The Mirror of Literature, Amusement, and Instruction. Volume 12, No. 327, August 16, 1828

His conscience told him that a man like him was unworthy to administer justice to his fellow-citizens. A pilgrimage to Mecca would now no longer suffice to appease his remorse; his ambition told him it could be lulled by nothing but luxury and splendour. By severe exactions, he amassed large sums; and by gifts contrived to gain over the most influential members of the divan; he thus got appointed Khan of Schamachia, and, from the modest distinctions of the judicature, he passed to the turbulent honours of military power—a change by no means rare in Persia.

Abbas was then collecting all his forces to march against the province of Kandahar, and to reduce the Afghans, who have since ruled over his descendants. In the battles fought on this occasion, Bebut the Ambitious gained the signal favour of one equally ambitious; for Abbas was an indefatigable conqueror, whom fortune, with all her favours, could never satisfy.

The Khan of Schamachia was so thoroughly devoted to his master, so blindly subservient to his will, that he presently became his confidant. He was the very man for the favour of a despot; he had no opinion of his own, and could always find good reasons for those to which he assented. This, in the eyes of Abbas, constituted an excellent counsellor.

The monarch triumphed. Conqueror of the Kurdes, the Georgians, the Turks, and the Afghans, he re-entered Ispahan in triumph. He had already made it the capital of his dominions, and now proposed to himself to enjoy there quietly, in the midst of his glory, the fruits of his vast conquests; but the heart of the ambitious can never know repose. The grandeur of the sovereign crushed the people; Abbas felt this; he knew that, though powerful, he was detested; he trembled even in the inmost recesses of his palace. In pursuance of the Oriental policy which has of late years been introduced into Europe, he resolved to give a diversion to the general hatred, which, in concentrating itself towards a single point, endangered the safety of his throne. With this design, he established, in the principal towns, numerous colonies from the nations he had conquered, and gave them privileges which excited the jealousy of the original inhabitants. The nation immediately divided into two powerful factions, the one calling itself the Polenks, the other the Felenks party. Abbas took care to keep up their strength; by alternately exciting and moderating their violence, he distracted their attention from the affairs of government. The disputes between them sometimes looked very serious; but they were kept under until the festival of the birthday of the Schah; on that occasion, the contenders were at last permitted to show their joy by a general fight. Armed with sticks and stones, they strewed the streets with bodies of the dying and the dead. Then the royal troops suddenly appeared, and proclaimed the day's amusements at an end, with slashes of the sabres drove back the Polenks and the Felenks to their homes.

But no sooner had this great politician ceased to fear his people, than he began first to dread his court, and next, his own family. Of his three sons, two had, by his command, been deprived of sight. By the laws of Persia, they were consequently declared incapable of reigning, and imprisoned in the castle of Alamuth.6 He had only one now remaining. This was the noble and generous Safi Mirza—the delight of his father, and the hope of the people. His brilliant qualities, however, were destined only to be his destruction.

Abbas was one day musing, with some uneasiness, on the valour and popular virtues of his son, when the young prince suddenly appeared. He threw himself at his father's feet. He presented him a note which he had just received, and in which, without discovering their names, the nobles of the kingdom declared their weariness of his tyranny. They proposed to the youth to ascend the throne, and undertook to clear his way to it. Safi Mirza, indignant at a project which tended to turn him into a parricide, declared all to the Sebah, and placed himself entirely at his disposal. Abbas embraced him, covered him with caresses, and felt his affection for him increase; but, from that moment, his fears redoubled. His anxiety even prevented him from sleeping. In order to get at the conspirators, he caused numbers of really innocent persons to die in tortures; and, feeling that every execution rendered him still more odious, he feared that his son would be again solicited, and would not again have virtue to resist.

