings, reached me some of the fruits; and encouraged me to eat by his example.
Having satisfied the cravings of nature; and being in some degree relieved by his beneficence, from the awe, with which his appearance had struck me, I began to recover my spirits; and look around me, with less embarrassment.
I congratulate you, my son,
said my host, observing the alteration in my looks,
on the comfort, which this scene of desolation has administered to your distress. Be not ashamed. It argues not any malevolence of disposition. Nature receives consolation from society, even in misery; from the thought of not being marked for the sole object of the wrath of heaven.
Distress, great as ever wounded the human heart, first drove me into these wilds; where chance directed my steps to this place. The view struck me. I thought such an habitation best suited to my state; and that the hand of heaven had led me to it, to shew me the vanity of this world, and all its grandeur.
This reflection soothed my heart; and time insensibly wore off the edge of my afflictions, so far, that in a few years I could say, I was not unhappy; nor had a wish to throw away, for any thing this world could afford, beyond what I enjoyed in this solitude. But alas! even this absence of unhappiness was too much to last! I had more to suffer before I was to be released from life.
But I see you are fatigued. Evening draws on, when we must retire to rest. While day confines the natural lords of these ruins to their caves, I walk abroad, sole viceroy of their empire; but yield the more pleasant evening, and cool night to the stronger; and retire to this place of safety, while they resume their sway.
In the morning, when rest shall have refreshed your over-laboured body, and calmed the tumult in your mind, I will lead you through some of the most remarkable places of my dominion; and afterwards gratify the curiosity, which I see you feel, by relating the occurrences of my life; from a comparison of which, with your own, you can not fail of receiving consolation, and encouragement to slight the evils of so uncertain a state.
Think that you lie this night, among the ruins of a city, once the habitation of myriads; but now for ages lost to human knowledge; and sleep contented and secure, in just contempt of every thing which can happen, in such a world.
—Saying this, he led me to another apartment in the gallery; and recommending me to the protection of heaven, left me to my rest.
But it was a considerable time, before the working of my mind would permit me to sleep. The change of my state, from the preceding day, appeared too great and sudden to be real. I doubted my senses; and feared that all was no more than a fond illusion of imagination.
Revolving at length the whole progress of my life, my eyes were opened; and I saw the clue, with which I had been led by heaven, through the labyrinth. Elevated by this thought, I offered up my soul, in prayer and thanksgiving; and resigning myself, in humble assurance, to the same protector, soon found the blessing of quiet sleep.
SECTION V.
WHEN I joined my beneficent host, the next morning, he saw the change in my looks, and congratulated me upon it.
I rejoice, my son,
said he,
at your having found that comfort, which resignation to the will of heaven, never fails to bring to a virtuous heart. A placid countenance shews a mind at peace. As soon as we shall have taken some food, I will fulfil my promise of shewing you my dominions.
We then sat down, and eating of some fruits, which had been laid in readiness for us,
Had there never been a less innocent banquet made in this place,
said he smiling,
it would not now be an heap of ruins.
Then observing, that I still looked with wonder at every thing around me,
I see,
he continued,
that you are surprized at the structure of my habitation. From ruins of the same kind, which I have seen in places, once under the dominion of a people from the regions of the setting sun, called Romans, a name perhaps unknown to you, I judge that this edifice was raised for the exhibition of shews, to entertain the populace, who, after feasting in these galleries, beheld with savage pleasure the fiercest of the brute creation, let loose in yonder open space to indulge their natural antipathies; and to the disgrace of humanity, men still more brutal, entering into deadly combat with them, or with each other, compelled by tyrant force, or for the sordid sake of hire.
Struck with horror at such an account, I could not forbear exclaiming in the indignation of my soul,
Justly hath such an abandoned people been exterminated from the face of the earth! Justly hath a place polluted with such crimes, fallen to ruin!
Take care, my son,
he returned;
man must not presume to direct the justice, or trace the wrath of heaven, whose ways are all above his comprehension. If the most virtuous people were brought to a strict account for their actions, the most sacred places judged by what is done in them, the whole earth would long since have been an uninhabited desart; a scene of desolation and ruin.
But let us go, before the heat of the sun becomes too fierce, and take a view of some of the neighbouring parts of these ruins. They will reconcile you to the fate, which invariably attends all the works, all the designs of man.
At our return, if your curiosity shall so require, we will beguile the sultry hours of noon, in the cool shade of these arches, by a recital of the misfortunes which drove me thus from human intercourse.
The scenes, through which he led me, were sufficient to humble human pride; and damp the ardour of ambition, in their highest flights. Every effort of art to elude oblivion, and guard against the waste of time, was here defeated in the most mortifying manner. Statues, whose remains shewed traces of the most exquisite workmanship; and columns, which seemed to have been built as firm, as the foundations of the earth, lay defaced and tumbled on each other, in heaps of promiscuous rubbish.
These statues,
said my guide,
seeing me struck by the sight, were finished with so much care to perpetuate the name of some noted person; these columns raised with such strength to eternize the memory of some famous action; but so effectually hath the vain design been defeated, that during a residence of more than five hundred moons among these ruins, never have I met in all my searches a single inscription, which might direct me to the most distant conjecture, even of the name of a city, on the magnificence of which so much labour and cost were evidently expended; never have I seen the face of an human being, before your's, except my own immediate companions.
Such reflections were too painful to be pursued. I turned away from the objects, which suggested them; and my conductor seeing how deeply I was affected, discontinued his intended walk, for that time; and kindly returned with me, to his habitation; where seating ourselves, on the verge of the fountain, I requested him to relate the history of his life, which he began in these words.
SECTION VI.
Though the recital I am now entering upon, will lift up the oblivious veil, which time hath kindly thrown over my griefs; and the wounds of my heart open at the recollection of misfortunes too mighty to admit of redress, yet for thy sake, O my son, do I willingly undertake the painful task; as a view of the evils inevitably incident to humanity, cannot fail of administering a melancholy consolation under your present distresses, and may convey instruction for your future conduct; the events which rule the life of man, in all its various situations, arising from causes essentially alike, however they may happen to differ in circumstances merely accidental.
But first, as my misfortunes arose immediately from those of my country, and were in every sense connected with them, it will be necessary for me to look back for a moment to distant ages, in order to give a just view of the latter, and of the causes from which they sprung.
When the intestine divisions, which had so long distracted the councils of the mighty city of Carthage, had at length made that queen of Africa fall a prey to the ambition of the Romans, the few who remained of the illustrious house of Barcas, disdaining to live in subjection to enemies, whom they had so often vanquished in the field, and preferring liberty, under the heaviest inconveniencies which nature could support, to all the luxury and magnificence of their enslaved country, resolved to leave it, and seek some happier habitation.
Communicating their design accordingly, to as many as they imagined willing and worthy to share in it, they all put themselves under the conduct of Narbal, nephew to the great Annibal; and secretly embarking their families and wealth in ships provided by him for the purpose, they set sail in a propitious hour, committing themselves, and all their hopes, to the guidance and protection of the gods of their country.
The melancholy cause of their flight convincing them of the necessity of directing their course to some very distant region, Narbal, whose genius, turned to pursuits of a milder nature than the rest of his illustrious family, had led him into every climate under heaven to promote the commerce of his country, determined to seek a settlement on the island of Serendib, as the place most likely to be safe from the invasion of the Romans, those enemies to human liberty.
Sailing therefore along the coast of Africa, they passed the mouths of the Nile, and landing at Calixene, journied by land from thence to Suez; where Narbal, who was well known, and high in respect, soon procured other ships, in which he pursued his intended voyage, till he came within sight of Dira; when a violent storm of wind arose, which in spite of all the skill and efforts of the mariners, drove him back upon the coast of Saquem. I call places by their present names, to avoid obscurity.
A wise man turns every event to advantage. Narbal having landed his people, to refresh them after the fatigues of the storm, went to take a view of the country, which he found beautifully blessed by nature, and wanting only proper cultivation to make it afford all the necessaries of life; the few inhabitants, who had fled at his approach, living poorly, content with the spontaneous produce of the earth.
Pleased with this discovery, and construing the storm as a direction from heaven, he immediately chose a spot, on the banks of a beautiful river, the mouth of which formed a spacious harbour; and laid the foundations of a city, which he named Byrsa, in pious remembrance of the revered place of his nativity, whose unhappy fate made him afraid to adopt the inauspicious name of Carthage.
Misfortune had softened the minds of this new people; and taught them all those duties of humanity, which are too often neglected in the high blood of a prosperous estate. The tenderness with which they treated such of the natives as happened to fall into their hands, whom they constantly dismissed with presents, soon won the love and confidence of all the neighbouring people, so far that they came to them in crowds, and submitted gladly to an authority, which they saw promoted their happiness.
With such an accession, their city soon arose to a considerable degree of strength and convenience, for the safety as well as for the necessary purposes of life; and the inhabitants, encouraged by success, applied themselves to every art of industry and genius, to advance their general interest.
The hills echoed with the voice of their flocks and herds. The plains and vallies smiled in the rich livery of harvest; while the ships, which had served the melancholy purpose of their flight, now brought them the most precious merchandizes of the East, in return for their manufactures, and the superfluous produce of their new country.
SECTION VII.
WHEN all things were settled in this prosperous course, Narbal, whose views were too extensive to be confined to the present moment, assembled his whole people; and laying before them the present flourishing state of their affairs, resigned into their hands the authority with which they had entrusted him; advising them to establish some permanent form of government, which might give a rational hope of securing the continuance of their happiness.
But they, who had learned wisdom in the school of adversity, were not to be tempted by any allurements of power, to forego the advantages which they experienced under his care. They not only refused to accept his resignation, but in the warmth of their gratitude and confidence, offered to chuse him directly for their king.
Though this far out-went the intention of Narbal, he thought proper to accede in appearance to their proposal for the present, as the method for accomplishing the great design he had in view; but declined actually receiving the crown, till he should make some preparations, which he esteemed necessary for so solemn a ceremony.
The opportunities Narbal had had of comparing the various forms of government, in all the various countries thro' which he had travelled, having enabled him to discover the defects and advantages in each, he directly applied himself with the utmost assiduity and attention, to select from all, such particular parts, as when digested into one consistent system, might be most likely to procure the happiness of the community, the great end of all government, in the purity of its original intention.
When he had compleated his design, he again convened the people, on a mount which arose in the midst of the city; and having offered up sacrifices and prayers to the gods, to be propitious to his undertaking, the most venerable of the elders informed them of the cause of their being assembled.
An universal burst of joyful acclamation testifying their assent, Narbal advanced to the altar, and waving his hand to demand attention, declared with a determined look and accent, that as he was come there that day, to take upon him the government of the state, at their request, not by his own desire, he expected they would permit him to explain the terms, on which alone it was his invariable resolution to enter upon that equally difficult and important charge.
A silence, still as death, following his words, he drew forth from his bosom a written roll, and read aloud to them a particular account of the form of government which he proposed to establish, desiring them to make their objections to the whole, or any particular part thereof, which they should disapprove; as the sanction of their approbation that day was to be for ever after irrevocable.
SECTION VIII.
IT is not necessary to enter into a minute detail of all the several parts of his system. A short sketch of the leading principles of it, will sufficiently shew its excellence.
Justly sensible that the prosperity of a state is necessarily derived from and dependent on the favour of heaven, he ordained, that all the sacred rites of religion should be constantly performed with piety and proper order; and to enable the persons set apart for the performance of them to attend to that duty, without interruption from the anxieties and avocations of domestic care, and give them that respect in the eyes of the people, which is indispensibly necessary to add weight and influence to precepts, he appointed them a competent support out of the public revenue, without laying them under the dangerous necessity of receiving that support from the voluntary contributions of particulars, who might either want ability or inclination to give it, and therefore would hold the demander in disesteem; as a right to enforce such demand, by compulsive means, the only remedy in such a situation, must raise animosities which would prejudice the people against his precepts, as well as against himself.
The miseries which he had invariably seen the people groan under, in those countries where the prince knows no law but his own will, and executes that law himself, over-balanced every temptation with which power could assail his generous heart, and determined him against a form of government, where greatness is purchased at so dear a price; as on the other hand, he had before his eyes, in the unhappy fate of his native country, a melancholy proof of the evils attending those governments, in which the supreme power is lodged solely in the collective body of the people, whose councils are too often dictated by caprice or intrigue, and whose motions, where the object is not instantly present, are as slow and feeble, as their resolutions are precipitate and rash.
Between these two extremes, the wisdom of Narbal chose a mean, in which he hoped to avoid the evils incident to both.
To give dignity and vigour to the state, he ordained, that it should be governed by a king; as he also ordained, that the crown should descend by regular succession in one family, to obviate the fatal consequences which attend the struggles of ambition; being too well read in the human heart, to trust the people with the right of chusing their sovereign on every succession; a right inestimable in its first principle, where reason directs the choice to merit only, but liable to such abuse in the practice, as over-balances every advantage.
To prevent the abuse of power, when thus rendered hereditary and certain, he appointed limits to the authority of the crown, by laws which ascertained the rights of the people; which laws were to be acknowledged by every successive sovereign, on his ascending the throne; and his observation of them made the condition of the people's obedience.
To assist the sovereign with their advice, in the arduous affairs of government, he instituted a council composed of the elders and chiefs of the Carthaginian families, who had been the companions of his flight, to whom he joined a few of the natives, most eminent for their virtue, to obviate any apprehension, that their interests might be sacrificed to those of their new fellow-subjects.
That this council should not be subject to the influences of fear or mercenary motives, he appointed them several honourable and important privileges, and consigned to each a considerable property out of the public stock, which privilege and property were to descend to their posterity, who were to be the hereditary counsellors of the king, and guardians of the laws, so long as they persevered in the principles of private as well as public virtue, for which they were raised to such honour; but on their falling off from them, or dissipating the property thus given to secure their independance, all those advantages were to be forfeited, their families reduced to a private rank, and their places filled with persons more worthy of them.
Lest this preeminence should tempt this hereditary council to infringe upon the authority of the sovereign, or join him in oppressing the people, above whom they were thus raised, Narbal instituted a second council, inferior in rank, to be chosen annually by the people from among themselves, to watch over their interests, and defeat any attempt which might be made either by the sovereign, or the superior council, to exceed the limits respectively appointed to them; which second council was to be convened at a certain time in every year, to examine past transactions, and concert future measures; during their attendance on which duties, they were to enjoy the same privileges as the superior council; but at the end of that attendance, to return to their former private state; and this short duration of their authority was ordained, that in case this representative council, or any of its members, should deviate from the sense of their constituents, or betray their confidence, the people might have a timely remedy in their power, by correcting their choice; and entrusting their rights into more faithful hands, before any evil or error committed by them should take too deep a root.
