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Les Bijoux Indiscrets, or, The Indiscreet Toys
CHAP. XXVIII.
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.
CHAP. XXIX.
The best perhaps, and the least read of this history
Mangogul's dream, or a voyage into the region of hypotheses
"Waa," says Mangogul, yawning and rubbing his eyes, "my head achs. Let nobody evermore talk philosophy to me. Such conversations are unwholsome. Last night I lay on empty ideas; and instead of sleeping like a Sultan, my brain work'd more than those of my ministers do in a year. You laugh; but to convince you that I do not exaggerate, and to take my revenge for the bad night which your reasonings gave me, I enjoin you the penance of hearing my dream in its full extent.
"As soon as I began to nod, and my imagination to take its flight, I saw an odd animal bounce by my side. He had the head of an eagle, the feet of a griffon, the body of a horse, and the tail of a lion. I seized him, notwithstanding his prancing; and holding by his mane, I nimbly sprung on his back. Immediately he spread out long wings, which issued from his flanks, and I felt myself carried in the air with incredible swiftness.
"After driving a vast way, I espied, in the emptiness of space, a building suspended as by enchantment. It was a vast one. I will not say that it was faulty in its foundation; for it had none. Its columns, which were not half a foot in diameter, ran up out of sight, and supported arches, which would not have been visible, were it not for the symmetrical lights made in them.
"At the entrance into this edifice it was that my beast first stop'd. At first I was in a doubt whether I should alight: for I apprehended less danger in sitting on my hippogriffon, than in walking under this portico. However, encouraged by the multitude of its inhabitants, and by a remarkable security, which was predominant in their countenances, I alight, go forward, mix with the crowd, and make my observations on those that composed it.
"They were old men, either bloated or feeble; without Embonpoint and strength, and almost all deform'd. The head of one was too little, the arms of another too short. One was hump-back'd, another bandy-legg'd. Most of them had no feet, and walk'd on crutches. A breath threw them down, and they remain'd on the ground, till some new comer was pleased to lift them up. All these defects notwithstanding, they pleased at first sight. They had in their physiognomy somewhat engaging and confident. They were almost naked: for all their cloathing consisted of a small rag of stuff, which did not cover the hundredth part of their body.
"I continued to pierce the crowd, and got to the foot of a rostrum, for which a cobweb served as a canopy. The boldness of this rostrum was of a piece with that of the building. To me it seemed placed on the point of a needle, and to support itself there in æquilibrio. I trembled a hundred times for the person, who was in it. He was an old man, with a long beard, as wither'd and naked as any of his disciples: he had a cup full of a subtil fluid before him, into which he dipp'd a straw-pipe; then put it to his mouth, and blew bubbles to a crowd of spectators around him, who were using their utmost endeavours to drive them up to the clouds.
"'Where am I?' said I to myself, all in confusion at these childish tricks. 'What means this blower of bubbles, and all these decrepit infants employ'd in making them fly about? Who will let me into the secret of these things?' – Besides, the little scraps of stuff had struck me; and I observed that the larger they were, the less those that wore them interested themselves in the bubbles. This singular remark embolden'd me to accost him, who was the least undress'd of the company.
"I saw one, whose shoulders were half covered with pieces so well fitted together, that the seams were not to be seen. He walk'd forward and backward in the crowd, with very little concern for what they were doing. He had an affable air, a smiling mouth, a noble gait, a mild look; and I went directly to him, and asked him without ceremony: 'Who are you? Where am I? And who are all these folks?' – He answered, 'I am Plato. You are in the region of hypotheses, and these folks are systematics.' 'But by what chance,' replied I, 'is the divine Plato here, and what does he do among these madmen?' – 'Raising recruits,' said he. 'At a distance from this Portico I have a sanctuary, whither I conduct those who abandon systems.' 'And how do you employ them?' 'In knowing man, practising virtue, and sacrificing to the graces' – 'These are noble employments: but what mean these shreds of fluff, whereby you look more like beggers than philosophers?' – 'Oh! what a question do you propose to me,' said he with a sigh, 'and what thoughts do you bring back to my mind? This temple was formerly that of philosophy. Alas! how much this place is changed! The chair of Socrates was here.' – 'How,' said I, interrupting him, 'had Socrates a straw, and did he blow bubbles?' – 'No, no,' replied Plato, 'it was not by such means that he merited of the Gods the name of the wisest of men. His constant occupation, during life, was forming heads and hearts. The secret was lost at his death. Socrates died, and the bright days of philosophy were no more. These pieces of stuff, which those very systematics think it an honour to wear, are scraps of his garment. Scarcely had his eyes been closed, when those, who aspired to the title of philosophers, seized his robe, and tore it in pieces.' 'I understand,' said I, 'these pieces served as tickets both to them and their long posterity.' – 'Who will collect these scraps,' continued Plato, 'and restore us Socrates's robe?
