XXXVII
Mirzoza’s Dream
By the time that Mangogul had finished the academical discourse of Girgiro the entangled, night came on, and the company went to bed.
That night the favorite might well flatter herself with sleeping soundly: but the evening’s conversation ran in her head while asleep: and its ideas mixing with others, produced an odd dream, which she did not fail relating to the Sultan, in these words.
“I was in my first sleep, when I imagined that I was transported into an immense gallery quite full of books. I shall say nothing of their contents: they were to me at that time, what they are to many others, who are not asleep. I did not so much as look at one titlepage: a more striking sight attracted my whole attention.
“From space to space between the presses, that contain’d the books, there were pedestals, on which were placed most beautiful bustos of marble and Bronze. The injury of time had spared them; and some little defects excepted, they were entire and perfect. That nobleness and elegance which characterized the works of the ancients, were stamped on them. Most of them had long beards, large foreheads like yours, and engaging countenances.
“I was anxious to learn their names, and know their merit, when a woman came through the casement of a window, and accosted me. Her shape was genteel, her gait majestic, and her carriage noble, sweetness and loftiness were blended in her looks, and her voice had some inexpressible charm that delighted. A helmet, a coat of mail, and a flowing petticoat, made up all her attire. ‘I know your anxiety,’ said she to me, ‘and am going to satisfy your curiosity: the men whose bustos have struck you, were my favorites. They consecrated their studies to the perfection of the elegant arts, whereof the invention is due to me. They lived in the most polite countries of the world, and their writings, which were the delight of their contemporaries, are the admiration of the present age. Draw near, and you will see carved on the several pedestals in Basso relievo, some remarkable subjects, which will at least point out to you the character of their writings.’
“The first busto which I examined, was that of a majestic old man, who seem’d to have been blind. In all probability he had sung of battles: for such were the subjects on the sides of his pedestal. The front was all taken up with a single figure, which was that of a young hero. His hand grasped the handle of his scimitar, and a woman’s arm appear’d holding him back by the hair of the head, who seem’d to moderate his wrath.
“Opposite to this bust was placed that of a young man: he was the picture of modesty. His looks were turned on the old man with uncommon attention. He had also sung of wars and combats: but these were not the only subjects that employed him: for of the Basso relievos which surrounded him, the principal one represented on one side husbandmen stooping on their ploughs, and tilling the ground; on the other, shepheards stretched on the grass, and played on their flutes amidst their herds and dogs.
“The busto placed below the old man on the same side, had a wild look. His eye seem’d to pursue some object that was flying from him: and under him were represented a lyre carelessly thrown aside, scattered laurels, broken chariots, and fiery horses running away in a vast plain.
“Fronting this I saw a busto, which made so deep an impression on me, that I fancy I see him still. He had a fine air, an aquiline pointed nose, a steady look, and an arch smile. The Basso relievos, which adorned his pedestal, were so full of matter, that it would be an endless task to undertake the description of them.
“After examining some others, I began to ask some questions of my guide.
“ ‘Who is that,’ said I, ‘who bears truth on his lips, and probity on his countenance.’
“ ‘He was,’ replied she, ‘the friend and victim to both. He spent his life in improving his fellow citizens in knowledge and virtue, and these ingrateful citizens put him to death.’
“ ‘And this busto placed below him?’
“ ‘Which? That which appears supported by the graces carved on the sides of his pedestal?’
“ ‘The same.’
“ ‘He is the disciple and inheriter of the sense and principles of the unfortunate virtuous man above mentioned.’
“ ‘And this lusty jolly fellow, crowned, with vine branches and myrtle, who is he?’
“ ‘A lovely philosopher, who made it his sole business to sing and taste pleasure. He died in the arms of voluptuousness.’
“ ‘And this other blind man?’
“ ‘He is,’ said she—But I waited not for her answer. I imagined I was got among my acquaintance, and hurried to a busto placed opposite to him. This was posed on a trophy of different attributes of arts and sciences: Cupids sported among them on one of the sides of the pedestal: on another was a group of the Genii of politics, history, and philosophy. On the third, on one hand appear’d two armies drawn up in battle-array; astonishment and horror dwelt on every countenance, blended with marks of admiration and pity. These passions were probably excited by an object, which was there express’d. It was a young man expiring, and by his side an aged warrior, who pointed his sword to his own breast. These figures were exquisitely beautiful, and nothing could be more artfully touch’d than the despair of the one, and the mortal languor spread throughout the limbs of the other. I drew nearer, and under it I read this inscription in gold letters: Alas! this was his son.
“On the other hand was carved a furious Sultan, plunging a poniard into the breast of a young person, in sight of a multitude of people. Some turn’d their heads aside, others melted in tears: and round this relievo were these words engraved:
