Shalmanezer, Prince of Cosman, stood on the threshold of manly life,
having just received a rich inheritance which had been left him by his
father.
He was a magnificent-looking creature—the very incarnation of manly
strength and beauty. The splendid poise of his limbs, the vigor and
litheness of his motions, the glorious light that flashed from his
splendid dark eyes, the bright joyous smiles that occasionally wreathed
his fresh young lips, and the finely-erect carriage of his head, were
enough to impress the beholder with the thought, “Here is an athlete
armed for a glorious strife!”
While Shalmanezer was thinking upon his rich inheritance and how he
should use it, he suddenly lifted his eyes and saw two strange-looking
personages standing near him. They both advanced towards Shalmanezer
when they saw their presence had attracted his attention.
The first one that approached the young man and addressed him, was named
Desire. He was a pleasant-looking youth, with a flushed face, and eager,
restless eyes. He looked as if he had been pursuing a journey, or had
been grasping at an object he had failed to obtain. There was something
in his manner that betrayed a want of rest—a look in his eyes which
seemed to say, “I am not satisfied.” But when he approached, he smiled
in the most seductive manner, and, reaching out his hand to Shalmanezer
said:
“I have come to welcome thee to man’s estate, and for thy enjoyment, I
have brought thee three friends who will lead thee into the brightest
paths, and press to thy lips the sweetest elixirs.”
Gladly the young man received the greeting of Desire, who immediately
introduced his three companions, whose names were, Pleasure, Wealth, and
Fame.—Pleasure was a most beautiful creature. Her lovely dark eyes
flashed out a laughing light; upon her finely-carved lips hovered the
brightest and sweetest smiles, which seemed ever ready to break into
merry ripples of laughter; her robe was magnificently beautiful, as if
it had imprisoned in its warp and woof the beauty of the rainbow and the
glory of the setting sun; in her hand she held a richly wrought chalice
in which sparkled and effervesced a ruby-colored liquid which was as
beautiful to the eye as it was pleasant to the taste. When Pleasure was
presented to Shalmanezer, she held out to him her cup and said in the
sweetest tones:
“Come, drink of my cup, it is sparkling and bright
As rubies distilled in the morning light;
A truce to sorrow and adieu to pain—
Here’s the cup to strengthen, soothe and sustain.”
Just as Shalmanezer was about to grasp the cup, the other personage
approached him. Her name was Peace, and she was attended by a mild,
earnest-looking young man called Self-Denial. In the calm depths of her
dark-blue eyes was a tender, loving light, and on her brow a majestic
serenity which seemed to say, “The cares of earth are at my feet; in
vain its tempests sweep around my path.” There was also a look of calm,
grand patience on the brow of her attendant, which gave him the aspect
of one who had passed through suffering unto Peace. Shalmanezer was
gazing eagerly on the fair young face of Pleasure, and about to quaff
the sparkling nectar, when Peace suddenly arrested his hand and
exclaimed:
“Beware of this cup! ’Neath its ruddy glow,
Is an undercurrent of shame and woe;
’Neath its sparkling sheen so fair and bright,
Are serpents that hiss, and adders that bite.”
The young man paused a moment, looked on the plain garb of Peace and
then on the enchanting loveliness of Pleasure, and, pushing aside the
hand of Peace with a scornful gesture, he said proudly and defiantly:
“I will follow Pleasure!”
Peace, thus repulsed, turned sadly away; and Self-Denial, wounded by
Shalmanezer’s rude rejection, bowed his head in silent sorrow and
disappeared from the scene.
As Peace departed, Shalmanezer eagerly grasped the cup of Pleasure and
pressed it to his lips, while she clasped her hand in his and said in a
most charming manner, “Follow me;” and then he went willingly to the
place where she dwelt.