By these two councils, in conjunction with the sovereign, were to be framed all future laws for the government of the state, as well in its interior policy, as in respect to its connections and intercourse with other states; which conjunction was so essential, that the dissent of the sovereign, or either council, prevented the establishment of the law proposed: and of all laws, the execution was committed to the king, with a power of appointing persons proper for that purpose; but under this restriction, that no person should be appointed to execute the laws, who was himself known to persist in the violation of any law.
And lastly, to support the dignity of the crown, and defray the necessary expences of the state, he appointed a certain portion of lands to be cultivated by such delinquents, as by their crimes should deserve the loss of liberty; being sensible of the absurdity and injustice to the public, of depriving it of the service of its members, by punishing any crime, beside murder, with the death of the criminal; and that as all other crimes proceed ultimately from idleness, their proper punishment is labour, the apprehension of which accumulated as far as the strength of the criminal could possibly support, and continued for his life, must be much more effectual to prevent the commission of such crimes, than any other punishment, however severe, but of short duration; and till there should be a sufficient number of such delinquents, or if happily there never should, then by the lower ranks of the people for hire, to be paid out of the produce of their labour.
To such a system of government it was impossible to make any objection. The people unanimously testified their approbation of it in the strongest manner; and Narbal, having sworn at the altar to preserve it inviolably, in every respect and instance, to the utmost of his power; and imprecated the vengeance of heaven upon any of his successors who should attempt to subvert it, he received the crown from the hands of the chief priest, amid the universal acclamations and blessings of all present; who in return swore fidelity to him, and obedience to the government, which he planned for their mutual benefit; concluding the sacred solemnity with oblations and prayers to the gods for their blessing and protection.
SECTION IX.
THE same wisdom and public spirit which had dictated this form of government, appeared in every act of Narbal's reign. He promoted virtue, and punished vice. He secured the civil rights and private property of his subjects, by plain and equitable laws. He established order in the state; and regulated its internal policy. He restrained ostentatious expence, luxury, and excess. He encouraged industry, and application to the useful arts; and his own conduct was the best comment on his laws.
When he had settled these most immediate objects of his care, he extended it to others more remote, though not less important.
He knew that industry is the true parent of strength; and commerce the only inexhaustible fund of wealth to a state: but he had learned from the unhappy fate of Carthage, that even commerce may be pursued too far, and that excess of wealth is weakness. He therefore directed the spirit of industry to a more solid object.
Of all the ways, in which the combined force of the human mind and body can be exerted, the most advantageous, and at the same time the most truly honourable, is agriculture. It creates that wealth, which commerce only collects: it supports the arts, by supporting life for the exercise of them: it increases population, and provides for that encrease. In a word, as much as the supply of natural, is more important than that of artificial wants; as much as life itself, than the phantastic emoluments of it, by so much is agriculture superior to every other art: and for this reason, the first and great aim of Narbal's policy, through the whole course of his reign, was to improve agriculture, and promote it by every encouragement of interest and honour.
Nor was his care confined within the circle of his own kingdom. He studied the genius and interests of all the neighbouring nations; and laid down rules for the conduct proper to be observed in every possible intercourse with them.
Though the first aim of Narbal's policy was peace, and his first laws calculated for the cultivation of it, he was too well acquainted with human nature to expect that such a blessing could be preserved to his people without the support of force, to repel the attacks of envy, interest, and ambition.
To establish this force therefore, in constant readiness for so necessary a purpose, he ordained that all the Byrsan youth should learn the warlike arts, and appear at certain stated times in every year before him, to shew their expertness at them; encouraging emulation by honorary prizes; but at the same time taking every possible precaution to suppress ambition and an indiscriminate passion for war.
The wisdom of these institutions soon appeared. His people were held in esteem and respect by all the neighbouring nations. They were happy in themselves; and their country flourished in all the blessings of industry and peace; and as far as human reason could look forward into time, the firmness of the basis upon which his happiness was founded, secured its duration.
But why do I dwell thus fondly on the excellencies of a government, which is now no more? The theme must be disinteresting to you; but my mind is so filled with the revered idea, that in the over-flowing of my heart, I have insensibly ran into lengths, beyond my first design.
— Saying this he wiped away the tears.—
Imitate not his prolixity,
interrupted Temugin,
by a description of grief, as disgusting in your repetition, as it was groundless in him. As well may it be expected to make the sea stand still, as to frame a system of government, which will not change. Every hour produces incidents, which alter its form, as necessarily as the motion of the air moves the face of the waters. But such is the wisdom of speculative legislators. Proceed.
—
The captive bowed his head in submission to a reproof, the force of which he felt; and thus resumed his story.
SECTION X.
HEAVEN,
continued my host,
rewarded the virtue of Narbal, in the amplest manner. He saw all his pious labours crowned with success; and died full of years, and full of glory, leaving his crown to a son, worthy to succeed him.
The kingdom of Byrsa flourished for many ages, under a long succession of princes of the race of Narbal; who all adhered faithfully to the great principles of his government, every change which became necessary, in the change of times, being regulated by them.
But unhappily the same care was not observed, perhaps was not possible to be observed, in the minuter matters of domestic policy. A long course of prosperity made the Byrsans forget, that their state owed its origin to misfortune; and wealth, accumulated by frugality, was thought to remove the necessity of that virtue.
The natural wants of man are few, and easily supplied; but the artificial are infinite, and insatiable. Not content with the necessaries of life, he looks around for the conveniences, from which to the luxuries the ascent is insensible.
No sooner had the sumptuary laws, so strictly enjoined by Narbal, began to be relaxed, than the spirit of commerce, consequentially, and designedly restrained by them, broke through all bounds; and ransacked every quarter of the earth to gratify the phantastick demands of luxury and caprice.
The opportunities, which this opened, of bartering from one to another, the various products of all the various nations, with whom they traded, afforded them such gain, that as their wealth had made them luxurious, so their luxury made them wealthy.
The effects of this were soon felt. The wealth of individuals exceeded that of the state, in every degree of just proportion: and their expence exceeded that wealth. A false refinement universally took place of that sublime simplicity of sentiment and manners, which had been the honourable characteristic of the Byrsan nation. Their buildings were raised more for ostentation than use. Their garments were fashioned by vanity. Their food was chosen meerly for its expence, however disagreeable to the taste, or destructive to health. Respect was measured by riches. Honours were openly sold; or conferred for services, in their nature most dishonourable. Virtue and merit were depressed by contempt and neglect; while vice found favour, and injudicious mercy encouraged crimes, by disarming justice of its terrors.
In a word, the whole business of life was dissipation; and every thing serious, every regard to decency, moral virtue, and religion, was turned into ridicule.
In order to carry on their commerce to greater advantage, the Byrsans planted colonies, in different parts of the earth, which drained their own country of its most useful inhabitants; none who were not possessed of considerable wealth, or whose professions did not immediately minister to the gratification of luxury, finding any encouragement, or even being able to live at home, where the fascination of example had made a profusion in expence unavoidable; and idleness and vanity had so far enhanced the price of the indispensible necessaries of life, as to involve the industrious poor, whose labour is the natural support, as their numbers make the real strength of a state, in all the miseries of want; and oblige them to seek subsistence elsewhere.
Time shewed the consequence of this conduct. These colonies, encreasing in numbers, in proportion to the depopulation of their mother country, by such emigrations; and flourishing in all the arts carried from thence, at length felt their own strength; and scorning a dependance no longer supported by sufficient power, took the first plausible occasion to shake it off; and ever after carried themselves like states allied upon equal terms, rather than subjects.
Nor was the exterior polity of the Byrsans, ruled by principles of greater wisdom, or virtue. Proud of their wealth, they looked with contempt on every poorer nation; and blindly mistaking that wealth for strength, scrupled not to invade their rights, as views of interest or ambition chanced to tempt them.
Such a conduct often necessarily engaged them in wars, with the neighbouring nations; and gave the sanction of justice to the attacks, which envy of their prosperity had before designed against them; but as these attacks were always made on some particular occasion, and singly by the people then aggrieved, they constantly failed of their effect, and only encreased by such exertion, the power they were intended to over-turn.
In this manner did they proceed for many ages, flourishing in a false prosperity, the cause of which insensibly undermined its foundation, like a tree, growing by the side of a river, whose waters, at the same time, that they make its branches spread, and cover them with bloom, wash away the earth from its roots; till it falls unexpectedly in the midst of its glory, over-turned by the slightest gust of wind; and buries every thing near it, in its ruins.
SECTION XI.
IN the commotions which shook the earth, when the Arabians, under the pretext of propagating their religion, impiously ravaged and enslaved the greater part of the world, as if the benign Father of creation could be pleased with the misery and desolation of his works, a body of Egyptians, who had escaped their fury, settled themselves in a mountainous and barren tract of land, which lay between the country of the Byrsans, and the desart, over which they had fled with their families, in their despair.—
Appalled at this arraignment of the religion, in which I had been educated; of principles, which I had ever been taught to hold most sacred, all my respect for my host could not prevent my interrupting him.
Mercy, gracious heaven! I exclaimed, what do I hear? Can any duty be more incumbent on man, than to propagate the true religion, even by force, where persuasion fails? Is not every man, who refuses to receive it, an enemy to God, and as such to be cut off from among men? And is it not a most, impious breach of that duty, a prostitution of benevolence to exert it, toward him?
Beware, O my son,
he replied, with a look and accent of the greatest earnestness,
beware of intruding thyself into the councils of heaven! Has the Supreme Being told you, that only one religion is acceptable to him? And that the religion, which you profess, is that one? If you alledge a particular revelation of your religion, do not others rest upon a like foundation? And doth not every man believe his own to be true?
In such a contrariety, by what virtue have you alone merited the preference of being right? Or rather, how hath the place of your birth merited that preference? For by that was determined the mode of your religion: And would a matter of such importance have been left depending on a circumstance so meerly accidental?
Beside, to allow what you contend for, that your religion is the only one, which is right, hath the Deity delegated to you a power, which he hath not exerted himself, of compelling all men to think alike? Or, if he intends such compulsion, doth he want your assistance to effect it? Can not he, who createth the mind, mould it as he pleaseth? And is it not in vain; is it not impious for man to attempt controuling that which the Deity hath left free?
Nor is it less so, to attempt usurping his vengeance: If he would punish, are not famine and pestilence, as swords, in his hand? Does not the thunder roar? Do not the foundations of the earth tremble at his word? Universal benevolence is the sacrifice most acceptable to heaven; nor can any religion be derived from thence, which would enjoin a breach of that invariable, eternal duty.
Then observing that I was ready to burst with indignation, and eagerness to controvert what he said;
Repress your zeal, my son,
he continued, softening his voice, and regarding me, with a look of inexpressible tenderness;
and examine dispassionately, before you presume to judge. Influenced by the same motives, I once thought as you do now; and held in detestation every religion, but my own; or rather that of the country, in which I had happened to be born, which I had received implicitly, without examination, or proof. But reason and experience have since opened my eyes, to my error.
If only one manner of worship could be acceptable to the Deity, would he not have made that manner known to all mankind, at their creation? Would he not have made the mind conceive it as invariably, as he made the senses represent their objects? Would he not have made it as self-evident, as the foundation of moral virtue, which is received without variation, by all mankind
Probably,
DO, AS YOU WOULD BE DONE BY.
.— If eternal unhappiness was to be the necessary consequence of differing from this manner, would it have been consistent, either with his goodness, or his justice, to have left by so much the greater part of mankind ignorant of it? This would have been to create them on purpose for unhappiness. An imputation, which is the greatest offence possible for man to offer to God, so far as respects himself only.
Consider, that the mode of worship, which prevails most in the world, is not known to the hundredth, perhaps not to the thousandth part of its inhabitants. — Consider also how many ages have passed away, before any of the present modes were known at all; and then you will see the impious absurdity of excluding from mercy, all but the few professors of a particular one among them.
Who then shall dare to call the man, who professes a different mode of worship, an enemy to heaven? And how can it be a duty to attempt propagating by force, an uniformity, which is not prescribed? Should he not rather conclude from its not having been prescribed, that the variety is pleasing; in the same manner as the beauty of sensible objects ariseth from variation in their parts. Wherever I hear the praises of the Deity sung, my soul shall accompany them, without objecting to the manner; nor will I hazard the profanation of so sacred a duty, by arrogantly attempting to obtrude any other.
To prove the necessary obligation of mutual benevolence, man was created in a state of indispensible dependance upon the assistance of others, from the first moment of his life. Shall he not, then, give that assistance, which he has received; and must continue to receive? Have all, who have administered relief to his wants, professed the same religion with him? And would their professing another make their assistance ineffectual to his relief? Be the religion of a man what it will, while the morsel of bread, which I receive from his hand, yields me wholesome nourishment, never will I think myself absolved from, much less interdicted the duty of administering relief to his wants. Nothing less than an immediate interposition of the Deity, by a total change of natural effects, being sufficient to abrogate a law, made necessary by him, to my nature.
In a word, my son, the worship, truly acceptable to the Deity, is the immediate act of the soul, and consists in gratitude for his blessings, and resignation to his will; while I pay that with sincerity of heart, I fear not his taking offence at the posture of my body, or any other—
Cease!
interrupted Temugin,
nor waste time in repeating the proofs of principles self-evident. Some mode of worship is necessary; and since no particular one has been universally established by that power, which alone hath the right, every country is entitled to pursue its own; and every individual obliged to observe it, in his actions, which only are subject to human authority.
SECTION XII.
THE Byrsans,
resumed the captive,
who at the time of the arrival of those strangers were beginning to deviate from the sage institutions of Narbal, and turn all their attention from agriculture to commerce, gave no obstruction to this new settlement; either not thinking those mountains worth cultivating, or perhaps not being yet so intoxicated by good fortune, as to forget the origin of their own state.
For several ages there subsisted but little intercourse between the Byrsans and their new neighbours, who had assumed the name of Coptes; the Byrsans, in the pride of prosperity, disdaining to take notice of a people struggling with distress; and the Coptes, in the sullen diffidence of that distress, keeping at an equal distance from such unfeeling neighbours.
While the Byrsans therefore were extending their commerce to the extremities of the earth, and revelling in the luxuries which it produced, the Coptes, precluded by their situation from every foreign intercourse, applied themselves entirely to agriculture, in which the natural disadvantages of their country obliged them to exert all their industry, in order to procure the indispensible necessaries of life.
But these disadvantages were more than made amends for by the consequences. They secured them from the pernicious effects of luxury, and all the train of vices and evils which attend on wealth. If they possessed but little, they wanted still less! They were strong in body, and resolute of spirit; and their habitations were filled with a numerous and healthful progeny.
In the course of time, such unremitted industry changed the face of the country, and remedied all the unkindnesses of nature. The hills were covered with flocks and herds. The song of the husbandman echoed in the vallies; and the voice of plenty and content was heard through all the land.