This state of terror and suspicion becoming insupportable to him, he resolved to rid himself of it at any cost. A slave was ordered to murder the prince. He refused to obey, and presented his own head. "Have I, then, none but ingrates and traitors about me, to eat my bread and salt?" cried Abbas,—"I swear by my sabre and by the Koran, that, to him who will remove Safi Mirza, my generosity and gratitude shall he boundless." Bebut the Ambitious advanced, and said,—"It is written, that what the king wills cannot be wrong. To me thy will is sacred—it shall be obeyed." He went immediately to seek the prince. He met him coming out of the bath, accompanied by a single akta or valet. He drew his sabre, and presenting the royal mandate,—"Safi Mirza," said he, "submit! Thy father wills thy death!"—"My father wills my death!" exclaimed the unfortunate prince, with a tone "more in sorrow than in anger." "What have I done, that he should hate me?" And Bebut laid him dead at his feet.

As a reward for his crime, Abbas sent him the royal vest, called the calaata, and immediately created him his Etimadoulet, or Prime Minister.

Paternal love, however, presently resumed its power. Remorse now produced the same effect upon the king, as terror had done before. His nights seemed endless. The bleeding shade of his son incessantly appeared before him, banishing the peace and slumber to which it had been sacrificed. Shrouded in the garb of mourning, the monarch of Persia dismissed all pleasure from his court; and, during the rest of his life, could not be known by his attire from the meanest of his subjects.

One day he sent for Bebut, who found him standing on the steps of his throne, entirely clothed in scarlet, the red turban of twelve folds around his head,—in short, in the garb assumed by the kings of Persia when preparing to pronounce the decree of death. Bebut shuddered. "It is written," said the Sehah, "that what the king wills cannot be wrong. Give me to-day the same proof of thy obedience which thou didst once before. Bebut, thou hast a son—bring me his head!" Bebut attempted to speak. "Bebut, Etimadoulet, Khan of Schamachia—is, then, thy ambition satiated, that thou hesitatest to satisfy my commands? Obey! Thy life depends on it!"

Bebut returned with the head of his only child. "Well," said the father of Mirza, with a horrid smile, "How dost feel?"—"Let these tears tell you how," answered the unhappy Khan: "I have killed with my own hand the being I loved best on earth. You can ask nothing beyond. This day, for the first time, I have cursed ambition, which could subject me to a necessity like this."—"Go," said the monarch; "You can now judge what you have made me suffer, in murdering my son. Ambition has rendered us the two most wretched beings in the empire. But, be it your comfort, that your ambition can soar no higher; for this last deed has brought you on a level with your sovereign."7

Abbas received from his subjects and posterity the surname of THE GREAT. Bebut the Ambitious was presently known only by the title of Bebut THE INFAMOUS. It is said, he was a short time after stabbed by the son of the unfortunate jeweller, whom he had so unjustly condemned to death when divan-beghi. Thus were the words of the poet Ferdusi verified. His first fault was the cause of all the others, and their common punishment.—Oriental Herald.

NOTES OF A READER

MURDER

We are not accustomed to study the clap-traps of the day, but the following observations, on our first reading of them, came so forcibly on our imagination, that we then resolved to insert them in our columns whenever an opportunity should offer; and as the public are now alive on the subject, none can be better than the present. We should add, they are taken from the third edition of a valuable work on Home, written by a lady:—

"I think," says our authoress, "we are quite mistaken in our estimate of the Italian character, in one respect. Murder is generally committed in the sudden impulse of ungovernable passion, not with the slow premeditation of deliberate revenge. That it is too common a termination of Italian quarrels, it would be vain to deny; and it is equally true, that however Englishmen may fall out, or however angry they may be, drunk or sober, they never think of stabbing, but are always content with beating each other. But in England murders are generally committed in cold blood, and for the sake of plunder. In Italy they are more frequently perpetrated in the moment of exasperation, and for the gratification of the passions. An Italian will pilfer or steal, cheat or defraud you, in any way he can. He would rob you if he had courage; but he seldom murders for the sake of gain. In proof of this, almost all the murders in Italy are committed amongst the lower orders. One man murders another who is as much a beggar as himself. Whereas, our countrymen walk about the unlighted streets of Rome or Naples, at all hours, in perfect safety. I never heard of one having been attacked, although the riches of Milor' Inglese are proverbial. Amongst the immense number of English who have lately travelled through Italy, though all have been cheated, a few only have been robbed; and of these, not one has either been murdered or hurt. I am far, however, from thinking that murders are more frequent in England than in Italy. In England they are held in far more abhorrence; they are punished, not only with the terrors of the law, but the execrations of the people. Every murder resounds through the land—it is canvassed in every club, and told by every village fireside; and inquests, trials, and newspapers proclaim the lengthened tale to the world. But in Italy, it is unpublished, unnamed, and unheeded. The murderer sometimes escapes wholly unpunished. Sometimes he compounds for it by paying money, if he has any—and sometimes he is condemned to the gallies, but he is rarely executed."

