The Indiscreet Jewels

Zima, embrace the moment. The Aga Narkis entertains your mother, and your governess is upon the watch in a balcony for your father’s return: take, read, fear nothing. But even though the Bijoux indiscrets should be found behind your toilet, do you think it would be a matter of wonder? No, Zima, no; it is well known, that Le Sopha, the Tanzai, and the Confessions have been under your pillow. Do you hesitate still? Know then, that Aglaé has not disdained to set her hand to the work, which you blush to accept. “Aglaé,” say you, “the sober Aglaé!”—The same. While Zima was straying with, or perhaps contriving how to get rid of the young Bonza Alleluia; Aglaé amused herself innocently, by relating to me the adventures of Zaide, Alphana, Fannia, etc.—furnished me with the few strokes, which please me in the history of Mangogul, revised it, and pointed me out the means of making it better: for if Aglaé is one of the most virtuous and least edifying women in Congo; she is likewise one of the least jealous of wit, and one of the most witty. Can Zima now think, that it becomes her to play the scrupulous? Once more, Zima, take, read, read all; even without excepting the narrative of the Rambling Toy, which may be interpreted to you, without any expense to your virtue, provided the interpreter be neither your spiritual director nor your lover.

I

Birth of Mangogul

Hiaouf Zeles Tanzai had already reigned long in great Chechianea, and this voluptuous prince still continued to be the delight of his subjects. Acajou king of Minutia had undergone the fate predicted by his father: Zulmis was no more: the Count De ——— was still living: Splendidus, Angola, Misapouf and some other potentates of the Indies and Asia were carried off by sudden deaths. The people tired of obeying weak sovereigns, had shaken off the yoke of their posterity; and the descendants of those unfortunate monarchs rambled unknown, or not regarded, in the provinces of their empires. The grandson of the illustrious Scheherazad was the only one who maintain’d his throne: and he was obeyed in Indostan by the name of Schach Baam, at the time when Mangogul was born in Congo. Thus it appears, that the death of several sovereigns was the mournful epoch of his birth.

His father Erguebzed did not summon the Fairies round the cradle of his son; because he had observed, that most of the princes of his time, who had been educated by these female intelligences, were no better than fools. He contented himself with ordering his nativity to be calculated by one Codindo, a person fitter for a portrait than an acquaintance.

Codindo, was head of the college of Soothsayers at Banza, the ancient capital of the empire. Erguebzed had settled a large pension on him, and had granted to him and his descendants, on account of the merit of their great uncle, who was an excellent cook, a magnificent castle on the frontiers of Congo. Codindo was appointed to observe the flight of birds, and the state of the heavens, and to make a report thereof at court: which office he executed very indifferently. If it be true, that they had at Banza the best theatrical pieces, and the worst playhouses in all Africa; in return they had the most beautiful college in the world, and the most wretched predictions.

Codindo, informed of the business for which he was summoned to Erguebzed’s palace, set out much embarrassed; for the poor man could no more read the stars than you or I. He was expected with impatience. The principal lords of the court were assembled in the apartment of the great Sultana. The ladies, magnificently dress’d, stood round the infant’s cradle. The courtiers were hurrying to congratulate with Erguebzed on the great things, which he was undoubtedly on the point of hearing concerning his son. Erguebzed was a father, and thought it quite natural, to discern in the unform’d lines of an infant, what he was to be. Infine, Codindo arrived. “Draw near,” says Erguebzed to him: “as soon as heaven had granted me the prince before you, I ordered the instant of his birth to be exactly registered, and without doubt you have been informed of it. Speak sincerely to your Master, and tell him boldly the destiny which heaven has reserved for his Son.”

“Most magnanimous Sultan,” answered Codindo, “the prince, born of parents equally illustrious and happy, can have no other than a great and fortunate destiny: but I should impose on your highness, if I plumed myself with a science which I do not possess. The stars rise and set for me as for the rest of mankind; and I am not more enlightened in futurity by their means, than the most ignorant of your subjects.”

