said so much in the preceding article. He had chosen him from among
the number of his courtiers, to bestow on him those favours of which
royalty was possessed, and which he merited. He was more beholden to
nature than to art for his education, which would have been sufficient
to make him happy, had it been his lot to live remote from the snares
and artifices of a court.
An open and disinterested heart, instead of procuring him love and
esteem, often carried him to the brink of ruin; for those with whom he
mingled, were artful and treacherous hypocrites, a set of vermin that
infest every court. Though he wished to hate no man, yet he could not
love those who were every day privately seeking his destruction.
These ungenerous attempts were so often repeated, that Kalan, fearing
he should acquire a habit of despising human beings, resolved to retire
from the noise and bustle of a court. He was strengthened in this
resolution by a review of his affairs, which were so much deranged by
his unbounded charity and benevolence, that he found it impossible any
longer to support such expences.
Kalan, before he retired to enjoy a peaceful and tranquil life, left
the following lines engraven on his door:
"The man who no ingratitude has found,
Has never trod on courtiers' slipp'ry ground."
The calif, having one day heard these lines repeated, desired to know
who was the author of them. At this time Kalan was supposed to be dead,
and therefore the courtiers had nothing to fear, and no reason to
conceal the name of the author. Those people who had formerly returned
all his favours with ingratitude, now launched into high encomiums
on his merit. In all this there is nothing astonishing. With respect
to the arts and sciences, we see how different is the treatment the
professors of them receive during their lives, and after they are no
more. While living, he could perhaps hardly support his miserable
existence; when dead, sumptuous and costly monuments are erected to his
memory.
Kalan, having accidentally heard how much Mahmoud was pleased with the
inscription on his door, quitted his retreat, and again appeared at
Ispahan, to the astonishment of his friends, and the invidious regret
of the courtiers. The calif received him kindly, and made him ample
amends for all the neglect of his friends. Kalan was put into an office
which enabled him to gratify all his beneficent wishes.
As the nettle and the rose thrive together on the same soil, so was
the bosom of Kalan not without a weed. His too strong attachment to
women sometimes led him astray, and made him unmindful of his duty. The
calif was not ignorant of this fault in Kalan, for the courtiers that
surrounded him took care that this error should not remain concealed.
Mahmoud, though he pitied his weakness, did not esteem him the less on
that account. "True it is," said the calif, "that an unbounded passion
for women is much to be censured; but this folly will in time forsake
him; while ambition, cruelty, and avarice, had any such vices got
possession of him, would grow stronger as he advanced in age."
The calif's courtiers extolled the sublimity of this observation; but
no sooner had he turned his back on them, than they ridiculed such a
paltry idea. How much are courtiers to be pitied, who take so much
pains to render themselves contemptible!
Some little time afterwards, the calif gave Kalan a commission to the
furthest part of Persia, and fixed even the day and hour when he should
expect him back. Kalan immediately set out on his journey, discharged
his duty with the strictest punctuality, and returned a day before
the time allowed. He received the applause due to his diligence, and
was told, that every hour he gained on the stipulated time was of the
utmost service to his country.
Kalan was the more pleased with these marks of the calif's approbation,
as he received it in the presence of many courtiers, who all showed him
the highest marks of applause, while in their hearts they hated and
detested him, and envied the honours paid him by the calif.
The next day, however, one of these courtiers, deputed by the rest,
approached Mahmoud, and, after bowing to the earth, thus addressed
him:--"Most noble and glorious sovereign of the faithful, though I
know not the nature of Kalan's late commission, yet I judge it was of
the highest importance. Pardon then my zeal if, notwithstanding the
transcendent light in which I behold him, I am under the disagreeable
necessity of informing your highness, that he presumed to pass five
days of that time so precious to the state, in the enjoyment of the
pleasures of love."
The calif, astonished at this declaration, told the malevolent
informer, that he hoped he could prove what he had asserted. "Dread
sovereign," answered he, "his own slave will prove to you, that, at
Gauri, nearly a hundred miles from this capital, he loitered in the lap
of pleasure. The daughter of a caravanserist had influence over him
sufficient to induce him to neglect, for five days, the confidence you
had reposed in him, and the most important concerns of the state. If
time should prove that I have accused him falsely, let me be the victim
of your resentment."