As Shalmanezer approached the palace of Pleasure he heard the sweetest
music rising on the air in magnificent swells or sinking in ravishing
cadences; at his feet were springing the brightest and fairest flowers;
the sweetest perfumes were bathing the air with the most exquisite
fragrance; beautiful girls moved like visions of loveliness through the
mazy dance; rare old wines sparkled on the festal board; the richest
viands and most luscious fruits tempted the taste; and laughter, dance
and song filled the air with varied delights. For a while Shalmanezer
was enraptured with the palace of Pleasure. But soon he became weary of
its gay confusion. The merry ripples of laughter lost their glad
freshness; the once delightful music seemed to faint into strange
monotones—whether the defect was in his ear or in the music he could not
tell, but somehow it had ceased to gratify him; the constant flow of
merry talk grew strangely distasteful to him; the pleasant viands began
to pall upon his taste; at times he thought he detected a bitterness in
the rare old wines which Pleasure ever and anon presented to his lips,
and he turned wearily away from everything that had pleased his taste or
had charmed and entranced his senses.
Shalmanezer sat moodily wishing that Desire would return and bring with
him another attendant to whom he had been introduced when he had first
clasped hands with Pleasure, and whose name was Wealth. While he was
musing, he lifted up his eyes and saw Wealth and Desire standing at the
door of his Boudoir, and near them he saw the sweet loving face of
Peace, who was attended by Self-Denial. Peace was about to approach him,
but he repulsed her with an impatient frown, and turning to Desire he
said:
“I have grown weary of Pleasure, and I wish to be introduced to the
halls of Wealth.”
Taller, graver and less fair was Wealth, than her younger sister,
Pleasure. If the beauty of Pleasure could be compared to the vernal
freshness of Spring—that of Wealth suggested the maturity of golden
harvests, and ripe autumnal fruits. Like Pleasure, she was very richly
attired; a magnificent velvet robe fell in graceful folds around her
well-proportioned form; like prisms of captured light, the most
beautiful jewels gleamed and flashed in her hair; a girdle of the finest
and most exquisitely wrought gold was clasped around her waist; her
necklace and bracelets were formed of the purest jewels and finest
diamonds.—But there was something in her face which betokened a want
which all her wealth could not supply. There was a mournful restlessness
in her eye that at times seemed to border on the deepest sadness; and
yet, there was something so alluring in her manner, so dazzling in her
attire, and fascinating in her surroundings, that men would often
sacrifice time, talent, energy, and even conscience and manhood, to
secure her smiles and bask in her favor.
“Shalmanezer,” said Desire to Wealth, “has grown weary of thy sister,
Pleasure, and would fain dwell in thy stately halls. Is there aught to
hinder him from being one of thy favored guests?”
“Nothing at all,” said Wealth, smiling. “The rich inheritance left him
by his father has been increasing in value, and I am glad that he was
too wise to throw in Pleasure’s cup life’s richest gifts away.”
With these words she reached out her jewelled hand to Shalmanezer and
said, “Follow me!”
Weary of the halls of Pleasure, Shalmanezer gladly rose to follow
Wealth. As he was leaving, he paused a moment to bid adieu to Pleasure.
But she was so changed, that he did not recognize in the faded woman
with the weary, listless manner, dull eyes and hollow cheeks, the
enchanting girl, who, a few years before, had led him to her halls a
welcome and delighted guest. All was so changed. It seemed more like a
dream than a reality, that he had dwelt for years in what now seemed
like a disenchanted palace. The banquet table was strewn with broken and
tasteless fragments; the flowers had lost their fragrance and beauty,
and lay in piles of scentless leaves; the soft sweet music had fainted
into low breathed sighs, and silence reigned in the deserted halls where
dance and revelry and song had wreathed with careless mirth the bright
and fleeting hours.
“Come,” said Wealth, “my Chariot waits thee at the door.”
Without one pang of regret, Shalmanezer turned from the halls of
Pleasure, to ride with Wealth in her magnificent chariot.
As they drove along, Wealth showed Shalmanezer the smoke rising from a
thousand factories. Pausing a moment, she said:—“I superintend these
works and here are my subjects.”
Shalmanezer gazed on the colossal piles of brick and mortar, as those
castles of industry met his eye. Just then the bell rang, and he saw
issuing from amid the smoke and whir of machinery a sight that filled
his soul with deep compassion.
There were pale, sad-looking women wending their way home to snatch some
moment’s rest, and an humble meal before returning to their tasks. There
were weary-looking men, who seemed to be degenerating in mental strength
and physical vigor. There were young children who looked as if the warm
fresh currents of life in their veins had been touched with premature
decay. And saddest of all—he saw young girls who looked as if they were
rapidly changing from unsophisticated girlhood into over-ripe womanhood.