WINDSOR CASTLE

Windsor Castle loses a great deal of its architectural impression (if I may use that word) by the smooth neatness with which its old towers are now chiselled and mortared. It looks as if it was washed every morning with soap and water, instead of exhibiting here and there a straggling flower, or creeping weather-stains. I believe this circumstance strikes every beholder; but most imposing, indeed, is its distant view, when the broad banner floats or sleeps in the sunshine, amidst the intense blue of the summer skies, and its picturesque and ancient architectural vastness harmonizes with the decaying and gnarled oaks, coeval with so many departed monarchs. The stately, long-extended avenue, and the wild sweep of devious forests, connected with the eventful circumstances of English history, and past regular grandeur, bring back the memory of Edwards and Henries, or the gallant and accomplished Surrey.

On Windsor Castle, written 1825, not by a LAUREATE, but a poet of loyal, old Church-of-England feelings. 8

Not that thy name, illustrious dome, recallsThe pomp of chivalry in banner'd halls;The blaze of beauty, and the gorgeous sightsOf heralds, trophies, steeds, and crested knights;Not that young Surrey here beguiled the hour,"With eyes upturn'd unto the maiden's tower;"9Oh! not for these, and pageants pass'd away,gaze upon your antique towers and pray—But that my SOVEREIGN here, from crowds withdrawn,May meet calm peace upon the twilight lawn;That here, among these gray, primaeval trees,He may inhale health's animating breeze;And when from this proud terrace he surveysSlow Thames devolving his majestic maze,(Now lost on the horizon's verge, now seenWinding through lawns, and woods, and pastures green,)May he reflect upon the waves that roll,Bearing a nation's wealth from pole to pole,And feel, (ambition's proudest boast above,)A KING'S BEST GLORY IS HIS COUNTRY'S LOVE!

The range of cresting towers has a double interest, whilst we think of gorgeous dames and barons bold, of Lely and Vandyke's beauties, and gay, and gallant, and accomplished cavaliers like Surrey. And who ever sat in the stalls at St. George's chapel, without feeling the impression, on looking at the illustrious names, that here the royal and ennobled knights, through so many generations, sat each installed, whilst arms, and crests, and banners, glittered over the same seat?—Bowles's History of Bremhill.

THE THREE TEACHERS

To my question, how he could, at his age, have mastered so many attainments, his reply was, that with his three teachers, "every thing might be learned, common sense alone excepted, the peculiar and rarest gift of Providence. These three teachers were, Necessity, Habit, and Time. At his starting in life, Necessity had told him, that if he hoped to live he must labour; Habit had turned the labour into an indulgence; and Time gave every man an hour for every thing, unless he chose to yawn it away."—Salathiel.

IRISH POOR

The poor of England have suffered much and deeply from the change made in the administration of the poor laws in 1795; but of late years they have suffered still more from the influx of Irish paupers. Great Britain has been overrun by half-famished hordes, that have, by their competition, lessened the wages of labour, and by their example, degraded the habits, and lowered the opinions of the people with respect to subsistence. The facilities of conveyance afforded by steam-navigation are such, that the merest beggar, provided he can command a sixpence, may get himself carried from Ireland to England. And when such is the fact—when what may almost without a metaphor be termed floating bridges, have been established between Belfast and Glasgow, and Dublin and Liverpool—does any one suppose, that if no artificial obstacles be thrown in the way of emigration, or if no efforts be made to provide an outlet in some other quarter for the pauper population of Ireland, we shall escape being overrun by it? It is not conceivable that, with the existing means of intercourse, wages should continue to be, at an average, 20d. per day in England, and only 4d. or 5d. in Ireland. So long as the Irish paupers find that they can improve their condition by coming to England, thither they will come. At this moment, five or six millions of beggars are all of them turning their eyes, and many of them directing their steps to this land of promise! The locusts that "will eat up every blade of grass, and every green thing," are already on the wing.—Edin. Rev.

