_Seventeenth trial of the Ring._
The Comedy.
Had the taste of good declamation been known in Congo, there were some
comedians who might well be spared. Of thirty persons which composed
the band, there was but one great actor, and two tolerable actresses.
The genius of authors was obliged to comply with the mediocrity of the
greatest number; and there was no room to hope, that a play would be
performed with any tolerable success, without taking care to model the
characters on the defects of the comedians. This is what was meant in
my time by the custom of the stage. Formerly the actors were made for
the pieces; but now the pieces were made for the actors. If you offer'd
a new play, to be sure it underwent an examination, to know whether
the subject was engaging, the intrigue well connected, the characters
supported, and the diction pure and flowing: but if there were no parts
for Roscius and Amiana, it was refused.
The Kislar Agasi, superintendant of the Sultan's pleasures, had packed
a company of players together, as he could find them; and this was the
first representation of a new tragedy at the Seraglio. It was composed
by a modern author, who had gain'd such reputation, that tho' his piece
had been but a string of impertinences, it would assuredly have met
with a favorable reception. But he did not debase his character. His
work was well written, his scenes conducted with art, his incidents
managed with dexterity, the interest went on increasing, and the
passions in being developed. The acts, naturally link'd together, and
full, constantly held the audience in suspence with regard to the
sequel, and satisfied with what was past: and they were got to the
fourth act of this master-piece, to a very moving scene, which was
a preparation to another still more interesting; when Mangogul, in
order to save himself from the ridicule of listening to the tender
parts, pull'd out his glass, and acting the inattentive, surveyed the
several boxes. In the front box he observed a woman in great emotion,
but of an ill-timed sort, as having no relation to the piece. His
ring was instantly levelled at her, and in the midst of most pathetic
commendations, a Toy, panting for breath, was heard addressing the
player in these terms:
"Ah!----Ah!----Pray stop, Orgogli;----you melt me
excessively----Ah!----Ah!----There's no bearing it.----"
The audience listened, and look'd towards the place whence the voice
proceeded: and the word ran thro' the pit, that it was a Toy that
made the speech. "Which Toy," says one, "and what has it said?" And
without waiting for an answer, there was a general clap and cry:
_Encore, encore_. The author, who was behind the scenes, fearing that
this unlucky accident might interrupt the representation of his piece,
foamed with rage, and gave the whole race of Toys to Belzebub. The
noise was great and lasting; and had it not been for the respect due
to the Sultan, the play would have stop'd short at this incident: but
Mangogul made a sign for silence; the actors resumed their parts, and
went thro' the play.
The Sultan, curious to know the consequences of so public a
declaration, caused the Toy that made it, to be observed. Word was soon
brought him, that the player was to go from the stage to Eriphila's
house. He prevented him, thanks to the power of his ring, and was in
this lady's appartment when Orgogli sent in his name.
Eriphila was under arms, that is, in an amorous _deshabillé_, and
wantonly stretch'd on a couch. The comedian entered with a solemn,
haughty, insipid air of a conqueror. With the left hand he waved a
plain hat with a white feather in it, and caressed his nostrils and
upper lip with the tops of the fingers of his right hand, a very
theatrical gesture, which was admired by Connoisseurs. His bow was
cavalier, and his compliment familiar. "Oh! my queen," cried he, in an
affected tone, stooping to Eriphila, "what a trim you are in! But do
you know that in that careless garb you are adorable.----"
The tone of this scoundrel shock'd Mangogul. The prince was young,
and might possibly be ignorant of certain customs----"Then you like
me, my dear," answered Eriphila. "To ravishment, I tell you."--"That
gives me great joy. I wish you would repeat that passage which raised
such emotions in me a while ago. That passage----there----yes----it is
that same----How seducing a rogue he is?----But go on; that moves me
strangely."
In pronouncing these words, Eriphila darted such glances on her hero,
as bespoke every thing, and stretch'd out her hand to him, which the
impertinent Orgogli kissed by way of acquittance. Prouder of his talent
than of his conquest, he declaimed with emphasis, and the lady was so
enraptur'd, that one minute she conjur'd him to continue, and the next
to stop. Mangogul judging by her looks, that her Toy would willingly
play its part in this rehearsal, chose rather to guess at the rest of
the scene, than to be present at it. He disappear'd, and return'd to
the favorite, who expected him.
On the recital which the Sultan made her of this adventure,----"Prince,
what do you say?" cried she. "Then the women are fallen into the lowest
degree of meanness! A comedian, the slave of the public! A buffoon!
Well, if those folks had nothing against them but their state of life:
but most of them have neither morals nor sentiments; and even among
them, that Orgogli is but a machine. He has never thought, and if
he had not learn'd some parts in plays, perhaps he would never have
spoken.----"
"Delight of my heart," replied Mangogul, "you run into lamentations
without considering the matter sufficiently. Then have you forgot
Haria's pack? By Jove, a comedian, I think, is as good as a pug-dog."
"You say right, prince," resumed the favorite. "I am a fool for
interesting myself for creatures that do not deserve it. Let Palabria
idolize her boobies! Let Salica have her vapors treated by Farfadi
in her own way! Let Haria live and dye among her dogs! Let Eriphila
abandon herself to all the buffoons of Congo! What is all this to me?
I only risque a castle thereby. Nay, I perceive that I must have no
thoughts of it, and I have taken my resolution accordingly."
"Farewell then the little monkey," says Mangogul.
"Farewell the little monkey," replies Mirzoza; "and the good opinion
which I had conceived of my sex; I believe I shall never resume it.
Prince, you will allow me not to suffer a women to enter these doors
this fortnight at least."
"But you must have some company," added the Sultan.
"I shall enjoy your company, or please myself in expecting it," replied
the favourite: "and if any moments remain on my hands, I shall dispose
of them in favor of Ricaric and Selim, who are attached to me, and
whose conversation I love. When I happen to be tired of the erudition
of my lecturer, your courtier will divert me with the adventures of his
youth."