Mahmoud thanked him for his vigilant information, which he presumed
could arise from no other motive than his great attachment to his
glory; and he assured him, that he would nicely search into the truth
of what he had informed him. "Neither will I be forgetful," said
the calif, "of the greatness of your soul, which has induced you to
sacrifice to my interest the man, you say, you so much admire and
revere."
The courtier then bowed his head to the earth, and retired, not much
pleased, however, with the last words of the calif, who, he had
from thence reason to believe, was not greatly satisfied with the
accusation, and who might let fall that vengeance on this head, which
he was endeavouring to prepare for another.
Mahmoud presently afterwards sent for Kalan; which being known to the
courtiers, they secretly triumphed in the idea, that the hour was
hastily approaching, in which they hoped to find their revenge and
hatred amply gratified.
As soon as Kalan appeared before the calif, "I will not," said
the latter, "ask you any artful questions, such as may lead you
inadvertently to criminate yourself; and, in the course of this
business I will be your judge and counsellor, and will afford you
every opportunity of clearing yourself of the charge laid against you.
You cannot forget how precious I told you was the time I allowed you
for the completion of your embassy; yet it has been reported to me,
that you stopped five days on the road, to enjoy yourself in the lap
of pleasure, without blushing at the praises you received for that
one day, which I supposed your zeal and attachment to my interest had
procured me. Say, are these things true?"
"My dread sovereign," replied Kalan, "had I a soul mean enough of
having recourse to a falsehood to cover a crime, I should perhaps
answer in the negative; but, sorry I am to say, that the charge is
true. I really did saunter away in idleness five whole days at Gauri.
I was intoxicated; yes, commander of the faithful, I was intoxicated
with a passion that destroyed all my other faculties. I know I have
merited death; but it is not the fear of death that terrifies me, but
the hateful recollection of having displeased my friend and sovereign.
Having completed the business of my embassy, and being arrived, on my
return, at Gauri, wanting horses, and my slave too being harassed with
the journey, I resolved to stop one night, which was the first I had
indulged myself in from the time of my leaving the palace.
"Having taken a little refreshment, and being seated near a window, I
suddenly heard a voice in the adjoining chamber strike forth in such
melodious notes, that nothing could equal it. I listened with eager
attention, and could plainly distinguish they were the lamentations of
love. I was in great doubt to determine which were the more excellent,
the music or the words. As soon as she had finished, I enquired who
she was, and found it was the daughter of my host; that her voice was
not her only merit, since the words were of her own composition, and
besides, she was said to be as lovely as Venus, and as chaste as Diana.
"No wonder if this description excited my desire to see her; and I
begged the caravanserist would gratify my wish. He for some time
objected; but I persisted in my request, and at last, his great respect
for the ambassador of Mahmoud made him yield to my entreaties. The
moment she appeared I was enamoured with her beauty; but, when I heard
her play upon her harp, O powerful love! my embassy, my duty as a
subject, and the punishment to which my delay might expose me, every
thing of this sort was totally forgotten.
"All my thoughts were absorbed at this time in one wish only, that of
being beloved by Zada. I offered my hand in marriage, but during two
days she made many trifling excuses. On the third day she confessed,
that if ever she could love any man, it probably would be me. The
fourth day she received my addresses, and on the fifth gave me every
thing to hope for. On the arrival of the evening of this day, she
happened to mention your name, when, recollecting myself, I became
fully sensible of my guilt. She perceived my confusion, and begged to
know the cause of it. As soon as I told her, she insisted on my setting
out that night--that very night on which I promised myself so much
felicity.
"Sensible I am that I merit death, for having thus shamefully neglected
my duty; but one thing I have to beg, that my sufferings may not be
long."
All was silent for a few moments. After which said the calif--"Your
punishment shall be the slowest that human ingenuity can possibly
invent. Imprisonment shall be your fate as long as life shall be
able to support it. Take him hence, soldiers, and let his treatment
henceforward be the severest man can endure."
