30

Story of Bhazmant; or the Confident Man.

whofe too high confidence in his own ftrength hindered him from ufing the proper means of maintaining himself upon his throne." At this acknowledgment Abadid was greatly furprised, and endeavoured to excufe himself to Bhazmant for the reception which he had given him. "How could you know me," replied the dethroned prince, "when shame and confufion kept me filent? Could you read upon my forehead a character which the juftice of heaven had effaced? Great king," added he, embracing him, " Lowe to your generofity a particular detail of my errors; favour me with your attention." Bhazmant immediately proceeded to relate his story.

"Dear brother," faid Abadid to him, after hearing what he had to fay, "Humble not yourself before a man who long cherished the fame prejudices, and was corrected only by a series of misfortunes fimilar to yours. I have not been wifer than you. We fhould take inftruction from our misfortunes. I once put my confidence in my own ftrength and capacity, but, at the head of a numerous army, I was routed by an enemy who had only an handful of men to oppofe me. Thus conftrain. ed to flee, I retired to the mountains with fifty men, who would not abandon me. Providence led me to the cell of a dervife, who had devoted himself entirely to the exercife of religion. He pointed out to me the fources of my misfortunes. He told me that my enemy trusted in God, and had therefore been enabled to attack me with fuccefs; whereas that I trusted in my lance and my battalions, and in my audacious temerity had neglected my duty, and given no orders that did not tend to mislead. Put your confidence," faid he, in him who rules all here below; and if his arm be interpofed in your behalf, five hundred men will be enough for the recovery of your dominions." The words

of the fage made a ftrong impreffiont upon me; I looked to Heaven, and with a falutary confidence in the goodness of the Almighty, returned towards my capital. My enemy was blinded by profperity. He had forgotten, amidft voluptuous indulgence, thofe fage principles to which he was indebted for his fuccefs. Every thing had the appearance of tranquillity throughout his dominions ; he thought himself fecure in the poffeffion, and neglected to maintain his army in force. I arrived unexpectedly one evening. I ran ftraight to the palace, with my few followers, whose numbers were, however, augmented by perfons who crowded around them out of curiofity. That irregular crowd became, within the gates of the palace, a formidable army. Difmay and terror marched in our train. The ufurper had hardly time to make his escape; and next day, I found myself reestablished on my throne, and in the peaceful poffeffion of my dominions."

This narrative of Abadid's adventures produced an entire change upon the fentiments of Bhazmant.

You have infpired me," said this prince," with a confidence like your own; I fhall foon learn to repose my truft to the fame Being who helped you. Only God and his great prophet can replace my crown upon my head; I will take no other means to recover it, but the very fame by which you fucceeded." He immediately took leave of Abadid, and proceeded to a defert, through which he was to pafs, before reaching his own dominions. Having put his confidence in the Sovereign Arbiter of human fate, and imploring in prayer the protection of Provi dence, he went on till he reached the fummit of a hill. There, overcome by fatigue, he lay down, fell afleep, and faw a vifion in a dream. A voice feemed to fay, "Bhazmant, God has heard thy prayer; he ac

cepts

On Poetry and Painting.

31

evil to weep for. Since you are fo good a muffulman, wait patiently till the juftice of Heaven trike the tyrant. The moment cannot be far diftant, for he has filled up the meafure of his crimes. If men refift him not, yet muft the columns of his palace fall down to crush him to death." Bhazmant hearing these words, felt his hopes revive. He threw off his difguife, and made himfelf known to them as their monarch. At the fame inftant those faithful fubjects, who had for his fake left their country, caft themfelves at his feet, kifling his hands, and bathing them with their tears. A part of the warriors compofed a guard to defend his perfon, while the reft fpread themselves through the country, to give notice of his happy return, and to form a combi