According to the parliamentary returns of 1815, the number of paupers receiving parochial relief in England amounts to 895,336, in a population of 11,360,505, or about one-twelfth of the whole community.

There are many on the continent who might far better have been treading their turnip-fields, or superintending their warehouses at home, than traversing the Alps, criticising the Pantheon, or loitering through the galleries of the Vatican.

Twenty years ago there were at Saffet and at Jerusalem but a small number of Polish Jews—some few hundreds at the most; there are now, at the very least, 10,000.

Bishop Watson compares a geologist to a gnat mounted on an elephant, and laying down theories as to the whole internal structure of the vast animal, from the phenomena of the hide.

It is the harmony of strong contrasts in which greatness of character truly dwells. As it rises, its variety and rich profusion, only remind us of those southern mountains, whose majestic ascent combines the fruits of every latitude, and the temperature of every clime; the vineyard is scattered around its base to gladden, and the corn-field waves above to support, the family of man: mount a little higher, and the traveller is surrounded by the deep, umbrageous forest, whilst the next elevation will place his foot on its magnificent diadem of eternal snows.—Edin. Rev.

PSALMODY

Is it not a melancholy reflection, at the close of a long life, that, after reciting the Psalms at proper seasons, through the greatest part of it, no more should be known of their true meaning and application, than when the Psalter was first taken in hand in school?—Bishop Horne.

The most northern library in the world is that of Reikiarik, the capital of Iceland, containing about 3,600 volumes. That of the Faro Islands has been recently considerably augmented. Another is establishing at Eskefiorden, in the north of Iceland.—Foreign Q. Rev.

FRENCH-ENGLISH

All recent works of fiction exhibit the deplorable corruption of the vernacular English. You cannot open a novel or book of travels printed within the present year without stumbling on French or Italian words, and so frequent is their occurrence, that they are often printed in the same type as the rest of the page, not in italic, as of old. In short, some of the authors of the present day seem to have "worn their language to rags, and patched it up with scraps and ends of foreign." This, in great measure proceeds from "some far-journeyed gentlemen, who, at their return home, powder their talk with over-sea language. He that cometh lately out of France, will talk French-English, and never blush at the matter."

DEBAUCHERIES OF PARIS

We see daily instances giving us cause to lament protracted residence abroad, and also the haunts of incessant transit across the channel, which makes our young men more familiar with the passages, arcades, and cafes of the Palais Royal, than with the streets of our own metropolis. We have seen many who could name each single quay along the borders of the Seine; but who were totally ignorant of those great works of art, the bridges, docks, and warehouses of their native Thames, otherwise than as they were hurried past them in the Calais steam-boat.—Quarterly Review.

We have been somewhat amused with the oddity of a few similes in the article in Phillips's State Trials, in the last No. of the Edinburgh Review. Thus an ordinary reader would lose his way in Howell's State Trials, at the second page, "from the number of volumes, smallness of print, &c." "A Londoner might as well take a morning walk through an Illinois prairie, or dash into a back-settlement forest, without a woodman's aid." Mr. Phillips has "enclosed but a corner of the waste, swept little more than a single stall in the Augean stable;" "holding a candle to the back-ground of history," &c.

LORD COLLINGWOOD

Went to sea when eleven years old. He used, himself, to tell as an instance of his simplicity at this time, "that as he was sitting crying for his separation from home, the first lieutenant observed him; and pitying the tender years of the poor child, spoke to him in terms of such encouragement and kindness, which, as Lord C. said, so won upon his heart, that taking this officer to his box, he offered him in gratitude a large piece of plum cake, which his mother had given him."