The soldiers conducted Kalan to his place of confinement, and the
courtiers followed him with their eyes, which seemed to be moistened
with tears, while their hearts rejoiced in his disgrace.
In about an hour or two after this event, it was reported, that the
calif had dispatched a messenger; but no one could tell whither, or on
what account. In the course of the five following days, the name of
Kalan was forgotten; but on the sixth, to the astonishment of every
one, the calif ordered him again to be brought before him.
As soon as Kalan appeared, the calif, after asking him some taunting
questions, "Yes," said he, "a song on some voluptuous subject, and a
harp in that fair damsel's hand you saw upon your journey, made you
negligent of what you knew your duty. I am, therefore, resolved both to
punish and remind you of the fault you have committed, by decreeing,
that in future you shall listen to such songs as are descriptive of
complaining lovers. Let the Egyptian take her harp and play upon it."
Instantly was heard a voice so sweet, that Mahmoud's courtiers scarce
dared to breathe, for fear of interrupting so much harmony. As soon as
it began, the prisoner gave a cry, fell down, and beat the ground with
his forehead.
"Rise, Kalan," said the calif, "and hear your sentence. You that at
present surround my throne," speaking to his courtiers, "who so often
stand in need of indulgence, tell me, which among you, being in Kalan's
place, on the point of having all his wishes accomplished, and after
having passed five days in the pursuit of it, would not have presumed
to hazard a sixth day?" (_Here a pause ensued._) "No answer?--Kalan,
since even envy thus keeps silence, you find favour with your king.
Take your Zada, therefore, and be happy for the time to come; she is
now yours."
Kalan, after having thrown himself at the feet of the calif, was no
sooner risen up than he flew into the arms of his beloved Zada. They
retired in mutual embraces; and the courtiers with hearts full of envy
and fell malignity.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
_Female Courage properly considered._
The Rev. Mr. Sherlock being one day in company with a number of young
ladies, the conversation happened to turn on the courage of their own
sex. One observed, that Miss Lovelace had a resolution above being
curbed by her guardians, and was determined to dress as she liked;
while another gave it as her opinion, that it would be better for her
to check her temper, and submit to the will of her guardians. "If ever
I should be married," said one of the young ladies, "I think I shall
have courage enough to make my husband do as I please."--"You may be
right, miss," said another, "but I think, should I ever be married, I
shall always consult my husband's opinion, and readily submit to it,
whenever reason seems to require it."
The young ladies kept up this kind of conversation for some time; when,
at last, finding their opinions were so different, they requested
the reverend divine to give them his sentiments, wherein true female
courage consisted.
"I have," said Dr. Sherlock, "been listening to your conversation, and,
as you have been pleased to appeal to me, I shall speak truth, without
the least reserve. I hope you will attend to what I am going to say,
and treasure it up in your minds.
"I consider _true_ courage as one of the noblest ornaments of the fair
sex, since it must be allowed, that without a becoming resolution, many
female accomplishments would be lost, and sunk in obscurity, and that
even virtue itself, unassisted by true courage, would soon dwindle to a
shadow. I doubt not but that each of you amiable young ladies flatter
yourselves with being possessed of this noble accomplishment; but
permit me to tell you, that it is not every possessor of a pretty face
who knows what it is. It is not Xantippe, but Lucretia, whom I call the
woman of true courage.
"Xantippe is the daughter of two noble personages, and the wife of a
sensible and prudent man; the mother of a blooming offspring, and the
sole mistress of a plentiful fortune, the produce of which her husband
cannot receive without her order. Elated with the thoughts of her high
birth, and sensible of the dependence her husband has on her will, she
subjects him to the most rigorous discipline, is cruelly severe to her
children, and arbitrary and tyrannical over her servants.--Insolent and
disdainful in her behaviour to her equals, and haughty and arrogant in
her demeanour to her superiors, her jealousy is equalled only by her
ill-nature; the most innocent freedom of her husband to a visitor is
sufficient to give rise to the former; and the most trifling repartee
is sure to occasion the latter. These are her qualities, which she is
so far from endeavouring to amend, that she considers them as marks of
true courage; or, to speak in a more polite phrase, they make her pass
for a woman of spirit!