“Are these thy servants?” said Shalmanezer, sadly.
“These,” said Wealth, “are my servants, but not my favorites. In dark
mines—close factories—beneath low roofed huts—they dig the glittering
jewels, and weave the webs of splendor and beauty with which I adorn my
favorites. But I see that the sight pains thee. Let us pass on to fairer
scenes.”
Bending down to her finely-liveried coachman, she whispered in his ear,
and in a few minutes the factories, with their smoke and din, were left
behind. Beautiful lawns, lovely parks, and elegant residences rose
before the pleased eyes of Shalmanezer; beautiful children sported on
the lawns; lovely girls roamed in the parks; and the whole scene was a
bright contrast to those he had left behind.
At length they rode up an avenue of stately trees, and stopped at the
home of Wealth. “Here is my dwelling,” she said, “enter and be my
welcome guest.”
Shalmanezer accepted the invitation, and entering, gazed with delighted
wonder on the splendor and beauty of the place. On the walls hung most
beautiful pictures surrounded by the richest frames—rare creations of
the grand old masters; lovely statues suggested the idea of life
strangely imprisoned in marble; velvet carpets sank pleasantly beneath
his tread; elegant book cases, inlaid with ivory and pearl, held on the
shelves the grand and noble productions of the monarchs of mind who
still rule from their graves in the wide realms of thought and
imagination. In her halls were sumptuous halls for feasting; delightful
alcoves for thought and meditation; lovely little boudoirs for cozy
chats with cherished friends. Even religion found costly bibles and
splendidly embossed prayer books in the chambers of repose, where
beneath the softened light of golden lamps, the children of Wealth sank
to rest on beds of down.
“Surely,” said Shalmanezer, “he must be a strangely restless creature,
who cannot be satisfied in this home of beauty, grace and affluence.”
And yet, while he spake, he was conscious of a sense of unrest. He tried
to shake it off, but still it would return. He would find himself
sighing amid the fairest scenes—oppressed with a sense of longing for
something he could not define. His eye was not satisfied with seeing,
nor his ear with hearing. It seemed as if life had been presented to him
as a luscious fruit, and he had eagerly extracted its richest juices,
and was ready to throw away the bitter rind in hopeless disgust.
While he sat gloomily surveying the past, and feeling within his soul a
hunger which neither Wealth nor Pleasure could appease, he lifted his
eyes towards a distant mountain whose summit was crowned with perpetual
snows, although a thousand sunbeams warmed and cheered the vale below.
As he gazed, he saw a youth with a proud gait, buoyant step and flashing
eye, climbing the mount. In his hand he held a beautifully embossed
card, on which was written an invitation from Fame to climb her almost
inaccessible heights and hear the sweetest music that ever ravished
mortal ear. As the youth ascended the mount, Shalmanezer heard the
shouts of applause which were wafted to the ears of the young man, who
continued to climb with unabated ardor.
“Here,” said Shalmanezer, “is a task worthy of my powers. I have wasted
much of my time in the halls of Pleasure; I have grown weary of the
stately palaces of Wealth; I will go forth and climb the heights of
Fame, and find a welcome in the sun-crowned palaces of Renown. O, the
sight of that young man inspires my soul, and gives new tone and vigor
to my life. I will not pause another moment to listen to the
blandishments of Wealth. Instead of treading on these soft carpets, I
will brace my soul to climb the rugged heights to gaze upon the fair
face of Fame.”
Just as he was making this resolve, he saw Peace and her attendant
gazing anxiously and silently upon him. His face flushed with sudden
anger; a wrathful light flashed from his eyes; and turning his face
coldly from Peace, he said: “I do wish Peace would come without her
unwelcome companion—Self-Denial I do utterly and bitterly hate.” Peace
again repulsed, turned sadly away, followed by Self-Denial. With eager
haste Shalmanezer rose up and left the bowers of Ease and halls of
Pride, to tread the rugged heights of Fame, with patient, ready feet. As
he passed upward, new vigor braced his nerves. He felt an exhilaration
of spirits he had never enjoyed in the halls of Wealth or bowers of
Pleasure. Onward and upward he proudly moved, as the multitude, who
stood at the base, cheered him with rapturous applause, and no music was
ever so sweet to his ear as the plaudits of the crowd; but, as he
ascended higher and higher, the voices of the multitude grew fainter and
fainter; some voices that cheered him at the beginning of his journey
had melted into the stillness of death; others had harshened into the
rough tones of disapprobation; others were vociferously applauding a new
aspirant who had since started to climb the summit of Renown; but, with
his eye upon the palace of Fame, he still climbed on, while the air grew
rarer, and the atmosphere colder. The old elasticity departed from his
limbs, and the buoyancy from his spirits, and it seemed as if the chills
of death were slowly creeping around his heart. But still, with fainter
step he kept climbing upward, until almost exhausted, he sank down at
the palace-gate of Fame, exclaiming, “Is this all?”