Such a change at length raised the envy and avarice of the Byrsans, who were then in the zenith of their glory. They sent haughtily to the Coptes, to demand possession of their country, which they alledged to belong to themselves; and without even waiting for an answer, prepared to march a powerful army to seize by force, that which they were conscious they had no right to receive peaceably.
The Coptes naturally were surprized at such a demand; and directly sent an embassy of the most respectable persons in their state, to shew the injustice of it.
They alledged the length of the time, during which they had been in undisturbed possession of the country, which their ancestors had found desolate, and unpossessed by any inhabitants. That the Byrsans, far from claiming any right to it at that time, as they certainly would have done, had they thought it belonged to them, took not the least notice, much less offence at their settling there; nor had ever mentioned such a claim in any of the transactions which had occasionally passed between the two nations since. And finally, that the title of the Coptes to the country which they inhabited, was equally good with that of the Byrsans to theirs; both people having been compelled by necessity to fly from their native homes, and fix themselves in the same manner, wherever they could find a place of refuge.
Unanswerable as these arguments were, they had no force with the Byrsans, who scarcely deigned to wait till the king should give the ambassadors an audience.
At this unhappy period commences the sad story of my misfortunes, which were so immediately derived from those of my country, that I thought it necessary to give this short detail, as an introduction to the events of my own life.
The entrance of an eunuch to acquaint Temugin with the arrival of an express from the general of one of his armies, interrupted the captive at this place. He was commanded to withdraw, and wait the emperor's pleasure to hear the continuation of his narrative at some other time.
End of the
SECOND BOOK.
THE HISTORY OF ARSACES, PRINCE OF BETLIS. BOOK THE THIRD.
SECTION I.
THE curiosity of Temugin, who had heard something of the destruction of the Byrsan state, and was desirous to be better informed of it, was so highly interested by the captive's story, that he ordered his attendance, the next evening, when he resumed it, as follows.
An illustrious ancestry,
continued Himilco, (so was my venerable host called)
is the deepest disgrace to a degenerate offspring; but where it excites virtuous emulation, it reflects additional lustre upon every new access of honour, sealing it with the sanction of inheritance; and may be mentioned without incurring the reproach of vanity.
The house of my father derived its origin from Narbal, by his youngest son, Mago; whose descendants always justified by their merits, the claim which their blood gave them to the first offices in the state.
My father, who beheld with grief every deviation, from the wise institutions of his royal progenitor, took particular care to instruct me in the true sense and spirit of them, from a fond hope that heaven would one day offer some favourable opportunity for restoring the government, to the purity and vigour of its first principles; as he well foresaw, from its present relaxation, that some great change must necessarily be near. But happy for him, he lived not to see the accomplishment of his presage.
To prove the excellency of these institutions, by comparison with those of other nations; and to avoid the dangerous influence of such an example, as the manners of the Byrsan youth then exhibited, upon an unexperienced mind, my father resolved that I should travel into foreign lands, as soon as reason was ripened to sufficient strength, to form a proper judgment upon a personal knowledge of the ways of man.
Having prepared all things for this purpose, he led me into his garden, on the evening preceding the day appointed for my departure, and seating me beside him, on the margin of a fountain, addressed himself to me in these words! words, indelibly written on the tablet of my heart.
I see, with delight,
said he,
my son, the impression, which the precepts of my care have made upon thy mind; and I fear not but heaven will enable thee to carry them into execution.
To facilitate this great end, I send thee to search for wisdom in the world! To read the heart of man, in his actions; and from them learn to distinguish between the appearance, and reality of things.
Were I to consult the tender impulse of nature, I should keep thee still in my bosom; but I prefer thy advantage to my own pleasure; (should I not rather say that thy advantage is my greatest pleasure!) and I part with thee for a time, in assured hope of thy returning enriched with wisdom and virtue to support the feeble steps of my old age down the hill of life; and crown my urn with the sacred honour of having begotten a son, worthy to serve his country.
When I say, that my hope of thy happy return is assured, I would not be understood to mean, that there are no dangers in thy way. The floating sands of the desart, the rage of the tempest, or the hidden rocks in the sea, are less dangerous than the allurements, vice lays in the way of the traveller: Allurements, which it requires the immediate guidance of heaven to avoid, they offer themselves in such various shapes, and so speciously simulate the very virtues, which they counteract.
I will not burthen thy mind with a repetition of the advice, which it has been the pleasing task of my life, to instill into it. The few following hints, as they relate immediately to the scene, on which you are just entering, are all I shall say at present; and then commit thy steps to that guidance, which is never withheld from virtue, if sought with humble, and ardent supplication.
Open thine eyes, and thine ears; but bar the door of thy lips. Ask no questions! Enter not into arguments. Concern not yourself in the affairs of others; nor reveal your own, where the importance of the occasion doth not make such a confidence indispensible.
Silence is universally esteemed to be the consequence of wisdom. It therefore engages confidence; and commands respect.
If you meet any thing, which you do not directly comprehend, conclude that the difficulty arises from your own inattention; and consider the matter again, with better care. One doubt, thus solved by yourself, will open your mind more, by exercising its powers, than the solution of many, by another.
As for arguing, instead of elucidating difficulties, it only creates animosity, and confirms error; the pride of man making him more anxious to support his own opinion, than to investigate truth. And this was the reason of that mysterious silence enjoined to his pupils, by one of the wisest of the western sages.
This, my son, is the sum of what I have to recommend to your attention. Careful observation of these few plain rules, will conduct you safely through the multitudes, whom you must mix with to acquire knowledge.
—Saying this, he laid his hand upon my head; and praying to heaven to confirm the blessings, which he heaped upon me, dismissed me, with a kiss of peace, and paternal love.
SECTION II.
I will not lead you thro' every weary step I measured, nor recount common incidents, however interesting to myself at the time. Such recitals, though flattering to that consequence in which man is too apt to hold himself, only tire and disgu
the hearer.
Having passed thro' several regions, in all of which, under appearances, and by means utterly contradictory to each other, I saw the same end of present gratification universally pursued, with the most anxious and insatiable eagerness, I arrived at length upon the banks of the great river Euphrates, whither I was drawn by an irresistible desire to receive instruction from the mouth of the sage Myrza, the fame of whose wisdom and sanctity had gone forth into all the nations of the East.
The sun was just disappearing, as I approached the habitation of the sage. It was a grotto, formed by the hand of Nature, at the foot of an hill, whose brow hung over the river. He sat in the entrance, contemplating the smiles of nature in that placid hour; and accompanying in his heart the voice of gratitude and gladness, which echoed the adoration of every living thing around.
He no sooner perceived my approach, than he advanced to meet me, preventing, by a friendly embrace, those professions of reverence, which his appearance commanded equally with his fame.
Though report proclaimed him to have measured more than twice the usual life of man, and knowledge was written in characters of deepest reflection in his face, his eye had not lost the penetrating fire, nor his limbs the strength of youth. He was crowned with all the honours, but exempt from the infirmities of age.
Having kindly enquired the motive of my coming, he led me to his habitation, at the entrance of which he resumed his seat, placing me beside him, while my slaves pitched their tents among some lofty trees at a little distance on the bank of the river; then observing that I had not yet overcome the awe with which his presence had struck me,
Knowledge, my son,
said he, with a smile of the most encouraging complacency,
is a gift bestowed with a sparing hand, and to but very few; the utmost abilities of man reaching little farther than to discover his own ignorance. The ambition of it, however, is most laudable; and when properly pursued, seldom fails of a just reward, in the more valuable acquisition of wisdom.
If the observations of my life can conduce to your acquiring either, I shall be happy in the communication of them. At present the departing sun reminds us of the debt we owe for the blessings of the finished day.
—Saying this, he turned his face to the west, and falling upon his knees, poured forth his evening song of adoration and praise, in such exalted strains, as rapt my soul in extasy I had never felt before, while I joined instinctively with him.
Having performed this sacred duty, he arose; and turning to me, his eyes still sparkling with rapture, which seemed to raise him above man,
My son,
said he,
the subject of thy enquiries is too extensive, too complex, to be discussed in a short time. The evening closeth apace; and nature requireth rest. To-morrow I will meet thee with the young day, in yonder citron grove; and give thee every information in my power.
SECTION III.
SOON as the angel of the morning had chased away the spirits of darkness from the face of the earth, I repaired to the grove, where I waited not long, before I was joined by the sage.
After some expressions of benevolence and regard, he led me to a bower, woven by his own hands; and looking at the various birds which winged their way around,
How different, my son,
said he,
are the beauties of this scene, from those which gild the view of evening? Satisfied with the enjoyments of the day, the feathered race then seek their homes, and sing themselves to sleep. Now busy care, awakening with the sun, sends them abroad again to seek the same enjoyments; secure of finding what they want, because their wants are only those of nature, who has provided amply for all her offspring.
So happily would the circle of man's day wind up, were his desires limited within the same bounds. I speak of the desires of reason as well as sense; for reason and nature never differ. A wish for something more would not prevent his enjoyment; nor disappointment break his rest. Then would he not complain, that the way to knowledge is without end; that every new acquisition only opens a new want; but justly grateful for the portion dispensed to him, reduce it into practice, instead of wasting his days in endless search for more.
Surely,
I returned,
O my father, the way to knowledge cannot be without end to him, who sets out early, and is so happy as to have an instructor capable of directing his steps?
Instruction,
he replied,
is to the mind, what food is to the body. As, in this, repletion counteracts nourishment, so objects presented to the mind too suddenly, or in too rapid a succession, by instruction, without allowing time to arrange them in due order, investigate their properties, and prove their agreement by comparison, instead of informing only burden reason, and bring not knowledge, but confusion.
Wretch that I am! I exclaimed, surprized, and alarmed at what he said, Have I then only wasted my youth in listening to instruction? Are the precepts of my father no more than a burden to my mind?
I mean not so,
answered the sage;
instruction is of the greatest advantage to a youthful mind. It awakens its powers, improves their strength by exercise, and points out the proper objects of their exertion.
The precepts of thy father have laid a foundation for knowledge. To raise the superstructure must be your own task. That which is derived only from precept being no more than a shadow, which vanishes on attempting to apply it to use.
Mustapha Eber Ibrahim was born in the city of Bagdat, where he gained such reputation in his trade of a jeweller, that he soon became rich.
Encouraged by this success, he resolved to breed up his two sons, Kerker and Hassan, to the same trade; and that in such a manner, as he flattered himself would enable them to rise to greater eminence in it, than had ever been attained by any former artist.
Mustapha was himself utterly unlearned. Practice had taught him to know the value of the gems and metals in which he wrought, and to fashion and arrange them in such forms and combinations, as should display their colours, and employ their properties to most advantage. But all his knowledge ended there. When he was asked the cause of these properties, and why such forms and arrangements produced those effects, he was unable to give an answer satisfactory even to himself, much less to the enquirer.
The pride of wealth being hurt by consciousness of this ignorance, he determined to save his sons from such disgrace, by giving them a liberal education before he should begin to teach them his art.
For this purpose, he procured them the most celebrated masters, in all the several branches of philosophy, who executed their charge with the greatest fidelity, though not with equal success to their pupils, the turn and powers of whose minds were totally different from each other.
Kerker, the elder, was lively in the extreme degree. His imagination outran the precepts of his instructor. Without waiting to examine farther than the first glance, he catched at the conclusion, before they could adduce half the proofs; and his tongue never wanted the happiest words to express his conceptions.
Hassan, on the contrary, was given to doubt. He paid no respect to authority, nor would admit any thing without the clearest proof, in examining which, he was so cautious and slow, that he wore out the patience of instructors, who hesitated not to pronounce him incapable of learning, and therefore counselled his father to apply him wholly to his trade.
While Kerker, consequently, was indulging himself in ranging through the boundless regions of theory, and reasoning upon causes and effects according to the various systems of the philosophy he had studied, Hassan was obliged to confine his thoughts to his labour; and to rest satisfied with that small pittance of knowledge, which he could elicit from experience.
Though Mustapha felt this disappointment of his hopes in his younger son with the fondness of a father, he found consolation in the rapid progress made by the elder; and his heart exulted when he heard him display his learning to the crowds whom his fame collected round him.
But this exultation lasted not long. The knowledge of Kerker was merely speculative; and by misapplication defeated the end it was designed to obtain. Confiding in it, he had disdained to apply himself to the gradual practice of an art, with the principles of which he was so well acquainted; and thinking he could execute whatever he thought he understood, he affected to mount at once to that eminence of skill, which can be attained only by long and careful application.
He could explain the nature of precious stones, and account for the different degrees of their perfection; but when they were placed before him, he was unable to distinguish those degrees; and often bought the worst instead of the best. He could describe the effects produced by the various combinations of their colours, but he knew not how to combine them so as to produce the effects he described.
The consequence naturally was, that his knowledge was turned into ridicule. He lost his business, and wasted the wealth earned by his father, in so much that he would have wanted a morsel of bread in his old age, had he not found a resource in his younger son; who thinking for himself, while the elder read the opinions of others, and labouring while he talked, had drawn real knowledge from its true source, experience; and arrived regularly at the end, which his brother had missed, by mistaking the effect for the cause, and beginning where he should have ended.
Surely, my father, said I, observing that Myrza paused at these words to leave the application to myself, the moral of this tale cannot have reference to my case! To think of arriving at excellence in manual arts by speculative instruction, without a regular gradation of practice, were most absurd. But may I not dare to doubt if science is within the same rule! Is there not, for instance, an essential difference between polity and mechanism? Between knowledge of the interests of nations, and of the value of precious stones?
The difference between science and art,
replied the sage,
so far as they have reference to the uses of life (and to consider them farther were foreign to the present purpose) is confined to their objects, and extends not to their manner of operation.
Even in science meerly speculative, which terminates in itself, the mind proceeds by as regular a gradation, as the hand in works of art: but because the steps of this gradation are not so immediately seen, the vanity of man overlooks it, and attempts to rise to the summit at a single bound; and hence proceed most of the errors which defeat his designs.
Instruction teaches the mind the use of its own powers; and points out the directest path to knowledge; but there its purpose ends. To acquire that knowledge, the mind must prove the truth of precept by practice. A speculative jeweller is not liable to commit greater errors in his profession, than is a speculative king.
Can it be thought less difficult to discover the different characters, and apply their abilities properly, which is the perfection of the art of governing, or polity; than to know the value of jewels, and combine their colours? Why is not government arrived at greater perfection; and the interests of nations more improved? Is it that they will not admit of more improvement; and that the nature of man cannot be better governed? By no means. The fault is in the agent, not the subject. The errors of a prince, lifted from the cradle or seraglio to the throne, of a visier chosen meerly from favour, undo in one hour the work of an age, and require the wisdom of another to bring things back to their first state: and this it is which hath prevented polity from arriving at greater perfection.
