_Thirteenth trial of the Ring._
The Little Mare.
I am not a great portrait-maker. I have exempted the reader from that
of the favorite Sultana; but I can never condescend to remit him that
of the Sultan's mare. She was of a middling size, and had a pretty
good gait; the chief fault found with her in that regard was, that
she did not bridle her head sufficiently. Her colour was white, with
blue eyes, small hoofs, clean legs, firm hams, and light haunches.
She had been taught to dance for a long time, and she made her bows
like a master of the ceremonies. Upon the whole she was a pretty beast
enough, and remarkably gentle: she was easily mounted, but one must be
an excellent horseman to be able to keep the saddle. She had belong'd
to the senator Aaron: but on a fine evening the skittish creature
took fright, threw the judge, and ran full speed to the Sultan's
studs, carrying with her the saddle, bridle, furniture, housings and
caparisons of value; which became her so well, that it was not thought
proper to send them back.
Mangogul went into his stables, accompanied by his first secretary
Ziguezague. "Listen attentively," said he, "and write."----That
very instant he turn'd his ring on the mare, which fell to leaping,
prancing, kicking, bouncing, and neighing under the tail.----"Where
are your thoughts," said the prince to his secretary, "write
then."----"Sultan," replied Ziguezague, "I wait till your highness
begins."----"My mare," says Mangogul, "will dictate to you this once,
write."
Ziguezague, whom this order reduced too low in his own opinion,
assumed the liberty of representing to the Sultan, that he would
always esteem it a high honour to be his secretary, but not that of
his mare. "Write, I tell you," said the Sultan again. "Prince, I
cannot," replied Ziguezague: "I know not the orthography of this sort
of words."----"Write however," said the Sultan once more----"I am
excessively mortified, to be obliged to disobey your highness," added
Ziguezague; "but"----"But you are a scoundrel," interrupted Mangogul,
incensed at a refusal so much out of place; "quit my palace, and never
appear there more."
Poor Ziguezague disappear'd, having learn'd by experience, that a man
of spirit ought not to enter the palaces of most part of the great,
without leaving his sentiments at the gate. His deputy was called. He
was a Provencal, frank, honest, and thoroughly disinterested. He flew
whither he thought his duty and fortune called him, made a low bow to
the Sultan, a lower still to his mare, and wrote every thing that the
beast vouchsafed to dictate.
I must beg leave to refer those, who are curious to know her
discourse, to the archives of Congo. This prince immediately ordered
copies of it to be distributed among all his interpreters and
professors of foreign languages, both ancient and modern. One said,
that it was a scene of some old Greek tragedy, which to him appear'd
very moving; another, by the strength of his genius discovered, that
it was an important fragment of Egyptian theology: a third pretended,
that it was the Exordium of Hannibal's funeral oration in the Punic
language; and a fourth asserted, that the piece was writ in Chinese,
and that it was a very devout prayer to Confucius.
While the Litterati were trying the Sultan's patience with their
learned conjectures, he recollected Gulliver's travels, and made no
doubt, but that a person, who had lived so long as this Englishman,
in an island, where horses have a government, laws, kings, gods,
priests, a religion, temples and altars, and who seemed so perfectly
well instructed in their manners and customs, was a thorough master of
their language. Accordingly Gulliver read and interpreted the mare's
discourse off hand, notwithstanding the orthographical errors, with
which it abounded. Nay, it is the only good translation of it in all
Congo. Mangogul learned for his own private satisfaction, and for the
honour of his system, that it was an historical abridgment of the
amours of an old Pacha of three tails with the little mare, which
had been attack'd by an infinite number of jack-asses before him: a
singular anecdote, the truth of which however was not unknown, either
to the Sultan, or to any other person at court, at Banza, and in the
rest of the empire.