Very stately and grand was the cloud-capped palace of Fame. The pillars
of her lofty abode were engraven with the names of successful generals,
mighty conquerors, great leaders, grand poets, illustrious men and
celebrated women. There were statues on which the tooth of Time was
slowly gnawing; the statues of men whose brows had once been surrounded
by a halo of glory, but were now darkened by the shadow of their crimes.
Those heights which had seemed so enchanting at a distance, now seemed
more like barren mounds, around which the chills of Death were ever
sweeping.
Fame heard the voice of her votary, and came out to place upon his brow
her greenest bays and brightest laurels, and bid him welcome to her
palace; but when she saw the deathly whiteness of his face, she shrank
back in pity and fear. The light was fading from his eye; his limbs had
lost their manly strength; and Fame feared that the torpor of Death
would overtake him before she could crown him as her honored guest. She
bent down her ear to the sufferer, and heard him whisper slowly, “Peace!
Peace!”
Then said Fame to her servants, “Descend to the vale, bring the best
medical skill ye can find, and search for Peace, and entreat her to
come; tell her that one of my votaries lies near to death, and longs for
her presence.” The servants descended to the vale, and soon returned,
bringing with them a celebrated physician.—Peace had heard the cry of
Shalmanezer, and had entered the room with her companion before the
doctor had come. When the physician saw Shalmanezer, he gazed anxiously
upon him, felt the fluttering pulse, and chafed the pale cold hands to
restore the warmth and circulation.
In the meantime, Pleasure and Wealth having heard the story of
Shalmanezer’s illness, entered the room. “There is but one thing,” said
the physician, “can save Shalmanezer’s life: some one must take the warm
healthy blood from his veins and inject it into Shalmanezer’s veins
before he can be restored to health.”
Pleasure and Wealth looked aghast when they heard the doctor’s
prescription. Pleasure suddenly remembered that she had a pressing
engagement; Wealth said “I am no longer young, nor even well, and am
sure I have not one drop of blood to spare;” Fame pitied her faithful
votary, but amid the cold blasts that swept around her home, was sure it
would be very imprudent for her to attempt to part with so much blood.
Just as Pleasure, Wealth and Fame had refused to give the needed aid,
Desire entered the room, but when he heard the conditions for the
restoration of Shalmanezer, shrank back in selfish dismay, and refused
also.
As Shalmanezer lay gasping for breath, and looking wistfully at his old
companions, Peace, attended by Self-Denial, drew near the sick man’s
couch. Shalmanezer opened his eyes languidly, and closed them wearily;
when life was like a joyous dream, he had repulsed Peace and utterly
hated Self-Denial, and what could he dare hope from either in his hour
of dire extremity. While he lay with his eyes half-closed, Self-Denial
approached the bedside, and baring his arm, said to the doctor:
“Here is thy needed remedy. Take the blood from these veins, and with it
restore Shalmanezer to health and strength.”
The doctor struck his lancet into Self-Denial’s arm, and drawing from it
the needed quantity of blood, injected it into Shalmanezer’s veins. The
remedy was effectual. Health flushed the cheeks of Shalmanezer, and
braced each nerve with new vigor, and he soon recovered from his fearful
exhaustion. Then his heart did cleave unto Self-Denial. He had won his
heart by his lofty sacrifice. He had bought his love by the blood from
his own veins. Clasping hands with Self-Denial, he trod with him the
paths of Peace, and in so doing, received an amount of true happiness
which neither Pleasure, Wealth nor Fame could give.
[Illustration]