SECTION IV.
'YOU have shewn me, O son of Wisdom,' said I, 'the error in which I have set out! Shew me also how to correct it.'
The wisdom of thy father,
returned the sage,
hath sent thee forth into the world, with a mind well prepared by instruction to draw from experience that practical knowledge, which is necessary to conduct thee safely through life, and enable thee to fulfil the duties of it; but his fondness hath thrown obstacles in thy way, which if not timely removed, may disappoint his hopes.
Surrounded thus by a crowd of slaves, you see only with their eyes; and while they minister to unnecessary convenience, they debar you from that intercourse with other people, by which alone experience in their ways is to be acquired; and not by running from place to place, viewing superficially the face of nature, the works of art, and studied manners.
Before the wealthy, all men wear a mask. His equals in wealth disguise their sentiments under an appearance of politeness; and shew only the bright side of their country, from emulative pride. The poor run into the opposite extreme, vilifying their country to flatter him by the comparison; and throw the blame of their misery from themselves, in order to excite his compassion and draw relief from his bounty.
To see the world properly, you must enter into it. You must dismiss your long train of attendants, lay aside your purple robes, and mix with the multitude without any mark of distinction to put them on their guard. Thus only can you learn their real sentiments, and trace the motives of their actions.
'But is there no danger in doing this?' I returned, hurt at an injunction so humiliating to the pride of condition, so contrary to the course of life in which I had been brought up. 'Is not a traveller subject to many accidents and disasters, which require care and assistance? Are there not menial offices, which a man cannot so well perform for himself?'—
And who performs them for thy slave?
replied the sage.
Who spreads a carpet for the pilgrim in the wilderness? or guards the mariner from the dangers of the sea?
But this is the vanity of man! Is thy nature superior to theirs? And is not the distinction between you merely accidental? Man wants not assistance to perform, for himself, the very few offices which are really necessary for him! Nor is one state of life exposed to greater dangers than another. Be superior to this vain weakness. The power which protects and provides for every living thing, will not neglect you, while you deserve his care.
The force of truth is irresistible. I was humbled in my own eyes; and hung down my head abashed before him. After a pause of a few moments, I threw myself at his feet, and embracing his knees, 'I see, I acknowledge my error, said I, and will correct it. I will go directly to Bagdat, and there sell all those slaves, of whose attendance thou hast shewn me the evil; happy if by this obedience I may appear not unworthy of thy farther instruction; to implore which, I will return to you.'
And why should'st thou sell them?
he returned, raising me tenderly from the ground.
Why not restore them to that liberty which is the common right of all mankind; tho' so many are unjustly deprived of it, that grown familiar, and in a manner sanctified by use, the injustice hath almost lost its native appearance, and passes for a right.
—
'Are then all men equal?' said I, amazed at what I heard. 'And have all a right to the same stations in life?'
That all are equal in their nature,
he replied,
Reason will infallibly shew you; as it will also shew, that they have an equal right to the same stations, if they can arrive at them, by just means. But as there is a subordination indispensibly necessary for the purposes of life, so all must remain in those stages of the ascent, which have fallen to their first lot, till they rise to higher, by their own merit: and this, instead of being an unjust partiality in the oeconomy of nature, is the best incentive, and reward of virtuous emulation.
His words instantly dispelled the clouds of prejudice, in which my mind was involved, opening my heart, with delight, to sentiments, which vindicated human nature from such indignity. I set all my slaves at liberty; and was proceeding to divide among them the wealth, which my father had given me, to defray the expences of my journey: but Myrza restrained me.
Hold,
said he.
Prudence is a virtue, equally with generosity; and a man may be unjust to himself, no less than to another. Give them the means of supporting life, by honest industry, or the gift of liberty will be of little value to them. But make not yourself poor, to make them unnecessarily rich.
I perceive that the greatest part of the wealth, given to you by your father, consists in precious stones. Reserve these for yourself. They are light of carriage, and may be easily concealed. Poverty is subject to many inconveniences; and riches are a blessing, when rightly used. The time may come, when your's may be necessary to you, if only to relieve the necessities of others. For your slaves, the equipage and implements of luxury, and the utensils of their own servitude, for which you can have no farther use, when you dismiss themselves, will be sufficient, if they apply them properly! If not; they will be too much.
Nor would I counsel you to dismiss all your attendants indiscriminately; and launch into the world absolutely alone: You are yet too inexperienced in its ways, for such an adventurous enterprize. Is there not among them some one, whom your father hath particularly recommended to your confidence? I have observed one, whose looks bespeak an heart, honest in itself, and affectionate to you; and whose years promise experience. You have given him his liberty, in return for which he will give you his friendship; and be the faithful companion of your travels. So shall you avoid the discomfort of journeying alone; and enjoy in his conversation, a pleasure more sublime, than you could possibly receive from the attendance of a slave.
These cares consuming the rest of the day, I remained that night the guest of Myrsa, who, after we had closed the evening, in the same manner as the preceding, lodged me in one of the recesses of his grottoe.
It is impossible to express what I felt on this occasion: My heart at first revolted against a change in my situation, by which I fancied myself dishonoured. But a moment's reflection restored me to reason; and the thought of having made my servants free and happy, compensated well for the want of their service.
SECTION V.
I WOULD have departed the next morning; but Myrza insisted on my tarrying with him for a few days, every hour of which added to my knowledge, as he always turned his conversation to the subjects most instructive; and encouraged me to declare every doubt, which opposed my assenting to his words.
The wisdom, which he shewed in solving these doubts; and his sagacity in frequently anticipating my declaration of them, as if he saw into my very soul, confirmed me so strongly in the opinion propagated by fame, of his holding converse with the spiritual beings, who watch over the actions of man, that I could not forbear taking occasion, one evening, as we sat on the bank of the river discoursing on various subjects, to ask him how it might be possible to obtain the happiness of an intercourse with them.
That there are spiritual beings, my son,
said he, after a pause of some minutes, as if to consider so difficult a subject,
which inhabit the several elements of which this world is composed, as well as the earth is inhabited by man, is an opinion, founded on such testimony of the fact, and which hath so universally prevailed in every age, and country, that it were offering an affront to the human mind to suppose it utterly without foundation.
Nor doth its credit depend solely on this invariable consent. Reason receives it with reverence, as one of those sublime probabilities, which though above its power to prove, yet contradict none of those tests, on which it rests the proof of matters, incapable of direct demonstration.
The infinite variety of animated beings, which we behold cover the face of the earth, so as not to leave one atom of it uninhabited, gives cause to conclude that the other elements are peopled also as fully, by beings to whose organs of life they are adapted, though imperceptible to the grosser senses of man; as else there would be a void, an useless part in the works of the Deity; a supposition contradicting the sacred, and self-evident truth, that he doth nothing in vain.
But though reason can thus rest itself satisfied in the existence of such beings, its researches into their nature and occupation meet not with equal success: Whether they are immortal, and were all created at the same time? Or if not, in what manner the species is continued; and whether they are immaterial, or only composed of matter more subtile than the objects of human sense; being questions, in the pathless, illimitable contemplation of which, the mind wanders at a loss, for any certain point, whereon to rest belief.
As to their occupation, the same universal opinion, which agrees in their existence, agrees also in assigning to them the conduct of man's actions, which are supposed to be good or bad, according to the nature of the spirit, which directs them. But this opinion, beside that it is unsupported by other proof like the former, is attended with great difficulties, and must for many reasons be received with great, and most cautious limitations.
If the actions of man are entirely directed by such beings, what becomes of his free-agency, on which alone can depend the merit, or demerit of those actions? And are not those beings justly chargeable with them, not he?
But this difficulty, and many others attending this opinion, which are so evident that it is unnecessary to repeat them, will vanish, if instead of assigning to those beings the direction of man's actions, we suppose them employed in his protection from the many dangers incident to his nature, and in which his passions every moment entangle him. An occupation, by its benevolence better suited to a being of a superior nature.
SECTION VI.
IN respect to what you mentioned of an intercourse between man and these beings, that also is a question, attended with many difficulties, and to be most cautiously received.
How! I exclaimed, astonished and disappointed at what I heard. Is not the testimony of so many wise, and holy men, who assert their having both seen, and heard them, a sufficient proof of this intercourse?—
I deny not the reality of the intercourse,
replied the sage.
I only am in doubt concerning the manner of it; whether perceptibly to the senses, or only in the power of imagination.
If they are immaterial, how can they have a form to be seen? How can they emit a voice to be heard? If they are material, how can they appear instantly close to a man, without any appearance of gradual approach? How can they melt into air, and disappear totally, in an instant, without gradual departure? And is it not more consonant to reason to suppose, that being
mind
themselves, they hold intercourse only with the mind, and are reflected upon the senses, by the power of imagination, in the same manner as objects in a dream. A supposition, on which that testimony may possibly be found to depend chiefly for credit; so many absurdities and contradictions being supported by it, equally with the most important truths; that without this method of accounting for the deception of the testifier, the mind would reject the latter, because of the former.
Not that this supposition is unattended with difficulties either. Such a manner of conversing is certainly above our comprehension; but then it contradicts not reason; and if we refuse assent to every thing, which we cannot clearly comprehend, our knowledge will be reduced within very narrow limits. I know that my hand moves in obedience to my will; but I know not how my will operates upon my hand to effect that motion. We deceive ourselves with vain words. Our boasted knowledge extends only to facts; but the manner, in which these are effected, is hidden from us.
'But doth not the admission of this possibility of deception,' I returned, 'at the same time weaken, if not over-turn all historic faith, which depends entirely upon testimony?'
Not in the least,
replied the sage.
Testimony is certainly sufficient proof of facts, which run in the regular course of nature. But where this is deviated from, too much caution can not be taken in examining the end of that deviation; and the competency of the testimony, by which it is supported.
When you tell me, that the city of Byrsa was founded by Narbal, on the destruction of Carthage by the Romans, I hesitate not a moment to give credit to your words; because people who lived at the time, and therefore may be justly supposed to have been acquainted with the fact, have left written memorials, which have been handed down regularly from them to us, that there was such a city as Carthage; and that it was destroyed by a people called Romans—because there is nothing out of the common course of things, in such a destruction; or in a prince's flying from the conquerors, with a number of the citizens, and founding a state, in another country; and because you have sufficient ability, and may have had sufficient opportunity to trace the state, in which you were born, to its origin; and can have no sufficient reason to attempt imposing a falsehood upon my credulity.
But should you tell me, that the flight of Narbal was in consequence of a spirit's having appeared to him; and commanded him to leave his own country, and go to that where he founded his state, I might receive the relation with respect, because of the virtue of the relator, and the importance of the end proposed by such appearance; but not without a doubt, when I balance against his testimony the possibility of its being only in the power of imagination, and the irregularity of the fact, in the common course of nature; and also, because it may have been feigned by him to promote an expedition, on which he was intent, and doubted the sufficiency of his own influence to carry into execution, without the assistance of such an authority.
But should you add, that on his arrival at that place, the stones and trees instantly formed themselves into a city for the reception of his people, to save them the delay and labour of building, I should directly reject the whole, as a fiction devised since his time, for the purpose of imposition.
Nor is there any danger of this principle's breaking the vigour of the mind, by inducing a general doubt, if it
s not applied beyond its proper limits.
Credulity, and scepticism are the extremities of a line, in the middle of which true knowledge is placed.
By believing indiscriminately, the mind lies open to receive the grossest, and most dangerous errors; by indiscriminate doubt, to reject the most important truths. To find the mean, between these, is the business of reason, which it seldom fails in, when permitted to seek for it, without prejudice.
I have said, that if we deny every thing, which we do not clearly comprehend, our knowledge will be reduced within very narrow bounds! Perhaps these bounds are already narrower, than we are well aware.
I know that I exist, because I perceive the operations of my mind. I know that I derive not my existence from myself, because I know not how I came to exist. I therefore know that another being, from whom I derive my existence, must also exist; and I know that this being must exist necessarily, without deriving existence from any other, because an endless succession is impossible: And lastly, I know, that as all other beings derive their existence from this being, so they can exist only by him; and therefore that it is their duty to obey those laws, which he hath thought proper to prescribe to them: but farther than this, I know nothing.
And with this portion of knowledge, I am humbly and gratefully content; not will I misapply the gift, by attempting to pry farther, satisfied that, little as it may appear, it is amply sufficient to conduct me in safety, through the dangers of this life, to the happiness of the next.
Though the pleasure, I found in the conversation of Myrza, encreased every hour, with the increase of knowledge, which I derived from it, I forgot not myself so far, as to engross too much of that time, which should be a common benefit to all mankind. At the end of fifteen days, I departed from him, and committing myself with humble resignation to the guidance of heaven, resumed my travels, in company with the friend whom he had selected for me.
SECTION VII.
THE sun had but just began to gild the firmament, with the first beams of day, when I left the grottoe of Myrza. The sound of his voice was still in my ears. I exulted in the proficiency I had made under his instructions; and thought myself superior to every incident of life.
But I had not proceeded far, before this confidence began to cool. I soon felt the fatigue of travelling, in a manner to which I was unaccustomed; and the thought of my being alone, for with a single companion I esteemed myself little better, awoke sensations, in no respect pleasing. I started in affright; and blushed at my own weakness! I reasoned against it; but it eluded my reasons. At length, I compounded the contest. I resolved to continue my journey to Bagdat; and if I should find the inconveniencies overbalance the advantage, to provide new attendants there.
But my fellow traveller, and friend, saved me from such a weakness. He perceived my uneasiness, and was alarmed for my health; by limiting his enquiries to which he persuaded me that he had not discovered my disorder to be in my mind, and rouzed the spirit of pride to conceal my shame.
This employed my thoughts, till the cause of my uneasiness became familiar to me, when it totally vanished; and I only wondered that I had been uneasy.
On the third day of our journey we joined a numerous caravan of merchants, who had pitched their tents on the bank of the river, to avoid the heat of the sun, which had now mounted high in the heavens.
The habits of Faquirs, which we had assumed by the advice of Myrza, gained us immediate admission into their company, where I was instantly struck with the openness of their behaviour, which seemed to flow directly from nature, without design or reserve.
This was entirely new to me.
I revere thy wisdom, sage Myrza,
said I to myself!
I now see life, in its genuine colours! How happy am I at being freed from the crowd of attendance, who have hitherto stood between me, and mankind?
But this happiness did not continue long unclouded. They were going to eat; and desired me to taste a morsel of bread with them. I sat down accordingly; but started to see a slave seat himself next to me; and my heart revolted at my being obliged to fetch water from the river for myself to drink.
A very little use, however, reconciled me also to this debasement, as I at first thought it, better than all the instructions of Myrza had been able to do; and convinced me of the vanity of that wisdom, which is acquired only by instruction.