"How reverse is the conduct of Lucretia!--Possessed of no other fortune
than what good sense and a proper education give her, she passes
through life with peace and serenity of mind.--The will of her husband,
the care of her children, and the due preservation of order and economy
in her house, are her principal studies. Easy, good-natured, and
affable to her equals, and humble, submissive, and obliging to her
superiors; as no height of prosperity makes her forgetful of adversity,
so no storms of angry fortune are able to disturb the calm within her
breast, or deprive her of that hope with which true courage will always
support those who possess it.
"True courage, rightly understood, and properly cultivated, will
inspire the fair sex with the noblest sentiments of honour and
generosity. It will elevate their minds above those mean and paltry
methods, which too many of them put in practice, to captivate the
hearts of the giddy and unthinking. It will raise in them a noble and
emulative zeal for literary studies, which will rescue them from the
odium that is too frequently, and too justly, cast on many of them,
of being pretty, but silly, prattling creatures. It is true courage
only that can raise in them such sentiments as shall preserve them the
esteem and affection of all, when the bloom of youth shall be lost in
the evening of life; when the lily and rose shall fade on their cheek,
and the beautiful form of their persons can be no longer admired.
"I have now, young ladies, given you my opinion of what really ought
to be considered as _true courage_ in your sex, and I hope it will
have some influence on your minds, as well as on your conduct in the
commerce of this busy world. It is not at all surprising, that you
young ladies should differ in your opinions on so delicate a question,
since _true courage_ is, in these times of refinement, considered in a
very different light to what it was in the remote ages of antiquity.
In order to amuse you, and perhaps instruct you, I shall beg your
attention to a piece of ancient history; from which you will judge what
was the barbarous ideas the ladies of antiquity had of true courage.
"Mithridates, king of Pontus, proving unsuccessful in the war in which
he was engaged against Lucullus, a Roman general, had shut up two of
his wives (for the custom of that country allowed of a plurality) and
two of his sisters, whom he most loved, in that part of his kingdom
which was the most remote from danger. At last, not being able to brook
the apprehensions of their falling into the hands of the Romans, he
sent orders to Bacchalides, a eunuch, to put them to death. The manner
in which they received this order, strongly marks the ideas the ladies
of those times and regions had of true courage.
"Berenice and Monimes were these unfortunate princesses. The first was
born in the island of Chio, and the other in Miletus, a city of Ionia,
towards the borders of Cairo, on the coast of the Ægean Sea. Monimes
was celebrated for the invincible resistance which she made to all
the offers of Mithridates, who was most violently in love with her,
and to which she never consented, till he had declared her queen, by
calling her his wife, and sending her the royal diadem--a ceremony
indispensable in the marriage of kings in that part of the world.
"However, even then she consented with reluctance, and only to gratify
the inclinations of her family, who were dazzled with the lustre of the
crown and power of Mithridates, who was at that time victorious and
loaded with glory. Monimes abandoned herself to a perpetual melancholy,
which the abject slavery in which Mithridates kept his wives, the
distance she then was from Greece, where she had no hopes of returning,
and perhaps too, a secret passion, which she always disguised, rendered
insurmountable.
"When Bacchalides had declared to them the fatal message, and that
they were at liberty to chuse what death appeared to them the most
easy, Monimes tore off the royal bandage which she always wore on her
head, and, fixing it round her neck, endeavoured to strangle herself;
but the bandage broke, and left her in a condition truly to be pitied.
'Unfortunate diadem,' said she, trampling it under her feet, 'thou hast
brought me to all my miseries! thou hast been witness of my slavery
and wretchedness! Why wouldst thou not at last help me to put an end
to them all?'--After having shown these marks of her resentment, she
snatched a dagger from the hand of Bacchalides, and sheathed it in her
bosom.
"Berenice swallowed the dreadful potion with astonishing resolution,
and obeyed, without murmuring, the frenzy of a barbarous lover.