"While he was uttering these words, I saw at a distance a child walking towards us in a slow but sure pace. He had a little head, slender body, weak arms and short legs: but all these parts increased in all dimensions, according as he came forward. In the progress of his successive growth, he appear'd to me under a hundred different forms; I saw him directing a long telescope towards the heavens, estimating the fall of bodies by means of a pendulum, determining the weight of the air by a tube fill'd with quicksilver, and discomposing light with a prism. He was now become an enormous Colossus: his head touch'd the heavens, his feet were lost in the abyss, and his arms reach'd from one to the other pole. With his right hand he brandished a torch, whose light spread a vast way in the sky, enlightened even the bottom of the waters, and penetrated into the entrails of the earth. I ask'd Plato, what that gigantic figure was, that was coming towards us. 'It is experience,' said he. Scarcely had he made me this short answer, when I saw experience draw near, and the columns of the portico of hypotheses to shake, its arches to sink in, and its pavement to crack under our feet. 'Let us fly,' said Plato, 'let us fly: this edifice has but a moment to stand.' At these words he departs, and I follow him. The Colossus arrives, strikes the portico, it tumbles down with a frightful noise, and I awake."
"Ah! Prince," cried Mirzoza, "'tis you that ought to dream. I would indeed be very glad, that you had had a good night: but now that I know your dream, I should be very sorry that you had not dream'd it."
"Madam," said Mangogul, "I could point out nights better spent than that of this dream, which gives you so much pleasure; and if I had been master of making the journey, or not; it is very probable, that, not hoping to find you in the country of hypotheses, I should have bent my course elsewhere. And then, either I should not have the head-ach, which I actually feel, or at least I should have reason to make myself easy under it."
"Prince," replied Mirzoza, "it is to be hoped, that it will soon go off; and that one or two experiments of your ring will rid you of it." "I must try," said Mangogul. The conversation lasted some time longer between the Sultan and Mirzoza; so that he did not quit her till eleven, when he went upon the expedition related in the following chapter.
CHAP. XXX.
Fourteenth trial of the Ring.
The mute Toy
Of all the ladies, who shone at the Sultan's court, none had more charms and wit than young Egle, the wife of his highness's great cupbearer. She was of all Mangogul's parties, who was much taken with the chearfulness of her conversation: and as if there could be neither pleasure nor amusement without Egle, she was also of all the parties of the grandees of his court. Balls, public diversions, drawing rooms, feasts, private suppers, hunting matches, play, every where Egle was invited, and every where she appear'd: it seem'd as if the taste of amusements multiplied her, according to the will of those who desired her company. Wherefore it is needless to say, that if no woman was as much sought after as Egle, there was none so diffused.
She had been always pursued by a crowd of lovers, and people were persuaded that she had not treated them all with severity. Whether it were inadvertence, or thorough good nature, her common politeness frequently resembled premeditated regard: and those who endeavour'd to gain her, sometimes read affection in her eyes, when she never intended more than affability. Neither caustic, nor detracting, she never open'd her mouth but to say pleasing things: which she did with such spirit and vivacity, that on several occasions, her encomiums raised a suspicion that she had a choice to justify. Thus it appears, that those, of whom Egle was the ornament and delight, were unworthy of her.
It was natural to think, that a woman, in whom no fault perhaps was to be found, but an excess of goodness, ought to have no enemies. Yet she had some, and very bitter ones. The devouts of Banza found that she had too free an air, and somewhat too loose in her carriage; saw nothing in her conduct but a rage of worldly pleasures; inferred thence, that her morals were equivocal at least, and charitably insinuated this to all those that would hear them.
The court ladies did not treat Egle with greater tenderness. They suspected her intimacies, gave her gallants, even honored her with some great adventures, made her a party concerned in others: they knew particulars, and quoted witnesses. "Good," whispered they, "she has been surprized tête à tête with Melraim in one of the groves of the great park. Egle does not want wit," added they; "but Melraim has too much good sense to be amused with her speeches alone, at ten at night, in a grove." – "You are mistaken," said a Petit-Maitre, "I have walked with her a hundred times in the dusk of the evening, and found my account in it. But à propos, do you know that Zulemar is daily at her toilette?" – "Doubtless, we know it, and that she has no toilette but when her husband is in waiting at court." – "Poor Celebi," continued another, "indeed his wife advertises him by the aigrette and diamond buckles, which she received of the pacha Ismael." – "Is that true, madam?" – "It is strict truth, I have it from her own mouth: but in the name of Brama let this go no farther. Egle is my friend, and I should be very sorry" – "Alas," cried a third sorrowfully, "the poor little creature ruins herself very chearfully. A great pity truly. But twenty intrigues at a time, that seems rather too much."