On being informed that the caravan journied to Bagdat, I desired permission to continue with them; which was readily granted to me; and I resolved to begin the practice of Myrza's precepts. I accordingly observed with the strictest attention every thing I saw, and heard; and the doubts of one day were generally solved by the next, without my asking any solution of them.
This conduct soon gained me the respect and confidence of the whole company. I was esteemed wise, because I betrayed not my ignorance, by asking information: And every one was eager to communicate his secrets to me, because I never enquired into them; there being nothing which so effectually counteracts curiosity, as the discovery of it.
The scenes, which this confidence opened to me, would have amply overpayed my silence, had it been never so contrary to my temper. I now saw things, in colours the most different from those, in which they had appeared to me, at my first joining the caravan; and found that the same passions rule the human heart, in every state of life; even the coarse jest, the loud laugh of merriment, those reputed characteristics of vulgar happiness, I could too often trace to motives the most unhappy; and see them joined in and enjoyed only in proportion to the malignancy of the allusion.
This general confidence though was not unattended by its inconveniences. Every one, who told me his secrets, taking my silence for approbation, expected that I should enter into his views; and was continually obtruding upon me his schemes for their accomplishment, in which he thought himself entitled to my assistance, so far as to look upon my holding the common intercourse of humanity with his adversary, as an act of treachery to him: A situation too embarrassing to have been long supported.
One evening, as I was ruminating upon these inconsistencies, and considering how I should disentangle myself from the consequences of them, one of the principal merchants in the caravan accosting me in a friendly manner;
Hassan,
said he, (for I had changed my own name of Himilco, for this, to avoid being traced by any of my late attendants)
I have observed your demeanor, ever since you have come among us; and see that your wisdom exceeds your age. I have therefore resolved to make a proposal to you, which will give you the strongest proof of my esteem.
You have been informed that this caravan journies to Bagdat. It is not my intention to accompany it, so far. I shall turn off to-morrow evening to the country of Farsistan, whither some matters of importance call me; after I shall have executed which, I propose continuing my travels, through that once flourishing country, to the regions, whose happy people are first blessed with the sight of the sun, on his emerging from the ocean, to enlighten the world.
From your habit, I judge, that the motive of your travelling is to acquire knowledge. If so! this is the path, which leads directly to it. The sages of antiquity never thought their thirst for wisdom satisfied, till they came, and drank at this fountain head.
If you chuse to accompany me, in this journey, we will drink out of the same cup, as brothers. My people are sufficient in numbers to defend us from the dangers of the way; and the profit, which I shall gain by my merchandize, will enable me to make provision for the wants of both our future lives. I shall not attempt to influence your compliance by any arguments of persuasion. You best know the motives which ought to direct your conduct, and will be guided by them.
It is impossible to express the emotions, which I felt at this proposal. I had long had the strongest desire to see the countries, whither he was going; but then the length of the way must detain me much beyond the time prescribed by my father for my return.
The difficulty was most distressing. But after revolving various schemes, I at length thought of one, which appeared to reconcile my duty to my inclination. I resolved to send back my companion to my father, in order to inform him of my intended journey; and obviate his apprehensions at my protracted absence.
The merchant approving of this design, I proceeded immediately to put it in execution. The parting between my friend and me was most tender. Gratitude for the restitution of his liberty, had exalted his attachment to me, into the warmest affection. He embraced my knees, he besought me, with many tears, to let him accompany me, in my long, and perilous journey; and send some other in his place.
Who will serve you, in the day? Who will watch over you, in the night?
said he wringing his hands in anguish of soul.
You are not sufficiently inured to hardship! Your years are too few; your strength is unequal to the fatigues, into which you are plunging! Should sickness or disaster befal you, who is to administer relief?—
That power, I answered, in the words of Myrza, whose goodness is the support of all his works; or human care and relief would be in vain. A support, in which the piety of my father will think me safe. Not that I am insensible to your affection. I would gladly send another, but you know it is not in my power. Of all, whom I might have sent, you only remain with me; nor would my father give the same credit to the words of any, as he will to your's!—
He saw that it was in vain to urge me farther, and would not distress me, with fruitless solicitation.
My mind was so full of the gratification, I promised to my curiosity, in this journey, that I never attended to the circumstances in which I undertook it. Circumstances in reality much more terrifying, than those which had lately struck me with so many terrors. I then had an experienced, a careful, and an affectionate friend with me. I had now implicitly entrusted myself to the faith of people, who were in a great measure strangers to me. But it was too late to look back.
SECTION VIII.
ON our entering the empire of Farsistan, I was struck with horror, to behold the desolation and havoc which deformed the face of a country, made so beautiful by the hand of nature. The lands were uncultivated the cities lay in ruins! and the few wretched people, destitute of every comfort, and almost of every necessary of life, wandered from place to place, to seek the precarious subsistence of the day.
But this universal misery affected me not more than the advantage taken of it by the merchant, who exacted the higher prices for his commodities, the greater he saw necessity for them; aggravating public calamities, by turning them to private gain.
Nor was my abhorrence of such sordid inhumanity greater than my surprize, when I compared it with his conduct on other occasions. For tho' the habit of taking advantage in his dealing had gained so strong possession of his heart, that he could not refrain from it on any consideration of circumstances; in every other instance he was generous and humane; and would readily bestow upon the same person of whose necessities he had taken such cruel advantage, more than he had exacted from him; as, should he come the next moment to purchase any thing else, he could not avoid repeating his exaction of the very money which he had just before given him in charity; and would give him again, if requested, from the same motive.
Our journey through the territories of Farsistan afforded no incident worthy of relation. The country continued to exhibit one scene of desolation, more painful to the view than the barren desart; the traces of former prosperity aggravating the contemplation of present misery.
My fellow traveller saw what I felt, and endeavoured to divert my thoughts to more pleasing objects.
When we shall have passed the great river of Indus,
said he,
the sight of that country will amply compensate for these disagreeable scenes. Industry there flourishes in the smiles of freedom. Commerce is encouraged in all its various branches. An universal plenty covers the land; and the people are numerous, healthy, and happy.
Nor less so were the people of this country once; till ambition overturned the works of art, and marred the blessings of nature. The magnificence of the ruins, which still remain, sufficiently prove its former happiness. But among slaves, nothing can flourish. Heaven! that a lust of rule should tempt a man to make his own species miserable.
Cease!
interrupted Temugin;
nor waste time in repeating the words of a fool! The monuments of magnificence, which he instanced as proofs of the freedom and happiness of a people, prove only their slavery. Were they not the works of compulsion, raised merely to gratify the vanity of the rulers, without regard to the miseries of the people employed in raising them, to whom they could be of no advantage? Men who are free, labour only for themselves; for their own respective use and convenience; nor are such monuments of tyrannic ostentation ever raised among them. But such are the dreams of idle speculation. Proceed.
SECTION IX.
THE appearance of the country, after we had passed the great rivers,
resumed the captive,
supported not the representations of the merchant. He started; and looking around him with astonishment and grief,
Whence can this proceed,
he exclaimed;
this melancholy change? An hundred moons are scarce elapsed, since I was here last. All things then wore a different aspect. The wrath of heaven must have fallen, in famine or pestilence, upon the land.
While he was preparing to exhibit his merchandize for traffic, in the first city at which we arrived, I walked forth, as was my custom, to view the place, and observe the manners of the people. But what was my surprize at my return to the caravansera in the evening, not to find any trace of him!
The admonition of my father, that moment recurred to my mind. I resolved to wait for information, from accident, without making any enquiries, for fear of involving myself in whatever misfortune had happened to him.
Accordingly, I seated myself among other strangers, in the gate; where my habit of a Faquir attracting the notice of a Bramin, who was passing by, he kindly invited me to taste a morsel of food, and sleep under his roof that night.
When we had finished our repast,
The composure in which you sat,
said the Bramin,
persuades me that you were unacquainted with what had happened in that caravansera but a few hours before.
A respectable merchant, who had trafficked in this unhappy country for many years, without committing injustice, or suffering injury, being a stranger to the tyranny under which we groan at present, had no sooner begun to expose his commodities to sale, this morning, as usual, than he was seized by a set of rapacious intruders, who abusing the false policy, by which they were at first admitted into our country, have fastened themselves upon us, and now prey upon our vitals.
In vain did the honest man desire to know the reason of such an outrage; in vain did he call upon heaven and earth for justice! He was dragged away, before a tribunal, where his accusers were his judges; who aggravating their iniquity, by a mockery of the forms of law, confiscated all his merchandize to their own use, and threw himself into a loathsome prison, for having presumed to attempt trafficking in this country without their permission.
I see you are astonished at such a violation of every principle of justice. I will therefore unfold the rise of this usurpation to you. The hour of rest is yet sufficiently distant, and the recital worthy of your attention; as happily it may enable you to put your own country on its guard against a like misfortune.
End of the
THIRD BOOK.
THE HISTORY OF ARSACES, PRINCE OF BETLIS. BOOK THE FOURTH.
SECTION I.
THE difference in the produce of the different parts of the world,
continued the Bramin,
hath been justly ascribed to a beneficent design in the Creator, to raise a friendly intercourse between the inhabitants, by laying them under a necessity of applying to each other for the mutual supply of their wants.
In such an intercourse, this country, of all under heaven, should naturally seem entitled to the preeminence, as having not only every necessary, but also every convenience, and unhappily, almost every luxury of life within itself.
But alas! it is the use which consecrates the blessing. This very plenty is made to disappoint the end for which it was given. It blunts the relish of enjoyment; and deprives the body of strength and the mind of vigour, by taking away the necessity of care and labour. Wanting nothing, we wish not, we strive not for any thing; but sit in indolent expectation of that which we know the revolving season will bring to us, till we become an easy prey to those, whose fortunately less favourable clime and soil oblige them to struggle with difficulties, and brave dangers, in order to procure elsewhere, those things which Nature has denied to them at home.
Some years since, a company of these prowlers, who had wandered across the great ocean, from the remotest regions of the West, landed upon our coasts, in want and wretchedness. The hardiness of such an undertaking struck us. We received them with humanity. We relieved their necessities; and gave them the good things of our land, in exchange for trifles, whose only value arose from their novelty.
Nor did we stop there. Engaged by the artifices, and respecting the undaunted spirits of those our new acquaintances, we permitted them to erect habitations on our coasts, to which they might bring their merchandizes in future times; and from this ill-judged hospitality have proceeded all the miseries which at present overwhelm our country, and will probably bring it to utter ruin in the end.
The accounts which these adventurers gave of our wealth, and easiness to part with it, at their return home, encouraged others to make the same adventure. They came in such numbers, as should have alarmed a just suspicion of their design. They fortified their habitations, under pretext of defence against injuries never intended them; but in reality to secure their depredations, and over-awe our sovereigns, whom they forced to enter into treaty with them, on terms of equality.
Since that time, their conduct hath been a continued series of the most atrocious crimes. Hardier in their nature, they take advantage of our pusillanimity and weakness; and unrestrained by those obligations, which are the safeguards of society, the assurance of justice and peace, they break through every thing which would oppose their will; and laugh at our credulity, for having thought them capable of good faith.
They grind the faces of the poor. The husbandman dares not to taste the fruits of his own labour; the artificer to sell the work of his hands, without their permission; a permission for which they make the wretches pay so dearly, that all industry is discouraged, and the blessings of nature turned into the severest curse, by being thus withheld from them, though within their reach.
Nor are their outrages confined to the poor. They make our princes pass under harrows of iron; and lead our kings into captivity to extort their wealth from them. How long Heaven, in its wrath, will suffer them to continue this flagitious course, I presume not to divine. But this is evident; that if there is not a sudden stop put to their ravages, this country will be reduced to the same state of desolation with its unhappy neighbour, Farsistan.
SECTION II.
WHEN I was preparing to depart, the next morning, my host asked me, how long I intended to remain in that city; and with an air of benevolence, offered me every service in his power.
As I never interfere with the concerns of any man,
said he,
I flatter myself, that I am beloved by the people of my own nation. Nor am I persecuted by the strangers, because my profession is a pledge for my poverty. On the contrary, they affect to shew me kindness, in order to lighten the charge of their treating all the natives with indiscriminate cruelty.
His saying this, struck me with the thought of soliciting his intercession for my unfortunate fellow-traveller. It was possible he might be able to serve him; and the attempt was a duty superior to those prudential motives, upon which the admonition of my father, against interfering in the concerns of another, was founded.
I should be undeserving of your service, I answered, O venerable father, could I hesitate a moment to accept the offer of it, in an instance which will over-pay to your benevolent heart, any trouble it may give you.
I left my native country to travel in search of knowledge, and came to this city in company with the unhappy merchant, whose misfortune you related to me yester-evening. If you can procure his release from prison, that will be the highest service which can be done to me in this place. As for his wealth! let that remain with the spoilers! His liberty is all I ask.
This was the first time the Bramin had heard the sound of my voice. He fixed his eyes stedfastly upon me, while I was speaking, and as soon as I had ended,
I equally respect the motive of your travelling,
he answered,
and the advances you have made in the attainment of it. Wisdom only could have maintained silence, on so interesting an occasion, till a reason of such weight made it necessary for you to speak.
But, O my son! you over-rate my consequence with these people. They are civil to me, only because I require not any thing from them. But though I may not be able of myself to accomplish your beneficent purpose, I may possibly find the means of enabling you to effect it: and Heaven this moment inspires the lucky thought.
The stranger, who rules in this city, has a desire to inform himself in the affairs of all the neighbouring nations; and spoke to me, not long since, to seek a person capable of giving him this information. If you, therefore, can speak the language of his country, for he knoweth not any other, and will undertake so irksome a task, I will this day lead you to him; and Heaven may give you an opportunity of serving your friend, in some favourable moment of that intercourse, which such an occupation must necessarily give you with him.
I was involved in the greatest perplexity by this proposal. To embrace it must put a stop to my travels, which was contrary to my firmest resolution, as the time drew near, when I had promised to return to my father. If I rejected it, I gave up the hope of delivering an honest man from unjust oppression and misery. The choice was distressing; but I hesitated not long.
I have some little knowledge, I answered, O my father, in the language you mention. I learned it from this unhappy man; and can never apply it to better purpose, than to serve him in his present distress. The task, it is true, will interrupt my travels; but it will at the same time bring me nearer to the end of them. In the practice of virtue consists the only true wisdom.
The Bramin applauded my resolution. We went directly to the habitation of the ruler; in whose anti-chamber we were obliged to wait a considerable time, before we could be admitted to the honour of his presence.
SECTION III.
I had seen something in my native country of the slavery of such attendancies; but never had I formed any conception of such a scene, as I was now in. Every passion which could agitate, every vice which could deform the heart of man, was painted in the various faces round me; while suspicion, deceit, envy, cruelty, and avarice dictated every word, they spoke to each other.
Figure to yourself a set of men, thrown together by the incidents of an indigent life, from every class of mankind, and every country under heaven, acting, or rather preposterously attempting to act the most important parts, and you will have some notion of the company in which I was: a company, to whose characters the powers of description are so unequal, that nothing but the indisputable proof of facts could make them pass for other than meer creatures of imagination.
My soul sickened at the sight; and I was almost driven to give up my purpose, and depart, for fear of being infected by such society, when the Bramin and I were summoned to our audience.
We found the great man lolling on a sopha, in all the mimickry of state; his awkward uneasiness under which, shewed his inexperience in the reality. All was bustle, hurry, and confusion. His orders contradicted each other, every moment. He knew not what he ought to approve, and therefore placed his judgment, in finding fault; as he shewed his greatness by looking with contempt at every thing around him.
Our entrance was announced to his excellency, by a servant, on a bent knee; but though he was at that very instant looking at us, he continued to adjust his dress, for some time, before he condescended to honour us with the least notice; till at length, throwing his eye toward us as by chance, he superciliously asked the Bramin the occasion of his visit.
Son of good fortune!
answered the Bramin,
I have found such a person, as you desired me to seek for you, the last time I had the honour of paying my duty to your greatness; and have brought him to receive your commands.
His excellency, rolling his eye back and forward from the Bramin to me, for some moments, with a suspicious stare, at length demanded to know, what person he meant.
A person,
answered the Bramin,
who hath travelled through all the neighbouring nations, and is acquainted with their customs and manners, in which you expressed a desire to be instructed.
Not I indeed!
replied his excellency, with a look and accent of offended importance.
You quite misunderstood me. I want no instruction in such matters. What I spoke to you about, was a secretary for foreign affairs, who understands the languages of those countries, and can write my orders to the sovereigns of them; as I have not time to throw away, on learning their jargon myself. I regard not their customs; and will teach them good manners, if they misbehave themselves to me.
The mistake,
returned the Bramin,
is not material. My friend is qualified for either office. His capacity will be found on trial; and I will vouch for his fidelity.
Such a recommendation had the necessary weight, with his excellency, who knew the integrity of the Bramin, and had kept his eye, fixed upon me, all the time he spoke, as if he would read my soul. He graciously nodded his assent, and saying that I might come, as soon as I pleased, my conductor and I withdrew, rejoiced at the happy omen of having so easily succeeded in the first part of our design.
SECTION IV.
ON our return to the habitation of the Bramin,
As you are now entering into a scene of life,
said he,
utterly new to you; it may not be unnecessary to give you a sketch of the character of the man, to whom you are going, in order to direct your conduct toward him.
The manner, in which he bears his present elevation, shews that it is not natural to him. But you must not form your judgment of him, in other respects, from thence; few men exhibiting a stronger proof, that superior talents are far from being the sole property of the superior ranks of life.
Born in the lowest class of mankind, and bred to one of the meanest professions, by which industrious poverty strive to earn a scanty subsistence, he has raised himself by the meer force of his own genius, to his present height of affluence, and power; a rise, it is true, to which his principles have contributed little less than his abilities, as they never restrained him from any thing, by which he could propose advantage: A qualification, common to almost all the men, who have been honoured by the world, with the name of
Great.
It is but justice though to acknowledge that the actions by which he has thus raised himself, have, in their first effect, merited from his superiors (for even he, high as he holds himself here, is no more than the servant of subjects in his native country) all the rewards, which they have bestowed upon him.
But if we strip those actions of the blazonry of success, and measure them by the rules of public, as well as private virtue; we shall find, that by blackening ambition with perfidy, corrupting private fidelity, and staining victory with murder, he has exceeded in the most nefarious iniquity all the ravagers of the earth, who have built their greatness upon the miseries of mankind; as the consequence will prove, that instead of giving sanction to such crimes, by loading him with honours, his superiors should have punished him with the most ignominious death, to have given permanency to the very advantages, he has acquired for them; the divine vengeance, though hitherto suspended, being now ready to burst in thunder on their heads for this injustice.
His associates, emulous of his success in amassing wealth, but incapable of effecting it, as he had, by actions at the same time serviceable to their superiors, have imitated him in the most flagitious parts of his conduct, and laid the axe to the root of the advantages, which they drew from this country, by robbing the wretched natives of the means of supplying it; for who will work, when he knows that the fruit of his labour will be ravished from him?
Of this, indeed, they seem to be sensible themselves. But instead of being moved by that sense to change their measures, they have only changed the object of them.
Seeing that the ruined land can no longer supply matter for their rapacity, they have turned it against their superiors, whom they have brought to the verge of equal ruin, by a peculation of the wealth, entrusted to their care; lavishing it, in erecting fortresses to guard against impossible assaults; and maintaining forces to fight against enemies, who do not exist, that they may have an opportunity of appointing each other to all the lucrative employments, which attend armies, and make war at present, little less ruinous to the victors, than to the vanquished.
Thus one is to supply materials, another to superintend the building; this to provide food, that cloathing for the men; and so on, arms, ammunition, every article possible to be wanted by an army, for all which, as they are to pay themselves, they contract in the greatest quantities, and at the highest rates, which mutual connivance can venture to impose upon common sense; at the same time, that not one of them hath the remotest intention of fulfilling such contracts, either in the quantity, or quality of the things to be provided; but suffer the miserable bands of robbers, which they call armies, to struggle with all the severities of climates not natural to them, and the want of every convenience, and almost necessary of life, if they can not plunder them from the defenceless, and therefore more miserable natives: Iniquities, which however glaring, they practise without fear of punishment, the wealth, they acquire by them, enabling them to laugh at justice, and hold the laws in defiance, in their own country, whither they return to enjoy it; and make room for another hungry set to pursue their steps.
This faithful representation will prove the truth of what I have said before, that if a sudden stop be not put to these ravagers, our country must be ruined. In fact, they will soon be forced to stop of necessity. Their iniquity hath undermined itself; and heaven, by a signal instance of its justice, hath made them avenge our wrongs, upon their own heads. Whether we may be able to survive the shock, and enjoy the fruits of that vengeance though, is more than I can foresee, so deep are the wounds, with which they have pierced our hearts.
SECTION V.
ON my repairing next morning to the pavillion of the chief, I found him in conversation with a few of his associates, on some subject which seemed to embarrass them not a little.
As soon as he cast his eyes upon me, he turned short to the others, and told them, with an exulting look, that I could give them the information they wanted, having travelled lately through all those countries.
One of his associates having presumed to express some doubt, whether it was safe to entrust a stranger with a matter of such moment, the sagacity of the chief took instant offence. He asked, with a supercilious air, When he had been known to be mistaken in any man? Adding, that he had taken me for his secretary, on the recommendation of a man of honour: not that I wanted any better voucher, to a man of discernment, than the honesty written in my countenance.
The other believing, or at least not thinking it proper to disagree with him, asked me if there was not a prospect of the greatest plenty, in those countries, at the approaching harvest; and on my bowing in affirmation, added a number of questions, concerning the prices of the different necessaries of life in different places.
It instantly occurred to me, that this was such an opportunity as I sought, to serve my fellow-traveller. I answered therefore, that these were matters with which I was utterly unacquainted, having never bought any thing but what was immediately necessary for my own use, the purpose of my travelling having been only to indulge curiosity, and acquire knowledge: but that I knew a person, who had followed the profession of a merchant for many years, and was able to give him every information he could wish, in every branch of commerce; and on informing him whom I meant, gave so high a character of the merchant's judgment and probity, that they all seemed inclined to employ him.
But there was a difficulty in my way, which I plainly perceived would defeat my design, if it could not be removed. This was his merchandize, which they had seized, and thought he would expect to have restored to him, before he would enter into their service: a sacrifice to justice which they could not prevail upon themselves to make, to any uncertain prospect.
On their expressing doubts, therefore, of the danger of placing confidence in a man utterly unknown to them, I replied, that they had a security for his honesty in their own hands: that they might retain his merchandize till he should execute their commission; and then return it, or not, as he should deserve; by which means they would make it his interest to be honest to them.
This thought settled the whole affair. The chief instantly approved of my proposal, paying a compliment to my judgment, in making interest the best motive to honesty; and I was directly sent to conduct the merchant to them.
SECTION VI.
I cannot express what I felt, on entering the dungeon where the unhappy man was confined, even without any charge of a real crime. Dark, damp, and noisome, it seemed to have been designed to render the horrors of imprisonment still more horrible.
In the indignation of my soul at such tyranny, I could not forbear exclaiming in my native language,
What a reproach is it to human nature, that the men, who have themselves been subject to the heavy hand of power, are the least proper to be entrusted with it over others!
As soon as he heard my well-known voice, he raised his head from the ground, on which he lay, loaded with chains; and looking eagerly at me,
Oh, my friend,
said he,
have my misfortunes overwhelmed you also? Is your innocence ruined, merely for having known such a wretch as me? And yet, what is my guilt? What have I done, to draw this ruin upon me?
His fears had taken such possession of his heart, that it was difficult to undeceive him, as to the cause of my coming; difficult to persuade him that there was any prospect of his being restored to his liberty.
At length, when he saw his chains taken off, and the doors of the prison opened to him, a new anxiety seized his soul;
But will they restore me my effects also?
said he, stopping short at the door of the prison, and fixing his eyes earnestly upon me:
if not, of what advantage is liberty? I had better die here, than be obliged to beg my bread among strangers. My misery will be shorter, at the least.
I could scarcely suppress his emotions sufficiently for him to appear before the arbiters of his fate. I soothed! I comforted! I encouraged him to hope the best; till I in some measure recalled his reason, and made him present to himself; for I was not permitted to unfold to him the immediate occasion of his release.
When at length I introduced him to them, he answered all their questions with precision; and undertook to execute their commission without hesitation, on condition of having his property restored to him, at his return with success.
The nature of this commission, and the readiness with which he embraced it, struck me with such horror, that I resolved directly to separate myself both from him and his employers. But that very readiness defeated my design. It made them suspect that he wanted only to get out of their power, and therefore they insisted that I should remain as an hostage for his fidelity.
It was impossible for me to avoid agreeing to this condition, without exposing him, and probably myself also to destruction; as they would naturally have concluded, that we had concerted a scheme to deceive them. I assented therefore, with an appearance of readiness, to that which I did not dare to refuse; and purchased my fellow-traveller's liberty at the price of my own, at least for some time.
The commission entrusted to him was to buy up all the produce of the year from the possessors, in order to sell it back to them at an higher price, when their necessities should become so pressing, as to oblige them to give whatever should be required for it: the chief having an assured persuasion, that they had buried immense treasures in the earth, to evade the exactions of himself and his associates.
It may seem improbable to you, as it did at the time to me, that any people should be so infatuated, as to put themselves thus into the power of their known oppressors, for their very subsistence; but there is nothing so absurd, which the force of avarice cannot effect.
The merchant, on my objecting this difficulty, treated it with contempt.
Give them,
said he,
this day, one penny more than the current price, and they will accept it greedily, without ever considering what may be the consequence to-morrow. Present gain is all which is now looked to in the world. Beside, am I not armed with power to compel them, should they unexpectedly have the imprudence to refuse complying with my proposals? They are in a snare, out of which they can no way escape.
Nor did he pay greater respect to the disapprobation which I could not forbear expressing, at the readiness with which he undertook such horrid work.
Your virtue, my friend,
said he,
is too refined ever to be carried into practice, when placed in the scale against the most powerful principles of human nature. I would not willingly commit injustice, nor lead any man to ruin; but when either he or I must be ruined, the trial is too severe; and nature will preponderate, in spite of all the dreams of speculation.
The scenes of which I was a melancholy witness, while the merchant was engaged in the execution of his commission, were too horrid for description. I shall only say, that every act of injustice and oppression, which avarice and cruelty could suggest to lawless power, was practised openly, and with such insolence that the unhappy sufferers did not even dare to lighten their grief, by a plaintive sigh.
SECTION VII.
THE return of the merchant released me, at length, from the sight of such misery, from the society of men, who were a disgrace to the human name.
He had executed their commission, with unexpected success; and, as I thought, much more faithfully, than they performed their promise of rewarding him for it.
Every time he claimed the restitution of his merchandize, some new difficulty was started, some new delay made, under pretences the most frivolous, and shameless; till growing apprehensive that they might compleat their injustice by taking away his life to free themselves from his importunity, he reduced his demand to the means of support in his return to his native country; their condescending to grant which, after much entreaty, they affected to consider, as an act of the greatest generosity, and favour.
When he was ready to depart, he affectionately pressed me to accompany him.
Do not be discouraged, my friend,
said he,
at the unfortunate issue of our journey hither. Matters are not so bad, as they may appear to be. I knew my employers too well, to trust entirely to their justice. An agent understands but little of his business, who can not make it pay itself.
Had I not before covenanted with my own heart to separate myself from him, the very argument on which he rested his solicitation, would have determined me to decline it. I wished him an happy journey, saying that my fate led me another way.
I was too well acquainted with the power of habit over the human heart, to be surprized at this instance of the merchant's measuring justice by the rule of his own interest. It was but consistency of character. Not that I can say, I was displeased with the consequence, how much soever I disapproved of the motive of his conduct. His employers, and he, had been guilty of equal breaches of trust; and I therefore adored that Power, which thus made one act of injustice punish another.
The condition, upon which I had consented to stay among these people, being thus fulfilled, I resolved to take the first opportunity of departing, without giving them any notice of my design; being taught by their treatment of the merchant, what confidence was to be placed in their promises, and apprehensive that they might think me too deeply acquainted with the mysteries of their iniquity to dismiss me.
While I waited for such an opportunity, the success of the merchant's commission appeared in effects, not to be recollected without horror.
The natives, as he had predicted, either from avarice, or compulsion, had sold him all the produce of the land, which his employers no sooner got into their possession, than they raised the prices to such an height, that the wretches, after having expended every resource to purchase indispensible support, were reduced to all the dreadful extremities of famine; while the authors of their ruin looked on, with unconcern; nor would relax their extortion to save the very name of the people from being blotted out, from among the inhabitants of the earth.
Virgins offered themselves to violation in the streets, for a mouthful of food. The son sold his father into slavery. The mother devoured the infant, which sucked her breast. The living were not able to bury the dead.
Amid all these horrors, my soul had a peculiar consolation, for some time. The jewels, which I had retained by the advice of Myrza, now served the beneficent purpose, for which he had advised me to reserve them. I gave them to my friend, the Bramin, who disposed of them, and applied the price to the relief of the general distress.
But alas! he proceeded not with sufficient secrecy. He was discovered, by the inhuman tyrants. He was seized. He was put to torture, to discover if he had any more, and from whom he had received them. He preserved his faith to me; and died under the torture, without making any discovery.