"The king's two sisters, Statira and Roxana, followed the example of
Berenice. Roxana, after having a long time kept a profound silence,
swallowed the fatal draught, and died without uttering a single word.
As for Statira, after having shown her grief for the king's defeat, she
highly praised his conduct, and ordered Bacchalides to thank him for
thinking of her amidst the wreck of his affairs, and thereby securing
her, by a timely death, from the shameful slavery of the Romans."
Dr. Sherlock having now finished, the young ladies all rose and thanked
him for the instruction he had been pleased to give them. They assured
him, that they should in future endeavour to distinguish between the
_true courage_ of these modern times, and those in which lived the
wives and sisters of Mithridates.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
_The beautiful Statue._
One of the kings of Balsora proved unfortunate in the choice of his
queen, whose temper was as disgustful and displeasing as her person
was lovely and beautiful. Discontented with every one around her, she
made her own life miserable, and did all she could to interrupt the
happiness of others.
They had an only son, and his father began very early to turn his
thoughts, in what manner he should secure the young prince, when he
came of age, from forming a connection in matrimony so disagreeable
as his own. "If it should please Heaven," said he, "to spare my life
till my son shall attain the years of discretion, I then shall be able
properly to direct him in the search of a prudent wife; but, as there
is no certainty in human life, and as I may be taken from him in his
early days, before he can be capable of comprehending my admonitions,
I will leave proper instructions with my executors, who, I hope, will
fulfil my requests, when I shall be at rest in my peaceful grave."
In consequence of this resolution, the king took every precaution he
thought necessary in so important a business; and scarcely had he
finished his regulations, when the unrelenting decree of death summoned
him from this world to take up his eternal abode in the ever-blooming
regions of felicity.
No sooner was the king dead than his will was examined. By this it
was directed, that his son Achmet should be instructed in all the
principles of rigid virtue, and in every scientific accomplishment
necessary to form the mind of a wise and good prince. It was also
directed, that at the age of eighteen years he should be put in
possession of all his wealth, which was deposited in spacious vaults
under the palace. The will, however, strongly directed that these
vaults were not to be opened, under any pretence whatever, before the
appointed time, on pain of Achmet losing the whole contents of them.
It may easily be supposed what were the anxieties of a youthful mind,
while he waited with impatience for the arrival of that day, which
was to make him master of so many hidden treasures. At length the day
arrived, the vaults were opened, and the heart of Achmet leaped within
his bosom at the sight of such unbounded riches.
Amidst all this glare of profuse wealth, in one particular apartment of
the vault, the eye of Achmet was caught by the dazzling view of nine
pedestals of massy gold, on eight of which stood as many beautiful
adamantine statues.
Achmet could not help expressing his astonishment, where his father
could collect such uncommon and valuable curiosities. The ninth
pedestal, however, increased his surprise, and he could not conceive
why that alone should be without a statue on it. On going nearer to
it, he found it covered with a piece of satin, upon which were written
these words: "My dear Achmet, the acquisition of these statues has cost
your father much; yet, beautiful as they are, you see there is one
wanting, which is far more brilliant than either of those which now
present themselves to your view. This, however, must be sought for in
a remote quarter of the world, and, if you wish to be possessed of it,
you must depart for Cairo, in the kingdom of Egypt. You will there find
one Alibeg, formerly one of my slaves. Inform him who you are, and what
is your business. He will properly direct your pursuits after this
incomparable statue, the possession of which will make you one of the
happiest and greatest monarchs of the East."
As soon as Achmet had appointed proper persons to govern his kingdom in
his absence, he set out in quest of this grand object. He pursued his
journey without any thing particular happening; and, on his arrival at
Cairo, he soon found out the house of Alibeg, who was supposed to be
one of the richest persons in that city.
As Alibeg knew the time was nearly advanced, in which he was to expect
a visit from Achmet, the arrival of the latter at Cairo did not at all
surprise him. However, he appeared ignorant of the business; enquired
of him what brought him to that city, his name, and his profession.
To all these questions Achmet gave the most satisfactory answers; and
informed him, that it was a statue he was engaged in the pursuit of.