cepts thy penitence. March on, void of fear." The prince imagined this the voice of his guardian angel, and haftened on to his capital. Hardly had he reached the frontiers of his kingdom, when he met a party of his most faithful fubjects. They lived in a tent, and were ready to retire to fome other afylum, whenever the tyranny of the ufurper fhould pursue them thither. With out making himself known, he entered into conversation with them, and told them that he was journeying towards the capital. They wished to divert him from his purpose, defcribing the avenues to the city as dangerous, and reprefenting to him, that fear and fufpicion were feated on the throne, and that ftrangers who approached were thought to be emiffaries from Bhazmant, and liable to be cut off by the tyrant. "Donation for his fupport. He had you then remember your former foon a formidable army ready to monarch with regret ?" asked he, advance to the capital. The tyrant being certain that they could not was dethroned, and Bhazmant rerecognise him. "Ah!" replied fumed the reins of empire, amidst they, "would to Heaven that our the joyful acclamations of his whole worthy monarch were here! he people. would find a fanctuary in the hearts of all his fubjects, and an hundred thousand arms to vindicate his cause. The monfter that deposed him, confiding prefumptuoufly in his ftrength, facrifices all to his lawless defires, and, at the flightest alarm, has recourfe to the fword of the executioner." "He is wrong," replied Bhazmant, "to truft in his army. The best fupport of kings is the favour of the Moft High. For my own part, led thither as I am, by no other motives except the defire of gaining knowledge by travel, yet knowing that while I have Divine Providence to protect me, none can do me hurt, I will, without fear, approach a place which your master's unneceffary precaution occafions to be confidered as dangerous.". "We conjure you to do no fuch thing," replied thofe people in a tone of concern. "Do not give us a new

Un POETRY and PAINTING.

ANY and various have been

ΜΑ

the opinions of authors concerning poetry. Some recommend it as a noble and valuable study; others give caution against a too eager purfuit of it; while a third fort wholly decry it, as demanding a great expence of time, which were better employed in what they call more ferious and useful ftudies. For myfelf, I fhall leave the practice of this art to the more adventurous ges niufes, and only attempt a fair and impartial difcuffion of its beauties and blemishes; and of fome good or ill effects, that may arise from it. It is not the ufe but the abuse, of things, that renders men culpable. Nor can the ingenious, virtuous,

and

and modeft profeffors of this liberal | pides, Menander, &c. in their va

art, fink in the opinion of the wife
and learned. While they endeavour
to render the patriot and the hero
the most amiable and imitable cha-
racter; while they celebrate the
defenders of the laws and liberties
of their country, and, by the power
of their numbers, ftimulate their
fellow citizens to a worthy emulation;
while they tranfmit to pofterity the
glories and atchievements of a great
and virtuous prince: while thefe, I
fay, are the employments of their
mufe, the poets will be entitled to
much of our esteem, and stand
among ft mankind in high reputation.
On the other hand, when they give
themfelves up to loole and idle con-
ceits, to jokes and ribaldry, or to
an abandoned praise of tyrants and
vicious men, we may juttly, with
Plato, exclude them the common-
wealth, their labours tending only
to the debauching of the prefent ge-
nerations, and to the deceiving of
thofe who fhall come after. Poetry
has, from very early ages, been the
ftudy of kings, princes, and pro-
phets; and we have ftill remaining
very eminent performances in this
way, by fuch as were esteemed the
favourites of God and man. But
then their fubjects were ferious and
great; and their manner of treating
them majestic and fublime. Many
of their pieces are admitted into our
canonical fcripture, and are read
with
Among the politer heathens they had
their Homer; a man indefatigable
in the fearch of knowledge, who has
left fuch thining teftimonies of his
learning and abilities, as have made
his name immortal, and his works
the darling study of the greatest men.
Tyrtæus, by the magick of his
verfe, raised the fpirit of his coun-
trymen to fo high a pitch, as made
them capable of refifting the moft
igorous attacks of their enemies,
and of preferving their tottering
itate from ruin. Sophocles, Euri-

reverence

rious compofitions for the ftage, have given fuch noble defcriptions of the paffions and turnings of a human mind, that their works, which remain, are esteemed perfect models in their feveral ways of writing. Greece was, indeed, bleft with many noble geniuses. She had her Alcæus, and her Pindar; nor did fhe want her facetious Anacreon, and amorous Sappho. But those writers are certainly moft to be efteemed by a ferious mind, who inflame the foul with courage, inculcate virtue, decry cowardice, and difcountenance vice.