“But,” replied the Sultan, “are you not an astrologer?”

“Magnanimous prince,” answered Codindo, “I have not that honour.”

“What the devil are you then?” says the old, but passionate Erguebzed. “An Aruspex! By the heavens I did not imagine, that you had so much as thought of it. Believe me, Seigneur Codindo, suffer your poultry to feed in quiet, and pronounce on the fate of my son, as you lately did on the cold of my wife’s parrot.”

Codindo immediately drew a glass out of his pocket, took the infant’s left ear, rubb’d his eyes, turn’d his spectacles again and again, peep’d at that ear, did the like to the right ear, and pronounced, “that the young prince’s reign would be happy, if it proved long.”

“I understand you,” replied Erguebzed: “my son will do the finest things in the world, if he has time. But, zounds! what I want to have told me is, that he will have time. What matter is it to me, after he is dead, that he would have been the greatest prince upon earth, had he lived. I have sent for you to cast my son’s horoscope, and you make me his funeral oration.”

Codindo assured the prince, that he was sorry he was not more knowing; but beseeched his highness to consider, that his knowledge was sufficient for the little time he had been a conjurer. In effect, the moment before, what was Codindo?

II

Education of Mangogul

I will pass lightly over Mangogul’s first years. The infancy of princes is the same with that of the rest of mankind; with this difference, however, that princes have the gift of saying a thousand pretty things, before they can speak. Thus before Erguebzed’s son was full four years old, he furnished matter for a volume of Mangogulana. Erguebzed, who was a man of sense, and was resolved that his son’s education should not be so much neglected as his own had been, sent betimes for all the great men in Congo; as, painters, philosophers, poets, musicians, architects, masters of dancing, mathematics, history, fencing, etc. Thanks to the happy dispositions of Mangogul, and to the constant lessons of his masters, he was ignorant in nothing of what a young prince is wont to learn the first fifteen years of his life; and at the age of twenty he could eat, drink, and sleep, as completely as any potentate of his age.

Erguebzed, whose weight of years began to make him feel the weight of his crown, tired with holding the reins of the empire, frighted at the disturbances which threatened it, full of confidence in the superior qualifications of Mangogul, and urged by sentiments of religion, sure prognostics of the approaching death or imbecility of the great, descended from the throne, to seat his son thereon: and this good prince thought he was under an obligation of expiating, by a retirement, the crimes of the most just administration, of which there is any account in the annals of Congo.

Thus it was, that in the year of the world 15,000,000,032,000,021, of the empire of Congo 390,000,070,003, began the reign of Mangogul, the 1,234,500 of his race in a direct line. Frequent conferences with his ministers, wars carried on, and the management of affairs, taught him in a very short time what remained for him to know at getting out of the hands of his pedagogues; and that was somewhat.

However, in less than ten years Mangogul acquired the reputation of a great man. He gained battles, stormed towns, enlarged his empire, quieted his provinces, repaired the disorder of his finances, restored arts and sciences, raised edifices, immortalized himself by useful establishments, strengthened and corrected the legislative power, even founded academies; and, what his university could never comprehend, he executed all these great things, without knowing one word of Latin.

Mangogul was not less amiable in his Seraglio than great on the throne. He did not take it into his head to regulate his conduct by the ridiculous customs of his country. He broke the gates of the palaces inhabited by his women; he drove out those injurious guards of their virtue; he prudently confided in themselves for their fidelity: the entrance into their apartments was as free for men as into those of the canonesses of Flanders; and doubtless their behaviour as decent. Oh! how good a Sultan he was! There never was his equal, but in some French romance. He was mild, affable, cheerful, gallant, of a charming figure, a lover of pleasures, cut out for them, and contained more wit and sense in his head, than had been in those of all his predecessors put together.

