“Thus it is, Madam,” replied the Sultan, “that you have been spoil’d by romances. In them you have seen heroes respectuous, and princesses virtuous even to folly; without reflecting that those Beings never existed but in the brains of authors. If you ask Selim, who thoroughly well knows the catechism of Cythera, ‘what is love?’ I would lay a wager that he would answer you, that love, is nothing else but—”
“Would you lay a wager,” interrupted the Sultana, “that delicacy of sentiments is but a chimaera, and that without hopes of enjoyment, there would not be a grain of love in the world? If so, you must certainly entertain a very bad opinion of the human heart.”
“So I do,” replied Mangogul, “our virtues are not more disinterested than our vices. The brave pursues glory by exposing himself to dangers; the coward loves tranquility and life; and the lover desires enjoyment.”
Selim declaring himself of the Sultan’s party, added, that if two things happened, love would be banished from society, never more to make its appearance again.
“And which are those two things?” says the favorite.
“They are,” replied Mangogul, “if you and I, madam, and all the race of mankind, chanced to lose what Tanzai and Neadarne found in a dream.”
“What! You believe,” interrupted Mirzoza, “that without those pitiful things, there would be neither esteem nor confidence between two persons of different sexes? A woman adorn’d with talents, wit and beauty, would not touch? A man bless’d with an amiable person, a fine genius, and excellent character, would not be heeded?”
“No, madam,” replies Mangogul; “for pray tell me what he would say?”
“A number of pretty things, which I think would always afford much pleasure to hear,” answers the favorite.
“Observe, madam,” says Selim, “that those things are said every day without love. No, no, madam, I have complete proofs, that without a well organised body, there is no love. Agenor, the handsomest young man of Congo, and the most refined wit of the court, would, if I had been a woman, in vain show me his genteel leg, turn his large blue eyes on me, squander on me the most artful praise, and set himself off with every other advantage of which he is master; I would say but one word, and if he did not give an express answer to this word, I might have all possible esteem for him, but I should not love him.”
“That is positive,” added the Sultan, “and you yourself will allow the justness and utility of this mysterious word, when one loves. You ought indeed, for your instruction, to cause the conversation of a wit of Banza with a schoolmaster to be related to you. You could comprehend in an instant, how the wit, who sustained your thesis, confessed in the end that he was in the wrong, and that his antagonist reasoned like a Toy. But Selim, of whom I had it, will you tell the story.”
The favorite imagined, that a story, which Mangogul would not relate to her, must be very mortifying: and therefore she went into one of the arbors, without asking it of Selim, and happy it was for him; for with all his wit, he would have ill satisfied the favorite’s curiosity, or much alarm’d her modesty. But in order to amuse her, and make her forget the story of the schoolmaster, he related the following.
“Madam,” says the courtier, “in a vast country near the sources of the Nile, lived a young man, beautiful as Adonis. Before he was eighteen years of age, all the maidens contended for his heart, and there were few women, who would not accept of him for their lover. Born with an amorous heart, he loved as soon as he was in a condition to love.
“On a certain day, while he was in the temple assisting at the public worship of the great Pagoda; and was, according to the usual ceremony, preparing to make the seventeen genuflections prescribed by the law; the beauty, with which he was captivated, chanced to pass by, and darted a glance on him accompany’d with a smile, which threw him into such distraction, that he lost his poise, fell on his nose, scandalized the congregation by his fall, forgot the number of genuflections, and performed but sixteen.
“The great Pagoda irritated at the offence and scandal, punished him cruelly. Hilas, for that was his name, the poor Hilas felt himself instantly inflamed with the most violent desires, and smack-smooth as the palm of his hand, deprived of the means of gratifying them. Equally surprised and grieved at so great a loss, he consulted the Pagoda. ‘Thou shalt never be restored to thy pristine state,’ answered she sneezing, ‘but between the arms of a woman, who shall not love thee the less for knowing thy misfortune.’
“Presumption is generally the companion of youth and beauty. Hilas fancied that his wit and the comeliness of his person would soon gain him a heart of nice sentiments; who content with what he had remaining, would love him for himself, and soon restore to him what he had lost. He first addrest himself to the lady, who had been the innocent cause of his misfortune. She was young, brisk, voluptuous and a coquet. Hilas adored her, and obtained a meeting; where by a train of allurements he was drawn into the road leading to a place which it was impossible for him to reach. In vain did he torment himself, and in the arms of his mistress seek the accomplishment of the oracle: nothing appeared. When the lady was tired of waiting, she set herself