Unfortunate was it for him, that I knew not of his sufferings, till they were at an end. My life should not have been saved, at the price of his.
Such scenes are difficult to be believed. The pride of conscious virtue is unwilling to admit even a possibility of the human nature's sinking so low. But when it is considered by whom these crimes were perpetrated, it will be owned, that they were no more, than might have been foreseen.
The weight of power is too great to be sustained, under the most advantageous circumstances. It too often intoxicates the best head; and warps the best heart. What then must its effects be, in the opposite extream? How could it rationally be expected, that men raised to absolute power, from the lowest state of servility, and from the lowest poverty, should be able to resist the temptation of abusing that power to acquire wealth; when such abuse was, in a manner, justified by practice, and encouraged by impunity?
SECTION VIII.
AS I had been detained by these events, beyond the time of my promised return to my father, I felt the anxiety of his love, for my safety; and therefore, for the greater expedition, embarked secretly in a ship, which was intended to sail directly for Suez, preferring the performance of so dear a duty to any pleasure or advantage, which I could promise to myself, in the further pursuit of my travels.
Heaven seemed at first to smile upon our way. We sailed with a favourable wind, till we entered the straits of
Dira,
when a violent storm arose, which in despite of all the efforts of our mariners, who struggled with it, for several days, at length drove our ship upon some rocks, where she was instantly torn to pieces.
It is impossible to describe what I felt in that dreadful moment. The darkness of midnight was condensed tenfold, by the fury of the storm. All was horror, and dismay.
Though the most resolute had lost every hope of escaping; we all, in the instinctive impulse of self-preservation, laid hold on such pieces of the wreck, as chance threw in our way, and clinging to them, were driven about at the mercy of the winds and waves, in which many perished by a milder death, than awaited most of those who gained the land.
It was my fate, to be thrown upon the shore, without any appearance of life; a situation, to which, as I afterwards found, I owed my safety.
The day had just begun to dawn, when I recovered my senses, the first efforts of which served only to present me with scenes still more horrible, than that from which I had escaped. I found myself entirely naked, at some little distance from the sea, whither, I suppose, I must have been dragged for the better convenience of stripping off my cloaths.
But this treatment, however cruel in itself, was kindness in comparison, of what I saw inflicted on my unhappy companions, as many of whom as reached the shore alive, were instantly slaughtered, and then stripped by the natives, who instead of relieving a state of distress, which should have moved every humane passion, looked upon them, and their property, as lawful prey.
Shocked as my soul was, at such barbarity, nature directed my first thoughts to my own safety. I lay, as motionless as if I was really dead, till I saw the savages depart, laden with the spoils of the wretches, whom they had slaughtered; when raising myself, as well as weakness and the pain of many bruises would permit, I crept to the sea side to try if I could happily administer relief, to any, who might have escaped, in the same manner with myself, and find some cloaths to cover me, which had been over-looked by the ravagers, in the hurry of their rapacity.
But I was disappointed at the first in either hope. They were too well experienced in the work, to leave it unfinished; and I was just going to depart, though I knew not whither, when casting my eyes, once more, wishfully to the sea, I thought I perceived something floating toward the shore.
The storm having by this time nearly spent its force, I ventured into the water to see, what the object before me might be; when I found one of my fellow-passengers, with whom I had contracted a particular intimacy, with his arms clasped round a coffer, to which he was tied. I instantly raised his head, above the water, and perceiving some signs of life, exerted all my strength, to draw him up on the dry land, where my care soon restored him to his senses.
The moment he opened his eyes, and saw me busied about him, his situation suggested itself to him in the worst light, my being naked preventing his knowing me; and making him imagine I was one of the spoilers, with whose nefarious practices he was too well acquainted. Lifting his hands therefore, in a suppliant manner,
O! spare my life,
said he,
spare the life of an old man, who will never disturb your possession of what you have acquired.
What!
I returned:
Do you not know me? Can Hassan be taken for a spoiler, by his friend?
He started, on hearing my voice; and looking eagerly at me,
Is it possible?
said he,
Can I be so happy? But where is the coffer to which I was bound? If that is lost, my life is of little value to me.
I then shewed him the coffer, where it still lay in the water, upon which he arose with a vigour, not to have been expected from his situation, and running toward it,
Let us then secure it instantly,
said he,
before the spoilers come, or they will not only rob us of all it contains, but murder us also, to secure the spoil.
As soon as he had drawn it to the land, he opened the locks, and taking out a casket, put it into his bosom, and was preparing to depart, without seeming even to think of any thing else.
Such an insensibility to the situation I was in, affected me.
How!
said I;
and will my friend desert me, thus naked and alone?
He started; and pausing for a moment, as if just awakened from a dream,
Desert you!
he returned;
no, never will I desert my preserver. But what can we do? The spoilers will come upon us, the moment they discover that our ship has been wrecked. The vulture is not more quick to find his prey, nor the tyger more cruel, than the inhabitants of the sea-coasts to destroy those, whom the more merciful waves throw into their power.
I then acquainted him, that they had been already there, shewing him the slaughtered bodies on the shore, to which I added my own condition, as proofs of their bloody rapacity.
His thoughts were so intently fixed upon himself, that he seemed to have no feeling for the misfortunes of any other.
Thank heaven,
said he, embracing the casket,
that we have escaped though; and that my jewels are safe! But we must not remain here! As soon as they have left their spoil at home, they will return, to try if they can glean up any more. I will share my garments with thee for the present. We shall soon be able to procure every thing we want.
He was proceeding to strip himself, when the occasion was unhappily removed. The sea threw up, near to the place where we stood, the body of one of our companions, whom finding to be dead, I yielded to the horrid necessity of taking his cloaths to cover myself.
SECTION IX.
WE had not advanced far into the country, before we discovered a cottage, the poor appearance of which shewed the poverty of its inhabitants.
On our approaching the door, which stood open to give light to the family, whom we found seated around a little fire, at a meal of simple vegetables, the master invited us in the most hospitable manner to partake of his humble fare.
Though I knew him, at the first cast of my eye, to be one of those, who had been most active in murdering and spoiling my unhappy companions, my astonishment was not greater at the present contrast in his conduct, than to hear him address us, in the Byrsan language.
'Gracious heaven!' I exclaimed, 'where am I? Is it possible that this is the country of the Byrsans? That such barbarous crimes should be committed, in defiance of the most beneficent laws?'
The cottager, who knew not the cause of my exclamation, appeared to be surprized; nor made me any answer, till I repeated my question, when he informed me, that I was in my native country.
But my companion, who understood my meaning, having often heard me boast of the laws of Byrsa, as superior to those of all other nations, would not miss such an occasion of reproving my vain partiality.
Why should not such crimes,
said he,
be committed in this country, as soon as in any other? It is not the laws, but the execution of them, which hath an effect upon the manners of a people. The best laws, if badly administered, only encourage the crimes, which they were designed to prevent.
The cottager, having directed us the way to Byrsa, returned to the sea-coast, to seek for more spoil, in contempt of every argument, I could use to dissuade him; while we proceeded toward the house of my father, my heart panting with filial love and joy, at the thought of being so near him.
The contradiction between the conduct of the cottager, when at home, and on the shore, was so striking, that I could not forbear expressing my surprize to my companion, who accounted for it, in a manner most disgraceful to the polity of any civilized people.
The nature of man,
said he,
is in itself benevolent. Cruelty is ever the consequence of error in opinion or of bad example. In his cottage you saw this man, in his natural character. His conduct, on the shore, proceeded from a notion derived from the laws of times of ignorance, and barbarity, that the plunderers could not be compelled to make restitution of their spoil, if no man belonging to a ship, which was wrecked, remained alive to claim it.
If then, the legislature of Byrsa really merited the praise, which you have so lavishly bestowed upon it, would not proper means have been taken to eradicate such a notion, and prevent its horrid consequences, by confiscating to the state every wreck, where all the people perished; and on the other hand, allowing a part thereof to the inhabitants of the coast, in proportion to the number of lives saved by them; instead of the present absurd method of punishment for plundering, which they evade by murdering all, who might prove their guilt?
Though this objection was not to be answered, I could not suppress the exultation of my heart, at the appearance of happiness, which shone in every place we passed through, as we advanced toward the capital; nor forbear pointing it out to my companion, as the best vindication of our laws.
But he viewed matters in another light.
Moderate your pride,
said he,
till you see whether it is well founded. When I view the face of the country, I think myself in paradise. But when I consider the inhabitants, my opinion is much less favourable. The extremities of the land are uncultivated for want of people, who croud to the metropolis, where their labour is wasted in works of vanity. The whole nation is drowned in luxury. They are poor in the midst of plenty. They have much, but they want still more. Their powers both of mind and body are weakened by excess, their principles debauched by prosperity. In a word, their happiness hath overflowed its bounds; and if this calm continues much longer, Byrsa will over-set, in the first storm, which shall fall with any force upon it.
SECTION X.
MY meeting with my father is not to be described. He had been for some time sinking under the infirmities of age; and seemed to have struggled to preserve life, only till he could resign it, in my bosom.
The moment he was informed of my arrival, he called me eagerly to him; and throwing his arms around my neck, as I kneeled by the side of his bed,
It is enough!
said he;
Gracious heaven, it is enough. I embrace him once more; and now I die content.
—
Then pausing a few moments to recover his spirits, unequal to such an excess of joy,
O! bless my son!
he continued;
Enable him to save his
— he would have added, country; but the word died unfinished on his tongue, (heaven not permitting him to prefer a prayer, which must be ineffectual) and he expired without a groan, in my arms.
Having performed the last duties to his honoured remains, I determined to devote the residue of my days to the cultivation of my mind in retirement, every thing I saw around me, giving me a disgust to the world.
I had found such pleasure in the conversation of my late fellow-sufferer in the shipwreck, whose benevolence of heart, and judicious acquaintance with the ways of man opened themselves upon me, more and more, every hour, that I would have persuaded him to remain with me.
But all my persuasions were ineffectual. He had fixed his mind upon returning to his native city of Cairo, and there ending his days, among his family. We parted with the sincerest sentiments of mutual esteem.
SECTION XI.
I have informed you of the claim, which the Byrsans made to the neighbouring country of the Coptes. It had pleased heaven to lead me home, just as their army was preparing to march, to inforce that claim.
Though I had determined upon a retired life, the principles, in which I had been educated by my father, making me disapprove a measure, so contrary to justice, I thought it my first duty to endeavour to prevent it, before I would attend to any thing, which related solely to myself.
I resolved therefore to demand an audience of the king, to whom my rank in the state gave me a right of speaking my sentiments on public affairs; and lay before him the reasons of my dissenting from the general voice, on so important an occasion; not doubting but I should be able to open his eyes to the evils, which must necessarily result from it.
The war appeared to me so flagrantly unjust, that I imagined there must be some secret reasons for it, to which my absence had made me a stranger, or it could never have been resolved on. Before, therefore, I would presume to oppose it, I thought it necessary to enquire more particularly into the matter, as I knew the danger of judging, on a partial view.
For this purpose I went directly to a person, whose having held several of the first offices in the state, I concluded must enable him to give me the information I wanted; and which an alliance between our houses gave me a right to require.
On entering his habitation, I was surprised to find every thing wear a gloomy aspect. The very looks of the servants spoke an unhappy master. He received me, with an air of dignity and respect, but clouded with a reserve, which made it disagreeable, and seemed desirous to confine his conversation to general questions, relating to the countries, which I had seen in my travels.
This, however, gave me an easy opportunity of leading him to the subject of the approaching war, without expressly declaring the purpose of my coming, which I apprehended might have made him still more reserved: I therefore, as occasionally, desired to know his opinion of it, as a direction to mine, which, probably for want of proper information, I owned to be against it.
At the first mention of the affair, I saw his eyes sparkle with indignation, which arose as I proceeded, till it entirely dissipated the gloom, which hung upon his brow, and broke through his reserve.
I am happy,
said he, with a look of the warmest complacency,
to find your sentiments concur with mine, on this important occasion, for, if you are not satisfied with the apparent, much less will you be, with the real motives of this war. The former have at least something like a colour, however false, of justice; because it was necessary to deceive the people, who can never be led into any thing, which they know to be unjust, how easily soever they may be deceived; but the latter are a mystery of the grossest iniquity, in every sense.
Good heaven!
I returned;
Whence can this proceed? The youth of our sovereign opened with the fairest hopes.
Nor hath he ever fallen from those hopes!
interrupted he, eagerly.
One vice hath never stained his private life, one act of injustice warped his public conduct. Yet still, a character, less pure, might have proved more advantageous to his people. To form a proper judgment of a man, his station must be considered. The virtues most sublime in a subject, are often but amiable weaknesses in a sovereign.
I see that your absence hath made you a stranger to the secret springs, upon which our government moves at this time. The balance between its parts, and their mutual check upon each other, which gave it the pre-eminence over all the other governments upon earth, exist now only in name.
The superior council, by dissipating the property, appointed to support its independance, is fallen absolutely under the influence of the crown; as the inferior daily betrays to it the trust committed to them, to acquire matter for a like dissipation; the gratification of luxury being the only object attended to by every class of mankind.
You may naturally conclude that the power of the sovereign must become absolute by this prostration of the fences, instituted to restrain it. But the contrary is the fact. All the power, which he seems to obtain in this manner, is wasted in the very means, made use of to obtain it; and himself kept in a kind of slavery to the instruments of this corruption, in which they have so entangled the whole system of government, that it now appears to be one of its first principles; and often compels him to give the sanction of his name and authority to measures, the most contrary to his own sentiments; of which there can not be a stronger instance, than this war, which is literally forced upon him, by his servants, though as contrary to their inclinations, as to his; their ambition and abilities being equally limited to the dark works of seduction.
But the people have of late begun to look so narrowly into their conduct, and to shew such symptoms of discontent, that apprehensive of the consequence, they adopted this expedient to turn the attention of the public from themselves, blazoning the war, with such hopes of private advantage, as have made the injustice of it easily pass unnoticed.
Nor is the power of this hope to be wondered at. We have lived so far before-hand, that it is terrifying to look forward. Not only private fortunes are wasted by the luxury, which is expressly encouraged by the court for that purpose, that people may become dependant on its favour for support; but the very resources of the state are anticipated to such a depth, in order to support this system of corruption, that far from being able to stand any violent shock, we must of necessity sink by our own weight, if we are not saved by some means, impossible for human reason to provide.
The whole system of men's souls, if I may use the expression, must be changed; and another adopted, in every respect opposite to it: An effect, which can be produced only by some heavy misfortune (if such can be surmounted!) which shall bring the government back to its first principles.
For my own part, I am so sick of a world, in which I see nothing but folly and vice, that if there is not a sudden change, which I have no reason to expect, I will anticipate the stroke of fate, and quiet it.