Among the Romans, we cannot fufficiently admire Virgil, the prince of poets; whofe writings contain every thing that is great and manly. His fentiments are fublime, his fimilitudes apt, and his defcriptions just and lively. Nothing appears pue-rile or mart but all is grave, strong, and moving; and if it is true that fome light pieces efcaped his juvenile pen, he had more judgment, in his riper years, than to efteem them. This was the great Virgil, who is honoured and admired by all! But then the quirks and nequi tie of fome Latin authors are fo little worthy our regard, that if they were buried in oblivion, no man of fense would lament the lofs of them. The French nation has produced fome noble geniufes, as Corneille, Boiand admiration.leau, &c. nor has it been unfruitful in writers of the utmoft levity. If we take a view of Britain, we shall find our Shakspeare, Milton, Dryden, Addifon, &c. among the dead; not to mention feveral eminent authors now living. And whilst we exprefs our value for thefe, we may without injustice fet at nought the low mean doggrel of too many thoughtlefs poetafters, who seem really to have mifapplied their talents, and not to have been defigned by nature for any valuable part of poetry. Thus, upon a fair impar

tial

Extract from the Comedy of The World in a Village. 33

inftructs you in a beautiful allegory, how natural it is for a youthful mind to prefer a darling mistrefs to power or knowledge; how jealous women are of their beauty; and how unforgiving, when any affront is offered them upon that account. How unreasonable, therefore, would it be, to admire the painter, and

notice of mufic, as an ir genious and delightful ftudy; but it would be too long, I fhall therefore only fubjoin, that of all the ftudies of this kind, thofe are moft reafonably

Your humble fervant,
PHILO-MUSUS.

Extract from the COMEDY, intitled,
The WORLD in a VILLAGE.

tial confideration, it will appear, that the great poets here enumerated, have deferved well of mankind, by their ingenious and ufeful productions and for the reft they have fquandered their time, in purchafing to themselves ridicule and contempt, in milleading the fancy, and fullying the judgment, of their youthful and unwary readers, and in difgra-flight the poet? I might here take cing the art they were not able to adorn. There are many studies, calculated more for the amusement and relaxation of the mind, than for any folid advantage. Among thefe I fhall take notice of painting, as re-engaged, which convey profit mixed quiring a fine genius, and much with delight, and are a happy com labour and ftudy, to attain any great pound of the utile dulci. reputation in it. Now, the belt and moft mafterly painters have always I am, Sir, ftudied (among the many things neceffary for them to know) the moft celebrated poets: from them they copy their beautiful defigns; and endeavour to make their pencil speak the language of the poet's pen. They fucceed, and are admired; they are honoured when living; and, when dead, their works make a part of the wealth of princes; their memory is revered, and their fame is immortal. Yet a picture cannot poffibly fpeak; it cannot dive into the foul, roufe the paffions, and inflame the mind; create joy, forrow, refentment for virtue injured, or exaltation for merit crowned with fuccefs; with all the various turns the imagination feels in reading a well written poem. The painter will fhew you Achilles in his height of rage, his fword half-drawn, and Minerva checking his rafhnefs; but he cannot inform you how this paffion rofe, by what incidents it was worked up to fo high a pitch, and how the injured hero expreffed all the keen refentments of his angry mind. You see a Paris upon Mounted! Ida, contemplating the heavenly beauties, and deciding the fatal caufe: turn to the poet, and he VOL. XXV.