The Petits-Maitres were not more sparing of her. One related a hunting match, in which she and he lost themselves together. Another, out of respect for the sex, suppress'd the consequences of a very smart conversation he held with her at a masquerade, where he met her. A third made a panegyric on her wit and charms, and ended it by shewing her portrait, which he declared he had from the best hands. "This portrait," said a fourth, "is more like her than that, of which she made a present to Jenaki."
These stories at length came to her husband's ears. Celebi loved his wife, but still with such decency, that no body had the least suspicion of it. He repulsed the first reports, but they return'd to the charge from so many quarters, that he thought his friends more clear-sighted than himself: and the more liberty he had granted to Egle, the more he suspected that she had abused it. Jealousy took possession of his soul. He began by cramping his wife. Egle bore this change of behaviour with the greater impatience, as she was conscious of her innocence. Her vivacity and the advices of her female friends, hurried her into inconsiderate deportment, which made all the appearances turn against her, and had like to cost her her life. The violent Celebi for some time rack'd his brain with a thousand projects of revenge, steel, poison, the fatal noose, &c. and at length resolved on a slower and more cruel punishment, by confining her to his country seat: which is death indeed to a court lady. In a word, orders are given: Egle is inform'd of her destiny: he is insensible to her tears and deaf to her reasons, and she is banish'd two hundred miles from Banza, to an old castle, where she is allowed no other company than two maids and four black eunuchs, who continually watch her.
Scarcely was she set out, when she was innocent. The Petits-Maitres forgot her adventures; the women forgave her her wit and charms, and all the world bemoaned her. Mangogul was apprized, from Celebi's own mouth, of his motives for the dreadful resolution he had taken against his wife, and seem'd to be the only person that approved it.
The wretched Egle had already groaned near six months under her exile, when Kerfael's adventure happened. Mirzoza wish'd she might prove innocent, but durst not indulge those flattering hopes. However, she one day said to the Sultan: "Prince, might not your ring, which has saved Kerfael's life, put an end to Egle's banishment? But I forget myself: in order to that, her Toy should be consulted; and the poor recluse is dying with grief two hundred miles hence." – "You interest yourself much," answered Mangogul, "in Egle's fate." "Yes Prince," said Mirzoza; "especially if she is innocent." "You shall have tydings of this affair within an hour," replied Mangogul. "Do you not remember the properties of my ring?" – At these words, he went into the garden, turn'd his ring, and in less than fifteen minutes was in the park of the castle wherein Egle dwelt.
There he espied Egle alone and overwhelm'd with sorrow: her head was leaning on her hand, she was tenderly repeating her husband's name, and with her tears she was watering the green turf, on which she sate. Mangogul drawing near turn'd his ring on her, and Egle's Toy said in a mournful strain: "I love Celebi." The Sultan waited for the sequel; but as it came not, he had recourse to his ring, which he rubb'd two or three times against his hat, before he levell'd it on Egle: but his labour was vain. The Toy repeated: "I love Celebi," and stop'd short. "There is a very discreet Toy," said the Sultan. "Let us try once more, and ply it closer." Whereupon he gave to his ring all the energy, which it was capable of receiving, and turn'd it nimbly on Egle: but her Toy continued mute. It either constantly kept silence, or broke it only by repeating these plaintive words: "I love Celebi, and have never loved any other man."
Mangogul, being thoroughly satisfied, returned to Mirzoza in fifteen minutes. "What, Prince," said she, "return'd already. Well, what have you learnt? Do you bring fresh matter for our conversations?" "I bring nothing," answered the Sultan. "What! nothing?" – "Nothing at all. I never knew a Toy so silent: I could get nothing from it but these words. 'I love Celebi, I love Celebi, and have never loved any other man.'" "Ah! Prince," replied Mirzoza with vivacity, "what do you tell me? What happy news! There is one virtuous woman found at last. Will you suffer her to remain longer miserable?" "No," answered Mangogul: "her banishment shall be at an end, but have you no apprehensions that it may be at the expence of her virtue? Egle is chaste, but consider, my heart's delight, what you require of me; to re-call her to my court, in order that she may continue so: however you shall be satisfied."
The Sultan sent for Celebi immediately, and told him; that having made a strict inquiry into the reports spread abroad concerning Egle, he had found them false and calumnious, and commanded him to bring her back to court. Celebi obey'd, and presented his wife to Mangogul: she was going to throw herself at his highness's feet, but the Sultan stopping her said: "Madam, thank Mirzoza. Her friendship for you determined me to clear up the truth of the facts imputed to you. Continue to embellish my court; but remember that a pretty woman sometimes does herself as much mischief by acts of imprudence, as by adventures."
The very next day Egle waited on the Manimonbanda, who received her with a smile. The Petits-Maitres redoubled their insipidities towards her, and the women all ran to embrace and give her joy, and began again to tear her in pieces.
