(CONCLUDED.)
“Will Heaven permit such injustice to be practised?” exclaimed Bozaldab.
“Look again,” said the angel, “and behold the very ship in which,
short-sighted as thou art, thou wishedst the merchant might embark,
dashed in pieces on a rock: dost thou not hear the cries of the sinking
sailors? Presume not to direct the Governor of the Universe in his
disposal of events. The man whom thou hast pitied shall be taken from
this dreary solitude, but not by the method thou wouldst prescribe. His
vice was avarice, by which he became not only abominable, but wretched;
he fancied some mighty charm in wealth, which, like the wand of Abdiel,
would gratify every wish and obviate every fear. This wealth he has now
been taught not only to despise but abhor: he cast his jewels upon the
sand, and confessed them to be useless; he offered part of them to the
mariners, and perceived them to be pernicious: he has now learnt, that
they are useful or vain, good or evil, only by the situation and temper
of the possessor. Happy is he whom distress has taught wisdom! But turn
thine eyes to another and more interesting scene.”
The Calif instantly beheld a magnificent palace, adorned with the statues
of his ancestors wrought in jasper; the ivory doors of which, turning
on hinges of the gold of Golconda, discovered a throne of diamonds,
surrounded with the Rajas of fifty nations, and with ambassadors in
various habits, and of different complexions; on which sat Aboram, the
much-lamented son of Bozaldab, and by his side a princess fairer than a
Houri.
“Gracious Alla!—it is my son,” cried the Calif—“O let me hold him to
my heart!” “Thou canst not grasp an unsubstantial vision,” replied the
angel: “I have now shewn thee what would have been the destiny of thy
son, had he continued longer on the earth.” “And why,” returned Bozaldab,
“was he not permitted to continue? Why was not I suffered to be a witness
of so much felicity and power?” “Consider the sequel,” replied he that
dwells in the fifth heaven. Bozaldab looked earnestly, and saw the
countenance of his son, on which he had been used to behold the placid
simplicity and the vivid blushes of health, now distorted with rage, and
now fixed in the insensibility of drunkenness: it was again animated with
disdain, it became pale with apprehension, and appeared to be withered by
intemperance; his hands were stained with blood, and he trembled by turns
with fury and terror. The palace so lately shining with oriental pomp,
changed suddenly into the cell of a dungeon, where his son lay stretched
out on the cold pavement, gagged and bound, with his eyes put out. Soon
after he perceived the favourite Sultana, who before was seated by his
side, enter with a bowl of poison, which she compelled Aboram to drink,
and afterwards married the successor to his throne.
“Happy,” said Caloc, “is he whom Providence has by the angel of death
snatched from guilt! from whom that power is withheld, which, if he had
possessed, would have accumulated upon himself yet greater misery than it
could bring upon others.”
“It is enough,” cried Bozaldab; “I adore the inscrutable schemes of
omniscience!—From what dreadful evil has my son been rescued by a
death, which I rashly bewailed as unfortunate and premature; a death
of innocence and peace, which has blessed his memory upon earth, and
transmitted his spirit to the skies!”
“Cast away the dagger,” replied the heavenly messenger, “which thou wast
preparing to plunge into thine own heart. Exchange complaint for silence,
and doubt for adoration. Can a mortal look down, without giddiness and
stupifaction, in the vast abyss of Eternal Wisdom? Can a mind that sees
not infinitely, perfectly comprehend any thing among an infinity of
objects mutually relative? Can the channels, which thou commandest to be
cut to receive the annual inundations of the Nile, contain the waters
of the ocean? Remember, that perfect happiness cannot be conferred on
a creature; for perfect happiness is an attribute as incommunicable as
perfect power and eternity.”
The Angel, while he was speaking thus, stretched out his pinions to fly
back to the Empyreum; and the flutter of his wings was like the rushing
of a cataract.