Scene I. Allbur's Houfc. Enter Maria and Mrs. Believue, with a Book.

Maria.

NDEED I'm glad to see you.

Mrs. Bell. Once I could be happy to bid you welcome here.

houfe when your's, was the feat of Maria. Aye! Mrs. Bellevue, this politenefs and hofpitality hasn't fir Henry fince fent to you?

Mrs. Bell. No, my love, he's no tion of a baronet's title, which he more a brother. His late acquifinever expected, has raised him fo much above me, that I'm now out of fight-every fpark of fraternal affection; even compaffion for my fufferings has been long extinguish

all patience with him-his familyMaria. Oh, madam, I'm out of pride, fo provokingly unreafonable F

➡to

34

Extract from the Comedy of the World in a Village.

to take fuch a vaft alarm at your marrying a tradefinan, when he himfelf, though a baronet, is ftill in bufinefs-your husband was a breweryour proud brother is a bankerand where the end is money, I can't fec any great difference in the means us'd to acquire it.

Mrs. Bell. Candour fhou'd in fome measure incline me to excuse my brother, when I reflect that my prefent deftitute fituation is partly the confequence of that very family pride; which in his conduct to me wears the appearance of cruelty-of inhumanity!

Maria. Aye, madam, on the fudden death of your worthy husband, what a pity that you couldn't fupprefs your own ideas of rank and birth, by being above all concern for the bus'nefs, in trufting it into the hands of this defigning fool-this knavish Mr. Allbut!

Mrs. Bell. A villain!-He abus'd my confidence-I plac'd him in a truf-and then instead of clearing; to puzzle and perplex

Maria. His purpose was to get all into his own power!

Mrs. Bell. He has done it-posfeffed himself of my fortune, here -even of my houfe - and drove me

to

Maria. The vulgar Mrs. Allbut -indeed the great lady of the village-rattling by your cottage door in her chariot-(Mrs. Bellevue avecps.) But I'm wrong to revive in your mind

Mrs. Bell. My kind Maria-in the bud of years; yet bloom of difcretion!-had I then fuch an early friend! but thofe whom misfortune has doom'd to participate in friendthip, only by receiving, may feem interefted for a grateful mention of its facred bleings. I am pooryou have been good to me-if I thank you, you will do justice to my intention

Maria. Don't grieve, Madam.
M... Deli, I didn't know the worth

of your mind when my fon fet the juft value upon your person and accomplishments-He could difcern genuine merit; I was dazzled with the blaze of tranfitory riches; and when I fhould have bless'd him with a real treasure, I wrong'd both him and you!-Forbid your union ; and to prevent it for ever, fent my child over feas far-far from me! Perhaps now a wand'ring fugitive. Oh! I have been wicked, cruel, unnatural! I'm punith'd, but not enough! I fhould be refign'd-I am.

Maria. Dear Madam, all will be better-No news yet of your William?

Mrs. Bell. No, my dear; and fince the unhappy change of affairs, I fcarce with for my fon-I have now no home to receive him-no fmile of welcome-my bleffing and my tears are all I've left to give

him.

Maria. As my brother Charles was led to go abroad merely with the hopes of finding your William, they may have met; the two boys were here exemplary in their friendfhip--they may, they will afford mutual afliftance fhould either want it.

Mrs. Bell. There too, from my unworthy conduct, you and your father are now deprived of comfort and protection from a brother and a fon. Was Charles here, the Allbut's dare not treat you as they do. But I know nothing of William fince his quitting the captain that I fent him with, and proceeding by himfelf to the East Indies. My boy has a relation there in power-but no accounts from him.

Maria. My father and I remain in the fame uncertainty-You'll flay and take fome refreshment.

Mrs. Bell. Excuse me, my dearI'll not be the caufe of drawing Mrs. Allbut's difpleafure upon you.

Maria.. She never wants a cause for that. Step into my toom-I've had a trifling prefent from fome

friends