The horrid resolution, with which he concluded this melancholy representation, aggravated the pain it gave me, ten thousand fold. 'O! beware,' I exclaimed, 'of indulging so dangerous a thought; of tempting the wrath of heaven, by diffidence in its goodness, and power! A crime, which reason and religion equally forbid; and madness only can excuse.'
Reason,
he answered,
prompts me to fly from evil.
—
'But not to a greater,' I interrupted eagerly: 'Not to evils, from which there is no flying, no hoping for relief.'
Of those evils,
he replied with a contemptuous smile,
I know nothing. The phantoms, with which superstitious ignorance was so long terrified, are at length seen through. Nature seeks happiness; and if I can not find it, in this life, I must follow the pursuit into another; if such there is! It is better not to be, than be unhappy!
I attempted not to argue with him farther, as I could plainly see, by the manner in which he expressed himself, that contradiction would only confirm him more strongly in his opinion, and perhaps stimulate his vanity to hasten the execution of it.
SECTION XII.
I was diverted from the painful reflections, which such a scene naturally suggested, at my return, by the entrance of a person, who had been one of the most intimate acquaintances of my early youth.
As I had been informed, that he had wasted his fortune, in every mode of idle dissipation and expence, I was most agreeably surprized at his appearance, every thing in which spoke affluence, and a mind at ease. He saluted me with the warmest professions of regard; and we instantly continued our former intimacy, as if it had never been interrupted.
After some reciprocal inquiries of personal affection, I informed him of the conversation, which had passed, at the visit, from which I was just returned.
He paused a few moments, as struck by what I had said, then with a look not well assured,
I shall not pretend,
he answered,
to vindicate in all things, either the measures of the government, or the manners of the age! But the motives of this person's disapprobation, greatly weaken the force of it. He speaks from the rage of disappointment, not from principle.
That political corruption, against which he inveighs with such acrimony, did he himself carry to such lengths, when in power, that it was too gross to be supported; and occasioned his deposal; nor is there a moral vice, which hath not stained his character; but as some of these vices have been retorted against himself, and he is no longer permitted to practise that corruption, he now declaims against it, in this manner. But you must not trust too implicitly to his representations. Because the world does not go, as he likes, he modestly says it is going to ruin.
The human heart is so fond of happiness, that we give easy credit to what we wish. I looked upon the gloomy picture, which had been drawn to me, to have proceeded meerly from the clouds, which over-cast the painter's mind; and did not doubt but my friend would set every thing in a very different light.
I therefore desired him to acquaint me, if there were any reasons for the approaching war, beside those publicly given, which I scrupled not to say were so flagrantly unjust, that I had resolved to exert my utmost endeavours to prevent it.
My dear friend,
he answered, staring at me with
surprize, what you say, may possibly be very true; but these are matters, about which I never give myself any trouble.
'How!' I returned, astonished at what he said, 'not give yourself trouble about matters of the greatest importance to a state, in which you hold so high a rank? In the government of which you have ever undertaken a part, not to be executed without trouble? You are not; you can not be serious! But this is a subject, most improper for pleasantry!'
I speak my sentiments, I assure you!
he replied.
I never did, nor ever will give myself trouble about any thing. If I would have taken trouble, with matters of this nature, I might probably have conducted them myself. My purpose is to enjoy the pleasures of life, while I can, without troubling myself about consequences, which all my trouble may not be able to prevent.
'But!' said I, interrupting him shortly: 'If you were determined not to take trouble, why did you take an office, which required it? You know my plainness! Is it consistent with a just sense of honour, or even with common honesty to take the wages, without doing the work?'
You were always an enthusiast!
he answered with a forced smile;
and I find you will ever remain one. I was in hope, that seeing the world would have opened your mind; and shewn you the absurdity of such antiquated notions. I took the office, because I had occasion for the emoluments of it; as the visier gave it, to attach me to his interest: And on the same terms, is every office given and accepted.
If you imagine, that any one under the visier presumes, in virtue of his office, to do any thing, you are utterly mistaken. It is he, who virtually does every thing; and all the other officers of the state are no better than cyphers following him, to add to his consequence.
SECTION XIII.
BUT let us wave a subject, on which we only waste our time. I have come to request a favour from you, which I promise myself you will not refuse me.
You must know, that I am in one of the most whimsical situations, possible to be conceived. You remember our old friend Mago. The intimacy, which begun with our lives, hath continued to this day; though it was lately endangered by one of the oddest accidents, which ever happened. Can you think it possible, that he and I should fall in love with each other's wife, and succeed in our loves too?
For some time, matters went on, as smoothly as we could wish, neither of us suspecting the other, till growing too secure, he happened one day to surprize his wife and me in a situation of more familiarity, than common forms allow. You know his hasty temper. He drew his sabre instantly, and advanced to attack me.
I am not a coward: but I know not how it happened. A qualm of conscience I suppose came upon me; and I did not care to run the hazard of losing my own life in so foolish a cause, or adding his death to the injury I had already done him.
I therefore demanded a parley, sword in hand; and after some preliminaries, in making which I believe I looked silly enough, I frankly told him, that in the way he sought satisfaction, the odds were against him; but that if he would take my advice, I could direct him to a better, which would bring us more upon a level; this was, to return me in kind the good office I had done him; and then there would be nothing to complain of, on either side.
The look he gave me, as I said this, is not to be described. He fixed his eyes upon me, for a few moments, to see if I was serious, then bursting into a loud laugh, 'Give me your hand, brother;' said he: 'I applaud your prudence; and to tell you a secret, have not waited for your permission, to do what you propose. So let us e'en shake hands, and make the best of our bargains.'
From that day, all was harmony and good-fellowship between us; to make which, as we thought, the stronger, and as the affair had some way taken wind, we repudiated our own wives respectively, and wedded those of each other, to satisfy their delicacy, and repair their reputations.—
My indignation, which had been rising still higher, at every word he spoke, could be restrained no longer. 'How,' I exclaimed, 'wed a woman of whose dishonour you were yourself a witness! What! though you were an accomplice in her guilt, your participation lessened not the crime in her; nor can you expect that she will be more faithful to you, than she was to your friend. In the first step is all the difficulty. A woman, who hath once surmounted that, seldom feels any reluctance to proceed in the same way. Beside your own honour—
You are too squeamish! quite too squeamish!
he interrupted, not desiring to hear more.
The world is grown wiser, than to view these matters in so serious a light, as formerly. How can a man's honour be injured by the levity of a woman? That is another of those antiquated absurdities, which are now only laughed at; and you will soon be ashamed of.
As to her future conduct, that is her own affair. If she should be caught tripping, she knows the consequence. What is past is nothing. Custom has sanctified these matters.
But to return to my purpose. The mischief now is, that this second marriage has spoiled all. Whether it is the thought of restraint, or that there is something disgusting in the name of matrimony, I know not; but so it hath happened, that we were all soon surfeited of our exchange; and wished for our own back again.
Now as this is a new case, which will create a good deal of impertinent noise, and be attended with much trouble and delay, what I propose is to have a law made, which shall authorize an exchange of wives, as often as all the parties are willing; and then the numbers, who, I know, will take advantage of it, will keep us in countenance.
The favour, therefore, which I have to request of you, is to introduce the matter for me to the legislature, as a thought of your own, which occurred to you, in your travels, on observing the evils, which universally attend indissoluble marriages.
The sobriety of your character will give weight to the scheme; and obviate the personal allusions which would be made, if I were to take the lead in it myself. You may also, to make the thing still more popular, add, that no single man shall suffer for having an amour with a married woman, provided he will take her off her husband's hands, and marry her himself, which will endear you to all ranks of people, much more than opposing the war; such marriages, though allowed at present, and sometimes practised, being attended with so much trouble and expence, that very few can afford them, whereby many a wife is obliged to baulk her inclinations, and many an husband to wear his horns in silence, for want of such a law to relieve them.
SECTION XIV.
I know not whether my indignation or contempt was most moved by this proposal. 'Such a law, as you mention,' I replied, 'seems to be the only thing wanted to compleat that dissoluteness, which marks the character of the Byrsan nation, with deeper disgrace, than ever dishonoured any other people.
A legislature, which had a just sense of honour, instead of authorising, would use every possible means to prevent such infamous marriages. Marriages, which defeat the very intention of marriage, by providing a reward for that breach of faith, which it was instituted to prevent.
The law, too evidently necessary, is to brand public vice, with public infamy; and prevent a repetition of the breach of matrimonial fidelity, by prohibiting the offender from ever marrying again. Indeed, so sacred should the honour of the female sex be held, that a woman, who could so far forget her own dignity, as to suffer seduction even in a state of freedom, and without the additional guilt of conjugal infidelity, should not be admitted to marry even with her seducer. As the crime is indelible, the punishment should be inevitable.
Such was the sense of that people, whose superior virtue over-turned the dissolute city of Carthage, and forced our ancestors to fly from their native country; a fate, which evidently threatens their degenerate offspring, and this more dissolute city of Byrsa.'—Saying which I turned away in disdain, waving my hand to him to depart.
The horror, with which I was struck by the conversation of these men, is not to be expressed. I held it as impossible, that a state, in which the only firm bond of human connection, moral virtue, is universally broken, should not separate, and fall to ruin; as I know it to be, for any other than religious principles to support man, through the evils inevitably incident to his nature; a truth, confirmed by too many melancholy instances among the Byrsans, who ignorant of the illimitable extent of divine mercy, or not daring to look up to it, sunk into despair, on the lightest disappointment; and rashly threw away lives, which a better sense might have rendered happy to themselves, and useful to their country.
Discouraged as I was by these reflections, I knew it to be my duty not to despair of the public welfare, or relax my endeavours to promote it; and therefore resolved to go without farther delay to the king, and lay my sentiments of the war before him.
As I was departing from my own habitation for this purpose, I was stopped by a stranger, who said, with a mysterious look, that he had an affair of importance to impart to me.
On my retiring with him, into an inner chamber, he told me, he was sorry to trouble me, on a disagreeable occasion; but that his friendship for the person who had just left me, would not permit his refusing to come from him, to demand satisfaction for my treatment of him, in our last conversation.
Such a demand struck me with the strongest astonishment. I answered, that his friend must certainly be mistaken, as I could not charge myself with having treated him, or any other man ill, in my life.
I suppose he thought I was terrified, and therefore that he might the more safely press upon me. He replied with an haughty air, that his friend had too high a sense of honour to be satisfied with so poor an evasion, and that I must either instantly meet him, or take the consequence of my cowardice.
But he overacted his part. Such a menace, instead of fear or resentment, raised only my contempt. I answered him with the coldest indifference, that I was surprized to hear honour attributed to a man, who by his own confession had forfeited every claim to it; and that if he thought himself aggrieved by my treatment of him, he must correct the conduct, which had given occasion for it; and then he need not fear meeting the like from me again.
Such a repulse shewed him his error. Lowering the tone of his voice, he said,
he hoped I would consider that it was a delicate point; and wished some method could be found to adjust it, without coming to extremities.
But this moderation was affected too late. I replied, that I knew no method, but that which I had proposed of his changing his conduct in life, upon which I would certainly change mine to him; and not till then; and that as for the consequences, which he had thought proper to threaten, I gave myself no concern about them, as I had too just a respect for true honour to pay any to the shadow, which he affected to worship, or submit my own principles to public opinion, by descending to put myself on a level with a man, who had given up every thing really respectable, in the human character.
This was an answer, he seemed not to have been prepared for. He paused for some minutes, as if considering what to reply; and then withdrew without even attempting to speak another word.
SECTION XV.
AS soon as the agitation, naturally raised by such a scene, had subsided, I went to the king; and in the humility of loyal duty examined before him the cause, and looked forward to the consequences of the war; and having shewn that these were as dangerous, as that was unjust, besought him to interpose his authority to prevent it.
He heard me with attention; and even seemed struck with what I said; but without attempting to refute it, answered in general terms, that the war was already resolved upon; and the minds of the people so intent upon it, that it was impossible to resist them.
Severely as I was affected by this repulse, it was not the only thing which gave me pain, on the occasion. No sooner was my disapprobation of the war known, than I was appointed to a principal command in the army prepared to carry it on.
To a person, unacquainted with the principles, which prevailed among the Byrsans, at that time, this must appear a designed insult. But no such thing was thought of; it was intended as a mark of respect; as a gratification of the purpose of my opposition. This must be explained.
There is no human institution, however wise, and salutary in its natural effects, which the depravity of man can not pervert to the most pernicious purposes.
The great council, which Narbal had appointed to assist the sovereign, in the difficulties of government, with their advice; and watch over the interests of the people, with which they, as a part, must necessarily be better acquainted than he could be, often acted directly contrary to that intention, losing all consequence under a spirited and politic prince; and on the other hand, when one of a different character offered opportunity, rising upon his weakness, and usurping the power, while he had only the name of sovereignty.
In the former instance, honorary distinctions, and the emoluments of government always afforded a prince, who had abilities to apply them properly, the means of influencing the members of the council, and making them subservient to his purpose; but those, which they employed against him, may not be so obvious to you, though they were equally ready.
As the council had a right to deliberate upon the measures of government, it was easy for a designing member to carp at such, as though necessary, and strictly just, might appear exceptionable to a superficial view; in which he was sure of being followed by the unthinking populace, as the tutelary assertor and guardian of their rights; till they raised him to such a consequence, as enabled him to enhance the price of his acquiescence with the will of the prince, or perhaps wrest his authority out of his hands.
Nothing could be a stronger proof of the wisdom of Narbal, than that even so gross an abuse of his institution was not sufficient to counterbalance the advantages, arising from this council, and make the abolition of it necessary; the very means, by which this abuse was perpetrated, preventing the obvious and worst consequences of it; and preserving the great principles of the government from being lost.
For in order to acquire this popularity, it was necessary to explain those principles to the people, who soon saw their interest, and ability to preserve them; and though they joined in their abuse, would never have submitted to their being fundamentally overturned.
On this system therefore the visier judging of me, by all those, who had on other occasions opposed public measures, concluded that the readiest way of gaining me to his interest, was to give me this command, the inconsistency of my accepting which, with my opposition to the war, was sufficiently countenanced by the general practice.
But such an example had no weight with me; and I refused his offer with indignation, till my sovereign himself condescending to request my compliance, personal respect to him, and a sense of the sacred duty of subjection, obliged me to accept it, however contrary to my inclination.
How blind,
interrupted Temugin,
will attachment to a favourite system make the best informed mind? This man, who wanted not wisdom in other matters, could see no imperfection, in the principles of a government, which teemed with the cause of its own dissolution, from the first hour it was instituted. A state, in which the power of the sovereign can be counterbalanced by that of his subjects, is like a body without an head, and must necessarily fall to ruin.
I will hear the conclusion of his story at some other time.
End of the
FIRST VOLUME.