’Tis easy to judge that, with such uncommon merit, a number of the sex aspired to make him their conquest: Some few succeeded. Those who miss’d his heart, endeavour’d to console themselves with the grandees of the court. Young Mirzoza was of the number of the former. I shall not amuse myself with detailing the qualities and charms of Mirzoza: the work would be without end, and I am resolved that this history shall have one.

III

Which May Be Regarded as the First of This History

Mirzoza had already fixed Mangogul for some years. These lovers had said, and a thousand times repeated, all that a violent passion suggests to persons who have the most wit. They were got as far as confidences, and they would impute it to themselves as a crime, to conceal the most minute circumstance of their lives from each other. These singular suppositions, “If heaven, which has placed me on the throne, had given me an obscure low birth, would you have deign’d to descend down to me, would Mirzoza have crown’d me?”

“Should Mirzoza happen to lose the few charms which she is thought to have, would Mangogul love her still?” These suppositions, I say, which exercise the fancy of ingenious lovers, which sometimes make tender lovers quarrel, and frequently oblige the most sincere lovers to tell untruths, were quite worn out between our pair.

The favorite, who possess’d in a supreme degree, the necessary and uncommon talent of making a good narrative, had drained the scandalous history of Banza. As she had not the best constitution, she was not always disposed to receive the Sultan’s caresses, nor he always in the humour of offering them. In short, there were some days, in which Mangogul and Mirzoza had little to say, hardly anything to do, and in which, without any diminution of love, they amused themselves but indifferently. Those days were rare indeed, but there were some; and this was one of them.

The Sultan was carelessly stretch’d on a sofa, opposite to the favorite, who was knotting in silence. The weather did not permit them to take a walk. Mangogul would not venture to propose a party of piquet; and this posture had lasted near a quarter of an hour, when the Sultan, yawning several times, said, “It must be allowed, that Geliotta sung like an angel.”

“And that your highness is tired to death,” answered the favorite.

“No, Madam,” replied Mangogul, endeavouring to smother a yawn, “the minute that one sees you, is not that of tiresomeness.”

“If that is not a polite compliment, ’tis nobody’s fault but your own,” rejoin’d Mirzoza: “but you ponder, you are absent, you yawn. Prince, what ails you?”

“I know not,” said the Sultan.

“But I guess,” continued the favorite. “I was eighteen, when I had the good fortune to please you. It is full four years since you began to love me. Eighteen and four make twenty-two. Therefore I am now very old.” Mangogul smiled at this calculation. “But if I am no longer worth anything for pleasure,” added Mirzoza, “I will at least demonstrate that I am very good for advice. The variety of amusements which attend you, has not been able to secure you against disgust. You are disgusted. Prince, there is your disease.”

“I do not allow, that you have hit it off,” says Mangogul: “but supposing you have, do you know a remedy?” Mirzoza answered the Sultan, after a moment’s pause, that his highness seem’d to take so much pleasure at the narratives she made him of the gallantries of the town, that she was sorry she had no more to relate to him, or that she was not better informed of those of the court; that she would have tried that expedient, till she thought of somewhat better. “I think it a good one,” says Mangogul: “But who knows the stories of all those fools; and though they were known to any, who could relate them like you?”

“Let us learn them however,” replied Mirzoza. “Whosoever it be that tells them, I am certain that your highness will gain more by the matter, than you will lose by the form.”

“I shall join with you, if you please, in fancying the adventures of the court ladies very diverting,” says Mangogul: “but though they were to be a hundred times more so, what does that avail, if it be impossible to come at them?”

“There may be a difficulty in it,” answers Mirzoza, “but in my opinion, that is all. The Genius Cucufa, your relation and friend, has done greater things. Why do you not consult him?”

“Ah, joy of my heart!” cried the Sultan, “you are an admirable Creature. I make no doubt but the Genius will employ all his power in my favour. This moment I shut myself up in my closet, and invoke him.”

Accordingly Mangogul arose, kissed the favorite on the left eye, pursuant to the custom of Congo, and departed.