CHANGES OF SOCIETY

The circumstances which have most influence on the happiness of mankind, the changes of manners and morals, the transition of communities from poverty to wealth, from knowledge to ignorance, from ferocity to humanity—these are, for the most part, noiseless revolutions. Their progress is rarely indicated by what historians are pleased to call important events. They are not achieved by armies, or enacted by senates. They are sanctioned by no treaties, and recorded in no archives. They are carried on in every school, in every church, behind 10,000 counters, at 10,000 fire-sides. The upper current of society presents no certain criterion by which we can judge of the direction in which the under current flows.—Edinburgh Review.

BATTLE OF THE HEADS

Phrenologists—Anti-Phrenologists.

Phrenologists. The bantling which but a few years since we ushered into the world, is now become a giant; and as well might you attempt to smother him as to entangle a lion in the gossamer, or drown him in the morning dew.

Anti-Phrenologists. Your giant is a butterfly; to-day he roams on gilded wings, to-morrow he will show his hideousness and be forgotten.

Apf, a Norwegian prince, is stated to have had sixty guards, each of whom, previous to being enrolled, was obliged to lift a stone which lay in the royal courtyard, and required the united strength of ten men to raise. They were forbidden to seek shelter during the most tremendous storms, nor were they allowed to dress their wounds before the conclusion of a combat. What would some of our "Guards" say to such an ordeal?

PORTRAIT PAINTING

No picture is exactly like the original; nor is a picture good in proportion as it is like the original. When Sir Thomas Lawrence paints a handsome peeress, he does not contemplate her through a powerful microscope, and transfer to the canvass the pores of the skin, the bloodvessels of the eye, and all the other beauties which Gulliver discovered in the Brobdignagian maids of honour. If he were to do this, the effect would not merely be unpleasant, but unless the scale of the picture were proportionably enlarged, would be absolutely false. And, after all, a microscope of greater power than that which he had employed, would convict him of innumerable omissions.

It is calculated that Rome has derived from Spain, for matrimonial briefs, and other machinery of the Papal court, since the year 1500—no less than 76,800,000l. or about three millions and a half per Pope! This is preachee and payee too!

SPIRIT OF THE PUBLIC JOURNALS

THE BACHELOR'S VADE-MECUM

To obviate the difficulties and remove the perplexing doubts of cautious men, myself and a party of friends, who have a large acquaintance in London and its vicinity, propose publishing a work in monthly parts, which we mean to entitle "The Bachelor's Vade-mecum, or a sure guide to a good match." It will contain a list of all genuine and undoubted heiresses in the metropolis, and within ten miles around it, and of those ladies whose fortune depends on contingencies: as our correspondence and information increase, we shall hope to extend the circle of our inquiries, and we solicit those communications and assistances which the extent and utility of our plan require and deserve. Notices will be given of all who drop off by death and marriage, and of those whose value may be unexpectedly increased by a legacy, or a sister or brother's decease. Particular attention will be paid to rich widows.—The first part of this truly useful work is nearly ready for the press; and we flatter ourselves that its arrangement and execution will excite universal applause. The particulars concerning each lady will be distributed under four heads; the first will be devoted to her fortune and expectations; the second to a description of her person; the third to non-essentials; and under the fourth will be found hints as to the readiest means of approach, cautions against offending peculiar tastes or prejudices, and much interesting and valuable information.—A more clear idea, however, of our scheme will be conveyed by subjoining a few specimens taken at random from our first number, which will contain about seventy-five articles.

No. 14.

Fortune.—10,000l. certain, left by a grandfather; two brothers have the same, one of whom is likely to die before he is of age, which would produce 5,000l. more. The father in business, supposed to live up to his income. A rich, single aunt, but not on terms, on account of No. 14's love of waltzing. A prudent husband might easily effect a reconciliation.

Person.—Fair, with red hair, and freckled, nose depressed, brow contracted, figure good, two false teeth.

Non-essentials.—Bad-tempered, economical almost to parsimony. Sings a great deal, but has no voice. Dances well; a Roman Catholic.